At His Mercy (3 page)

What an interesting turn of events.

Tonight, when he’d gone out in search of Elena
—
the supposed accomplice in a shady plan to get him fired
—
Kyler had expected to have a friendly chat with the scheming little office manager, gather whatever evidence he could, and then head to work on Monday armed to have
her and
Becker fired on the spot.

None of that had happened. They’d talked, but he’d quickly realized she was as much
—
if not more so
—
a victim as he.

He’d also discovered a couple of other things. First, for some reason this woman stirred a very strong protective instinct in him. And second, which he assumed was related to the first, he was
n’t just a little attracted to her, like he
had previously
thought. He was
wildly attracted to her.

He wasn’t sure what it was about her. The huge, sad eyes, which made her look sweet and vulnerable. Or maybe that lovely heart-shaped face with that luscious mouth. Or perhaps it was her body
—
soft and feminine and delicate.

He’d been sporting a painful erection since he’d trapped her between his arms in her car, and their faces had been inches apart. Even now he was in pain. His cock was rock hard, his balls tight. The craziest images were zinging through his head
—
Elena lying over his lap, her
rear end
red from the spanking he was giving her.

Shit, he needed a cold shower.

He shifted in the seat. Just a few more blocks and they’d be home. He’d set her up in the guestroom, let her get some sleep. And then tomorrow they’d sit down for a serious talk about the whole blackmail thing.

And then
…
who knew?

There’d been more than one reason why he’d decided to bring the sexy little office manager back to his place for the weekend. The most obvious
—
this whole blackmail bullshit.

But also because of the chemistry.
There was no doubt any more.
He hadn’t imagined the signs of arousal he’d read in Elena
tonight
. The way she’d looked at him. She was as attracted to him as he was to her.

Maybe this game of blackmail was exactly what she’d been looking for.

* * * * *

His house was freaking gorgeous.

Okay, so she supposed it shouldn’t have surprised her. Not when the vice president drove a car that probably cost double her yearly salary
—
and she wasn’t paid peanuts
—
and dressed like a bazillion dollars every day. Head to toe, he was always dressed to kill. Every scuff buffed out of his shoes. Fingernails neat and trimmed. Hair immaculate, but not overdone to the point where he looked fake or gay. Clothes fitting him so perfectly, every piece looked like it had been made just for him.

He was simply one well-dressed, well-groomed, well-built man. And his house belonged in the pages of some decorating magazine.

They stepped into a massive foyer with soaring ceilings. Much like the exterior, the house’s interior was contemporary but not cold. Sleek and cool with hard lines and gleaming surfaces. Black tile floor with not a single piece of lint or a smudge to mar its mirror-like surface. A staircase with brushed silver-toned hand railings,
win
ding up to a second story.

Beyond the foyer was a greatroom that opened to a state-of-the art kitchen, and living area boasting comfortable-looking but stylish furniture.

“Can I get you anything to eat or drink before we head up to bed?”

A little ripple of
…
something pleasant
…
worked through her body. It was the
we
associated with the word
bed
that did it to her. Her face was suddenly really warm. So were a few other parts of her anatomy.

“Maybe something to drink? Something cold?”

“Sure.” He shrugged out of his jacket then helped her out of hers. Set them both on a nearby chair then reached for a glass from an open shelf.

She stared at his butt, partly because it was there and partly because it looked so good
i
n those black pants. This guy did not have the typical guy flat-ass. His was rounded just enough to be sexy. She guessed the source of the shape was one hundred percent muscle. She’d spent enough time in a gym to know.

How she lusted after a guy with great glutes.

And shoulders. Of course, Kyler’s were wide and thickly muscled. She could see the way the muscles bulged as he moved, even through the crisp white button-down shirt he wore.

He dispensed some ice into the glass then asked, “Any preference? Soft drink? Iced tea? Bottled water?”

Just for kicks, she blurted, “Perrier?” Not because she actually knew what was so special about that particular brand, but just because she hoped it made her sound a little refined. She was most definitely feeling a smidge outclassed. Not a feeling she was unaccustomed to, but for some reason, it was unusually uncomfortable tonight.

She didn’t want to think why that might be.

“No problem.” He opened the fridge, twisted open one of those recognizable bottles and poured some into the glass. “There you are.”

“Thanks.” Their fingers brushed as she took the glass from him, and a little buzz of energy licked up her arm. Their gazes met, and for a moment she wanted to forget all about the whole blackmailing thing and just pretend they were on a date, doing guy-and-girl kinds of things.

Tearing her gaze from his, she turned to admire the living room as she took her first sip of the French bottled water she’d never bothered to buy before. It was good, but not great. Did the job okay, which was really all she cared about at the moment. Her mouth was so dry she could barely speak. She swallowed several more mouthfuls. Yeah, not bad at all, but hardly worth the ridiculous price.

“How about a snack?” At the refrigerator again, he pulled some small plastic containers out and set them on the shiny black granite counter.

“I’m still pretty full from dinner.” That was a lie. She’d barely touched her food. But she was too jittery to eat right now. Not to mention, she’d long ago made a rule against eating anything that could not be easily identified.

