Dream Nights With the CEO (10 page)

God, he wanted her. He lifted her up, wanting to spread her legs and slam himself inside her. She wrapped her arms around his neck and held on, a cry escaping her lips.

Yes!
He wanted to strip her right there, but he was still holding her up. And then a gust of wind hit, cold enough to cut through the sensations of willing woman to make him feel acutely uncomfortable.

Too cold. They had to get inside.

He took the steps—three of them—to get to the door. But he couldn’t maneuver her inside without letting her go. Damn it, he didn’t want to release her! But the logistical puzzle was too much for his Neanderthal mind to sort through. His higher brain functions kicked in. Enough to set her down, manage the door knob, and then…

And then he watched her swallow, her eyes growing wide as she took in the door, the bed, the way she was still wrapped around him and he wasn’t about to let her go.

“Oh shit,” she whispered.

Oh shit?
Those were not the words he wanted to hear. He swallowed, trying to strangle his lust so he could think. They were still outside, and she was tightening her arms on his shoulders. Not to pull her tighter, but to hold him back.
No! No!

“I like my job, Wyatt. I
love
my job.”

He nodded, his head bobbing up and down like a complete idiot. “I love it, too,” he said. He meant that he loved that she loved hers, but that was too many words for his brain to handle just then.

“We can’t screw this up,” she said.

There was panic in her tone and that chilled him more than the weather. “Don’t be afraid,” he said, and a part of him wondered if he was talking to himself or to her. Just to make it clear, he took a deep breath. “I’d never hurt you.”

“Not on purpose,” she said. “I know it would never be on purpose.”

Caution. Reason. All those things Neanderthal him did not want to hear. He closed his eyes. He had to let her go. He had to step back.

“We’re consenting adults,” he said. Damn, had he just started begging her?

“But that means we are logical beings. We can think before we act.” Her leg dropped away from his.
No!

He searched her face. “What do you want?”
Say my name. Say you want me.

She swallowed. “Let’s go inside. It’s warmer in there.” But neither one of them moved. And in that chill silence with the wind pushing them and the stars reeling overhead, Wyatt felt himself settle into that cold, empty graveyard of a place of his dreams.

“I’m going to go inside,” he said to himself. The words weren’t intention so much as prediction. It’s what he always did. “I’m going to sleep in the recliner.”

“It’s probably best,” she said, her expression tightened and her gaze centered on the rickety catwalk.

He nodded. “We can talk about this in the morning. When we’re a little more clear headed.”

“No moonlight, no stars.”

“No impulse. No hormones.”

She touched his face. Just like before, her fingers were cold but the wake of her touch burned. “We’re damned fools, Wyatt. We both want this.”

“We want a lot of things. Are you willing to risk what we’ve built together? What about this B&B? And all our plans?”

“Are they at risk?” she challenged.

He didn’t know. He couldn’t think. He only wanted her. “One week,” he said. “We should give it one week. The question is already on the table. In a week, we’ll be back in Chicago, we’ll have thought about it. We can…”

“Go on a date then?”

“Yeah. I’ll find someplace nice for dinner. We’ll do it right. And we can—”

“Talk about it. Make a rational decision.”

“With pros and cons and risks and rewards. Just as if we were talking about a new property.”

She flashed him a half-hearted smile. “You going to make a spreadsheet about this too? Reduce it all to a number?”

“Probably.”

“Yeah. Me, too. Probably.”

He swallowed. He was freezing. She had to be an icicle by now. So with shaking hands, he managed the doorknob and pushed inside. She followed a heartbeat later. Heat enfolded them, and he couldn’t help but notice the tight points of her nipples. He could push the situation. He could right now be kissing those peaks while settling between her thighs. He could suck and thrust his way to a screaming orgasm.

Instead, he’d chosen to stop. They both had. Did she regret it as much as he did?

“I’m, uh, going to…read now. In the recliner. And then…”

She nodded too vigorously as she gestured to the desk. It looked at first as if she were about to point to the bed, but then rapidly shifted to the desk. “I’ve got a lot of numbers I want to run.”

He grimaced. “Don’t work, Megan. Just…don’t.” He didn’t want her to turn into him—all about money and a cold, empty bed.

She nodded as if understanding what he meant. “O-okay. I’ll read something fun then. Or, um, sort through my new beads.”

“Good idea.”

