Cross-Checked (9 page)

The corners of his mouth tilted and his eyes took on a sparkle of amusement. “Dominance. I should have guessed by the shoes.”

I tried to make my face stern. “You keep your hands and your mouth and other parts of your anatomy to yourself.”

“Sounds dull.” He licked his lips and twitched his brows.

I pouted. “I promise you it won’t be dull. Do exactly as I say and it will be the opposite end of the spectrum to dull.” I softened my tone. “It will be better than you’ve ever had it before.”

His eyes deepened to an even richer green. I’d certainly piqued his curiosity.

“What if I can’t control myself?” he asked, jamming his back against the open door and folding his arms over his chest. He crossed one foot over the other as if he intended this to be a long conversation. Although the straining bulge behind his fly didn’t bode well for a rational conversation. “What if we get in, the door shuts and I jump your bones my way. What if I can’t help myself?” he asked.

“I’ll scream as loud as I can,” I said. “Everyone will come running to see what you’re doing to me.”

“You’ll be screaming in ecstasy, honey, they’ll know the difference.” He uncrossed his ankles and I struggled to drag my gaze from that damn impressive bulge.

“I could just go to my room,” I said, taking a step toward the elevator and tightening my bag over my shoulder.

He was silent.

I took another step. My mouth dried, nausea clenched my guts.

“I could just go to my room alone…” I said, turning to the elevator door.
Say something, please say something. Invite me in.
A rising panic swelled in my chest. I held my breath and refused to reach out and press the call button for at least one more second.

“Come in, Carly,” he said quietly.

I turned and saw a dirty grin playing with his lips.

“Come in and play your game,” he said, “but just remember, you play with fire, you’ll get burned.” He grinned. “In the sweetest possible way, of course.”

Beating down the triumphant smile trying to burst over my face I asked, “And you’ll do as I say?”

“Yeah, I’ll do whatever you say, honey,” he drawled, sounding as if he was more likely to do the exact opposite of what I said.

“Good.” I tipped my chin and strode toward him, pressed my index finger into the center of his chest. “Make sure you do.”

He chuckled and stepped aside to let me pass.

The suite was bathed in a golden glow from standing lamps on either side of a plush burgundy couch. A flat-screen TV hung above a marble fireplace and the dense navy curtains were shut to block out the sirens and lights a scary eight floors below. I headed through a door to my left and studied the enormous bed. Its green and gold eiderdown comforter had been turned back and a single chocolate lay on the white pillowcase. I glanced at the headboard. Perfect.

At the base of the bed stood a long dressing table, which held a TV and coffee machine along with several copies of
Hockey Today
. On the floor, I spotted a duffel spilling jeans and sneakers and t-shirts.

The bedroom door clicked shut.

I felt his body heat radiate on to me. He’d come so close behind me.

“So what do you want me to do?” he whispered into my ear.

His breath sent a delicious shiver down my neck and it took every ounce of willpower I possessed not to turn around and hurl my body at him. Beg him to do with it whatever he pleased.

Instead, I tossed my purse to the base of the bed and turned. “Stand perfectly still,” I said, reaching for the top button of his shirt. “Stand perfectly still while I take your clothes off.”

He pulled in a breath and I saw his nostrils flare. “You gonna take yours off?” he asked, watching my fingers work down his buttons.

“I might.”

I beat down the tremor that was threatening my movements. Reminded myself that this had been a major fantasy for so long and I couldn’t ruin it with nerves. I tugged the shirt from his pants and undid the last button. As the soft material came free, I caught a whiff of not just his gorgeous spiced aftershave, but also the scent of aroused male. Heated and heavy, it swirled with his pheromones and had blood racing to my pelvis in anticipation. He was addictive. I was hooked.

I slid my hands up his hard, flat stomach, over silken feathered hair and ridged abs. My fingertips explored farther as my eyes drank him up. I traced the underside of his wide, defined pectoral muscles coated in that soft, downy dark blond hair and circled his small brown nipples until they tightened.

His arms lifted and settled on my waist, his head dropped toward me.

“Keep still and don’t touch me,” I ordered, shifting my hips.

His arms fell away and he made a low growling noise.

Standing on tiptoes, I pushed his gaping shirt until it draped over his shoulders.

