Down on Her Knees

CHAPTER Seven


Time to make her move. With the Mission: Impossible theme song playing in her head, Courtney glanced up and down the long hospital corridor before scurrying to the bank of elevators. Keeping a watchful eye, she thumped the down button repeatedly, a silent prayer on auto-loop in her head. When the arrow lit green, she blew out the breath she’d been holding.

Almost home free.

After the way things had ended between her and Rafe, she’d considered calling out from work that morning. She’d spent half the night tossing and turning. It was only the thought of sitting at home with way too much time to think about this thing with him that made her bite the bullet and don her scrubs. By the time it was over ten endless hours later, she was regretting that decision heartily.

Work had been brutal. Three stabbings—those always increased in the summer as heat made people stabby— and a three-car pileup on the interstate that had been a veritable blood bath. One person had died on the scene but the team of ER doctors had managed to keep the fatalities to the one. That was a blessing.

What hadn’t been a blessing was when her a*shole supervisor Barry had asked her to stay two hours past her shift to straighten out paperwork that wasn’t even hers. The guy had been at the hospital for all of three months and had been a holy terror, screaming at the nurses and taking advantage of them all by piling on double shifts with total disregard to their home lives. It was getting to be a major issue. One that was starting to make Courtney hate a job she used to love and had her sneaking around like a thief in the night in hopes of avoiding him in case he found yet another reason for her to stay longer.

By the time she slogged her way up the winding path to her front door, she could think of nothing besides sipping on a sizable glass of cheap wine snuggled beneath her down comforter with the air-conditioner blasting in her face while she read a sexy novel.

Paradise.

Her weary muscles protested as she trudged up the stairs, tugging off her scrubs as she went. When she reached her bedroom and flicked on the light, weariness fled to make way for an almost dizzying wave of excitement.

On her bed sat a large rectangular box. Pristine white with a red envelope resting on the lid, but otherwise unadorned. It was stupid, really, but the breath caught in her throat just looking at it, so beautiful in its simplicity, so civilized and elegant, which was such a contrast to what was likely inside.

This was it. Scene number two.

Part of her was a tiny bit disappointed. When they’d sussed out the details of their arrangement and she’d agreed to give him her house key, he’d given her two scarves. One red and one green. If she preferred he not use the key on a given day, she was to tie the red one on her balcony. If she was open to him letting himself in for a scene, she should use the green one. She’d gone with red the first few nights out of nervousness, but when she hadn’t heard from him, she’d gone green and had left it that way ever since. Many a night was spent tossing and turning, fantasizing about waking up with his magical mouth on her.

But the disappointment faded fast as she inched toward her bed, excitement building with every step. She refused to credit her now-shaking legs to bone-deep relief that there was going to be a scene two at all after the way they’d ended. She was sure she’d blown it when she kissed him, but now here he was. A strange sensation settled over her. Happiness that he wanted more time with her was mixed with fear that every minute she spent with him, she was skating closer and closer to trouble.

He’d been hard to resist when he was one-dimensional—controlled dom Rafe, who held the power to make her tremble in his fingertips. Now that she’d gotten to sample the other side of him? The funny, sweet guy who’d held her when she was afraid on the Ferris wheel and won her a pet goldfish? He was lethal.

But even as fear and doubt clouded her mind, she never considered walking away and leaving the box unopened. She had three more nights with him, and short of an apocalypse, she wasn’t giving them up for anything or anyone. She’d push on and deal with the fallout when it was over.


Her fingers shook with a combination of nerves and anticipation as she picked up the envelope. With a steadying breath, she tore it open with a singular swipe of her thumb. The paper was typed on high-end card stock that was like silk under her fingertips. She read the lines once, willing the thudding of her heart to slow, then again, trying to process all of his instructions.

COURTNEY—

MEET ME AT THE FELDMOORE HOTEL ON EDGEMONT STREET AT 7 P.M. ASK THE CONCIERGE FOR A KEY TO MR. WELTER’S ROOM AT THE FRONT DESK.

YOU ARE TO WEAR NOTHING EXCEPT THE CONTENTS OF THIS BOX, AND YOUR HAIR SHOULD BE UP.

WHEN YOU ENTER THE ROOM, GO STRAIGHT TO THE SAFE ON THE WEST WALL AND OPEN IT. THE CODE IS 41-42-69.

DO NOT BE LATE.

