Bound (Forbidden Series - Book 1) (7 page)

             
Because her muscles were overworked, this command was more difficult to do, but she used his body as leverage and hoisted herself up, then took a second to stabilize herself before she retreated a step backward as he pulled his clothing back into place.

             
“You’ve done better than I expected,” he told her before looking at her pile of clothes. “Get dressed. It’s time to go inside and finish this.”

             
With that, he turned away from her and began walking toward what seemed to be a private elevator in the corner. Terrified he would leave her there, she quickly threw on her outer clothes, clutching her underclothes tightly in her hands as she chased after him, adjusting her blouse while stepping behind him into the elevator.

             
Fear had become a constant inside her, but fear wasn’t the only thing she was feeling right now — her body was burning with need, a need she’d never before experienced. Her thighs clenched together and she wondered what was wrong with her that she didn’t feel any shame after what had just happened.

             
Maybe it was the circumstances of being where she was with a man such as him, or maybe she didn’t think she should feel anything other than concern for her brother, but whatever it was, her heart pounded when the doors to the elevator opened and she stepped out along with Blake.

             
She feared that very soon she’d learn more about herself than she wanted to. Would she ever be able to look into the mirror again?

              Though Blake had disguised his emotions like a professional poker player, he was shaken up. Yes, he was no newcomer to sexual pleasure — in fact, he’d thought he’d seen and felt it all. But when Jewell had performed her striptease for him, at his command, he’d had to force himself not to reach out for her.

             
He’d nearly lost control when she lowered herself to the ground and her sweet plump lips had closed around the head of his arousal. That just didn’t happen to him — he was always in complete command of his emotions. He wouldn’t allow himself to slip again.

             
He couldn’t escape her tantalizing scent as she stood silently beside him and finished adjusting her clothes. Unable to help himself, he watched her out of the corner of his eye. Although she’d just given him a mind-blowing orgasm, he wanted more. He wanted to feel himself sinking deep within her heat, feel her body cradling him.

             
Yes, Blake loved sex. He loved all sorts of sex, loved how for ten seconds the only thing he felt was pleasure — no stress, no worries, no thoughts of yesterday or tomorrow. That was his haven in a world that had been less than good to him.

             
And yes, he enjoyed the buildup to sex. He loved the way it felt to caress a woman’s body, to taste every inch of her skin, to hear her sounds as she was being pleasured. But something was different with the woman standing next to him. He wanted more, and that was unacceptable. She was basically a prostitute, a woman he’d paid for.

             
Most women were, though, weren’t they? It didn’t matter what their profession was. In the end they were all willing to use what turned men on to get an advantage, to get whatever they could.

             
He closed his eyes and was suddenly assailed by the sound of his mother screaming in pain. Snapping his eyes back open, he shook his head and forced out the eerie note of her dying voice.

             
It had been twenty-five years, and the anniversary of their death was approaching. He knew what that meant. He knew the next week was going to be hell. It didn’t matter how much he hardened himself. Nothing helped. Therapists had told him that time healed all wounds — they’d lied.

             
Time did nothing but haunt him and he’d learned only to numb himself from the pain as a means of self-protection. Like the fight-or-flight response, probably. But you could run on adrenaline for only so long before instinct grew exhausted and couldn’t be your savior anymore. What he felt, what he found to be the only answer to help ease the pain, was sex — lots and lots of sex with many women of all shapes, sizes, and colors. There were times he refused to have his needs met, just to prove to himself he could go without it. Only one thing was for sure — all women were like his mother. They all wanted to gain something, and in the end, they would all lose.

             
Blake was good at reading people. He knew who he should go into business with and who he shouldn’t. He also knew who he should sleep with and who he shouldn’t. And he knew that he should send Jewell back to where she came from. Immediately.

             
He just wasn’t ready to do that.

             
“Go and shower,” he told her, needing a few minutes alone to regroup.

             
“Okay. Where?”

             
From her position in the entrance to his living room, she took it all in, her eyes wide. He tried to see the apartment from her point of view. Yes, it was large. Very large. Blake liked having a lot of space. Not much furniture cluttered it up, and he had absolutely no knickknacks.

             
The only semblance of an emotional connection in the entire room was a framed photo of him and his brothers that was hanging on one wall. Tyler had brought it over while Blake was away, and the pest had hung it up without permission. Blake had vowed to take it down, but it was in the exact same place five years later.

             
He was reminded of his unfulfilled vow when he saw Jewell gaze at the photograph. He didn’t want her getting any ideas about him, thinking that he was anything other than a cold man with one thing on his mind. The picture showed him smiling, showed a softer side of him. That side wasn’t real. It had just been a moment — a small moment in time. He rarely — very rarely, — allowed such things to happen.

             
“The shower you will use is up the stairs, third door on the right. That will be your bedroom.”

             
Jewell jumped at the sound of his voice, and when she didn’t move immediately, he swiftly loomed over her, making her flinch.

             
Good. He liked to keep her off kilter. He wanted to shake her from the innocence she pretended to have. Damn it for its deceptiveness. It made him want to protect her, and that was ridiculous. She didn’t need protection; she knew all too well what she was doing. She could put on the innocent act all she wanted, but it wouldn’t change where they would end up, and it wouldn’t change the fact that he would cast her aside when she was no longer of any use to him.