His breaths were slow but hard as his gaze bored into mine. There was a flush of color on his cheekbones.

I walked behind him. His head turned to follow my movements but I lifted my hand to his jaw and urged him to look straight ahead. “Don’t move,” I reminded him.

I tugged at his collar and the shirt slid down to reveal his impossibly wide shoulders. I dragged it off and dropped it on the dressing table, indulging in a moment of just looking at him, drinking him up with my eyes. He was divine. His skin, a deep gold, stretched taut over thick balls of muscle and sinewy strips of tendon. The long, deep gutter of his spine was highlighted by powerful ropes of muscle running parallel and the width of his shoulders and the narrowness of his waist made him the perfect triangle. At the very base of his back sat the two most delicious dimples I’d ever seen. Partially hidden by his tailored trousers, but enough on show to know I could lick them all night.

I reached out and touched his neck. Gently, just below his hairline, with my fingertip. His head tipped back a fraction and his shoulders lifted the smallest amount. He pulled in a breath.

“Shh,” I soothed.

Very slowly I ran my finger down his spine, deliberately feeling each vertebra. He was even more sublime than I imagined he would be. Faultless. Heart bursting with adoration and hardly able to believe I was finally getting my hands on him, I traced the arch of his back. Stroked over those two little dimples and delighted in the way his fists clenched at his side at my impossibly light touch.

“Carly,” he said in a tight voice.

I stepped in front of him. “It’s time to take these off.” I reached for the button on his pants and popped it open. His lips mashed together and his chest puffed as though he was holding in a breath.

Finding the zipper, I dropped it over the solid bulge straining beneath. Looked up into his eyes and felt a tremble in my belly as my fingers brushed his hardness through the material. His eyelids were hooded, his lips slightly parted. I couldn’t trust how much self-control he had. Hell, mine was slipping away, fast.

I had to act quickly for both our sakes.

“Get on the bed,” I said, stepping away. “And lose the pants, shoes and socks.”

“You better be quick with whatever this is you’re doing, honey, ’cause I’ve been wanting to be naked on a bed with you for some time now and my control is pretty much on zero.” He toed off his shoes and yanked at his socks. He shoved his smart black pants into a heap on the floor then sat on the edge of the bed.

“Lie flat.” I pointed to the pillows.

His big body stretched out, from the headboard right down to the bottom. I could hardly keep my eyes off the cock tenting his black Calvin boxers. All I could think of was the ring in the end. I imagined I could see the shape of it through the material. But I couldn’t be sure. Was it really there?

“I’m all yours, honey,” he said, shoving one hand beneath his head. His chest rose and fell quickly and his biceps were bunched.

I crawled onto the bed next to him, being careful to keep the spikes of my stilettos upward. “I know you’re all mine,” I said, reaching for my purse. “That’s why I can do this.”

I pulled a pink silk scarf from my bag. Holding each end, I snapped it in front of my face as if showing off its strength.

His brows lifted.

I moved up the bed. Captured his free wrist in my hand and slid the silk beneath it. Tied a double knot.

He looked at my handiwork with a mixture of curiosity and surprise.

“I’m helping you out with that ‘jumping my bones’ problem,” I said as I threaded the scarf behind one of the thick oak slats on the headboard. I pulled and created a tight knot that lifted his hand right up to the board. It was well secured.

“You think that will stop me?” A cocky glint shone in his eyes.

“Mm, maybe not one, but two will.” I pulled the second scarf from my bag and reached for the wrist angled beneath his head.

I tugged at his wrist. Licked my red lips and felt his muscles give as he let me lift his hand from beneath his head. I twisted the scarf around his wrist and, like the other one, secured it to the headboard.

I sat back on my heels and studied him. The perfect specimen of the male species, harnessed to a bed, practically naked and desperate for it. I sucked in much-needed oxygen as my gaze floated down the underside of his arm. Paler skin led to wisped underarm hair and then on to the faint outline of his stretched ribs.

God, I wanted him. But not yet. The last thing I needed to do was rush. This was all about timing.

“So now what?” he asked, narrowing his eyes and shifting his hips.

I stuck my hand in my bag and pulled out my new raspberry lipstick. Slowly I took off the lid, rolled it to full height and added an extra layer to my mouth “Does this color suit me?” I asked, rolling my lips in on each other.

