Hers for the Evening (26 page)

“because I need you to.”

She wrapped her arms around him. “God, yes, Hunter. I love you.” It had taken her ten years to recognize it. Afraid to face it when they were both married, afraid to ask him once they were both divorced. It was easier to deny, yet she’d had to have him close, until her obsession took over. The obsession she’d tried to tell herself was only physical and could be managed by a stand-in.

“You will cherish the love I have for you as I cherish yours for me.”

The tears fell from her temples into her hair. He loved her. She cried out as his cock rode her sensitive G-spot. “Yes, Hunter.” She’d give him anything he asked.

“Say it,” he commanded through gritted teeth.

“I love you.”

He lost all control, pounding into her, driving her higher, thrusting her over the edge, and she screamed, his name, that she loved him, needed him, would always need him.

Somewhere in the cataclysm, she was sure she heard his voice, his words, “I will always love you.”

HUNTER CRADLED HER IN HIS ARMS.

“Can I take the shoes off now?” Devon asked.

He laughed. “Yes.”

She kicked them off. He turned her chin, forced her to look at him. “I mean what I said, Devon. I love and accept who you are. I’ve been an asshole.” He smiled. “Not as bad as Larry the lead asshole, but an ass nonetheless. Yet I can’t accept some secret affair with you, hiding in corners. There’s a way to work this out.” He held her tight a moment. “I’m not giving you up for some fucking job.”

She stroked his cheek. “I’ve been unreasonable. Valid points, but I took them 172

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too far. You’ll make the best CEO, and I’m going to put myself behind my words. Whatever you need.”

“I need you to agree that we have a shot.” He couldn’t compromise on this.

“I want a relationship, a commitment. I want you to admit you’re mine and I’m yours. That we’re not going to hide us behind closed doors. I have no clue why I missed seeing how damn good we could be together.” He chuckled. “Maybe I needed your stand-in to open my eyes.”

She tucked her forehead against his neck and played with the hair on his chest. His cock stirred, but he needed to hear it all before they got back to the good stuff.

“You were right.” Her breath brushed his skin. “I always had to be the strong one. If I wasn’t, I was afraid everything I’d worked for would be torn away. I was so strong that it did get taken away and my husband left. Yet I went on the same way.” She nuzzled him, licked his throat. “I’ve had the hots for you for months, years even. I thought sex would solve the problem, but the problem is me.” She gave a laugh that ended in a sigh. “I’m scared of a relationship and a commitment and of getting hurt again. But you”—she trailed a hand down the center of his chest, and his heart pumped harder, faster—“I love you, Hunter Nash. I want to sleep in your bed, wake up in your arms, see you at the breakfast table.”

He suddenly felt lightheaded.

“You’ve spoiled me, Hunter. A stand-in will never work again. You’re irreplaceable.”

He grabbed her chin, kissed her hard.

She pushed back. “I will say,” she added, her voice a sexy drawl, “having two Hunters at once, Heaven help me.”

He laughed. “You naughty woman.”

“That’s not replacement. It’s double the fun.”

“And double the pleasure,” he whispered. “Your wish is my command.”

“Oh no, my sweet man.” She stretched sinuously against him. “You’re the one who gets to command me.”

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Surrender To Me

SURRENDER TO ME

174

Surrender To Me

1

HALEY VENTURA HAD CURVES A MAN COULD SINK HIS FINGERS INTO. Simon Foster wanted nothing more than to worship those curves. He’d be so damn good for her. And she for him.

Seducing her would have been so much easier if she didn’t hate him. Strike one was falling in love with her when she was married to his business partner and former best friend. Not telling her that said business partner, former best friend and her husband, was having an affair made for strike two. Strike three, bearing the news that Artie had died of a heart attack in bed with his lover. And the strike out? The fact that it was Simon’s bed they’d been using. Haley never believed Simon didn’t know they were meeting in his house. Simon hadn’t purged his emotions for her. It simply seemed shitty to seduce the widow before her husband had been in the ground a year. Even if Artie had been cheating on her.

Haley’s year was up.

Now all Simon needed was a strategy. He didn’t usually plan out a seduction, but Haley was special. He figured he’d only get one shot, and he didn’t want any fuckups.

Maybe a Valentine’s Day thing. That was only a month away. He wasn’t the roses, hearts, and romance kind of guy, though. She’d see right through him, and think he was just horny. Simon had to admit he was always horny. Turning fifty sure as hell hadn’t reduced his sex drive. He was considering horniness and Haley as he pulled his truck into FosterVentura’s parking lot. A contracting company specializing in remodels and insurance work, the guys were in the field most of the time, so they rented only a small suite of offices out of a larger building in Saratoga. The Saturday morning was bright and unseasonably hot for January. Even in the Bay Area. The real bright spot? Haley’s SUV was parked by the front door. The sight gave his heart a kickstart. Haley, an accountant, did the books and all the receivables and payables for the business. That hadn’t changed with Artie’s death. Now Haley was half owner. Construction was generally slower in the winter, but the couple of weeks of good weather had seen a miniboom for them. They also did demolition work, fires, water damage, asbestos removal. Most 175

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contractors didn’t have the proper asbestos licensing, which gave Foster-Ventura a leg up on the competition. As for Haley’s schedule, it was year-end for them and all the accounting work that went with it. She’d always been a hard worker, something he’d admired from the moment she came to work for the partnership twelve years ago. He should have snapped her up right away, but he hadn’t even thought about settling down back then. So he missed his chance. Because Artie was ready for her.