“Are you sure you don’t want the bed? I could—”

“No! No.” He wasn’t likely to sleep much anyway. No sense denying her a good night’s rest if he was going to spend the night wide awake with blue balls. “I’ll take the recliner.”

“Okay.”

“Okay.”

Then they stared at each other for the longest, most awkward silence of their entire relationship.

“Good night,” he said. Then he walked to the parlor and firmly shut the door.

Chapter Nine

Megan was screaming her lungs out. Hot and hard and with every inch of her diaphragm. She didn’t know why. She was just standing in a…darkened warehouse? WTF? Definitely a warehouse with stacking crates and a huge hook hanging from the ceiling along with chains and all sorts of evil nastiness.

And she was in stiletto boots. Shiny black stiletto. Was she nuts? She could break an ankle in these things. Maybe she was screaming because her shoes hurt so damned much.

Then she heard it: a roar and a crash. In flew Wyatt, dressed as her masked hero, bursting straight through the wall. Cement blocks flew past her, dust went everywhere, and he stood there with his cape billowing and his skin…blue? What?

“Megan!” he bellowed. “Where are you?”

“Here!” she cried between coughs. Cement block was not a good inhalant.

He spotted her where she was crouched, praying she didn’t get flattened by a random piece of wall. She flashed him a grateful smile as she started to stand. He rushed forward and…ran straight into a trap.

It was a rather impressive trap. And wholly unbelievable. Before the man had burst in, she’d been standing right there. She’d walked across the entire floor without triggering anything. But one step by her masked hero and
whip, bang
! Suddenly he was suspended in air, wrapped in chains, and that big hook in the ceiling? It had him by the back of his utility belt.

She rocked back on her heels and just stared as steel links seemed to grow and entwine about his massive torso. “That is so not possible.”

“What are you doing?” he gasped as he struggled futilely in the chains.

“Uh…”

“Why would you do this to me?”

She blinked then abruptly put the pieces together. That’s why she was in stiletto boots. And her screams had been to lure him inside. She was the villainess! The black body suit gave her curves and a waist that had never been hers, a golden rope hung at her side from an invisible latch, and a cat’s tail whipped and coiled behind her. She glanced around. She had a tail? Cool!

Meanwhile, Evil Megan strutted forward. She moved with various seductive parts of her body sticking forward in awkward but apparently attractive poses. She knew because his eyes were riveted on her body, his nostrils flared, and certain very prominent parts of his body became gargantuan.

“Why are you blue?” she asked.

He blinked, then looked down at himself. “What? Oh. Uh, never mind. Megan, let me down. We can talk.”

“I don’t think so, hero boy. And while we’re on the subject of appearances, why do you look like that?”

He blinked. “Like what?”

“Tall. I know who you are.”

He reared back, horror on his face. “You couldn’t possibly!”

“Oh please,” she drawled, then she gestured with her hands. The chains—now turned to dark green vines for some bizarre reason—slowly lowered him to eye level with her. His feet were still suspended well off the floor, but now she could touch him freely. She reached for his face, but he drew back. He fought her vines, his muscles bulging, his face beaded with sweat, but there was nowhere for him to go. Her vines held him immobile.

“Careful,” she mewed. “You’ll hurt yourself.”

He shot her a glare. “You know you’re mixing metaphors right? Chains, vines, cattail. You’re all over the place.”

She smiled. “And you’re trying to distract me.” She grabbed hold of his mask—a dark Lycra-like hood that covered half his face—and started to peel it back.

“Don’t! You’ll ruin everything!” he bellowed. But she was relentless.

“I already know who you are.” She lifted the thing off and threw it away. “Wyatt.”

He grimaced and just like that, his body compressed and broadened. It even became mostly flesh colored, the blue fading out to a dark violet shadow that emphasized his very cut torso. “You shouldn’t have done that,” he said softly.

“Why?” Unable to resist, she touched his broad chest, loving the bulk of him. The sheer power in every hot inch of him. “I love how you look.” Then on sudden inspiration—or because it was the natural part of this dream—she grabbed her golden rope from her hip and quickly twisted it around his head. “Now you have to answer my questions truthfully.”

“Do not!” he shot back, then he winced. “Oh wait. I guess I do.” His words came out more like:
Eyy wreess. Eyyy do
. Clearly he was fighting the compulsion, and she just grinned. Wow, it was fun being the evil bitch. Except for the stilettos, of course, but she wasn’t thinking about them so much now. Not with his glorious body splayed so beautifully in front of her.

