His expression flattened. Unwanted guilt swooped through her. God, she was a bitch. She’d made the change of plans just an hour ago, knowing perfectly well Kam would be uncomfortable with the alteration. And why had she done it? Because she’d experienced some petty jealousy over the discovery of his French lover? Or was it because she’d come to understand that casual affairs were commonplace to him?

You need him off balance, she told herself fairly. He was getting to her more than she liked. Look at what she’d let him do to her in that restaurant last night. If she needed no other proof of her vulnerability when it came to him, it was that. And it wasn’t as if she hadn’t explained to Kam that they’d be engaging in some activities that he’d find vaguely uncomfortable. That’s why she was there, after all, to alleviate his disquietude.

“Right. Tux. Opening night. Your old boyfriend. Sounds like a load of laughs,” he mumbled, flipping a couple of switches on the sleek little mechanism on the table.

“Jason isn’t my old boyfriend,” she said. “It was a very casual affair. You know the type.”

He glanced over at her, his dark brows scrunched together, a puzzled scowl on his face.

“What’s wrong?” he demanded abruptly.

“Nothing,” she said, returning his puzzlement with a warm smile. “Are you ready to get started?”

He opened his mouth to respond and seemed to think better of whatever he was going to say. He pushed one more button and straightened. “Yeah. If you are. You’ll just have to take off your clothes.”

She laughed. He quirked his eyebrows in a wry expression.

“You’re not serious. Are you?” she asked, her voice ringing with shock when he just waited expectantly.

“Of course I am. I need to attach the electrodes at all your pulse points to gather baseline data.”

For a few pregnant seconds she just stood there, her mouth hanging open, all of her easy indifference evaporated. Dread crept into her awareness. She had a vivid memory of him grasping her wrist at Savaur that first night and her subsequent fear that he’d been aware of her anxiety. Her excitement.

He would read her like an open book with his machine.

She was out of her mind for having agreed to this. Nothing could have been more anxiety provoking to her in that moment than the idea of Kam Reardon getting inside and rifling through her interior world. Her secrets.

“Why can’t I apply the electrodes myself? Isn’t that what you plan for owners’ of the watches?”

“Yes, but we don’t have a test protocol yet for teaching the customer how to gather the data. Either myself or a trained medical professional should do it in the meantime in order to get accurate information.”

“Surely you can just do it with my clothes on,” she protested weakly.

He gave her a dry glance and picked up on of the nodes from the table. “I held you for most of the night while we were both naked. We had sex—a lot of it—just hours ago. I can’t believe you’re shy about taking off your clothes in front of me.”

“Well I am,” she said defensively before she could stop herself. “Did all your other test subjects have to be in front of you naked?”

“No,” he stated bluntly. “My human subjects wore a medical gown. But I don’t have one here.” He exhaled, frowning when he noticed her defensive stance. “Are you going to tell me what’s bothering you, or not?” he repeated.

“Nothing is bothering me,” she lied. She cast about for an out for this impossible scenario, but came up with nothing. She was supposed to be assisting him in this project that Ian had arranged for him, and gathering data for a product demonstration was a major part of that. What’s more, she’d agreed to it yesterday. If she backed out now, it’d highlight her vulnerability all the more.

“Fine. But I’m leaving on my bra and underwear.”

“I can work around the bra, but you’ll have to take off your underwear.”

She gasped in disbelief at his matter-of-fact reply. His expression went hard as he studied her. Too late, she realized she was tipping her hand.

“Wrap a towel around yourself if you want,” he said, his mouth hard. She understood his annoyance. Where was her modesty, after all, when she’d been shaking in orgasm in a public place beneath the forbidden magic of his stroking hands? “Guest bath, first door to the left,” he said pointing the hallway. “Towels are under the sink.”

She strode down the hallway, her backbone erect. She tried to hold her head up just as high when she returned to the living room a moment later, but it was hard to be regal and aloof while clutching a towel around her naked body.

“Come over here,” Kam requested distractedly when she stood awkwardly in the center of the room. As she approached him, something Kam had said to her in the past sprung into her mind against her will.

What lengths would you go to in the name of service to Ian?

Apparently, monumental ones, she thought bitterly as she allowed Kam to seat her on the couch next to the computer. Except she wasn’t doing this for Ian. She was doing it for herself; proving to herself that she could handle Kam without turning and running like a scared fool.

Her hair was down today. She started when he dragged his long fingers through it, drawing it away from her face. Shivers made a web work of sensation just beneath her skin. She backed away an inch or two.

“What are you doing?” she demanded.

He looked down at her from his standing position, his hands still in her hair. In her sitting position before him, her face was less than a foot from the zipper of his jeans.

Tags: Samantha Young On Dublin Street Romance
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