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Grant made her nervous. Despite herself, she was curious what it might be like to have sex with him, to fall under his powerful, masculine spell. And she knew that, if only for a moment, she would be as appreciated as the woman in the portrait. The way he was looking at her now told her that.

Nerves flooded her, making her giddy as she admitted the truth to herself. Part of her wanted to be tied up by him.

With seemingly infinite patience, he remained where he was, not pushing for a response, but she knew that taking this step might lead to something more. She also sensed that he’d allow her to move at her speed. Finally, she gave voice to her fears. She wondered who she was hoping to convince. Him? Or herself? “Dancing with you could be an insanely bad idea.”

“It could.”

“We’re coworkers.”

“Also true.”

“Sleeping together might really muck things up.”

“Another valid point.”

“I wish you’d try to talk me into this,” she said, “or out of it, for that matter. Something.”

He grinned. “A dance doesn’t have to lead to sex.”

“But it probably will.”

“If you want it.” He swept his gaze over her. “Because I sure as hell do.”

His words turned her on. But it wasn’t just what he’d said or the way he continually looked at her. It was more. Sexual attraction. And it had been building since she’d stepped off the plane and saw him standing there, leaning against the SUV, confident and powerful.

In his bedroom, he’d described BDSM as if it were an elevated form of sex. To him, it obviously was. Grant had also been brutally frank with her about his failed engagement and his own part in it. She felt she knew him better than most men she’d been with. Aria rationalized that the attraction was an inevitable result of their enforced close quarters and their candid conversations. But it didn’t matter. All she knew was that she desired him, needed him.

Her pulse did a slow burn as she stood.

“Molly, bump the volume up a bit.”

This time, it appeared the computer’s artificial intelligence worked as he instructed, and she took a couple of steps toward him then accepted his hand.

“Perfect,” he said. “Standing behind you earlier, when we were getting your palm print, was torture. Inhaling your scent, not being able to touch you… Then being in the kitchen with you… Watching you set the table, leaning over, sashaying your hips as you walked toward—”

“I don’t sashay,” she interrupted, but at a whisper. The man was seducing her verbally, reducing her objections to a cool pile of ash.

“Oh, yes, Aria. You most certainly do.”

She expected him to pull her close, but he didn’t. Instead, he held her at a respectful distance then began leading her around the hardwood floor. He was very good, fluid, using the right pressure, making her feel as if they’d done this a dozen times together. “You lied.”

“About?”

“This. You’re a good dancer.”

“Julien’s mom taught me a couple of steps.”

“His mother?”

“Yeah. We went to school at UT, Austin. His mom moved there when he was accepted. It was the main reason he ended up living with me. Anyway, she took pity on me one evening before we went to a nightclub and showed me a couple of steps. Embarrassing at the time, but now I’m grateful. I broke Julien’s phone that night because he videoed it.”

She laughed, liking the glimpse of Julien and their friendship. “To me, he’s always been a Silicon Valley legend.”

“I have trouble picturing him as anything other than the friend who stayed up half the night with me dreaming up ideas. We had no idea that we couldn’t take over the world.”

“It looks as if you’re making some strides.”

“So I think, until I interact with Molly. She humbles me.”

The music segued into something a little more seductive, and he took the opportunity to draw her in. Willingly, without resistance, she went. She appreciated his strength, the way he naturally took charge. It should have frightened her. Instead, it ensnared her. “I’m curious.”

“Go on,” he encouraged.

She’d wanted to ask at dinner, but this way, not looking directly into his eyes, was easier. “How would you introduce someone to your BDSM world?”

“I already have.”

Adrenaline skittered through her.

He placed a hand on her derrière and brought her against him. Then she felt his fingertips skim the bottom of her skirt. His touch on her legs was intimate and it made her hungry for more. Desperately, she wanted him to lift the material out of the way. She felt breathless, anxious.

Without missing a beat, he moved his other hand behind her and closed it in her hair, then gently tugged so that she was forced to look at him.

This man, clearly, didn’t let women hide.