RAFE

Her breath was coming in short bursts as she wrenched open the package, peeling back the crimson tissue paper to reveal its contents. A sleek black trench coat with leather leggings to match and a pair of black stilettos stared up at her. Searching for the shirt to complete the outfit, she riffled through all the tissue until it sat in a pile on the carpet, but turned up nada.

No top, which was surely no accident. Rafe was meticulous, focused, and detail-oriented. If he’d wanted her to wear a top, it would’ve been in the box.

She chewed on her bottom lip and surveyed the instructions a second time before glancing at the clock. Six twenty. The Feldmoore was twenty minutes away, and if she was going to make it there on time, she’d have to leave ASAP. Her hands shook with excitement as she set the letter down and headed into the bathroom. She stripped the rest of her clothes off and took a shower so fast that Guinness himself would’ve applauded.

Wasting no time, she tugged on a thong and the leather leggings, hopping up and down until the dastardly snug material cleared her ass to rest low on her hips. She reached around to hook her bra, then shook her head. Surely he hadn’t meant that she couldn’t wear her bra. She already didn’t have a shirt.

Weighing her options, she shrugged off the lacy cups and slung the coat over her shoulders before fastening the belt and slipping into the stilettos. She took one quick second to admire them and nodded approvingly.

By the time she pulled up to the hotel and handed off the keys to the valet, it was six fifty-five. The humid breeze was a potent reminder that she was dressed in leather and a trench coat in the heat of summer. That combined with the weight of her nerves had her beyond frazzled and by the time she reached the concierge desk, she was sure her heart was close to exploding in her chest.

She cleared her throat and some unknown force pried the question from her lips. “Hello, um, could you please tell me which room Mr., uh, Welter’s room is? By any chance?” Her cheeks boiled, but the concierge smiled and slid a key across the desk to her without question.

“Two-oh-six. Second floor. The elevator is on your right, madam.” He gestured toward the glass lift and she nodded, clacking her way toward it without another word.

When she got to the room, she paused outside the doorway. Her palms were slick with sweat as she laid a hand on the knob and mustered up her courage.

Now or never. Fight or flight, at it again.

She slid the key in, and the door clicked open. Her breath caught along with it and she stepped into the room, heart hammering. Once inside, all her fears took a backseat, crowded out by her primary objective. Her instructions were to go straight to the safe and open it, so that was what she’d do. Whatever happened after that…well, that was what had her thighs shaking and her mouth going dry.

The room was pitch dark, and with a hesitant finger she reached out to tap the light on. The only source was a crystal chandelier that shone dimly over the wide, satin-covered bed. The space was warm and lavish, an unlit fireplace on the far side of the room with champagne chilling in a bucket of ice by a side table. A couple of chairs nestled close by the hearth.

And a safe, sitting unprotected near the wide oak wardrobe.

Her pulse bucked hard in time with every footfall, but she moved as quietly as possible. When she reached the wall, she dropped to her knees and entered the pass code she’d memorized. The lock tumbled beneath her fingertips and the door swung open.

Well, that was easy. She peered into the safe wishing she’d thought to bring a flashlight, but before she could get a look at the contents, she felt a tug on her ponytail. Soft at first and then with growing pressure as it was used to pull her to standing. A vise gripped her chest, and it was suddenly a struggle to breathe.

“Here to steal from me, are you?” Rafe’s voice was a low rumble, the thunder before a lightning strike, and she didn’t know whether to be relieved or even more nervous.

“What? You told me to—” She caught herself. Ah, so this was the game—she was a thief, and he her mark—and she was supposed to play it. It wasn’t hard to imagine. The man before her was a one-eighty from the man who had fed her cotton candy and kissed her on the Ferris wheel the night before.

One hand was still firmly gripping her hair, but the other had snaked toward her trench coat, pulling her back, flush against the hard, muscled expanse of his chest. Her voice was breathier than she would’ve liked when she spoke again. “I’m certain I don’t know what you’re talking about, and I’d appreciate it if you released me at once.”

His laugh was short and mirthless, sending a frisson of fear through her even as heat collected between her thighs. Damn, he was good at this.

“You think because you’ve got a pretty face and nice tits that I’m going to let you walk away? Sorry, that’s not the way I do business.” He shoved her toward the bed and she landed heavily on the silken mattress. If it hurt, she didn’t notice. She was too filled with roiling emotions, each competing for center stage. Fear, curiosity, and—to her chagrin—undeniable lust, almost vicious in its intensity.

