Authors: Audrey Carlan
“Oh really? Is that right? You just tell Mr. Davis that I don’t need his permission, but thanks for the concern.” I walk to the door and open it wide for him. The man almost spans the entire space of the door frame. I wonder idly if he used to play football. “Thank you, Jack. For your assistance today at the station.” He leaves with a nod.
I answer to no man. Even if Chase has some misguided notion that I will fall in line like everyone else does around him, he’s dead wrong. I’m no longer the type of woman to bow down to a man’s every whim. I learned that lesson the hard way.
My cell phone pings, and I pluck it out of my briefcase and see his name.
To: Gillian Callahan
From: Chase Davis
Dinner at 6:00 p.m. We head home first thing in the morning. Have your bags ready.
Even from his board meeting he’s trying to control me. Unbelievable.
To: Chase Davis
From: Gillian Callahan
I’m tired. No dinner. I’ll be ready in the morning. See you then.
Space from Chase Davis is necessary. He makes me all googly eyed and filled with feelings I can’t control. Last night, though, he took care of me. I haven’t been taken care of by a man in years. My last boyfriend Daniel tried, but ended up making me feel smothered. He was just too damned nice all the time. His voice never rose once until the night that I asked him to try a different sexual position. That’s when things started to fall apart. Good riddance. He was a lousy lay. I’ve had more pleasure from Chase’s fingers just the once, than I had in the better part of a yearlong relationship with Daniel.
Even though Chase is trying to be nice, he doesn’t own me.
But you’d like him to,
my traitorous subconscious pipes in. I groan, knowing I just need to sleep. My head is killing me and I’ve suffered through a lot. Between the board meeting yesterday, the emotional rollercoaster, being mugged, a stint in the hospital, waking up next to Chase, having Chase get me off, and making my statement at the station, I’m a mess. A tired broken down mess. Once I’ve rested I’ll be as good as new. Unlike Humpty Dumpty after he falls off the wall, I’ll be able to pull myself together again.
I yank off my jeans and sweater and let them fall to the floor in a clumsy pile. The sheets are crisp and cool as I crawl into the plush bed in my bra and underwear. Sleep takes me instantly.
Chapter 6
Silk whispers across my forehead, against my temples, down the side of my face. I try to stretch and realize I can’t. Something prevents me from moving. The blankets are pinned on either side of me. I can’t move.
I can’t move!
I gasp for breath and scream. My heartbeat speeds and I start to panic and struggle.
“Shhh, Baby, there you are. You’re finally awake.” Chase’s voice penetrates the layer of fear, calming me instantly. I breathe in and out a few times. The panic eases. For a scant moment, I was back
there
. Back to when I’d awaken tied to the bed against my will. The room is dark, though I can still see Chase’s sly smile. He’s in the same suit from this morning and distractingly handsome. I take a deep breath and exhale slowly. The rest of the anxiety trickles out the edges of my pores as I inhale his woodsy scent. His fingers slide along my temple and he cups my chin. He pets the apple of my cheek which is probably still twice its normal size.
“What time is it?”
“It’s six. I’m taking you out. Get up, get dressed.”
A sigh escapes. “I told you, I was tired. I’m not going out.” I stick to my guns, though Chase’s nearness sends all pretense of a defense crumbling into a pile of mush. When he’s close, I just want to be with him. Alone, it’s easy to pretend what’s happening between us isn’t real.
He brings his mouth down for a slow luxurious kiss. Mmm, this man can kiss. He slowly sweeps his mouth across my lips, then nibbles on the plump lower one. I groan as he deepens the pleasurable assault. His tongue enters my mouth, sweeping along mine. He tastes so good. Like a perfectly ripe strawberry. I know he’s using my lack of restraint when he’s touching me to get what he wants.
Sneaky bastard.
I twine my fingers through his thick, dark hair, scraping his scalp lightly. He groans in appreciation while sliding one hand against my chin to turn my head, delving deeper. His tongue swipes languidly against mine and I feel that tingling down low in my belly. God, I want this man. Just as I grip at his waist to pull his shirt out of his pants, he pulls away.
“Seriously?” Frustration seeps out in a snarl.
