Love Beat (12 page)

Happiness flowers deep inside me. It comes with a shaft of something else, something even stronger but dark and urgent. It sends flames roaring through me, wetness pooling in the throbbing dip deep between my legs—
lust.

I whisper against his neck, thrilling to the spicy, feral scent of his skin, the coiled power in his arms and the warm glow down near his hips. “Okay. I promise.”

Chapter Nine

My happiness is brief. As Cade relaxes his arms, I see we’re in an eight-sided space right at the top of the tower. It has huge windows with wide, cushioned seats underneath and spectacular views. Moonlight floods in, filling the space with silver light.

I stiffen. This is my least favorite kind of place.

He’s staring down at me anxiously. “What’s the matter? Too extreme for you?”

His jaw tenses, like my response is vital.

This really matters to him.
I swallow, but I take the plunge. “I’m fine.”

His fleeting smile expresses joy for a split second. With a swift movement, he unzips my dress and my fear melts in the heat of his look as I let the bright silk peel away. He fingers the plunge of my bra with a burning finger then runs his hands lightly down my flanks, lingering on the lace edge of my panties.

His touch is exquisite, his focus absolute.

“I could eat you whole. You’re so beautiful…” He finds my mouth and finishes the thought with his tongue. Heat spirals through me as I lean into him, fired by the urgency of his hot, hungry mouth as the burning pressure glowing between our hips warns me of an invasion to come.

All at once I’m pinned beneath him along one of the seats, impaled on his hungry tongue while he tears at his clothes.

With a grunt he kicks them off then breaks the kiss to lean over in a lithe, athletic arc to search his trousers for a foil packet.

“Wait. Let me.” I snatch it out of his hand, wriggle out from underneath him and leap to my feet. I wave it aloft, sashaying in the moonlight then I begin a slow dance, teasing and swaying my hips.

He leans back to watch, his gaze liquid heat as my bra straps slip slowly off one shoulder then the other. I turn and sway my rear seductively close to his face as I peel away my panties.

They get part-way down my thighs with my thumbs hooked in the lace before he gives a low growl and seizes me by the hips.

“Hey, you’re cheating,” I gasp. “You’re not supposed to touch the stripper.”

“I’ll eat her then.” His laugh is somewhere between a purr and a growl as his mouth covers me with hungry kisses, first one side then the other.

I lean into his grasp as his hot mouth works its magic, and I start to burn. After a few, luscious moments, I turn round and stoop to lick the head of his erection, jutting between us, glossy in the moonlight. With soft caresses I steady its angle, thrilling to its size and its silky heat.

I lick gently along the sides to make it moist, so the soft skin inside my lips will slide easily along its length then take it fully in my mouth. Meanwhile I tear open the packet and take out the small, rolled contents.

He groans as I pull away and deftly roll it into place, but I’ve woken a sleeping tiger. With a swift movement, he stands up and takes charge, spinning me round and leaning into my back, his erection jutting painfully against my tender bottom as he steadies me against him.

“You’re sensational. Bend over.”

He leans forward and I feel his chest hair rasp against my back as he gently nips the nape of my neck with his teeth. His breathing is ragged now like he’s running a race and his voice purrs through me, deep and throaty.

“Put your feet apart. Wider. Keep your legs straight. Touch the floor to balance.”

He sounds husky, impatient. I bend right over and steady myself on the floor with my fingertips, making a graceful arch, and with a lurch, he slams into me. I cry out at the suddenness of it then feel his hands slide over my body, one rolling and kneading my breasts and the other reaching between my legs, penetrating deep into my eager, swollen folds, now stretched tightly around him. He begins to move, gently at first then harder, each thrust tearing a grunt of pleasure from him that echoes through me, making my tense muscles quiver as I strain to balance and haul him in at the same time.

He feels wonderful, filling me deeply, his heat glowing inside me, his rhythm matching my heartbeat with utter precision, his own need for me so great I feel it burn through the condom. I’ve wanted this all evening, all day.

All week.

Maybe all year.

Soon my climax begins to build but to my amazement he slows, pulls me back on top of him as he collapses back onto one of the benches then eases me off him, holding me aloft with both hands.