“And for a more complete answer, if I brought it up and she knew something about it, I’d encourage her to talk about her experiences, share her opinions, what she’d liked and hadn’t liked, what she’d tried, what she’d like to try. If she knew nothing about it, I’d keep it cerebral for a bit. After all, a woman gets turned-on in her brain first. I’d want her to feel emotionally safe before I ever touched her physically. I’d like her to know what to expect if she wanted to take the first step.”

Despite her trepidation, she wanted to hear more. “You want her trust.”

“That’s not something I would demand. I’d encourage it, but I know that it’s a set of building blocks, something I have to earn step by step. I’d start with a kiss before moving on, to a touch, easy-to-follow commands then restraints or a gentle spanking.”

“When does the good, old-fashioned sex happen?” she asked.

“All along. When a sub scenes with a Dom, she—or he—is offering not just their body, but their heart and emotional wellbeing. There is no greater gift, and therefore, no weightier obligation to the Dom. He or she—and in this case, me—needs to be aware of that significance and respect it.”

Each of his statements made an image form in her mind, and she hungered for the experience, even the spanking, although she hadn’t liked it with her first real boyfriend.

“I cherish the women who submit to me.”

“Cherish isn’t the word I expected to hear in this context.”

“To be fair, it isn’t for some people. There are couples where the sub is a masochist. Every relationship is unique, but I believe expectations need to be clear so there’s no confusion. I’m not talking about anyone but you and me. I want to kiss you, Aria.”

Her step faltered, but he was there, supporting her as they swayed to a stop. “Yes,” she said. “I want it, too.”

He released his grip on her hair and cupped her head with his palm. “I’ve been thinking about this.” He stroked the column of her throat, up and down, pausing to feel her pulse. “So have you.”

“How could I not?” she admitted.

“Open your mouth.”

Grant eased his thumb across her lower lip. Then, when she responded, he moved in. He brushed her lips with his, once, twice.

“Yeah,” he said.

The moment their tongues touched, a jolt of electricity went through her. He retreated for a second, making her long for him, then he touched her again, swirling his tongue around hers.

Within seconds, she opened her mouth wider in invitation.

Obviously Grant needed no further encouragement. What had been gentle now ratcheted into something carnal, weakening her knees and taking her resistance with it.

He tasted of the wine, and more, of possession. Suddenly, she knew that whatever he was offering, she wanted it.

Grant pressed one hand to the small of her back for support then he eased her backward a little, making it clear he was in charge.

Grant turned a kiss into an art form. He teased, tantalized, took, plundered.

It went on forever, and ended too soon, leaving her breathless. Her lips felt swollen, and arousal careened through her, demanding satiation.

Her knees were a little weak, and he helped her to stand back up.

“That was—”

“Only the beginning.” He pulled up the hem of her sweater, baring her midriff.

Part of her thought they were moving too fast. The naughtier side of her insisted he get on with it.

She raised her hands over her head so he could tug the garment all the way off, and he tossed it onto the couch.

“Keep your hands where they are,” he instructed, voice soft, reassuring, demanding.

Everything about his words and actions seemed carefully calculated to bring her to greater levels of arousal.

“You’re gorgeous.”

He traced his thumbs along the lacy tops of her bra cups, then rested a fingertip on the dainty red bow between her breasts. Unless she was staying in for the day, she always wore nice lingerie. Now she was glad for the little indulgence.

“Turn around for me.”

Slowly, she did, stopping with her back to him, anticipating that he’d unhook her bra.

“Keep going,” he encouraged.

Wordlessly, she did. Aria finished her pivot and tipped back her head. Odd, she was still mostly dressed, and yet she felt as if he’d seen more of her than any other man ever had.

“I’d like you to show me your breasts.”

At this point in a seduction, she was accustomed to a prospective lover helping her along. But he remained in place, and in fact, crossed his arms over his chest. Her mouth dried at his commanding stance.

She unfastened the hooks and shrugged so that the straps fell from her shoulders. Very much aware of the heat that blazed in his eyes, she pulled off the bra and allowed it to dangle from her index finger.

