A Valentine for His Secretary (His Secretary: Undone) (2 page)

I feel a distance from him. I know I could reach out and touch him, if I wanted - he's my boyfriend, not my boss. But I don't.

"I don't
always
want it," I tell him, cooling my tone, taking my cues from him. I don't know what we're playing at, exactly, but it brings back a peculiar thrill that I haven't felt in many months. "You're projecting again, Mr. Risinger."

Oooh.
I can almost feel the little tingling shudder that goes through him when I call him that. This is exactly what he was hoping for, a return to our old, dysfunctional ways. Just for the time being.
 

As a couple, we have great sex. Absolutely perfect and I wouldn't change a thing. But when we hated each other...

It was explosive. Probably because we didn't care as much about being selfish, even though he still loved me then, even though some part of me loved him, even though the stakes were high because neither one of us was willing to walk away. There was hostility at the forefront, the kind of hostility you're simply not allowed to have as lovers.
 

And I wouldn't want it. I love the man who fetches me Midol in the middle of the night, the one who brings me tea when I'm sick. I love him deeply in a way that I never could've loved him when he was my insufferable boss. But oh, Adrian the insufferable boss drove me wild...sometimes in ways that Ryn the considerate boyfriend really can't. It's just different.

And that's fine. But this weekend, we're going retro.

I don't know what I expected, really. I suppose I thought the blindfold was going to come off when we boarded, but when it became obvious it wouldn't, I thought maybe he'd feed me strawberries or something. Right.
Did you forget who you're dating?

Dating
. It doesn't seem like the right word. It doesn't seem like enough.

I mean, five years working for him, the strange intimacy we developed when we weren't sparring like feral cats, we might as well be -

Don't.

This is the worst possible time. But without visual input, my brain is starting to gnaw on itself like a trapped animal. I tell myself we haven't been together long enough to even think about something so serious, regardless of how long we've known each other, regardless of how I feel. Hell, it's too early for us to have moved in together, but now my tattered sweatshirts are hanging in his closets.

Our
closets. I haven't quite got used to the idea.

I don't expect him to propose this weekend.
God
, no. I wouldn't even know how to react. Well - I know exactly how I'd react, actually, and it would be horribly embarrassing. But deep down inside I know the time isn't right.

But I'd like to know where we're headed, all the same.

Ugh. When did I become this person? I've got to just relax and enjoy this weekend, no matter what it entails.

"So what's the game, exactly?" I ask him, trying to ignore the rising heat in my blood. "Do I have to be blindfolded the whole time?"

"No, that would make it difficult." He's definitely smirking now. "I just like seeing you a little disoriented."

I sigh, relaxing back into my seat again. Or trying to, at least. "Okay. Fine. I'm disoriented. Mission accomplished."

"I also like the idea that you don't know where I am," he says, closer now. "I can touch you without you knowing it's coming."

Yes please.
"I can still hear you."

"I can be quiet."

"Can you?" I laugh softly.

"Yes," he says, distant again. I hear something that I think is the clink of ice in a glass, but it's hard to make out over the hum. "I like that it means you trust me, although you probably shouldn't. When I showed you the blindfold, did it occur to you to say no?"

"Of course not." I'm trying to talk and listen at the same time, tracking his movements, which is....difficult, to say the least. "I figured it was just a temporary thing."

"Oh, it's temporary," he says. "But it also leaves you completely at my mercy."

His voice rumbles from deep in his chest, in that particular way that tells me so much. He's enjoying this. A lot.

I shift in my seat again, briefly pressing my thighs together for the moment of blissful relief from the throbbing need. He's going to torment me, and he's going to love it. I'll just have to try and torment him right back.

I lick my lips. "I guess I should've thought through it a little bit more," I admit, letting my voice rasp against the inside of my throat like I'm in a film noir. "I didn't really think you were capable of anything...
bad
."

"Oh, I can be very,
very
bad." I'm pretty sure I feel his fingertips brush against the ends of my hair, but then he's gone. "The question is, will I?"

