Out of Bounds (5 page)

She made a left at the traffic light and entered the neighborhood she lived in. No one owning an Aston Martin would consider it nice, but she was ultra proud of her newly acquired home. It was a three-bedroom, two-story home tucked up against the hills of southern California. Cream stucco decorated the exterior. She slid her sedan into the two-car garage and closed the door.

She’d moved in a year ago with some half-baked idea of Kevin joining her. Tonight, she was eternally grateful she had never asked him to move in. She didn’t want any witnesses to just how shaken she was.

What
you
don’t need is a boyfriend to add guilt to the situation…

True. Very, sharply pointedly true.

But it wasn’t an issue. She flipped open her phone and reread Kevin’s text to reassure herself.

She’d never been so happy about being dumped. Unless she counted her mom, but that wasn’t something she needed to think about. Mom was really sort of the wrong word to use for the woman who’d pushed her into the world. Regina Greci hadn’t shared her husband’s joy over the arrival of their daughter because her plans had only included having a son to impress her father. When Sabra had disappointed her, she’d walked away from both her husband and her newborn daughter the moment she’d recovered from childbirth.

Sabra hit the button for the garage door and walked into her home. It still smelled like new paint, and the walls were pristine. She’d watched the movers like a hawk to make sure they didn’t nick the molding. Every cent she had was invested in the place and there was no budget for repairs.

Or furniture. The front room had several pieces in it, but the small family room hidden from the street was completely empty except for an area carpet laid out in front of the fireplace. Kevin had made some comment about it becoming his man cave.

Not in this lifetime.

But getting naked on that carpet with Tarak with nothing but firelight suddenly took hold of her thoughts.

Shit.

She didn’t need fantasies of the man cluttering up her new home.

The mail could wait and so could everything else. The only thing she wanted was a shower.

Liar…

Fine, she was a liar, but she still had her pride and a grip on reality. Tarak was in a whole different category of life than she lived in. Sex wouldn’t have the same impact on him. She’d be the one nursing injured feelings when he pulled out of her life after satisfying his curiosity.

A long shower really didn’t do a whole lot to relieve the ache between her thighs, but her vibrator didn’t seem like the right course of action either. Instead, she found herself slipping back into the garter belt.

The only thing she smelled like was soap, but she just couldn’t stop thinking about what he’d claimed.

Her musk? It should have sounded lame, but it didn’t. Not the way he’d said it, especially when she coupled it with the flash of desire she’d seen in his eyes.

The way the man looked at her was just decadent—as if he was deciding what part of her to taste.

Her clit liked that idea.

It throbbed between the lips of her vagina, her pussy slowly heating back up. The first hint of moisture touched the top of her bare thighs and she caught a hint of her scent. It wasn’t unfamiliar, but what was surprising was just how fast she started debating her choice to not get into the convertible.

Her phone rang and she picked it up, grateful for the distraction.

“Did I prove my worth to you?”

She fumbled the phone and it dropped onto the bathroom floor. “Shit.” She dove after it and heard Tarak chuckling on the other end.

She could hang up.

Chicken.

She put the phone up to her ear. “Fine, you have integrity. That doesn’t mean I plan to… do anything else.”

“Pity.”

His voice was dark and full of challenge again. Her cheeks darkened in response. The full-length bathroom mirrors gave her a fine view of the physical reaction she was having to him.

“But your front porch is very comfy. Sure you won’t come down and join me?”

“You’re on my porch?”

He chuckled and ended the call. Her fingers actually turned white because she clutched the phone so tightly. Her master bathroom was in the back of the house, making it impossible to see the porch.

Chicken…

She bit her lower lip in indecision. Hell. Why did he have to be her boss? Her body didn’t seem to care. Arousal was burning away inside her and the knowledge that he was a staircase away was just too much temptation. She grabbed a dress and put it on. The top was a crossover and her breasts settled into the cups just fine. Her shoes were still sitting where she’d stepped out of them and she pushed her feet into them before opening the bedroom door.

