Command (7 page)

She followed him in, bypassing the equipment so she could see the pool and hot tub. “I thought I saw a hot tub when we were outside.”

“You did.”

“You have two?”

“There’s nothing like a summer night outside.”

“I’ve stayed in hotels that weren’t this nice.”

“See why I can’t get rid of Julien?”

“And maybe me,” she added.

“
Mi casa es su casa
,” he replied. “My house is your house. Feel free to use the amenities at any time.”

“Thank you.
Grazie
.”

“
Gracias
,” he corrected with an easy smile. “Wrong language.”

“I learned
tres leches
already.”

“Why doesn’t it surprise me that you speak fluent cake?”

She appreciated his teasing answer. “Dessert is my first language.” When Julien had given her this assignment, she hadn’t anticipated she’d like Grant, but he was easier to be around than she’d imagined, odd sense of humor included.

“Would you like to see my room?”

“That seems nosy.”

“But?”

“I’m nosy. It’s a serious character flaw.”

He bypassed a closed door. Next to it was a keypad and a metal plate. “My workshop,” he said.

She was reminded that he was a chief engineer for Bonds. As such, he developed a number of gadgets in secrecy.

“I’ll show it to you later.”

The master bedroom was at the end of the hall, obviously so that two walls could have floor-to-ceiling windows. And the one directly in front of her had French doors that exited onto another deck.

But it was the portrait propped on an easel in the corner that riveted her. Track lighting illuminated it, and it was obvious he meant the picture to be enjoyed.

The pastel was of a nude. The woman knelt on a rug that was much like the one in the guest room. The model’s buttocks rested on her calves. Her shoulders were rolled forward, head bowed, hair falling around her face. “Is that your girlfriend?” she asked, turning in time to see him put the duffel bag on the bed.

Until this moment, it hadn’t occurred to her to ask if he was seeing anyone. It wasn’t any of her business, and it wouldn’t matter either way.

“I don’t have a girlfriend.” He moved in closer. “The model isn’t anyone I know. I saw this painting in a gallery in Santa Fe.”

“It’s…” She was at a loss for words. Over the years, she’d seen a lot of art, but nothing that she’d been inspired to pay a lot of money for. Her apartment was decorated with a handful of posters from her travels. “Do you mind if I have a better look?”

“As long as you’re aware that you’re living dangerously again.”

She glanced up at him. That wasn’t something she was accustomed to. With her height, and the boost from three-inch heels, she looked most men directly in the eye.

“Which is something I’d like to encourage in you.”

Aria’s heart had added a couple of extra beats. Despite that, she walked toward the easel. The woman’s pose made her look serene, and her hands, palm up on her thighs, appeared as if she were anticipating something.

“I’ve never seen anything like it.” She leaned in to read the engraved metal plate.
Submitted.
Aria looked from the picture back to Grant.

“I warned you,” he said.

“You…” Her mouth dried. Suddenly she felt unnerved and wished she’d held onto the water bottle so that she had something to do with her hands.

“Prefer my women submissive,” he finished for her.

That word certainly didn’t apply to her.

“And I mean sexually,” he went on. “And what’s interesting about that is the way I love strong women. The more headstrong, the better.”

“How can that be?”

“When she gives herself over to me, the feeling is humbling.”

Over the years, she’d had friends who were involved in BDSM, but she’d never been with a man who practiced it. Until now, it was something she thought was interesting but didn’t apply to her. Now a dozen thoughts crowded through her mind, not least of all the confusion he’d created with his seemingly incompatible ideas. “The picture”—she glanced back at it—“seems so…” She struggled for the right word.

Rather than saying anything, he waited.

She refocused on him, hoping he’d understand. “Gentle.”

“Tell me what you mean by that,” he encouraged.

Part of her couldn’t believe they were standing in his bedroom, in front of a portrait of a naked woman, having an intellectual conversation. “From what I’ve heard… I associate submission and dominance with something more intense.”