“Turn over. We’ll finish together. I want to kiss you while I do this.”

He sounds harsh but as I sweep my leg high over him to shift position, he smiles with pure pleasure, the moonlight glinting on his regular teeth, and rolls me over so he’s once more on top.

“Are you okay with this?”

I nod, breathless, marveling that he can sound so calm at such a charged moment. “You want a critique?”

My climax has been building, the pressure mounting, and now with all the upheaval of shifting position, I’m sure I’ll explode. But this place is important to him and if I’m the first woman he’s brought here, then this moment is important to me too. I want to make this special for him.

I look deep into his eyes, searching anxiously for clues to his progress so I can pace myself to match his thrusts, using every fiber of my technique to fend off my pleasure to coincide with his. He seems to know, maybe from the way my body reacts so sensitively to his every move.

In the moonlight I see a change in his eyes, a new intensity, an unexpected tenderness as he thrusts faster. My muscles contract round him as our bodies perform their own
pas de deux
and he fastens his mouth on mine, his tongue filling me as well. He thrusts again and again, each stroke a deep, hot pleasure until at last I can hold off no longer and my orgasm explodes inside me. My spasms rock through me and as I convulse around him, he jolts in my arms and erupts in his own.

He keeps his mouth locked on mine, loosening his kiss only to brush his lips softly against my mouth, the light, sensuous contact adding layers of sweetness to the waves of honeyed content that wash over me as I yield to his weight and his power.

At last he buries his head in my neck and heaves a long, contented sigh. “Hey, that was some critique—pretty impressive.”

I smile against his ear and nibble at his earlobe with my teeth. “For a first fuck, that was pretty impressive too. You’ve set yourself a high standard.
Sir.
”

* * * *

It’s nearly dawn when the powerful sports car purrs to a halt outside the massive entrance to Beat Hall. Despite the late hour, a footman instantly appears, opens the passenger door for me and accepts the keys from Cade.

In the elevator Cade holds me close. I lean against him, sleepy and sated, while he strokes my hair, his protective arm around my bare shoulders warm and comforting against the dawn chill we brought in with us from the park.

As we step out of the elevator into the hallway to our rooms, his phone buzzes. He glances at it idly then holds it to his ear. “Fitzlean.”

We’re almost inside the room. I can see my bed, invitingly made up, the smooth sheet folded back, waiting for my weary limbs to sink into it. It seems a long time since I slept.

His grip on my waist tightens, holding me fast, but he seems to have forgotten I’m here. Along my side I feel him tense as he listens in silence then slips the phone into his pocket.

When he looks at me, I see a stranger. My lover has disappeared and the magical tower is fading fast.

“What paperwork did you sign before coming here?”

I stare, my sluggish brain groping at his meaning. “
Paperwork?
I’ve no idea. There was so much of it. Why?”

There was a sheaf of forms to sign before we came. Non-disclosure agreements to protect the reputations of all the celebrities we’re going to meet, consent forms and disclaimers, a simple but very scary dungeon contract. That was before the extremely thorough medical checks, declarations and insurance guarantees.

He’s frowning. “The lawyers think there’s a problem with the signatures from your team. Who was in charge of all that? You or your lawyers?”

I feel a twinge of alarm. “Ben would know. You’ll have to ask him.”

His eyes hold mine for a long moment, his glint of icy appraisal sweeping over me like cold steel. When he speaks, his voice is low and measured. “There are a great many famous people here. They’re taking part in some very unusual activities. That’s why we’ve gone to so much trouble to make this place secure and get signatures on everything. We can’t afford any slip-ups.”

A chill runs through me. Blackmailers, paparazzi, psychos—they’d all pay handsomely for a shot of just one of the film stars or celebrities sampling a taste of the whip. A lot of careers and reputations are at risk here, including mine. And so is our film and maybe even our future careers, if we’ve somehow fallen foul of his tight security arrangements.

I swallow. “Let me talk to the others before you do anything. Have you told them about this yet?”

“I’m starting with you.” He glances at his watch. “They won’t be up yet. Find them at breakfast and make a subtle enquiry. I want to know who gathered in the final signatures and if it was one of you. If so, we might be able to sort this out quietly. If not, I’ll have to make you all sign afresh—or even expel the whole lot of you.”

