Bared by the Billionaire (15 page)

She stopped and looked up at him, laughing. Not a laugh of angry mockery, but one that told him she was enjoying the experience of having him at her mercy for once. He growled and pulled her up to capture her mouth in a savage kiss. She surrendered then, giving herself fully to his passion, meeting his kiss with a desperate hunger.

He rolled over without breaking the kiss, pulling her underneath him and thrusting himself into her. Kyra wrapped her legs around his waist and he lunged deeper, ramming his tongue into her mouth as he fucked her hard and fast. She sank her nails into his back and rode with him, grinding her hips against his with every stroke.

He knew her body, knew when she was about to reach orgasm. He let go then, let go of the iron-hard control he’d always had over his body, his mind and his emotions. Jake Harmon held a woman in his arms and for the first time in his life, lost himself, melding into one being, one soul, as they came together.

* * *

Kyra sat by the edge of the rooftop pool, happily dangling her feet in the water as Harmon swam lap after lap. She was thoroughly satisfied in every way. A soft breeze flowed in from the ocean, turning the hot steamy day into a warm, comfortable night. Off to the west, a spectacular display of lightning lit up the black sky again and again over the Everglades, promising a ferocious thunderstorm on its way.

Her thoughts drifted back to the evening they’d spent together, their first outside the lab. She’d never been in Harmon’s suite before tonight. The space was surprisingly traditional. She’d expected to see sleek, modern furniture, like he’d chosen for the cavernous two-story living room. But when she looked around his private quarters, she wondered if perhaps that very public room had been decorated by an interior designer who delivered what she expected a tech genius to want, rather than getting to know the real Harmon.

A king-sized bed with a charcoal gray suede headboard dominated his bedroom. It was flanked by a pair of teak nightstands that had a Chinese flair. A pair of matching crystal lamps with silver shades sat atop the nightstands. The only real color came from the artwork. His taste there was surprising as well. A Chagall watercolor hung across from the bed and an original painting by Christian Riese Lassen took up most of another wall. She was familiar with Lassen’s ocean scenes from his gallery in Key West, but this was one she’d never seen before and she asked Harmon about it.

“I chose it because I felt an immediate connection to the guy when I heard the story behind it,” Harmon replied. “Lassen was barely out of his teens when he was discovered by a gallery owner in Honolulu. Before long, his paintings of Lahaina harbor at night and his underwater scenes with dolphins and shipwrecks made him one of the most popular artists in Hawaii. But critics scoffed at his work, saying his paintings were just a higher-priced version of trashy tourist souvenirs. So Lassen decided to show them he could paint as well as any of the masters. He arranged a still life and painted it four different ways, one on each corner of this huge canvas. He did a Monet-style French Impressionist version, a dead ringer for what Picasso might have painted, a Renaissance masterpiece equal to anything in the great museums of Europe, and then his own rendition.

“Of course, the critics still couldn’t admit they might have been wrong,” Harmon went on. “But all you have to do is look at it and you can see the amazing depth and range of his talent.”

Kyra knew that Harmon had been called a one-trick pony himself. Years ago, his critics refused to take him seriously as a scientist because of his early work designing video games and toys. But that work made him his first millions and funded his pioneering research into new medical devices and bionic engineering. No wonder he identified so strongly with another creative soul who’d been discounted as nothing more than a hack in the beginning. Kyra was touched. By telling her the story, he’d given her a rare glimpse into the private Jake Harmon, the one he kept locked up tight inside most of the time.

Despite all of Harmon’s inventions, the only thing high tech about his private living quarters was his bathroom. She went in to take a shower and couldn’t even find a handle to turn on the water, let alone the fancy panel full of digital controls that she fully expected to see.

It turned out that he operated the shower with voice commands. He had to come in and tell it to turn on for her, and then stick around to adjust the temperature. It automatically set the flow to Harmon’s desires and she found out he liked to shower in water way too cool for her taste. He snuck back into the bathroom at one point, called out a command from the doorway, and then roared with laughter when she shrieked at the sudden icy blast. She’d never heard him laugh like that. The sound delighted her. He was relaxed and carefree, like a mischievous little boy.