“Gillian, as much as I’d like to fuck you right now, you’re in no state.”
I roll my eyes in disbelief. He’s the only man in the universe with a conscience.
“Believe me, I want to sink my dick so far into you, you won’t know what hit you, but it would be taking advantage.” He stands and tucks his shirt back into his slacks. “I’m taking you to one of my restaurants this evening. I’ve had a dress sent over.” He grabs a box that he must have brought in because it wasn’t there when I went to sleep.
“How did you get in here?”
He shrugs. “My hotel.”
“Do you ever take no for an answer?”
“Rarely,” he admits. “Now slip this on.” He holds the box out, but away from the bed, so I have to get out of bed to retrieve it.
Two can play at this game. I smile coyly and his eyebrows rise into sculpted triangles. He has no idea what he’s in for. I pull back the covers and stand tall in a royal blue bra and thong matching set and nothing else. The cups of the bra are see-through, leaving nothing to the imagination. The pale pink of my nipples have hardened and puckered through the sheer fabric. His mouth opens and closes on a gasp. He takes a deep breath, and those ocean eyes scan me from head to toe before zeroing in on my chest.
I grab the box from him and delight in the knowledge that the second I turn around, he’s going to see bare ass with only a tiny wisp of lace above my tailbone and a string across each hip holding the garment in place. I turn and sashay toward the bathroom.
“God, woman! You’re going to be the death of me!”
In a second flat, he’s behind me, one hand on my ass gripping and squeezing the cheek, the other cupping a breast pinching the nipple through the sheer fabric, elongating it further. My back is smashed against his front. He kisses the side of my neck, across my shoulder blades, ending at the opposite shoulder, where he presses his teeth and bites down leaving a slight indentation in the skin. I moan and melt against him as he soothes the bite with his tongue and lips.
“You smell so good. Baby, I’ve never held back before, and it’s killing me.” The breath against my ear sends shivers down my spine and a new bout of need through my core. His fingers do wicked things to my nipple and I moan, leaning against him harder, pressing and rubbing my ass into his growing erection.
“Then don’t hold back,” I goad.
He pulls back and slaps my ass. I shriek and jump forward.
“Get dressed,” he says with finality, then adjusts his crotch.
I grit my teeth and enter the bathroom. Closing the door, I take a firm hold of the sink, gripping the tile. I have never wanted to make love to a man more than I do right now. He’s driving me insane waiting. After a few deep breaths, I’ve cooled the fevered emotions and hormones his mere presence sends raging. Looking in the mirror at my reflection, I go cold.
I haven’t really looked at myself since the attack. Unfortunately, I’ve seen this woman before and she’s hideous. My cheek is still swollen, though it is not nearly as noticeable as last night. There’s a garish purple and yellow bruise forming and spreading along my cheek into my hairline and up to the bandage over my right eye. I pull at the sterile strips, removing the bandage completely and take a good look at the stitches. There are five stitches accompanied by a sticky dark orange substance surrounding the area. It’s the iodine they used to prep the area before stitching it. It’s not the first time I’ve been sewn up after an attack. Hopefully, the last though. I sigh. How many times have I looked in the mirror at this ugly woman. Too many to count.
I wash away the iodine and the area looks better. The doctor did a good job stitching up the wound. Maybe it won’t scar. Concealer helps to hide the bruise and discoloration. I pull up my hair and pin it into a messy bun with the longer layers sweeping across my forehead and cheek. That serves as a nice cover to the wounded area and hides the stitches quite nicely. It’s the best I can do. I hate that I’m an expert at covering up bruises and wounds. Too many years of practice. But not anymore. I shake the thought away. Now’s not the time to go digging into the past.
Opening the box, I pull out the garment Chase brought for me. Extravagant would describe it best. I’m pretty sure I’ve never worn anything so exquisite. It’s a deep chocolate with a high neck that will cover the cuts and bruises at my throat. I slip it on, clip the back and the dress falls to just above the knee. It hugs my curves delicately. The silk fabric feels like flowing water on my skin, it’s so soft. I look at myself in the mirror and do not recognize the woman staring back. The dress is stunning and makes me look elegant. Chase might actually be proud of having this woman on his arm.