He took the lingerie from her and tossed it on top of her sweater.

Again, he defied expectation. She expected him to touch, to squeeze, to press her breasts together, but he didn’t.

“Molly, turn the fireplace on high.”

“
Yes, Your Majesty. Different music, as well?
I Want Your Sex
, perhaps?
”

He shook his head, and Aria tried to smother a laugh.

“Turn up the heater and set yourself to standby.”

“
You ruin all my fun
.” Molly sounded petulant.

“That interaction blows me away,” Aria admitted.

“Julien’s coding,” he said. “He’s messing with us. He anticipated a few of my requests to the system and programmed in responses. He’s not spying on us.”

“Promise?”

“If you wanted to play in public, I’d take you to a club. But otherwise, I assume you want privacy, especially from the boss.”

“You’re right about that.”

“Where were we?” He’d dropped his voice a couple of octaves, weaving his invisible spell again. “Oh, yes. I was admiring your beautiful breasts.”

Standing there was a little disconcerting. But she was already learning he did things at his pace.

“Cup them, lift them, draw them together.”

“Is this a striptease?”

“Yeah. You strip. I tease.”

“I don’t think I like your rules.”

His eyes seemed to smolder. She’d never been looked at with this sort of appreciation.

“Show me,” he reminded her.

Feeling a bit self-conscious, she did as he’d instructed, putting her hands beneath her breasts then lifting them, pressing them together.

“May I touch?” he asked.

“I thought you’d never ask.” In her experience, men rarely did.

“Keep them together,” he instructed.

He traced each nipple, so lightly that she wondered if she’d only imagined the touch. Her body seemed to hum with energy. Never had a man’s touch aroused her so much.

He circled the areolae then abraded her nipples with his thumbnails. Each thing he did heightened her arousal.

“Do you like to have them pinched?”

“I’m a little sensitive.”

“Mind if I gauge?”

She met his gaze. “Go ahead.”

He rolled her right nipple between his thumb and forefinger, and she leaned toward him. “You like that.” It wasn’t a question.

He repeated the action on her left nipple.

This time, she moaned.

“More?”

“I think you might have spent the day figuring out ways to torture me,” she confessed.

“You’re right.” He placed a gentle kiss on top of her head. “Since I saw your reaction to the woman in the painting, I’ve been imagining this.”

His jaw was set, and she wanted to reach out to connect with him. “I can’t relate to her,” she said. “I’m too impatient. If that’s what you expect, you might need to find someone else to interact with.”

“You’re doing fine.”

This time, he squeezed both nipples at the same time.

She gasped and closed her eyes. It was a lot—but not too much. More than she’d had. Not as much as she wanted.

In turn, he sucked each into his mouth, licking away the tiny hurt.

Her toes curled as she sought for balance. It wasn’t just his touch or his mouth, but his skill and mastery over her body. With his words, he was working his way inside her brain, as well.

Even though the house was warm, her damp nipples puckered into tiny beads when he stepped back.

“You’re more perfect than I could have imagined,” he said. “Come back into my arms.”

Since she was naked from the waist up, she thought this might feel unnatural. Rather, it felt right.

He wrapped her up in his arms, and she laid her head on his shoulder in unspoken gratitude for a gradual introduction that fed her hunger.

“I like to touch your skin,” he said against her ear as he trailed his fingers down her spine. “You’re velvet and silk, both at the same time.”

Nerve endings fired, sending awareness of him through her. She wanted
more.

He stepped a little farther away from her, brushed hair back from her face, then traced the outline of her jaw.

“Grant…”

“I know. You’ve already informed me that you’re impatient.”

“And?” She exhaled.

“Relax and let me lead, like you did when we were dancing.”

“But you want to do a waltz. I want to do a rhumba. So move it, mister.”

He grinned and put his thumb beneath her chin. He tipped back her head a little, holding her prisoner. “I’m going to have you naked, Aria, and it’s going to be in the next five minutes. Then I’m going to give you an orgasm.”