They’d had a marvelous late dinner afterwards, both naked in Harmon’s bed. Marcus was on duty that night and he’d prepared a feast for them. Kyra didn’t even know he could cook. Harmon called him and forty-five minutes later there was a knock at the door. She threw on one of Harmon’s shirts and went to open it.

The hall was empty, except for a tray in front of the door. Fresh grilled shrimp on a bed of angel hair pasta covered in a white Alfredo sauce with just a hint of garlic, paired with a dry white wine from a vineyard in Tuscany that she’d never heard of. She brought the tray back to bed, Harmon took off her shirt—or rather
his
shirt—and they settled in, talking and laughing for hours. Harmon had been charming and chatty. He told her the story of how his friend Naji had met his wife Shayla, including Shayla’s firm belief that they’d been lovers in a past life, living together in the ancient Arabian city she was now excavating.

“You know, they seem so in tune with each other. I can almost believe it when I see them together,” Harmon said.

Kyra scoffed at that, and they had a lively debate about whether to trust first-person accounts or scientific research in the area of past-life regression. That led to a discussion of their beliefs on life after life and then somehow they were on the topic of moral and societal ramifications of humans cloning themselves for organ harvesting.

If anyone had told her twelve hours ago that she would be happily nestled in the bed of the man who whipped her with his belt in public that morning, Kyra would have said they were crazy. But the more time she spent with Harmon, the more she was beginning to understand—and accept—some truths about herself.

She really did love being submissive to him, loved the wicked thrill she got from being told to pull up her skirt and bend over to be spanked. She loved the way he turned the fiery burn into a spicy heat, loved the feeling of being tied up and teased, then fucked hard and long. She, who had always prided herself on her independence, loved finding a man who was strong enough—and cared enough about her—to take control, dominate her, drive her mad with desire, and then make her want more. Kyra’s strong resolve not to let her heart overrule her head was melting. Her heart was telling her to trust him. The way he’d held her tonight, the way he’d kissed her and then opened up, talking about himself for the first time, showed her that to Jake Harmon, she wasn’t just a scientific experiment or an expensive plaything any more.

Thinking about their relationship, Kyra realized that not only did she love the sex, she enjoyed being in his company even when he wasn’t bringing her to a screaming orgasm. His interests were wide-ranging. He was surprisingly funny, with a quick wit that often had the whole room laughing out loud at business meetings. The depth and range of his intelligence took her breath away at times.

Despite his reputation as a loner, he was good with people too, at least the handful he allowed to get close to him. She’d watched him with key employees and observed him interacting with his security detail. Those four men were all fiercely loyal to him, far beyond what would be expected even from a very generous paycheck. He must have done something right to win their respect.

Kyra listened to the low rumble of thunder accompanying nature’s fireworks display, thinking. The Jake Harmon who dominated her and then took her to new heights of ecstasy thrilled her like no man ever had. The Jake Harmon she was getting to know outside the lab was someone she was coming to respect and admire. The more time she spent around him, the more she doubted that he could have been behind the theft at her former company. Why would a man desperate for an infusion of cash give away millions in potential profits to help Naji’s people, strangers in a third-world country? It didn’t add up.

Kyra decided she had to keep digging. She’d have to attack it from a different angle. Because if Harmon hadn’t masterminded the crime, then someone else was pulling the strings, setting her up. To prove her innocence, she’d have to find the real thief.

Chapter Twelve

“I haven’t found a thing.” Kyra was sitting in a café on Calle Ocho in Little Havana, her coffee growing cold in front of her.

“Dig harder. There’s got to be evidence somewhere,” Patterson demanded. “I’m telling you, the man is dirty. You’re just not looking in the right places. Search for other offshore bank accounts like the one that was opened in the name of your dead mother.”