For a long moment I stare at him in dismay. The intense, passionate lover has vanished as completely as the magical tower and all the rest of the fairy tale. Once more he’s the implacable man of business—curt, decisive, chilling.

And still in control.

“And don’t forget our agreement. We have two sessions today. If you’re still on the premises, I want you back here for the first at four this afternoon.”

With despair comes real fatigue. A wave of weariness loosens my muscles and makes the room spin. Instantly his expression softens.

“What’s the matter?”

I sway against him and somehow I’m swept up into his arms and he’s carrying me into my room and murmuring into my hair. As if from a long way away, I hear him say my name and that he should have taken more care then he lays me gently down and I sink into soft, mellow darkness.

* * * *

Breakfast is a tense affair. My absence has caused a stir, but Jake’s has sparked outrage.

Even Ben’s tetchy. “You might have let me know. We looked all over for you. And Mel had a terrific interview lined up with Garth Delaney, of all people, and no one to film the thing. We got some of it on tape, but it’s not the same.” He stares gloomily into his cereal.

Mel takes a wider view. She’s having the time of her life and the prospect of a repeat session with Garth Delaney fills her with glee. “Don’t be an ass, Ben. Tunis warned you she’d be unhappy here. And now she’s got Fitzlean throwing his weight about and the Panther prowling all over the place.”

My coffee cup clatters against the saucer and Mel leans across and pats my arm. “Sorry, Tunis. I forgot.” She fixes Ben with an accusing stare. “You knew this would be an ordeal for her. Cut her some slack. She’s doing her best.”

It’s a good time to change the subject. But my timid questions about paperwork bring snorts of derision and much eye rolling.

“Don’t get me started.” Ben groans. “It was a nightmare. But it’s all fine, Tunis. Why do you ask? And by the way, when do we get invited up to see your super upgrade? Mel’s dying to see how the other half lives.”

At that moment Cade appears at his shoulder. I freeze, but Ben carries on talking, unaware of his presence. “Mel’s got a theory that the boss man’s fattening you up for some dark, murky scheme of his own.”

“And what scheme would that be?”

Cade’s deep voice is pitched low, barely audible beyond the range of our table, but Ben jumps so violently that his orange juice splashes all over the snowy tablecloth.

“I—ah… Hi, Cade. We were just saying…”

“That some mythical threat hangs over your star presenter? I gathered.” He raises an enquiring eyebrow and looks directly at me.

He wants to know if I’ve traced the culprit.

I give him a barely perceptible shake of the head and see his lips tense slightly. The others look on, astonished.

I avoid their eye as I feel Cade’s disapproval radiate like a wave of heat across the table.

“I want you all in my office. Now.”

Sonja appears at his elbow, looking pale and tired. For once even Miss Frosty’s subdued.

My heart sinks.

* * * *

In Cade’s office, the atmosphere is tense as he outlines the problem. His words are few and terse, his tone sharp.

I daren’t open my mouth. I’ve already raised this. Surely they’ll make the connection and link us? If so, we’re finished. Why, oh why couldn’t he wait?

Our paperwork is spread out on his mahogany desk in a great pile.

“That’s it, all of it. We all signed. I don’t see the problem.” Ben seems genuinely mystified.

Mel looks bored. Jake’s openly yawning.

“Then we’ll just glance through it.” His voice low with menace, Cade starts handing out the papers

This is awful. I stare into space and my gaze strays to the group of stunning modern photos I noticed on the first day. They’re high profile action shots from war zones, nuclear test sites, famine areas. Some of them I’ve seen before, often.

Jake leans over and whispers low, so as not to disturb the others. “You spotted them too? Genuine Gemmels. All signed. He’s got a bunch of them. Must have cost him a fortune.”

I lean forward, my interest spiked. That explains it—the savage lines, the raw, bleak emotion captured forever in the moment.

Jake’s still whispering. “That one I don’t recognize, though. See that one of the two kids on the bank? Same style—it must be one of his. But I’ve never seen it before. Have you?”