Claimed by Him (4 page)

“Well, I am, because I’m not afraid of them!”

Another hand, massive and strong, spun her around to fully face him. “You should be. You should be very, very afraid of them. Of
me,
Chloe. You have no ideas the things a man like me could do to you—things little pampered girls know
nothing
about.”

Chloe’s lungs felt like they were exploding. Combined with his spicy scent, the dark flames in his eyes whipped her senses into a frenzy. Up close Graves was more stunningly virile than ever, more masculine than any man she’d ever known. Dark, square, and with that self-commanding air, he made her thighs water and her knees melt.

Her voice feathered like a whisper, and it broke with the force of her need. “I’m afraid of big things and small stupid things…but I’ll never in my life be afraid of you.”

Chloe couldn’t help reaching upward and stroking three fingers down his hard, stubbled jaw. A hand shot out to halt her, his reflexes stunningly fast, and although he didn’t instantly remove her hand, she could no longer caress him.

“Don’t, Chlo.” His voice was raspy, the black circles in his eyes spreading to swallow the gold irises. Swallow
her.
“I don’t like being touched…or being kissed…and I don’t like feeling like I’m losing control.”

Dropping that little bomb on her, he slowly lowered her hand, and walked away to the panoramic windows.

Chloe gaped after him. Her world tilted strangely on its axis as she fought to make sense of his words.

Eyes wide in disbelief, she looked down at her hands, and something twisted inside of her so very deep she thought it was a knife cutting through her soul.

“You don’t like being…?” She couldn’t even continue. The words tasted sour in her mouth. A whole ball of sourness spread to the pit of her stomach. “Why? Is that why you use handcuffs? To keep from being…touched?”

Oh my God, did this mean she’d never be able to caress and feel the man she wanted?

His jaw muscles worked as he stared out at the city lights. “Maybe. All I know is the only one allowed to touch in my bed is
me
,” he said softly, so softly she felt it like a whisper on her overheated skin.

Her pussy clenched at the image of being tied in his bed. Touched and pleasured by Graves Buchanan. Chloe knew instinctively that Graves’s touch would give her such intense pleasure, she nearly climaxed just imagining it. God, she could be strapped to a tree, be gazed at by this man, those eerie gold orbs of his eyes wetting her, exciting her, arousing her beyond measure…she’d no doubt he could bring her to multiple orgasms.

“Graves…when you said kissing, you mean French kissing?”

He nodded. “Generally I find I just can’t get into it.” There was no apology in his tone, merely a fact stated out to her like he’d say:
I don’t like Indian food.
Period.

Chloe gripped the granite counter for support, for she just couldn’t believe it. Graves always stared at her mouth like it was the stuff of his fantasies. And yet he didn’t kiss? Okay…but why did this just make her want to kiss him harder? Just to prove to him he was so, so
wrong
? “How can you not get into it? How many times have you even tried? Can you tell me that?”

God, she had to make him change his mind.

Otherwise, how could Chloe ever suppress the urge to kiss his beautiful mouth?

He had such beautiful lips, that plump, pink mouth…oh God. She’d fantasized about it, dreamed of it so many times. But Graves was so detached, such a methodical man by nature, he probably didn’t appreciate complications that weren’t related to electronics.

Did he think kissing was complicated or just pointless? Sloppy? Too personal?

“The women available to me when I was growing up didn’t…live up to my expectations. So I had to make some adjustments,” he said, his back still to her.

Chloe swallowed a lump the size of Oklahoma. So he’d just stopped kissing women altogether?

“You can have any woman you want now, Graves.
Any
woman.”

He burst out laughing at that, then he raked a hand through his hair, and she could see the fabric of his T-shirt stretch over his bulging muscles. “I wouldn’t know what on earth to do with the woman I want, Chlo.”

Her heart shuddered feverishly in her chest, and she prayed to God that she was this woman. She would be happy—no, she wasn’t happy, she was
desperate
—to tell Graves Buchanan, to show him, all the things he could do to her. With her.

She hoped he didn’t notice the strained note in her voice, but she was floundering, was having a hard time processing what he’d revealed about himself. Plus there was still that little wanton part inside her that didn’t care, one way or another. She just wanted this man so much, she would take him any way she could have him.