Kyra stared at him across the table, furious. He’d struck a nerve bringing in the memory of her mother, how she’d been used to frame Kyra. His eyes were cold and hard as he looked back at her. When had she ever thought this man was attractive?

“I told you, I’ve gone over all the records he’s given me access to. I can’t find anything he’s done that’s illegal. From what I can see, Harmon doesn’t even cheat on his taxes. I saw several places where he could make a few changes, set up shelters, and pay even less.”

“Good. Show him those and offer to find more. Maybe he’ll bring out the other set of records—the ones he’s apparently still hiding from you.” Patterson threw down his napkin in disgust. “I need results if you want me to honor our deal. Remember, you’re there to do a job, not just to spread your legs.”

Kyra pushed back her chair and stomped out of the restaurant without another word. She’d been at DreamQuest for three months now, working side by side with Harmon during the day. She advised him on financial matters, reviewed the work his accountants did, and sat in on a wide variety of meetings. In her free time at the office, she’d scoured every bit of information she could get her hands on. By now she was convinced Harmon wasn’t the one behind the theft that bankrupted her former workplace. But she was no closer to finding out who was.

As for their private life together, she’d never been happier. Harmon was full of surprises. Last week, the private phone he gave her vibrated in her pocket right in the middle of a meeting with several members of his accounting firm. Kyra was there to familiarize herself with the plan they’d suggested to Harmon to diversify by transferring some of his holdings to a new foreign corporation they wanted him to establish.

She looked down at the screen.

Wanna get licked n dicked? Lose these guys. Quick
.

She glanced up at Harmon but his face was expressionless. Flustered, she tried to concentrate on what the men were saying. A few seconds later, her phone buzzed again.

Good girls get rewards. Naughty girls get punished
.
Put the phone between your legs, under your skirt.

After getting whipped with his belt at another meeting, Kyra wasn’t about to ignore a direct command from Harmon when he was in full-out dom mode. Trying to act nonchalant, she put her hand under the table and slid the cell phone between her thighs. For the next fifteen minutes, Harmon toyed with her. He’d hit redial, making the phone vibrate up against her pussy, then ask her some long, involved question about the legal implications of such a transfer, or the tax consequences.

Kyra struggled to maintain her composure. Finally, she called a halt to the proceedings when the head of the accounting firm couldn’t give her a firm number for his projection of the long-term capital gains Harmon could expect to realize.

“Jake, I suggest we reconvene after Mr. Robbins has had a chance to do a few more calculations. Gentlemen, thank you for coming. Let’s plan to meet again in two weeks.”

Jake rose and shook hands with all of the men, escorting them to the door. He shut it after them and Kyra heard the unmistakable click of the lock. He turned to face her.

“You took far too long ending that meeting. That was naughty. And you know what I said happens to naughty girls.” His voice took on the stern tone that sent shivers of anticipation tinged with a bit of fear through her body. “Now get up and bend over the table.”

Kyra knew better than to hesitate. She stood, pulling the phone out from between her legs and laying it on her chair. Then she bent her body across the sleek, polished wood. Harmon came up beside her and slid her skirt up. Her legs were bare and she wore only a tiny purple thong, leaving her bottom totally exposed.

“Good. I like it when you’re dressed so that I can spank these naughty cheeks easily.” His hand connected with a loud
crack
and Kyra bit her lip to keep from crying out. She was never prepared for the white-hot bolt of pain that accompanied that first whack. Harmon didn’t believe in starting out easy.

He spanked her again and Kyra jerked against the hard surface of the table.

“
Next
time… you’re going to take that meeting
yourself
… and give
me
a five-minute
rundown
on the plan…
afterwards
.” His hand descended on her quivering bottom over and over, driving home his words. She flinched at each firm smack but didn’t struggle or protest. Kyra knew by now that doing either would only prolong her punishment. She knew too that no matter how much it hurt right now, after he stopped the burn would morph into a hot, spicy sting that ignited a different kind of fire between her legs.