Adrianna's Undies (12 page)

The question stung for reasons she couldn’t understand, and she found herself rolling in bed, onto her stomach, laying her cheek atop her hands and looking away from him.
Why
? Why
was
she so controlling when it came to men, sex? It was a question she’d never asked herself before—she’d never seen it as a problem, but more as a strength.

When had it started? Young. Very young. Even in her adolescence she’d been too competitive, determined to win, determined to conquer, determined to make sure no one got the best of her. As a teenager, she’d initiated kisses, not returned them. She’d always let boys know what she wanted, what she planned to
have
.

Why?

Finally, she swallowed and spoke the words that had just entered her mind. “Maybe I just don’t want to turn into my mother. She’s so…
weak
when it comes to men. I’ve always detested the way she lets them rule her existence.”

Tristan didn’t answer for a minute and she hoped maybe he’d started to fall back asleep so she could forget this conversation. That’s when he said, softly, “Maybe you didn’t want to be like your mother in another way too. Maybe you didn’t ever want to give a man the chance to leave you.”

Her chest constricted, since perhaps he was right. But she didn’t admit it. She didn’t reply at all.

“You’re
so
not your mother. You know that by now, don’t you?” he asked.

“Of course.” Rarely, she thought, had a mother and daughter been so different.

“What do you want, Adrianna?”

“I want to keep my company.”

To her annoyance, he chuckled. “I don’t mean that. I mean in bed. Right now. What do you want? Anything.”

She rolled back over to face him. “Anything?”

He nodded.

And in the dim lighting, her desires seemed…simpler than anything she’d experience in a long while. Simple and girlish—but she stated them anyway. “Maybe you could…kiss me. You know, for old time’s sake.” As much sex as she had, it didn’t always involve a whole lot of kissing, and maybe she missed that.

Tristan, still hovering over her, lifted one palm to her face, then lowered his mouth onto hers. The essence of him invaded her—pleasurably—as the kiss deepened, their tongues meeting, twining, and Adrianna’s skin tingled as the kiss moved all through her. Mmm, he tasted good, and just to kiss him felt like…coming home. She hated how sappy that thought seemed, so tried to push it aside, but it was impossible not to sink more and more thoroughly into Tristan’s kisses as one turned into another, and another.

The stubble on his chin lightly abraded her as he brought one hand up to caress her breast. So different—softer—than anything they’d done earlier. The simple touch of his masculine hand on her softest flesh, kneading, massaging—and then he bent to kiss her nipple—felt like something from another lifetime. Something ragged and desperate, but also sweet and wonderful.

She descended deeper, deeper into this recollected passion as he licked the beaded pink tip of her breast and then suckled her. She bit her lip, moaning, as the pleasure shot straight to her cunt, the invisible threads between the two body parts stretching longer, tauter, than during ordinary sex, making her arch her back, making her offer herself up, making her remember what it was to feel loved by a man.

Loved? Oh God, stop feeling that. Stop thinking.

She hadn’t done a very good job of that earlier, when she’d needed not to feel like his slave, but needing not to feel
loved
by him was a hell of a lot more important. Since when did she want
love
? She didn’t. She just didn’t. She adored her life as it was. She cherished the world she’d created for herself. She didn’t need anything else.

When Tristan ventured south, kissing his way down her stomach, it helped—as far as putting a stop to thinking went. Or at least it gave her something else—something physical, powerful—to focus on. As his velvet kisses moved across her sensitive skin, she surged with fresh moisture and parted her legs instinctively.

Kiss me there. Kiss my pussy.

But she wouldn’t beg. Not Tristan. Not tonight.

And she didn’t need to, since whatever game he’d been playing with her earlier had clearly ended for him too. He didn’t hold back, he didn’t tease—he just sank his tongue into the folds of her cunt like a man who hadn’t eaten in days devouring a gourmet meal.

She cried out as the shock of pleasure expanded through her like the blast of a bomb.
Oh God, so good, so good
. His tongue made her even wetter than she already was, and each eager lick ended at her re-swollen clit, which she couldn’t help lifting toward his ministrations.