Any. Way. She could
have
him.

“So you dislike everything that makes sex actually personal? Is that it?” she whispered, barely refraining from adding, “That’s fine! Even
that
turns me on with you!”

He moved his shoulders in a noncommittal shrug, and suddenly, yes, she could see how his OCD and controlling persona would really not cherish losing his mind much.

She could see that it would not sit well with the genius behind one of the world’s most advanced intelligent systems corporation, to lose control, when he thrived on it. In fact, his very business was dedicated to granting its consumers and clients the most power, with the least effort. It was all about commanding…

But although understandable to some degree that Graves could detach himself from the emotional aspect of sex so admirably well, he would probably still believe a girl like Chloe should not settle for such a poor offer from a man such as impersonal sex and a one-night stand.

But then he had no clue how desperately she craved to yield to him. To him, only him. Not to Luke, not to anyone.

“Can I at least know what you enjoy, Graves?” she asked, her voice quivery.

She had to know.

Because her every cell still screamed for his touch, even if her hands would have to be tied and manacled to keep from touching him back. Every pore of her body screamed for Graves Buchanan. His touch, the heated looks in his eyes…

Silence.

“What pleasures you, when you have sex, Graves? What…turns you on?” she insisted, and her voice wavered with desire.

He stared outside, and she could see his right hand clenching and unclenching at his side. “The thought of you.” Then he spun around with a dark look, his mouth thin with a cynical twist to it. “Don’t pretend you don’t know it. Every time I see you your dresses get shorter and shorter and tighter and tighter and I swear to God you fucking do it to scramble my brain.”

She swallowed. A pulsing knot within her coiled and twisted as lust flooded her body.
“If I wear things like these…I do it because I want you and I want you to want me. Graves…I don’t care if you don’t kiss me,” she pleaded, unsure whether she was lying or not, but at the moment, she just wanted to feel him inside of her.
Inside
her. She took a few steps in his direction, her womb rippling with need. “I’m not afraid of being handcuffed if you’re the one doing it. Please…”

“No, Chlo. No.” He came forward like a turbulent wind, his face raw and fierce, then he urged her to the door with increasing pressure on her arm. “Get home. Whatever it is you want, you’re not getting it from Preston tonight—and you won’t be getting it from me.”

“You may have remarkable self-control, but you can’t stop Luke forever,” she snapped, eyes flashing as she broke free and glared at him. “And I promise you, if it’s not Luke, then I’m finding someone who will take me to bed if it kills me.”

“
Jesus!
Why don’t you wait for the right fucking man, Chlo?” he thundered, gripping her by the shoulders and shaking her.

“Because I’m staring right at him and he won’t do shit!” she screamed, and hit his chest with one hand. “You don’t like being touched? Fine with me! I’ll just hit you!” She hit him with her other hand and, with startling speed, his hands whipped up to seize her wrists and yank them down to her sides.

“For the love of God, go
home
, Chloe!” he hissed, eyes troubled and desperate, his hands clenching around her wrists. “Before I call Daniel and tell him to come fetch you!”

“I’ll leave when you kiss me.”

They both froze.

For a moment they both stood there, shocked that she’d actually said that out loud.

Then Graves uttered a low, bemused, “What?”

Oh, my God. Had she just dared him to kiss her? Talk about rash. Stupid. Reckless. The guy just admitted this was one of his pet peeves. But she was so damned angry at him. And he’d been staring at her lips again with that strange, hungry look, and she ached ached
ached
to give her lips up to him and prove him wrong.

Graves stepped back in shock, dropping his hold on her. “What did you just say?” he asked, eyes flared wide.

Nervous butterflies whirled in her stomach, but Chloe sucked in a long, long breath and gathered her courage. “I said I’ll leave. When you kiss. Me. On the mouth.”

He stared at her as if dumbstruck, then scrutinized her mouth with a look that darkened with some wild emotion as well as annoyance.

“You don’t like to kiss? Well, I don’t want to leave!” she said haughtily, in her best heiress voice.

He kept staring at her mouth, his look suddenly morphing from annoyance into a ravenous golden-eyed wolf, and it made her lungs have to work overtime to get some air in.