My pulse is pounding in my ears. "I don't know," I admit, softly. "I can't imagine. I suppose if you really wanted, you could tie my hands behind my back. You could even shackle my ankles together. I'd be completely helpless."

He doesn't say anything.

"You could rip my clothes off before I had a chance to react," I go on. "Or maybe you weren't prepared for that. Is your bag of tricks in the belly of the plane? Of course you could just do something simple, like..."

"Shove my cock in your mouth before you even know what's happening?" His voice is very close, and suddenly I feel his thumb pressing against my mouth. Obediently, I open for him, suckling and swirling my tongue the way he likes. He groans, softly, and I picture him palming himself through his well-tailored pants. "Or, I could just decorate your pretty face without even touching you. Is that what you want?"

YES PLEASE.

God, he makes me filthy. He makes me want everything I'm not supposed to want, because everything about him is like an invitation to sin.

"No," I whisper.

I have absolutely no idea how he's going to react to that, but I really want to find out.

"Stand up," he says, roughly.

I've got no clue why I haven't done that until now. It honestly hasn't occurred to me that I could stand up and walk around - it's not like he'd let me get hurt. And there's not exactly a lot of sharp edges to trip over, in a luxury plane cabin. I could've done it this whole time. My ankles aren't actually shackled. But for some reason, I didn't. For some reason, I was playing along without even having to think about it.

I do as he's asked.

"Turn around," he says.

Oh.
Oh
. I do as he asks, quickly, gripping the back of the headrest and quivering with anticipation.

"I know what you're trying to do," he murmurs. "It's not going to work. I have a plan for this weekend, Ms. Burns, and it's happening. Word for word, letter for letter. My plan does not include anything that's running through your head right now, I assure you. You'll have to earn your pleasure tonight. Is that understood?"

I nod, slowly.

"Is that understood?" he repeats, sharply.

"Yes, Sir." Instinctively, I widen my stance a little.
 

"What do you think I'm about to do to you?" he asks, softly.
 

Swallowing hard, I answer him. "...a spanking?"

He just laughs. "What, the punishment you hate so much that you almost came on the spot the last time I dealt it out? I don't think so."

"I didn't..." I protest, weakly. My legs are shaking, and it's not from the awkward stance in these shoes.
 

"Right," he says. "Sit down. You're embarrassing yourself."

Deflated, I collapse back into my seat. Every inch of my skin is throbbing, and I'm still holding onto the hope that he'll relent and give me what I need.

"Next time you're tempted to be a smart-ass, just remember I have more willpower than you do." He sounds terribly smug. I wish I could see how disheveled he really is, because I'm positive he's not as calm as he sounds. But there's nothing to do now, except wait.

***

After we land, I hear him go up to the cockpit and talk to the pilot for a few minutes, and then - I'm pretty sure I hear him disembark. Is he really leaving me alone here?

I could rip off the blindfold and see, but...as much as I'm irritated and impatient, I really
do
want to play along. After what feels like ages, the I hear the pilot's voice.

"You can take your blindfold off now, ma'am."
 

Muttering a string of obscenities under my breath, I rip off the stupid thing and toss it aside. The lights are dim in the cabin, but I still blink rapidly as my eyes adjust.

"I'm supposed to give you this," the pilot says, walking up and handing me a small envelope. "There's a car waiting for you on the tarmac. Once you figure out where you're supposed to go, you can tell the driver. He knows the city."

"What city is it, exactly?" I'm fuming a little that Adrian's let a stranger into his kinky game, but then I realize that's just my guilty conscience. Plenty of couples use blindfolds for secret vacations and scavenger hunts for Valentine's day. Probably not all of them are planning to be tied up and spanked at the end of it, but that doesn't really matter.

"I'm not supposed to say," the pilot admits. "Mr. Risinger thinks you'll figure it out pretty fast."

I certainly have my suspicions, but I don't know. He told me to dress for mild weather, in February - so it's south, but not too far south. He already confiscated my phone before we left, so I can't check my weather app for my location.