The entire back opens in a cowl style hanging just above my bottom. The little dips above my sacrum wink into sight as the fabric sways over them with the slightest movement. Awkwardly, I remove my bra.
I’m actually happy he came for me, even though I tried to push him away. In this dress, I actually feel like myself. The pounding headache from earlier is gone, thanks to the long nap and double dose of meds, but now I’m ravenous. Hungry for both food and Chase. Though, if Chase sticks to his ridiculous no hanky panky policy, I’m only going to be satisfied with one.
I slide a sheer glistening gloss over my lips and exit the bathroom. Chase is sipping a glass of wine. He hands me a glass then grasps my hand twirling me around to inspect the dress.
“You’re an incredibly sexy woman, Gillian.” His voice is seductive as he trails one finger along the open back, caressing my spine from nape to tailbone. Goosebumps appear across my flesh and I hold in a moan, biting my lip instead. Boldly, he dips his fingers into the back of the dress to trace the tip of my thong. “I love that I’m the only man who gets to do this.”
“Chase, the things you say,” comes out breathy and labored. I go to the closet and pull out a pair of nude peep toe heels, relieved that I packed the perfect staple shoes. They go with anything and everything. I step into them and the additional few inches of height make me feel better immediately.
“I have one more thing for you,” he says.
I take another sip of the wine and set it down on the side table.
He hands me a bag with “Louis Vuitton” emblazoned on the outside. “Why are you buying me things? You hardly know me,” I ask nervously.
“Because I want to. If I want to buy a beautiful woman nice things, I will.”
I gaze into his eyes and see honesty there. “Thank you.” I reply not knowing what else to say. Mom always told me that when someone does something nice you just say thank you. Don’t question it; just be grateful that they thought of you.
I open the bag and find a sleek black midsized purse. It has medium length handles and is square in shape. Very minimalist. It’s exactly what I would have picked for myself. The style and color will easily go with most outfits. He has excellent taste, and it is a lovely, thoughtful gesture after mine was stolen last night.
I smile and look at him grinning. “This is amazing, Chase. Really, thank you.” I pull it out and hold it next to me. The price tag drops over the side of the strap and I catch the amount. Oh. My. God. The tag reads eleven hundred dollars. “You spent $1100 dollars on a purse! This is too much.” I push the bag toward him as if it has suddenly grown teeth. He doesn’t take it and it drops to the floor in a beautiful leather heap.
“Chase, the purse that was stolen probably cost me fifty dollars. This is more than my share of rent for a month!” I’m breathing too fast. I swallow slowly and try to avoid the mini-panic attack. I look up at Chase. His teeth are clenched and that little muscle in his jaw is ticking.
“You deserve nice things, Gillian. I can afford it.” He says almost mockingly.
“I don’t want your money!” I stare at him in disbelief.
“I know,” his statement is matter-of-fact. “Boggles the mind.” He shakes his head and smiles. “Come. Dinner waits.” He picks up the purse and hands it to me.
Chase is a man used to getting his way. I don’t stand a chance against him. I’m going to need a new strategy if I’m going to guard my heart and my morals. We are so not done with this conversation though. I cling to the purse and grab a light jacket.
In the limo, I’m still flustered and irritated. Now I’m wondering how much he spent on this dress. It would probably horrify me.
Does he typically just burn money?
There are so many better uses for it than material things. It is a lovely purse, though. The leather is buttery soft, the style perfect to go with any dress and it even has a name written on the inside lining.
Madeline
. I guess if you’re going to charge $1100 dollars for something, you might as well name it.
Chase twines his fingers with mine, bringing our hands palm to palm. I feel the energy buzz between us instantly. He leans over and whispers, “I can’t stop thinking about your ass in that blue thong. I’m looking forward to licking and spanking every inch of it when you’ve healed.”
He bites the tender flesh of my earlobe, sending a zing straight to my core. Did he say
spank
? I’ve never been spanked before. Hit with intent to harm, but never spanked for pleasure. Not sure if I’d like it but if Chase was naked and doing the spanking I’d give it a whirl. He places a leisurely kiss against my shoulder. It’s an intimate gesture from someone who’s only known me a couple days. I’m having a hard time with how much this man has of my attention in such a short time.