“So, truth time, Hero. Why did you hide your identity from me?”

He swallowed and turned away, clearly trying to outsmart the truth rope by not speaking at all. She reached up and firmly pulled his face back to hers.

“Why, Wyatt?”

“You’re not supposed to know!”

“Know what?”

He swallowed, his eyes growing panicked. Then to his horror and her delight, his extremely impressive organ twitched. It more than twitched—it surged and rocked as if straining for her.

“I wasn’t supposed to know that you want me? Is that it?” She studied his face, then slowly trailed her hand down his naked torso. He let out a strangled sound—part hunger, part terror—but she would not stop. She explored inch by glorious inch across then down his quivering torso until she held him cupped in her hand. Well, not all of him. She’d need way more of her body to fully grip him, but she held enough. Hot and hard, he throbbed beneath her hand. His face contorted as he fought the feeling, but in the end he surrendered. Releasing a moan of pleasure, he closed his eyes and let his head drop.

“It’s not professional,” he said on a soft moan.

“Blah blah, you work too hard.” She stepped closer, thrilled by the idea of having him completely at her mercy like this. “There’s something else. Something you’re not telling me,” she said.

She didn’t even have to think about the next step. It happened as if on an afterthought. All those tiny green vines that surrounded him suddenly grew shoots that pierced his tight pants. A thousand little stabs through the fabric that then coiled back and out, around and through.

“No,” Wyatt moaned, but it was a sound filled with pleasure. Whatever those vines were doing, apparently it felt very good. And then—
pfft
—his costume completely disintegrated. He was gloriously naked, and she couldn’t stop staring.

“Is it hot in here?” she quipped. “Someone took off all your clothes.”

He didn’t answer. His jaw was clenched tight, his belly was rippling, and…oh my…had she been stroking him all this time? Guess so. Because his abs were rippling, his body tightening just before his release.

“Megan! Stop!”

She did. She wasn’t about to let him get off that easy. So she stepped back and then had an icy cold vine wrap around him. She knew it was icy because it was blue and he hissed—and shrank—as it wrapped around his organ.

“Not so fast, un-masked man. We’re not done talking.”

“Nothing… to… say…” he ground out.

She eased up the vine around his cock. She didn’t want to cause it permanent damage. But she did add a blue chill to all those other vines holding him still. He cried out as much in frustration as in pain, and she got to watch his whole body contract in reaction. Wow, all those muscles were so pretty. But she wasn’t about to get distracted.

“So you’ve been attracted to me for a while.”

“No! Of course not!”

“Golden rope of truth, remember?”

“Oh hell. Fine. Since the day I first saw you. Your tie-dyed crop top still haunts my dreams.”

She smiled. Really? Well, of course it did. After all, she’d been a saucy college student then. She’d known exactly what kind of looks she got when she wore tie-dye. Or at least that particular top.

“Yeah.” She drew out the word. “I think I wore it just to torture you.” Then she blinked. Hell, was the rope of truth working on her at the same time? She hadn’t meant to admit that.

His eyes popped open as he stared at her. “So you noticed me too? Even back then?”

She shrugged, feeling compelled to answer. “What’s not to like? You looked hot, worked hard, and are worth $4.7 million.” She knew. She’d looked it up.

“Not back then.”

“You were close enough. I was a broke student on scholarship working as a maid. You owned the hotel. That equated to
billionaire
in my book. Besides, you noticed me. And not just how I looked in the crop top. You saw
me
. My skills, my potential, my—”

“Your brain? Yeah. Sexiest part of you, Megan. You’re wicked smart. And yeah, I’ve wanted to bed you from the very first day. But I hired you. Then I promoted you. Now I work with you every damn day. Don’t you think I’ve been tortured enough? God, to see you, to smell you, to
know
you, and not be able to touch you? Some days I think I’ll go mad with wanting.”

She blinked at him, her mind reeling. “Really?”

“Rope of truth, remember?”

She swallowed and slowly let go of the rope such that it dangled down between them. It was still looped around his neck, he was still strung up like a Christmas turkey, and yet, it felt like they were both just standing there looking at each other. Eye to eye. Nose to nose. And…breast to breast. Hip to hip.