Water under the bridge. He climbed out of the truck, slammed the door, and took the three steps to the front entrance in a single bound. The door was locked—kinda strange—and the front office was empty. He rounded Haley’s desk. She’d refused to move into Artie’s vacant office, preferring to stay out front. Simon figured she didn’t want any more reminders than necessary. Artie’s office was strictly storage space now. Colored fish swam across her computer monitor. A quick glance into the break room showed she wasn’t there, either. She must have run across the street to the Starbucks. He only had a couple of things he wanted to check, so instead of booting up his own machine—in his office—he tapped Haley’s keyboard. She wouldn’t mind. They had a LAN and shared files.

She had a spreadsheet up, but he popped over to her open Internet window. It took long moments for his brain to catch up with his eyes. Mostly because he couldn’t imagine Haley looking at . . . ads for casual sex?

No way, that wasn’t her. She was a sexy lady, but sort of prudish. Simon had closed his ears to the stuff Artie said. He’d refused to discuss their sex life. As a couple, they’d been his best friends. At one time. Before Artie starting cheating. And Artie’s excuse? Because Haley wasn’t a firecracker in bed. Didn’t want to be. It even embarrassed her.

The ad’s subject line emblazoning the screen wasn’t prudish at all. You know you want to be my sex slave.

Holy hell. She was into bondage?

He couldn’t help reading, mesmerized. It wasn’t a coarse, crass advertisement for dirty sex. It was a story. He read as if he were seeing straight into the deepest, darkest corner of her heart and soul.

Be prepared. You will do whatever I say and love it. I call as I am walking to your door. Unlocking it, you wait for me. On your knees . . . wearing nothing but 176

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a pair of sexy high heels. I close the door, stand in front of you, and undo my jeans. Taking my cock out, you slip the head into your mouth. I run my fingers through your hair as I caress your throat with my cock. Your tongue is all over the shaft and head and it keeps me hard. Finally I pull out and order you to give me your hands. I shackle you with wrist cuffs, pull you close, and place a thin leather collar around your neck. With my finger through the ring in your collar, I lead you to your bed, sit you on it, and fasten both wrists to the headboard. You belong to me now. I kiss your lovely neck, lick your abundant breasts, and suck on your luscious nipples. You feel my hard cock between your gorgeous, sexy legs. I pinch your pretty skin, leaving a few nice red marks so you can remember me after I’m gone. Something you can look at in the mirror the next few mornings when you finish your shower. Kissing and licking my way to your hips, I move between your legs, placing my mouth over your beautiful pussy lips. You shudder with delight. I suck on the inside of your thigh. I love the taste of you. Holding your chin in my hand, you are my captive, my slave, and I remind you that it is the weekend. No one is expecting to hear from you until Monday. You are mine to do with as I wish for days.

Do you like this fantasy so far? Do you need to hear more? Do you want to meet me and be my slave?

Simon’s cock pulsed as if it had a life of its own. And fuck, it wanted Haley. If she’d been standing in front of him, he’d have bent her over the desk and taken her hard and fast. Maybe he would have tied her hands first. Christ, maybe he’d have tied himself up in her long, silky, touchable chestnut hair. Flipping to her Internet history, he checked out the other ads she’d viewed on the site. Three of them, all submissive or bondage stuff from being cuffed or tied to spanking, phrased eloquently enough that it didn’t seem a man could have written them. Or they were written by men who understood how to tap into the feminine psyche. Sexy and titillating without being crude and obscene, they appealed to a woman’s need for fantasy. He was about to click into her e-mail to see if she’d answered any when he caught himself. What the hell was he doing?

Spying on her. Invading her privacy.

Simon had never done that. Never gossiped, never spied, never stuck his nose in someone else’s business. That code had ruined his relationship with Haley. As much as he’d thought Artie was an ass for cheating, he’d never felt it 177

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was his right to tell Haley. Somehow, because of his feelings for her, to tell felt self-serving.

Yet here he was, spying on the very woman whose trust he hoped to regain. It was a momentary lapse into thinking with his dick. He was better now. Simon shut down all the windows he’d clicked on and maximized the spreadsheet file the way she’d had it.

Fuck. No little fishies swimming back and forth. She’d realize he’d seen something. It couldn’t be helped. He was above changing the screen saver wait time to hide his dirty deeds. However, if they came back on before she returned, he’d call it providence. In the break room, he poured himself a cup of coffee, then headed down the short hall to his office, passing the restroom. And stopped. He’d heard a sound. There it was again, more clearly identifiable as a . . . voice. Inside the restroom. A wave of heat rolled through his body, and the dick he’d gotten under control flared to life, hot, hard, and ready for action.

She moaned again. Oh yeah, that was a moan and that was Haley. They had a receptionist who came in three times a week, but not on Saturdays. Saskia was a sixty-five-year-old grandmother. He couldn’t picture her locked inside the restroom moaning like that.

Mother of God, he could picture Haley. He couldn’t stop picturing her. She was masturbating. She’d gotten hot looking at Internet sex ads and run to the restroom to relieve the built-up tension.

The moans came faster, sharper, louder. She cried out, and there was no mistaking her voice. She came forever. Simon thought his head would explode. Or his dick. His breath caught, his heart pounded, and his palms began to sweat. If he stayed there much longer, he’d start jerking off in the corridor. The break room seemed the only logical place to hide out. If he went to his office, she’d guess he’d heard. His hands were shaking as he added another spoonful of creamer and stirred. The coffee was now milk-white and undrinkable, but he drank anyway to keep himself busy. No woman had ever affected him this way, and he’d had more than his share of ladies. He’d truly cared for a good number of them, too, but only Haley had ever made his heart pound like this. Maybe it was because he’d been her friend without fucking her. She was, in fact, his only female friend. Or at least she had been until Artie’s frantic lover called him to say she thought he’d died in Simon’s bed. Simon had called 911, but Artie was 178