“I was thinking of it more as the first phase of a rather clever seduction, but I fear you’ve seen through my ruse. Still, it’s only dinner. What can it hurt? Say yes.”
She cocked her head. “Said the sadist to the fly. But yes, I’ll have dinner with you.”
The word danger flashed through her mind like a chant, but something about the danger itself was alluring.
You are losing your mind.
Maybe. But she was going to have dinner with him anyway.
“I knew you liked me,” he said.
“That remains to be seen.”
He stepped nearer, until he was towering over her. Bending closer, he murmured softly, “Does it, now? Because I’m fairly certain I felt it when I kissed you yesterday. I’m about to do it again. This is your chance to say no. To use your safe word, if you will. And we’ll keep it real simple, given the circumstances. All you have to do is tell me to stop.”
God, he smelled like a clean man, like soap and a T-shirt fresh out of the laundry. And beneath it was a faint trace of something dark and earthy that made her mouth water. She couldn’t speak. Couldn’t pay any attention to the voice screaming in her head to tell him no, to run away. All she could do was tilt her chin to be kissed.
He moved in slowly, pausing when his mouth was a mere inch from hers, his breath warm on her skin. She breathed him in—she couldn’t help herself—and even his breath was fresh and sweet in a way that made her dizzy, making her want to drink him in.
She raised her chin a notch. He pulled back the tiniest bit. When she swayed closer he inched back once more. He was making a dance of it. A challenge. Making her allow him to see that she wanted it. Part of her wanted to rebel, to be angry, but her body was burning with need.
He moved in once more, his mouth nearly touching hers, and she closed her eyes. Waited. Felt his soft exhale against her lips. Her skin tingled all over. When her eyes fluttered open she found his stunning hazel gaze on hers.
“I thought you were going to kiss me,” she said, her voice a husky whisper.
“I am. But it will be in my time. My time, Layla.”
“Don’t . . .” she started.
“Don’t what? Don’t try to dominate you? I can’t help it, you know. If you don’t want it, you know what to say. But this is who I am, down to the finest particle.”
She shook her head the slightest bit. She couldn’t get her brain to work. Her body was taking over completely. No. Duff Stewart was taking over. And something in her fucking loved it.
Don’t do this.
He was quiet a moment, watching her, his gaze traveling from hers down to her mouth and back again. She saw him swallow hard and wondered briefly if he was feeling as out of control as she was. But as he wrapped a hand up in her hair and pulled her in to kiss her, her mind emptied.
His fingers burrowed against her scalp, and he pulled hard, commanding her, but his lips were soft and gentle. Just a small kiss, a brushing of lips across hers and her nipples went hard. He did it again, and again and again, and lust shivered over her skin, into the pit of her stomach. When he took her in his arms, she felt the massive weight of his muscles holding her, the hard planes of his unbelievable body as he held her close. And still his mouth was sweet against hers as he licked her lower lip, then traced her top lip with the tip of his tongue. Gently, he opened her mouth, his tongue slipping between her lips, exploring. And she was letting him do it, was kissing him back.
How was it possible that these sweet kisses made her feel more taken over than if his kiss had been brutal? How was it possible that her body was melting into him, her breasts crushed to his massive chest, her hands going to his biceps, which were enormous and dense as granite? And she could feel through his shirt that one of his nipples was pierced, making her want to touch it, pull on it. Take it in her mouth.
When he lifted her and set her on the cool metal desk, she sighed. He parted her thighs and moved in between them. Kissed her harder, finally. But she wanted it. Needed it. He moved in, pressing his body between her spread legs and she felt the solid ridge of his cock—impressively hard, impressively big—against her mound and found she was wet for him.
She groaned into his mouth. He tilted his hips and ground against her.
Oh, God. Yes.
She felt all control slipping away. All power over the situation, over her own body.
No!
The alarms started to scream in her head and she felt it like a hard kick in her gut. She tore her mouth from his and pushed him away—or tried to. He lifted his head, licked his lips.
Looking down at her, he watched her face for a moment while she tried to swallow past the inexplicable lump in her throat.
“Don’t be afraid,” he said finally. Quietly.
“I’m not afraid,” she lied. “I’m just . . . This is getting out of hand.”
He stepped back. “Forgive me.” Releasing her, he stepped back a bit farther, offering his hand to her. “Shall we get dinner?”
She was a bit shocked by his immediate apology. By the sudden shift. And assured by the raging hard-on beneath his jeans when she glanced down. She didn’t mind that he’d been a bit out of control, too. Not that a Dom was above reproach. But that this Dom was a little out of his head—oh, yes, she loved knowing it. Loved it, and felt it gave her a little of her personal power back. Having a man at the mercy of his lust for her was always a bit of a heady power trip.
She closed her thighs, straightened the strap of her tank top, which had fallen down, and pushed off the desk. “Okay. Dinner.”
A grin quirked one corner of his mouth, making his cheek crease with that ridiculously charming dimple. “I wasn’t sure just then if you’d still have dinner with me.”
“Honestly, Duff? I wasn’t, either,” she answered.
CHAPTER
Two