She moaned and sighed and writhed on the bed like a schoolgirl and didn’t try to fight it, just got lost in it. Exhaustion made it easier—she truly
didn’t
think anymore, just let herself feel him. She let herself feel when he gently, boldly sucked the nub of her clit deep, again, again, until she tumbled into ecstasy for the fourth time tonight, the pleasure pure and saturating and consuming as it pulsed through every vein of her body. She let herself feel when he eased his body back up over hers and thrust his hardened cock inside her, impossibly deep as always. She let herself feel every long, slow stroke as she lifted automatically to meet them, as she curled her legs around his back trying to pull his tremendous shaft into her even deeper. She let herself feel his kisses to her mouth, neck, breasts. She let her hands run through his hair, touch his face. She let her eyes fall shut. She let herself get more lost in sex than she had in a very long time.

“Oh God, Adri—now,” he whispered, and the warm passion in his voice shot through her as powerfully as his ejaculation. One, two, three deep, hard plunges of his majestic cock and she couldn’t have felt more satisfied if she’d had a
fifth
orgasm. She didn’t even want that right now. She just wanted what she had, which was to be filled by him, and to take him to heaven.

When he’d come back to earth, he smiled down at her, his expression bordering between tired and playful. “You don’t mind me being on top?”

She smiled up at him. “It’s kind of nice right now. But I’ll never admit I said that.”

And they shared a soft laugh before falling asleep in each other’s arms.

* * * * *

When daylight beamed through the tall, wide windows to wake her some time later, she felt disoriented—until she remembered where she was and what had brought her here. She looked over her shoulder to find Tristan sleeping next to her, looking rumpled and handsome and perfect. An invisible hand squeezed her heart.

And she knew it was time to get away from feelings like that—feelings that affected her damn heart, of all things.

So she slipped quietly out of bed and helped herself to the coffeemaker, starting it brewing, and back into the bathroom where her “slave gear” still scattered the floor. After a quick shower, she wrapped herself in a thick white robe from the closet and poured herself a cup of coffee. She walked over to the window wall nearest to Tristan’s side of the bed—the same window he’d leaned against as he’d fucked her with his cock and a vibrator at the same time, which still lay discarded on the carpet—and drank her coffee looking at him, and out over the hedonistic city she called home.

When she’d left the bed, she’d felt wildly ready to escape and get back to real life. But just now, looking out over the Strip in the morning light, she didn’t feel so anxious to get back to that, either. It was hardly the first time she’d viewed Las Vegas Boulevard from a hotel room in the early morning hours and she always thought it appeared somehow…pale, unmasked. As if taking the night away, the darkness, revealed all its flaws. She always thought the city looked in the morning as if it had a hangover, or maybe it was more tangible than that—maybe she somehow felt all the regrets from all the people in these hotels about all they’d done the night before.

But she had to leave. This room. Tristan.

He was going to take her company now. He certainly hadn’t disputed that fact when she’d told him in the night that she wanted to keep it.

Maybe she could talk him out of it if she tried—but hadn’t she already let him weaken her enough? Wouldn’t begging, pleading, for her company just be one more form of submission, surrender? Wouldn’t it be giving him the control she never wanted to let any man have over her? She could fight him in other ways—she’d need to consult her lawyers and certainly learn more about hostile takeovers. And even if she’d begged for sex, she wasn’t going to beg for her company. She’d lost the game, fair and square.

And as for what had happened after that, the slower, sweeter sex they’d shared in the night, it had been…nice.
Too
nice. She had to leave
now
.

So she set down her coffee cup, found the bag she’d brought with clothes for this morning, packed up everything she’d brought with her—including her dignity—and with one last, brief look at Tristan, she left without saying goodbye.

Adrianna had spent Sunday researching the technical and legal aspects of takeovers, as well as talking with two members of her legal counsel at length to let them know what was coming. She arrived at the Adrianna, Inc. building bright and early Monday morning in her favorite red power suit, ready to do war. She knew she probably wouldn’t have to do war
today
, but she needed to be in the right mindset—she needed to be strong and ready for what lay ahead.