Her voice was a cottony whisper. “I’m not buying you don’t like kissing, Graves. Maybe you just don’t like the girls you’re with too much. But I’m not one of them…”

He stared at her lips like now that she’d dared him to kiss her he couldn’t think of anything else, or look at anything else, but her lips. When he spoke, she could hardly make out what he said, his words were so terse. “Do I have your word you’re going to go home right after? No pit stops. No bullshit.”

Her nipples beaded when he took a step, and she realized he was going to actually bite the bait. Oh, God, what if he didn’t like kissing her, either? Oh, God, he was going to kiss her. Kiss her. Kiss her. Kiss her.

She nodded wildly. “You have my word.” She breathed, savoring his lips, beautiful lips, already tasting them in her mind. “But you have to make it a good one, not a stupid little peck…”

A silence stretched unbearably as he slowly, painfully slowly, backed her toward the door. Her pulse raced. She licked her lips. Her breasts pricked and a pool of liquid heat gushed between her legs. Her mind was screaming to please be kissed, please, please, kissed by Graves.

“All right.” He stopped when her back was flattened against the door. When he leaned forward, his manly smell spun around her senses in a tornado.

She sucked in a shaky breath as his big, dry hands slid in a silken line up her bare arms, stroking her gently. Their eyes locked, then she saw him once more stare at her lips with an incredibly famished look. His head ducked toward hers.

“Graves,” she whispered, her heart jumping, disbelieving this could be happening. The suspense was killing her, gnawing away at her confidence. And the desire…it was eating her up alive.

“Open your mouth.” His breathing deepened as he framed her face between his hands, his incredibly large erection pressing hard and rigid against her stomach.

“Please…” she said, tilting her head up, her hands flat against the door behind her for support. Their noses brushed as he lowered his head, and then Graves dropped his head even farther and dipped the tip of his tongue into the dimple in her chin.

Electricity sizzled through her, and she gasped.

Graves lifted his head, his golden eyes gleaming in the light. Then he slowly ducked and repeated the motion, only this time, the lick went a little higher, from her dimple to the lower fringe of her bottom lip. She tensed and mewed with expectation, and whispered, “Kiss me.”

“Shh. I’m getting there.” He scraped his plush lips across hers in a slow, teasing way, like he was getting to know the feel of them. Lava coursed through her veins, her legs turning watery. Then he did it again, brushing across her, lip to lip, side to side.

A shudder rushed through her, and her cunt clenched with need. She was so wet she could feel it soaking down her thigh. Graves’s scent intoxicated her, his nearness, the sensual scrape of his lips, and Chloe parted her lips and snuck out her tongue because she was going to melt into a puddle of want if he didn’t kiss her now. Graves. The only man she’d ever, ever wanted.

But Graves drew back when she tried to lick his mouth. He smiled teasingly down at her, then bent and seized her bottom lip between his teeth and took a slow, sensual bite. She gasped at the friction of his teeth on her flesh and squirmed restlessly against him, the pleasure unbearable, shooting arrows of bliss straight to her core.

He drew back and spoke, thickly, as he pushed his thumb into her mouth so that she suckled it. “Your mouth is so damned hot the rest of me is jealous, Chloe. Is this how you plan to suck my tongue when I give it to you?”

The guttural way he spoke to her was so sexy, so arousing, she started trembling. “Graves…stop delaying,” she gasped, her eyes drifting shut for one tiny second. “I want you so much. Please let me taste you.”

His thick-lashed eyes set her on fire as ecstasy tightened his face muscles. He lowered his head and licked hotly into her mouth, then withdrew, and before he licked into her mouth again, he murmured, “If you want my tongue, then give me yours.”

She anxiously pushed her tongue into his mouth and shuddered when their damp heats collided, his taste invading her, tormenting her. She felt him tense against her, his erection growing an extra inch against her stomach, and he groaned as his hips began to sinuously pump her against the door.

They went wild, like teenagers on their first kiss, their mouths slanting, him growling low and deep, her moaning helplessly. He turned his head and took her mouth, suckled her, and she feasted on him, her hands automatically going to his chest.