“And you believe this isn’t? Can you imagine what she’s thinking? She’s waiting with infinite patience, but we don’t know whether she’s been doing it for five minutes or five hours. She has no idea what will happen once her Dominant arrives. Yet she appears peaceful, at ease. I get the idea that she’s filled with trust, that she knows her devotion will be rewarded. That takes real strength. Discipline.”

His gaze was intently focused on her. It took all her effort not to shiver. Had she ever had a man look at her like that? As if noticing her every movement, paying exquisite attention to
her?

She was starting to see what Julien talked about with regards to Grant. The man was passionate about the things that captivated him. She wasn’t sure that her presence would achieve the results Julien hoped for. Distraction might be the last thing Grant needed.

“From her expression, it’s obvious that the relationship she has with her partner is complex and rewarding. But I don’t fool myself that any of that is easy. It means she has to still her mind, much like in meditation, prayer, even study. Waiting with such composure while you’re filled with expectation and anticipation is difficult. And what she’s doing is transcending all of that, putting their mutual desire above her own wants.” He turned from the portrait to face her. “I find it commendable. Moreover, I respect and appreciate her for the effort.”

“Is that what you want in a relationship?”

“Ultimately, yes.”

Aria wondered why she was suddenly seeing herself on her knees.

“But I recognize that most people never find something like that.”

She ignored the little tingle of arousal. “That’s a lot to expect from a woman.”

“It’s a lot to expect from both of them,” he corrected. “Her Dom has to be worthy of that kind of devotion. I can’t imagine she’d do that a second time if he didn’t make it worth her while. A successful relationship, be it vanilla or extra spicy, requires each person to put the other first.”

“Is that something you’ve had? Or an ideal you aspire to?” She searched his gaze. The blue depths seemed darker than they had earlier. She knew she was asking questions she didn’t have a right to, but she truly wanted to know him better.

He moved his head slightly, as if considering his answer. “For a while, I thought I had it.”

“Would you have a relationship where submission wasn’t a requirement?”

“If the question is, would I date a woman who wasn’t interested in being tied up while I drove her to the edge of an orgasm and used my tongue to keep her there for a very, very long time…?”

Aria waited, pulse hammering.

“The answer is certainly.”

Suddenly she could barely swallow, and stringing a coherent thought together was almost impossible. Was he talking about her?
Them?

“But I’d need to be clear that it would never progress beyond dating.”

His voice had a layer of steel that warned her she was tiptoeing close to very personal information. But they were colleagues, potentially friends—nothing more—so she pressed on. “Why is that?”

“I tried. I was engaged. We’d talked about it and, for me, she tried, but it didn’t work for her. I loved her enough to deny what I needed. Eventually we realized we weren’t compatible.”

He might appear nonchalant, but he couldn’t disguise the layer of hurt woven in the words. It made her squirm. Nosy was one thing, exposing someone’s pain was another. “I apologize. You don’t have to tell me all this.”

“Unless you’ve changed your mind and don’t want to know the answer, I’m happy to tell you.”

“Do you have any secrets?” she asked drily.

“Not many, but I’m greedy. I don’t let women I’m involved with have them, either. I want everything out there—raw, carnal, exposed. So the answer is, if I met a woman and she was interested in fucking and if there was mutual attraction, I’d spend the night pleasing her in every way she wanted—and I’d cook her breakfast in the morning. But in the long-term, I would never again propose to a woman who wasn’t interested in submission.”

She cast a glance back at the portrait. “She’s an ideal, then?”

“As well as a constant reminder of what I expect, what I should hold out for. Yes.”

“The picture serves as a warning, as well. To the women who see her.”

Grant followed her gaze then shrugged. “I hadn’t thought of it that way. Perhaps. You tell me. You’re the only woman who’s ever seen it.”

“Well, I’d say you’re honest about what you want. So it’s both a warning as well as a promise.”

“Promise?”

“If a woman is into it, wants it, she knows you’ll deliver it.”

He nodded. “Well said. Have you ever been spanked, Aria?”

She was caught off guard, and she sucked in a breath.

Outside, snow had started to drift down, but she knew her shiver had nothing to do with the outside elements. “Once. And I didn’t much like it. It hurt like hell and I honestly wondered what the fuss was all about. I was underwhelmed.”