She’d also spent the rest of the weekend trying to forget about Tristan, namely about the softer feelings he’d inspired in her toward the end of their time together. At one point, very early Sunday morning, she’d caught herself thinking—
My God, do I still love him? Is it possible? I think maybe I’m still in love with the big, power-hungry lug
. But by last night she’d convinced herself that was pure rubbish, that Adrianna Kline didn’t
fall
in love with men, that it had merely been an exhaustion-induced illusion. And like everything else in this town, now, in the light of day, the illusion was gone and she had her head—and heart—back on straight.

“Shit!” she snapped when she pulled into her parking spot. Because just like a few days ago, a silver Mercedes Benz sat in one of the visitor spaces. Tristan was here. Again. Apparently, she
would
have to do war today.

She was positively livid by the time the elevator reached the top floor. As soon as she stepped off, Holly started to speak, but Adrianna cut her off. “I already know he’s here,” she said and then stomped to her office.

But outside, she realized she had to get hold of herself. She had to be in control. Or at least appear that way. So she took a deep, calming breath, stepped inside, then shut the door and walked behind her desk, lowering her purse and briefcase there.

Tristan sat comfortably sprawled in the same chair he’d occupied last week. Unlike the last time she’d seen him, every dark hair was in place, and his suit was as impeccable as she remembered. He was
GQ
, all the way. Although, unfortunately, she was remembering how hot and rumpled he’d looked in bed too.

She put on her professional face but didn’t resist letting her voice take on a cutting tone. “Here to lower the ax so soon? Surely you’ll at least give me a chance to consult my lawyers.”

He smiled, superior yet also somehow warm. “Adrianna,” he said, “you can relax. I’m not going to take your company.”

For the first time since yesterday morning, Adrianna felt as if she could breathe again. But she tried not to let her relief show—even that now seemed weak to her. So she just looked at him, telling him with her eyes to keep talking.

“I never really
intended
to take it—even though I could if I wanted to, and it’s a very attractive prospect.”

She just crossed her arms and tilted her head—another silent way of saying,
Go on, you arrogant son of a bitch
.

“Adri, believe it or not, I respect you too much to take what you’ve worked so hard to build. I came here because I wanted to be with you again. You’re the only woman I’ve never gotten over.”

Okay, now she had to sit down. She couldn’t pretend to be unaffected by that last part. She lowered herself into her chair, feeling lightheaded, and just kept looking at him. Her jaw had dropped, her heart beat too hard, her breath was growing shallow and she had no idea what to say.

“Is there anyone in
your
life like that?” he asked. “Anyone who…you just keep coming back to over and over, at least in your mind. Anyone you still feel something for no matter how much time passes?”

Be honest.
He hadn’t asked that of her just now, but those particular words from their night together came back. For some insane, unfathomable reason, at this moment, she found herself wanting to just be honest with him, wanting to say—
screw control
—and just be honest.

“I…I didn’t think so,” she admitted. “But…after Saturday night…maybe you.” Hardly eloquent, but it was the best she could do right now.

“I came here, Adrianna, because I’m still in love with you.”

She let out a breath. Whoa. That took things a big step further, and amid the myriad other emotions assaulting her, she couldn’t help feeling angry about all he’d put her through. “Did it ever occur to you to just come to my office and tell me that as opposed to ‘I’m going to take over your company unless you be my sex slave’?”

He didn’t look the least bit regretful. “What would you have done?” he asked instead.

She sighed, indignant, but stayed honest. “I don’t know.”

“I do. You’d have run in the opposite direction.”

Another conceding sigh. “Maybe.”

“I had to show you, Adri, make you see, that giving up control can feel good sometimes, if you let it. I had to see if…if I thought you could make room for me in your life and your bed without trying to run the show all the time.”

Adrianna looked down. Tried to think. Tried to tell him more of the truth. “It…doesn’t come naturally to me, giving up control, Tristan. It’s…it’s the hardest thing in the world for me to do—it’s completely contrary to my nature. But…”