             
“When I tell you to do something, I expect you to move immediately,” he said, reaching behind her head, tugging her hair, forcing her head up so she had no choice but to look at him.

             
“I’m not arguing with you. I was just looking for the staircase,” she said, a bit of fire in her tone.

             
Yes, he’d startled her, but she wasn’t cowering in front of him. Interesting. He debated for a moment whether that pleased him or not, then finally spoke. “We could just head straight to the bedroom if you prefer.”

             
Without giving her a chance to answer, he bent down and took her lips, then drove his tongue inside her mouth, desperate for another taste of her.

             
Completely shaken once again, now by the immediate current of electricity that shot straight to his groin, by the erratic beating of his heart, by the sudden blankness enveloping his mind, Blake pushed harder, trying to drive the feelings away. Lust he could handle, but he couldn’t accept any sensations less easy for him to master.

             
Pulling her even more tightly against him, he plundered her mouth, greedily swallowing the groans she couldn’t hold back and then raising her passion higher. Now desperately curious to feel his effect on her, he slid his hand inside her waistband and curved his fingers around her smooth behind before dipping them between the front of her legs and entering her wet heat.

             
He was indeed a predator, and it felt so good. Leaning back, he looked into her half-closed eyes. “You respond well,” he said, mingling praise and a bit of mockery in his tone.

             
Her reaction was swift and fierce. She jerked back and — only because he allowed it — moved a step away from him.

             
“I’m just doing my job,” she said before turning and leaving him behind, proceeding to the staircase in a measured walk, showing him that she wasn’t running in fear, but going of her own free will, and paradoxically doing what he’d told her to do.

             
He took a step toward her, then stopped himself. He would let her have this one small victory. He didn’t want to break her spirit too soon; if he did, he’d lose interest. He knew quite well that he could have her on her knees within seconds, begging him to enter her slick heat, but part of the reason he was so intrigued by this woman was that she didn’t just roll over and let him have her.

             
Yes, she obeyed his orders, but he’d be a fool to miss the fierce pride in her expression, the self-loathing she felt for desiring him. He should be furious, should return her right away, but didn’t he sleep with enough women who cowered and kowtowed, and with so little effort on his part? He was sure Jewell would succumb, too, but wouldn’t the journey to her downfall be much more entertaining?

             
That thought didn’t sit right with him, and Blake marched over to his liquor cabinet, poured himself a stiff drink, and swallowed it swiftly before refilling his glass. She had power, too much power, and he needed to take that from her, get it all for himself.

             
Yet he was enjoying her reactions to him. Damned if he knew why, but he was also enjoying the fire that seemed so easily to light up within her eyes.

             
Blake walked up the stairs, entered her bedroom, and looked over at the closed bathroom door. Hearing the shower running, he found himself wanting to join her, wanting to speak to her. What was her story? How had she ended up at Relinquish Control? And why in the hell did she fascinate him so much?

             
Leaving the room, he went into his own and shed his clothes. As he climbed into his shower, he decided against spending the night in the same bed with her. He wasn’t in control enough to know how he would respond when he sank inside her, and he couldn’t take the chance that he might be consumed by any emotion.

             
He really might have to send this woman back.

             
He almost panicked at the thought. “Not yet,” he said aloud, shocked when the two words resounded off his shower walls. Now he was talking to himself. Maybe he should spend a day with his brothers. They could assure him he wasn’t crazy or they could at least throw some light on what in the hell was going on with him.

             
As Blake got into bed, he wondered what Jewell was doing right then. Was she applying some of the expensive lotion sitting on her bathroom vanity? Was she slipping on the silk pajamas he’d had laid out for her? Was she thinking about him?

             
He shouldn’t give a damn, but he wanted to know what was happening inside her head. He wanted to know desperately. He’d never before brought a woman to his apartment. It was his sanctuary. It was a place to which he certainly didn’t invite strangers. That was thoroughly practical. If women didn’t know where he lived, there was less chance they would hassle him when he was finished with them.

             
So why had he brought Jewell here? Damned if he knew.

             
His personal assistant had been shocked when he called her a few hours earlier and told her to find night wear and women’s toiletries along with a collection of clothing that would be suited for any occasion. Of course Jewell came with her own clothing, but he didn’t like the sort of outfits McKenzie chose for her escorts.

             
His assistant hadn’t questioned him, and he was grateful that he had a semblance of respect for one woman in his life. More than a semblance, actually. He liked her as a person.

             
Now, if only he could find some solace in his own apartment. After fifteen minutes of lying on his bed wide awake, Blake knew the only thing that was going to help him was some intense sweating.

             
He threw on some workout clothes and went out into the hall. Walking past the room Jewell was in, he paused, his hand lifting toward her doorknob for only a millisecond. He turned away and went down the main stairs, then down another set of stairs to his home gym.

             
Turning the setting on his treadmill to a respectable speed, Blake ran until Jewell was flushed from his mind. Then, after climbing back up both sets of stairs, he rinsed off in the shower again and collapsed onto his bed. He was thankful when he finally felt sleep claiming him.