“Then I can tell you, your man didn’t know what he was doing. If you were over my knee, you’d get your ass warmed and your clit would throb so hard you’d be afraid it had turned white. And when you came? You’d scream. If I was really good, you’d be crying, but only because the force of the orgasm left you otherwise unable to function.”

She wondered if she would choke on her own breath. He’d melted her brain circuits until they’d flatlined. “I’d say it’s a good thing we’re colleagues and nothing more.”

“I take it you’ve seen enough of my bedroom?” Grant smiled.

“Thanks. Yes.”

“My workshop isn’t as scary,” he informed her. “But you might want to avoid going into the outdoor shed.”

“What is it, a dungeon?”

When he didn’t reply, the feeling of vertigo flooded her again. Julien’s words about her needing a strong man echoed in her head. “Does Julien know about your…tastes?”

“Yes.”

“So the duffel bag really does have handcuffs and…”

“Probably.” He flicked a glance at it. “Do you want to open it up and find out?”

Julien said she needed to be involved with more complicated men. If he’d meant Grant, he was wrong. Grant was considerably more complex than anyone she’d dated. Uncomfortably so. What the hell had Julien been thinking in sending her here?

Chapter Three

“Well?” Grant prompted.

“Actually, I’m good with leaving it alone.” Her voice was bit breathless.

He enjoyed watching emotions play across Aria’s face. After she’d seen the name of the portrait, she’d cocked her head to look at him. When he’d asked if she’d ever been spanked, a small frown had buried itself between her eyebrows. And when he’d offered to let her open the bag, her mouth had parted in shock.

But he didn’t see fear in her rich green eyes. A small degree of curiosity, maybe. Anything beyond that might be wishful thinking on his part, but what a wish. He’d love to have this woman’s bare skin exposed to his lash. He wanted to see her body jerk from the pleasure only a strip of leather could deliver. And her screams of pleasure…? “There you have it. Transparency. Everything there is to know about me. You know where I stand and what I like.”

“Maybe a few things I’d be better off not knowing. Do you share this with all of your coworkers?”

“No. Julien is the only guest I’ve had here. And even he hasn’t seen the portrait of the submissive. Other than my housekeeper and my designer, you’re the only person who’s ever been inside my bedroom. Honestly, Aria? You’re the first coworker I’ve ever been attracted to. And I want you to know what you’re getting yourself into if you decide.” Deliberately, he left the end of the sentence vague. He gave her the opportunity to either begin or end the conversation.

She was silent for a few moments before quietly asking, “Decide what?”

“To give me a sign that I should act on what I’m thinking.”

Again, a ridiculously long amount of time passed before she picked up the thread he was using to weave his images. “What are you thinking about?”

“Kissing you. I’m imagining that your lips feel as full and as soft as they look. But I’m also wondering how you taste.” He already knew that her scent reminded him of the earth after a cleansing storm. In just the short time she’d been here, his perception had been altered. Her bag was in his guest room. Her coat was on a peg near his. Her purse sat on his entry table. His refrigerator was stocked with artificially sweetened creamer to ruin a perfectly good cup of coffee—and he didn’t mind any of it. For someone who didn’t like having his space disturbed, he was enjoying the feminine touches. “I’m picturing your mouth parting in an unspoken welcome as I stroke my thumb up the column of your neck and pull back your hair.”

“That’s not happening.”

“You’re not even the least bit curious?”

She hesitated a long, rewarding moment before answering. “No.”

“In that case, let me show you my workshop.” He stepped aside.

Aria took another quick look at the portrait before passing him.

Her boots echoed off the wood floor as she walked up the hallway. If he’d ever heard a sexier sound, he suddenly couldn’t remember it.

He was man enough to notice the sway of her hips and the way the skirt hugged her body. Her legs seemed to go on forever. And, not for the first time, he pictured them wrapped around his waist.

Maybe he should get out more, much as he hated to admit that Julien might be right.

Aria stopped near the door, and Grant moved in and put his hand near the palm print scanner.

“Can’t Molly just let you in?”