If I Were You(Inside Out 01)

Chapter Twenty-Two

Description: butterfly

“Wake up, baby. We’re almost there.”
I blink to feel Chris’s gentle hand on my arm. “Where?”
“The hotel.”
“I don’t remember closing my eyes,” I admit. “How long did I sleep?”
“Half an hour, out cold.”
I sigh and sit up, aware of the hollow moan of my stomach as I stretch and bring the scenery into view. I gape at the miles and miles of beautiful green mountains and countryside. “It’s gorgeous. Absolutely spectacular.”
“The Mayacamas Mountains. And yes, they are.”
“I’m surprised they haven’t shown up in your artwork.”
“I’m not a landscape guy. You know that. I can’t believe you’ve never been here. You’ve lived in San Francisco since college, right?”
I nod. “Yes. I just…it’s the out of sight, out of mind thing.” And a teacher’s pay, I add silently, as my eyes light on a gorgeous hotel property and the name on the sign. Auberge du Nuit, the hotel for the rich and famous, like Chris. I remember reading about it in a magazine I’d tossed in the trash because it was torturing me with all I couldn’t do and see.
“I’m going to put an end to that out of sight, out of mind thing, baby. Just you wait and see.” He whips the vehicle onto the long driveway and I shove aside the tension his words create. I’m not going to think about adjusting to him being gone, and he will be gone. For once, I’m living for the moment, and for the dream I am chasing.
The instant the Porsche is under the awning at the front door, a bellman in a sharp black suit opens my door. I step out of the car and Chris does the same on his side.
“Good to see you, Mr. Merit,” the bellman says in greeting.
Chris rounds the hood and tosses the keys at him. “Don’t go on any joy rides, Rich.”
“No sir,” Rich agrees, grinning, and Chris slides him a tip I’m pretty sure is a hundred dollar bill. One sixth of my weekly pay for parking the car. “Luggage is in the trunk.”
“I’ll have it up right away, sir,” Rich assures him. “Are you doing an event at the gallery I haven’t heard about?”
“Not this time,” Chris replies. “For once, it’s all pleasure.” Chris laces his fingers in mine and waves at Rich.
We head toward the check-in desk. “A show?” I ask, unable to douse my curiosity.
“They have a gallery on the property.”
My eyes light up. “It seems wine and art go hand-in-hand.”
“A little too much for my taste,” he mumbles under his breath and it’s not the first time I’ve gotten a negative vibe from him about the association.
We are treated like royalty at the front desk, or rather Chris is. I am warmed by the way he keeps me close to his side, always touching me, as if he can’t stand not to be with me.
By the time we step onto the elevator, headed toward the penthouse suite and he leans against the wall, pulling me against him, my hips to his, I am all melted butter, and dripping chocolate. Yes, it’s a silly saying Ella had used when she’d first met her doctor, but it’s fitting. Ella. I miss her, and wish I’d hear from her, but Chris strokes a hand down my back, molding me closer, and my mind is pretty much mush.
He nuzzles my neck. “I cannot wait to get you alone.”
My hands settle on the hard wall of his chest and I peer up at him. “I thought we had reservations.”
“We do.” He pulls my ear to his lips again, and I know there must be cameras and recording devices. Of course, there are. “Which is why I’m going to f*ck you hard and fast. We’ll go slow later.”
I gasp at the wicked words and my sex clenches, wetness clinging to my panties. Hard and fast. Oh yes. Please.
The doors ding a warning and open. Chris takes my hand and all but drags me down the hallway. The walk is eternal, the Alice-in-Wonderland tunnel of forever, before he slides a card through the door lock and we are inside. Before I can blink, I’m against the wall, with Chris pressed deliciously against me, his thick erection nuzzling my belly, his mouth devouring mine.
I moan into his mouth, the taste of him rich with desire, hungry for me. Me. That’s what makes me hottest of all, beyond his hands stroking my body, palming my breasts and nipples. How much I taste his desire for me. How much I feel his need.
“No one has ever made me lose control the way you do, Sara.” The confession is sealed with another scalding kiss, and oh yes, I am melting.
A knock sounds on the door. “Bellman.”
“F*ck,” Chris hisses, pressing a hand to the wall, and I sense him reaching for control, and have this sudden desperate need to keep him from finding it. This sudden certainty that the only way I will ever know this man as I want to is to take his control.
“Come back later,” I call out, and press my lips to Chris’s, my hand sliding down his hip and around to cup his shaft, stroking the thick ridge through his jeans.
He growls low in his throat and pulls his mouth from mine, and his eyes are dark pools of turbulent passion. He’s mad. Holy shit. He’s furious. “Losing control and you taking it from me are two different things, Sara. You won’t ever take it from me.” He shoves off the walk and stalks to the door and opens it, whistling to get the bellman’s attention.
Frozen to the wall, I feel shell-shocked. The dark Chris, the dangerous damaged Chris I keep forgetting exists, is back. What just happened to set him off?  And damn it to hell, why does it turn me on when it shouldn’t?
The bellman is in the door with our bags and I haven’t moved. I feel his eyes on me and I know I must look a disheveled mess. Somehow, I focus on the room, bringing the amazing detail into focus. Vaulted ceiling encase me and to my right is a living area and full kitchen. A California King-size bed is to my left, a stucco fireplace in the corner in front of it, and beyond that a private patio overlooking the mountains.
The hotel door shuts and Chris locks it. My heart is thundering in my chest. I can’t look at him. I don’t think he wants me to look at him. I don’t know why. It’s just a feeling.
He rolls my suitcase to the center of the room and unzips it, pulling out a pair of cream-colored strappy high heels he drops on the floor, and a pale yellow chiffon dress he lays on top of the case when he closes it. “Put them on.”
I force my eyes to his. “You want me--”
“Yes.” I wet my dry lips. Okay. He wants me to dress up. Sounds like a good excuse to escape and regroup and boy, does regrouping sound appealing. I walk to grab the dress, intending to head to the bathroom, wherever it is.
“Right here,” Chris says. “Where I can see you.”
I gape and try to clarify again. “You want me--”
“Yes. I want.”
He sits down on the bed and I realize he intends to watch me undress and dress again. This is about control, about him demonstrating what he has and I do not. He needs it. He needs it on some deep level, and I am not going to deny him. For reasons I’ve yet to understand, giving Chris control doesn’t bother me, but I know in my heart, it keeps me at a distance. This is his wall, his barrier, his great divide; I am beginning to wonder if I can ever conquer his barriers. Right now though, I’m happy to let him conquer.
I swallow hard, my throat like sandpaper, my body wet and wanting. I am aroused by this and everything Chris does. I reach for the dress.
“No,” he orders. “Undress first.”
I nod and lean against the wall to unlace my boots, and pull them and my socks off. He stares at my pink-painted toes and good lord, he makes even that hot. I reach for my pants and unlace the strings holding them closed before sliding them down over my hips and down my legs, leaving the expensive, gold-jeweled cream-colored panties in place.
My shirt comes next and I pull it over my head and toss it to the floor, standing before Chris in only my bra and panties.
His gaze sweeps over me, hot and heavy, his eyes dark, hooded. “Everything.”
I blanch. “But--”
“Everything. I want to be able to get to you when I want you. And we’ll both know I can anytime, anywhere.”
Heat rushes over my skin at the implication. He means to have me in public. I should be appalled. I should say no. Instead, I am weak in the knees with desire. I slide my fingers into the thin strings of my thong and slide it to the floor.
Chris’s gaze follows the path they take, his stare traveling my skin, touching me with such heat that it might as well be his hand. I step out of the panties and have no intention to stand there and wait for his next command.
I unhook my bra and toss it at him. “Happy now?” I challenge.
He arches a brow and I think I might see a hint of a smile on his lips, maybe. Perhaps not. “Don’t test me, Sara. You won’t like the results.”
“Or maybe, I will.” Maybe I’ll push his control. Maybe I’ll get inside him and tear down the wall.
“You won’t.” His words are hard and too certain to be comfortable for me.
He pushes to his feet though, and I silently cry out with joy. Touch me. I don’t care how you do it, just do it. He saunters over to me and stops out of reach. He scoops up the dress, his eyes raking over my body. My nipples pucker under his scrutiny, tight balls of aching need and I pray for his mouth on me sooner, not later.
He hands me the dress. “Put it on.”
Put it on? Without him touching me? He can’t be serious. “Right now?”
“Right now.”
You know I have to punish you. Rebecca’s words come back to me. He’s punishing me, absolutely torturing me. Making me pay a price for daring to take control. But deep down, I come to a conclusion. I came close to breaking through his wall or he wouldn’t be doing this. It’s this information that makes the torture bearable.
I take the dress, and I notice he is careful not to touch me. I pull the chiffon material over my head and the silk rasps over my nipples and skin. I am so ultra-sensitized I think I could come with one touch of his mouth in the right place. And I believe there would be many right places at this juncture in time.
The dress falls into place and Chris’s eyes never leave mine. “The shoes.”
I slip them on and he walks around me, giving me a careful, penetrating inspection before stopping before me. “Beautiful, baby. You look stunning.”
My chin lifts. “But not stunning enough to f*ck right now.”
“More than enough to f*ck, just not yet.” He leans in, his lips by my ear, but he is careful not to touch me anywhere else. “Because when I do, you’ll be so hot and wet, you’ll be mine to do with what I want. And believe me baby — I want plenty.”
“You’re punishing me.”
He looks at me and his eyes soften as he brushes his knuckles over my shoulder. Goosebumps lift all over my skin. “Does that feel like punishment?”
More like pure bliss. “No.”
“Then you have your answer.”