The expensive sports car looked out of place in her driveway, but Tarak was sprawled in her love seat glider swing as if he were right at home.

Stalking most likely came naturally to him.

Which made opening the front door a stupid idea.

Yet hiding inside was chicken.

“What are you hoping to prove?” she fired off the moment she had the door halfway open.

His lazy stance was a practiced tactic. It had to be, because there was nothing at ease about the look in his eyes. He surveyed her the moment she opened the door, his dark gaze sliding down to the hem of her skirt. His chest rose and fell in a deep motion before his eyes closed halfway.

“You put the garter belt back on.”

She crossed her legs in response.

“I just…” Crap. Her tongue felt like a foreign object inside her mouth. His collar was further open, and the front of his shirt was wrinkled from her hands.

Shit. She’d been ready to tear it off him.

And she was heading there again—at breakneck speed.

“You just couldn’t stop thinking about it,” he finished for her. “About how much you want the same thing I do.”

The swing glided back as he stood up. Her porch was suddenly too small. She backed up, right over the threshold, and he followed her. He sent her front door closed with a single push.

“Now there is no one to know we’re meeting,” he informed her.

“Except for the Aston Martin sitting in my driveway,” she argued. “I think that thing is worth as much as my house.”

He looked away from her, scanning the small entry that had a double-doorway entrance into the dining room.

“It’s worth slightly less.” For a split second, he was the man she’d spent the afternoon with, his mind focused on the numbers of the business world. But the moment their eyes met, his glittered with pure intent. “You’re redirecting the conversation, Sabra.”

He flattened a hand against the wall behind her. She was pinned, without any actual contact between them. But the idea was blazing hot, making her lips tingle with anticipation. The tops of her thighs were slick now, excitement churning away inside her. Her gaze dropped to the front of his pants, any semblance of self-control vanishing.

“I love the way you look at me, Sabra.”

She jerked her attention back to his face. Hunger drew his features tight. His eyes flickered with a hunger that just didn’t fit inside the civilized suit he’d worn at the office.

“Umm… look, I really can’t do this.” Her lips were too dry, so she licked them, drawing his dark gaze. “I mean… it’s just too damn presumptuous of you to show up on my porch.”

He stroked her cheek again, calling attention to the blush stinging her face.

“The word I’d use is
intense
, Sabra.” He pressed his thumb over her lower lip, sending a tiny bolt of delight through her. “Something I’m not too sure I like any better than you. My feelings for Anastasia were controllable.”

She jerked her head away. “Yeah, you strike me as the sort of man who likes calling the shots.”

“Guilty as charged.” He leaned forward and hovered over the side of her neck, inhaling deeply. “But that’s not what’s pissing you off. It’s the fact that I told you I’d smelled your pussy.”

His words unleashed a riot inside her. She quivered, every muscle joining the revolt against the bindings of self-control. She tried to thrust him away, but all that happened was her hands landed on his chest. Tarak didn’t budge.

“I thought women craved honesty. That’s what I gave you.” He cupped her hip, his grip making her jump. “The question is, are you a big enough girl to deal with me on an honest level? Modern courtship is just bullshit to whitewash the blunt facts of attraction.”

“There’s a difference between honesty and arrogance.”

He slid his hand over the curve of her butt. “Not really. If you won’t accept my invitations, boldness is my only option.”

Her breath was frozen in her chest for a long moment because part of her just wanted to let him take control. There was no guilt, no need to think when he was the one smashing through her defenses.

But he pushed back, putting a respectable distance between them. “But if you want to play the social-niceties game, I can do that. Where would you like to have dinner?”

The question sounded stupid. Lame. Like something from her high school years.

“Cordial manners don’t suit you.” The words were out of her mouth before she realized she’d walked right into a trap. His lips curled in victory a moment before his hand was flattened on the wall next to her head once more.

“Finally, the truth,” he purred next to her ear. He brushed the side of her neck, sending ripples of sensation down her body before he captured the back of her head again.