“Yeah,” he said. “It’s real sexy.”

I bent and placed a kiss on his stomach. Just above his navel. It left a bright, glossy mark on his skin.

Perfect.

“How’s that?” I asked.

“Sure. A bit lower would be really good though.” His mouth tipped into a smile.

I moved up to his chest, placed a red lipstick mark over first his left and then his right nipple.

“Mm,” he said, “very artistic, but not quite what I had in mind.”

I placed a gentle kiss on his collarbone. The lipstick was fading so I rolled it up again and reapplied. I settled over his face and, with my hair hanging down like curtains, kissed his left cheek and then his right, marking him with my lush red pout. I traced the seam of his mouth with my tongue, very lightly, very slowly. Tasting him, committing the contours of his lovely mouth to oral memory.

Suddenly his tongue darted for mine. I rose up and his neck lifted to follow. He groaned in frustration as I held myself just out of his reach. I smiled then dropped so we could kiss lightly. He tried to force his tongue deeper into my mouth again and once more I lifted up. The headboard creaked ominously as his powerful shoulders tried to follow me.

“Be patient,” I said, quietly studying his lipstick-smeared mouth. Scarlet gloss blurred the line of his lips and dashes of red had caught in the bristles of his stubble.

“So stop the damn teasing,” he said in a low growl that vibrated through his chest and straight into mine.

“I’m not teasing, I’m just doing it my way.” I sat up, reached for the clasps on my shoes and dropped them to the floor. I spun up the lipstick and reapplied, slowly, deliberately.

His eyes narrowed, following my every move, his breaths coming fast. I shimmied down the bed, sat back on my heels and curled my fingers over the waistband of his boxers.

His abs tensed, creating a neat row of bricks that angled across his tight abdomen. “The moment of truth,” I said, licking my lips and feeling a wave of heated lust race to my pussy. “Were you lying about the ring?”

“Why the hell would I make it up?” His eyes were blazing hot. “Go ahead, take a damn look.”

A thrill of delicious, primitive power went through me. I gave him a slow, sexy, merciless smile and studied the red lipstick marks that had branded him as mine. His mouth, his face, his collarbone, his chest, his stomach. Now I would claim his cock. Mark that as mine too.

He stared back at me, direct, silent.

I lifted up the elastic and absorbed the heat burning from him as I pulled back his boxers. His cock sprang upward, long and thick and roped with bulging veins. At the top, coming from the slit, sat a silver hoop with a small ball at its center. My eyes widened and my mouth salivated. He’d been telling the truth, he really was deliciously bad.

“Believe me now?” he asked in a low, throaty voice.

“It’s bigger than I thought it would be.”

He gave a strained huff. “What, you thought I’d have a small dick?”

“No.” I shook my head and my hair fell farther forward. “I knew you’d have a big dick, you’ve got size thirteen feet.”

His brow creased. “How do you—”

“Your shoes.” I nodded to his discarded shoes. I’d known well before five minutes ago that he had size thirteen feet. That was the sort of info on player stat pages in
People.
“I mean the ring. It’s bigger than I thought it would be.”

“No point having it if you can’t feel it, honey.” He tried to pull his arms down again and the headboard rattled. “Shit.” He glanced at his trapped wrists. “You sure you don’t want me to just take it from here? Come on, get rid of these knots and I’ll give you what you need, ’cause you look kind of like you’re in shock.”

“I’m not in shock.” I looked up at him. “I’m just planning what to do with you. You and your ring.”

His head dropped back and his cock twitched. I couldn’t wait another second, I reached for it. Wrapped my hand around the shaft, at the base like I’d said I would on the phone and how I’d wanted to during the interview. I gave it a squeeze. A low, tortured groan erupted from his throat and I absorbed the beautiful texture of his skin. Velvet softness on hard steel. The veins pulsated as I clasped him harder and began to slide upward.

“Ah, I knew you’d feel sweet touching me, Carly, but jeez, that little hand of yours is…” He sucked in a breath. “Fucking awesome.”

I slid up to the head—heart-shaped, swollen and the color of a ripe plum. A drip of moisture glistened in the slit, right next to the ring. I touched the fluid with the index finger of my other hand and swirled it around his hot, smooth flesh, being careful not to touch the piercing.