***

We step into the hallway and Chris takes my hand, his eyes meeting mine, and I know he can see the sweet relief washing over me at his touch. His green eyes dance with amber heat and he leads me down the hallway, all masculine sensuality and raw power. I am insanely into this man. He pushes every button I own, in all the right ways. Every second I am with him, I feel more alive.
Another couple waits by the elevator, and we step inside behind them. Chris leans against the wall and pulls my back against his front. I soften against all his hardness, and his fingers curl around my waist, where they begin a slow caress. My nipples pucker against the thin material and I become ultra-aware of how naked I am underneath the dress.
The man across from me glances down, stroking my chest with a stare that makes me want to smack him for the woman he is with. I turn in Chris’s arms, giving the man my back. “Where are we headed?”
“In light of recent events, I thought food before wine seemed a good idea.”
“Yes. Please.”
The elevator dings and we let the other couple exit first. Chris takes my hand and I hit the elevator button to hold the door. “I need to go upstairs.” I glance down at my dress, my nipples puckering too obviously.
His lips quirk. “I already planned to have the hotel bring you a shawl and a coat to match the dress in case the evening gets chilly.”
Relief washes over me. “Thank you.”
“You just let me take care of everything tonight.”  He pulls me under his arm and I let go of the elevator button as we step into the lobby. Let Chris take care of everything. It is a thrilling, dangerous idea, I cannot help but crave.