Orange pasty stuff. White creamy stuff. That was most definitely not identifiable. So, instead of digging in, she leaned back against the counter, sipped her water, and watched Kyler work.

“Would you like to sit?” He motioned to the row of bar stools lining the raised side of the kitchen island.

“Sure.” She walked around the front of the island and sat, watched him collect a plate, knife, box of crackers.

The guy seemed to get better looking with every second that ticked by. How was that possible?

He sat beside her, and she was instantly aware of how close he was. The air between their bodies felt warmer than the rest of the room. And sort of zip-zappy, like little currents of electricity were jolting between their bodies.

He pulled out a cracker, smeared some of the orange stuff on it and
,
smiling over his shoulder, offered it to her. “Are you sure you aren’t hungry?”

She was, but her insides were kind of jumbled up, and she was a smidge afraid of putting something foreign
—
and potentially dangerous
—
into her stomach. There was no way she was going to tell him that though. So she just said, “I’m sure. Thanks anyway.”

“Okay.” He popped the cracker into his mouth, chewed. Washed it down with a sip of wine.

An uncomfortable silence hung between them, and despite the sensual awareness warming her skin and making her all tingly, a question hung from the tip of her tongue. A question that would totally put a damp
en
er on the date-like vibe of the moment.

How would she ever sleep? In a strange house, with the stress of a job loss
—
and maybe jail
,
gah!
—
looming over her head.

She needed a little of that wine. Not a lot. She wasn’t a big drinker, had the occasional glass on special nights, holidays, that kind of thing. She hadn’t gotten loaded since college. Tempting as it was to do so tonight, there was no way she’d do something so idiotic.

“Mind if I upgrade to something a little harder?” She lifted her glass, motioning toward his.

“Sure. What can I get you?” He popped another loaded cracker into his mouth. A tiny smudge of orange clung to his upper lip, and she couldn’t help staring at it.

“How about some of whatever you’re drinking?”

“Coming right up.” He got her a fresh wineglass, grabbed the bottle sitting on the counter next to the wine cooler, and sat back in his seat. He poured her a full glass then handed it to her. “There you go.”

“Thanks.” Her gaze still locked on that bit of orange on his lip, she took a cautious taste. Ooh, yum. She took several more swallows then pointed at her own mouth. “Um, you’ve got something there.”

“Where?” He wiped the wrong spot, like people always did. And she was forced to lean closer and actually touch his face with her finger. “There.”

A big jolt of electricity charged up her arm, almost feeling
as though
she’d just touched a live wire. She froze, unable to pull her hand away, unable to move at all. He leaned closer, and she realized he was looking at her mouth.

Oh God, was he going to kiss her?

“I
…
uh
…
have always admired your shoes,” she jabbered, so nervous she didn’t even know what she was saying. Her brain was stuck, like an old fashioned record, playing the same thought over and over.

He’s going to kiss me. He’s going to kiss me. Ohmygod, ohmygod, ohmygod!

Then their mouths were touching. Just barely. And she quit breathing, which was not good. She closed her eyes, frozen in place, waiting, dizzy.

He cupped her face in his hands and gently brushed his mouth back and forth over hers. It was the softest, most sensual kiss she’d ever experienced.

“Oh God,” she heard herself say.

He answered with a rumbling, sexy chuckle that made her warmer yet.

Her heart started banging hard against her breastbone and she took a little frantic gasp of air.

She felt
as if
she was melting inside, her bones softening, the rest of her turning into slick heat. A tingly warmth gathered between her legs.

“You want this, don’t you?” he asked against her mouth.

She did, most definitely. In fact, crazy or not, she wanted a whole lot more than a teasing, sultry kiss. But all she could say was, “Ahhh
…
”

She slid her hands up the smooth material of his shirt until she felt the stiff collar. By the time she had her fingers wrapped around his silk tie, she was more than a little desperate for the kiss to deepen. Enough to take matters into her own hands. She climbed to her feet, so that she could wedge her body between his legs, and pressed against hi
m
. Her nipples were sensitive, hard little peaks, roughened against the lace cup of her bra.

And still, he kept that kiss soft and fleeting, the worst kind of torture. She looped her arms around his neck, angling her mouth, “You’re so mean,” she murmured.

“And you like that too, don’t you.”

She did. In a way. And in another, she most definitely did not. She pulled on his neck, trying to force him to possess her more fully with his mouth. But instead, he skimmed his lips over her cheekbone then kissed a tingly path from her ear to her collarbone.

He gently pulled her arms from his neck, pushing them down then forcing them behind her back. He used one fist as a handcuff, holding them together. With the other one, he supported the back of her neck.

Oh
…
she was going to need a whole lot more support than that, very soon. Goosebumps tickled the skin of her neck and back, her chest and stomach. Her bones were melting, her muscles twitching.

She could hardly believe this was happening. Kyler Pierce, the guy all the women in the office lusted after but no one got
—
including Nikki the office babe
—
was nibbling her neck right now. Hers!

So much for the theory that he was gay.

For the first time today, she was actually kind of glad she’d been blackmailed by Matt Becker.
Look where it had led her. Into the arms of an absolute hunk. Gorgeous. Successful. Sexy
.