She twisted to face him. He towered over her, black pants fitted to enhance the appearance of his strong thighs, chest perfectly contoured beneath a tailored white shirt. A wall of stone. Unbreakable.

His smile in the dim light was chilling as he stared down at her. He didn’t break eye contact as he raised a hand to deftly remove one cufflink and then the other, speaking while he worked. “If you were a man in my position, Miss…?” He raised his brows questioningly.

She racked her brain to supply a name despite the riot going on inside her and spit out the first thing that came to mind. “M-Mary. Mary Mack.”

Her heart tripped when his eyes twinkled, a grin tugging at his lips. She squinted, confused by the sudden change in his demeanor. Then she glanced down at her clothes.

Yup, good old Miss Mary Mack.

All dressed in black.

Her cheeks burned with humiliation as she scrambled into a seated position. Only her second try and she was officially the worst temporary submissive in history. Would he call the whole thing off now that she’d effectively dumped a pitcher of ice water on their steamy start with her unintentional silliness?

To Rafe’s credit, and her everlasting relief, his eyes went flat in an instant, and ruthless Mr. Welter was back. “Do you take me for a fool, Ms. Mack? Plucking your alias from a child’s nursery rhyme. Do I look like a man to be trifled with?”

He prowled back and forth at the foot of the bed, never taking his gaze off her as he meticulously rolled each of his sleeves to expose his thick, muscular forearms. She swallowed hard, straightening her posture to meet his gaze head-on.

“Honestly?” She let her gaze trip over his body lightly and then shrugged. “You look pretty much the same as any other man to me.” She punctuated that with a cheeky wink. “Sorry to disappoint.”

Well, hot damn, Mary Mack was a firecracker, and apparently, Courtney wasn’t the only one who thought so. A grudging respect lit her captor’s face and she felt his approval from head to toe. Like she’d been out in the cold and suddenly found herself basking under the rays of the sun.

“Oh, I doubt you’ll disappoint. While I might look like other men to you, I can assure you that’s far from the case, and the thought that I might allow you to fail me is one I wouldn’t even entertain.” He leaned down, resting his palms on the covers of the bed to meet her eye to eye. “You will please me tonight, little thief. And once you’ve repaid your debt, you can leave.”

She wet her lips nervously and tried not to fidget beneath his scrutiny. “Debt? I didn’t even get to take anything,” she protested, moving to swing her legs over the side of the bed. “Heck, I didn’t even see what was in the safe.” Something about the way he was towering over her was unsettling as hell and the desire to stand was overwhelming, but the whipcrack of his voice had her freezing in place.

“Did I tell you to get up, Ms. Mack?” His brows drew together in a frown so fierce she had to look away. Still, she didn’t have to answer his stupid question if she didn’t want to. She firmed her chin and stayed silent.

“Whether you were successful in robbing me is of no importance. Your intent was to take what was mine. Now, as penance for your transgression, you will give me what is yours.”

She tamped down the anxiety and dug around for some Mary Mack spunk, managing a half laugh. “Not bloody likely.”


He stood tall, looking every inch of his six-plus feet and more, and then shrugged, quirking a careless brow. “Then I will take it.”

She didn’t know what possessed her, but nerves got the better of her, and her mouth started running of its own accord. “I’d like to see you try.”

Mon dieu, Mary, put a sock in it. The blood pounded in her ears as she waited for his response with breath held.

The corner of his mouth quirked upward, a stark contrast to the cool indifference in his eyes. “Interesting choice of words, because I’ve decided that you won’t be seeing anything at all.”

He slowly made his way around the side of the bed, every step bringing him closer, every step sending her pulse careening more wildly than the one before. When he finally stood directly before her, her whole world tilted. Her gaze flickered to his zipper and her mouth watered. She wanted him there again. Wanted to close her lips over that silky, thick head and draw him deep, one glorious inch at a time.

The yank on her ponytail was quick and sharp. A real attention-getter, and she found her head forcibly tugged back so she had no choice but to look at him.

“You’re a dirty girl, Ms. Mack.”

His voice was gruff, his breathing labored as he spoke. He was as affected as she was, and the power of that soared through her, lifting her higher.

“Normally I could appreciate that. But do you really think that a thief deserves the privilege of having my cock in her mouth?” His words sent a thick-as-molasses heat to settle between her hips. “You’ll have to work for that.”

The last thing she saw was his sinister smile, and then her world went black as he tugged something over her head.

Blindfolded.