“Wyatt, what’s going on?” She had a guess. It was out there, hovering somewhere. But right now, it was less than nothing to her. She wanted him. He wanted her. Why should they wait?

“Because I’m a cold fish,” he ground out.

She stared at him. “What?”

“I reduce everything to numbers, just like a robot. And you’re…” He gestured with one finger. It was the only part of him not strapped down. “You’re wild and free. You wear tie-dye and believe in ghosts. We work well together in business because your free spirit is restrained, and my logic is an asset. But a relationship is different.”

She swallowed, knowing the truth of it in her core. He was a numbers guy who’d never had a serious date in all the years she’d known him. Maybe he didn’t feel those tender emotions. Even though he exaggerated her wild side, she was still a person. She still wanted love and affection. “You’re saying you don’t want a serious relationship?”

He shook his head, his expression infinitely sad. “I don’t know. It’s never worked before.”

“Is that why I’ve never seen you date anyone?”

He snorted. “You think I built to $4.7 million by looking for girls? By the time I finished college, I’d had enough women dump me because I’m more computer than man.”

“That’s not true!” she said, her irritation making the vines tighten on him until he groaned. Then she started stroking his body, glorying in the ripple of his muscles and the way his skin heated beneath her touch. She heard his ragged breath and knew he was a man, not a machine. “You’re logical, Wyatt. Not a robot.” She said the words, but part of her wondered. After all, until tonight, she’d never even known he wanted her. What kind of man could hide his lust for years?

He touched her face. Where had all those chains and vines gone? “This is a dream,” he said. “We should wake up.”

She bit her lip, looking down at the ugly concrete floor. “Yes, we probably should.” Then she felt his fingers sink into her hair, popping off her own tight bandana mask. Huh. She hadn’t even realized she was wearing that.

“I’d much rather unlatch this evil villainess costume. Think your magic vines can help me out?”

Her head jerked up and she looked into his eyes. They practically burned with a dark intensity, one she’d only seen when he’d had a brilliant inspiration. It was a kind of fever that gripped him when he was focused on one thing. And this time, he was looking at her.

She swallowed, feeling dizzy with the possibilities, but she wasn’t backing down. “You’re the superhero. You figure it out. “

A couple of his fingers slipped beneath her jaw, tilting her head up for his kiss.

“With pleasure,” he murmured, then he lowered his mouth to hers.

Wow. Just wow. His kiss was both sweet and powerful at once. His lips were surprisingly soft even as the edges of his mouth abraded hers. But those sensations were lost as his tongue thrust against hers. They struggled for domination for a bit, but eventually she lost. Or surrendered. Whatever. It didn’t matter. He was thick and hot and inside her mouth, touching everything while she lay her entire body atop his.

Lay?

He was lying down, and she was stretched on top of him. There was so much of him, it was easy to sink every inch of her flesh into the broad expanse that was Wyatt. But it was catsuit to flesh, and she didn’t like it.

“Naked, Wyatt. Nothing stopping us. Please.”

Her words weren’t remotely coherent, but he seemed to understand. He broke the kiss and flashed her a mischievous smile. “I’ve always wanted to do this.”

He flipped her over until suddenly she was on her back and he was towering over her. “What?” she gasped, startled and pleased by their sudden reversal.

“Pull off a woman’s clothes…with my teeth.”

She blinked, unaccountably aroused by that idea. “With…only your teeth?”

“Think I can’t do it?” His eyes seemed to dance, and she realized he loved the idea of a challenge. So she lifted her chin and met his gaze.

“I think you’re going to lose focus halfway through. You are a guy, after all. Unless one of your superpowers is super-human restraint.”

“Or super-studly focus.”

She chuckled, and she liked the way his eyes dropped to her breasts. “Have at it, super-guy. Let’s see what you got.”

He grinned and held out his wrists. A green vine bound them together before pulling his hands up and away. Wow, that did nice things to his pecs. They bulged as he tested the restraints. No go. His hands were bound tight.

“Game on,” he said with a grin. Then he lowered down to her neck and the catsuit’s high collar.

She lifted her chin, giving him access just so she could feel the gentle abrasion of his teeth. It was wonderful. Every sensation burned itself onto her flesh. The stroke of his tongue, the heat of his breath, and the steady rrrrrrumble of the zipper as the suit opened like a ripe orange.