He was going to kiss her. She knew it and raised her head even while she was trying to debate the wisdom of allowing it—okay, participating in it. What her brain wanted died in a sizzle as he took command of her lips once more.

But she wanted more than to be kissed. She reached for him, grabbing his shirt again. The fabric bunched up in her hands as she moved her mouth in unison with his. He just tasted good.

And he smelled better.

Everything about him was tactile, basic. She didn’t want to be logical; she wanted to be in action.

Her heart was hammering away. Each little pant drew the scent of his skin into her senses. He pressed her mouth open, the tip of his tongue sweeping along her lower lip before probing the interior of her mouth. It was bold and exactly what she expected from him, and she tried to pull him closer.

It wasn’t about right or wrong feelings; it was about pure need.

He growled softly, baring his teeth at her before smoothing his hands down her back. Her eyes fluttered shut, his touch delighting her in a way she’d never experienced. She arched, shivering as he cupped her bottom with both hands and squeezed. A jolt of hard need speared through her, making her crazy to have him inside her.

“You’re driving me insane, Sabra.” Bending over slightly, he kept stroking her until he reached the hem of her skirt, and then he straightened up, smoothing his hands right up the sides of her bare thighs. It was shocking, the contact between their bare skin—so intense, her insides twisted and a little moan rose from her lips.

“That’s… that’s why…
oh
damn
it!
… This is too intense.” Her voice was a sultry whisper, equal parts need and desperation. “It can’t be good for either of us.”

His eyes were narrowed to slits. Determination shone from them as he gave her a curt nod. “Maybe,” he whispered against her neck before he drew in a deep breath. “But it seems like I just can’t resist.” He bit her, his teeth grazing her soft skin. Her clit pulsed frantically and she thrust her hips toward his. “Neither can you.”

“But I should,” she mumbled because her tongue didn’t want to form words, only sounds of delight. “You’re my boss…”

Her eyelids felt too heavy to lift, but she forced them open. Tarak was watching her, studying her with his sharp gaze. It looked as though he was plotting her downfall.

“I want to taste you.”

Her desire vibrated through her as shock numbed her wits.

He scooped her up, cradling her with ease before turning around and depositing her in one of the plush armchairs she had facing into the entryway. One of her shoes dropped to the floor, but she didn’t have time to worry about it.

Tarak followed her down, kneeling on the floor in front of her. He flipped her skirt up, and lifted her thighs up to rest on the padded armrests of the chair.

“Tarak…
you
can’t
.”

He cupped her hips and drew her down to the edge of the chair.

“I like the sound of my name on your lips.”

He smoothed a hand across her lower belly. She gasped, her clit pulsing.

“And I love knowing I make you wet.”

He rested his hand on her pubic hair for a moment. Anticipation threatened to drive her mad. She was too aroused, too needy to worry about any details. She lifted her hips, seeking out what she craved. It was pure instinct, logic nothing but a burnt cinder now.

He was so damned confident, stroking down through her curls to her slit. She moaned, desperate for release from the churning inside her.

But he didn’t finger her. Instead, he separated her folds, opening them to expose her clit. She was so hot, the air felt cold. It was a momentary interruption before he leaned forward and sucked her.

She arched up and off the seat, her thighs clamping around his shoulders. She wasn’t close enough and she strained toward him. He didn’t tease her. There were no tiny laps from his velvet tongue. Instead, he pressed his tongue straight against her clit and rubbed. Combined with the hot warmth of his mouth, she twisted and burst into climax. There was no control, only the rush of pleasure flooding through her like a wave. It crashed over her, rolling her in its motion before dropping her on the beach in a breathless heap.

“That was fucking sexy,” he declared.

“It was stupid.” And uncontrolled and in conflict with every idea she had about who she was.

His lips thinned out in response. She tried to scramble up, but he pressed her down with one hand on top of her belly.

“Stupid that I enjoy listening to you come?” There was a hard edge to his voice.