"Are you allowed to tell me if I guess right?"

He shrugs uncomfortably. "I guess I can give you one chance."

"I won't tell," I assure him. "Austin?"

He smiles. "Mr. Risinger was right about you."

I don't know what that means, and I kind of don't want to.

It was an easy guess. Austin is the city where we first really collided, after the impulsive groping in the office pool back home. I don't really count that as the "first time," even though we both came. I suspect Adrian feels differently about it.

All the same, he recognizes the importance of this city to me, and to us. It's the perfect setting for whatever he's got planned.

I rip open the envelope and stare at the message.

You thought I didn't see you, but I did. You've always been the only one I see.

It takes me a second, but then I remember what he's talking about. This would be a lot harder if I wasn't already steeped in memories of the last time we were here together, but I know he's talking about the barbecue restaurant where I jealously watched him share a meal with his publicist. At the time, I had no idea
she
was the one who should've been jealous of
me
.
 

Feeling a little bit cheerful for the first time in a while, I get up and make my way to the exit door. "Thanks, Captain," I call over my shoulder, and he gives me a little wave.

The car is idling just a few feet away. I slide into the back seat, and the driver hands me my phone without saying a word.

"Thanks," I tell him. "Can you take me to that barbecue place in South Lamar?"

"You're going to have to be more specific," he deadpans.
 

Sighing, I describe the setting until he knows what the hell I'm talking about. I'm bad at names, but damned if I don't remember exactly what kind of cactus they had outside the front door.

It seems to take forever to get there. I hop out before he's come to a complete stop, running up to the hostess breathlessly.

"I'm doing some kind of scavenger hunt," I pant. "Did you..."

She smiles, reaching under her little stand and pulling out an envelope. "Yeah, I got something for you. That boyfriend of yours is a cutie."

"A little less cute when he's sending you on a wild goose chase," I tell her.

No, the rest of it's not going to be so easy.
 

There's something about us that just seems to fit, doesn't it? Almost like destiny. Or, if you prefer...natural selection.
 

You'll find your next clue in the heart of the nightlife.

This one is a little more of a head-scratcher, but at least I know what direction to go in. I thank the hostess, hop back in the car, and ask the driver to take me to 6
th
Street. He gets as close as he can before the traffic starts to crawl unbearably, and then I hope out, telling him to circle the block.

"Actually, Mr. Risinger said you might want to take the rest of it on foot," he says.
 

"That sounds like a great idea. Thank you."

I know we're in close proximity to the hotel where Adrian and I first slept together. I have a sneaking suspicion that's where he's leading me, but I know I can't try to circumvent his game if I want to get laid tonight.

Hopping out onto the sidewalk, I begin my trek up and down the street. My head's on a swivel, looking for some obvious clue.
Destiny, or natural selection
. It's a terrible segue, which means "natural selection" must be important.
 

Music thumps from every restaurant and bar I pass; it's just after dinnertime, but I haven't thought about food once since the brunch that Adrian arranged before our flight. He absolutely encouraged me to overdo it, and I didn't fight him too much. It was jam packed with all of my favorites, which seemed like a lovely gesture at the time, but I now realize was part of his master plan to make sure that I wouldn't have to interrupt this weekend's hijinks for such pesky things as meal breaks.

Right now, I can't imagine ever eating again. But my mouth waters at the thought of him.
 

Natural selection
. What the hell is he talking about?
 

And then, suddenly, the fates are smiling on me. I pause at a crosswalk, and my eyes are drawn to the sign across the street.

Darwin's Pub

I laugh to myself, wondering how long it took him to come up with that clue. Trying to hold down the giddy feeling in my chest, I dart across the street and step inside the big wooden doors.

This is one of the calmer places, almost like Adrian guessed I'd be too overwhelmed to deal with an actual nightclub. Most people are sitting quietly at the bar, nodding along to the music. On stage, a John Legend lookalike is covering U2, to the delight of a few middle-aged business types who are hooting and hollering from the nearby tables.