Surrender (4 page)

His gaze zoomed up and down my body. I was wearing a pretty conservative outfit. Slacks, a blouse, and cardigan sweater. Two-inch pumps. My hair was neat but also fairly conservative, smoothed back into a low ponytail. “I hope this is all legit. But something tells me it’s not. We’ve both heard the rumors about Maldonado, that he’s a sick bastard who sleeps with his employees and then fires them.”

“No, I haven’t heard that rumor,” I lied. “Do you have any proof?”

“No, but—”

“When you have some proof, then bring it to me and I’ll decide whether I want to keep this position or not. In the meantime, he’s paying me good, the work isn’t bad, and neither are the hours. We need the money.” I didn’t add the part about how a lot of my money had been going to lawyers to keep his butt out of jail.

His lips thinned. “Fine.”

I gave him a hug. “I promise, Kameron Maldonado isn’t going to treat me like his slut. I wouldn’t put up with that.” I glanced at my watch. “Now, I need to get going. I’m assuming we leave sometime this morning. I wouldn’t want to cause a delay by being late.”

“Fine. Call me later. When you get wherever you’re going.” He grabbed me and hugged me hard. “I would feel like absolute shit if something happened to you because of me.”

“Nothing’s going to happen.” I squeezed back, then stepped away. “Gotta go.”

“Be careful,” he shouted after me as I race-walked to the door.

“I will!”

I had to break a few speed limits to get to work on time, but I made it with not a minute to spare. Leaving my suitcase in my car, I hurried inside, poked the elevator button at least five times, and counted the seconds before the bell chimed. The door rolled open, and my heart jumped.

My new boss was standing there, giving me mean eyes.

“You’re late,” he said.

“Technically, I’m on time. The elevator—”

“We have to leave now.” Stepping out of the car, he steered me toward the exit with a hand on my back. “Where’s your suitcase?”

“My car. I didn’t know if I should—”

“We’ll pick it up on the way out.”

As we stepped out of the building, a black limo rolled to a stop directly in front of us. The driver scurried out and opened the door. I sat. Kameron sat next to me.

His jaw tensed. “You haven’t gone shopping yet.”

“I haven’t had time.” I felt my face warming as I recalled yesterday’s lunch hour. “I tried going during my lunch—”

“And I let you leave early yesterday.”

“Yes, okay. You did. But something urgent came up.”

“What?” he barked. “What came up?”

“That’s none of your business. You’re my boss. Not my husband. Or my father.”

Much to my surprise, he chuckled. “Point taken. Again.”

A little amused by his reaction, I glanced at him. His lips were curved into a lopsided semismile. It was a sexy expression.

“We’ll get some shopping in later today,” he said. “New York has a few decent places to shop.”

“New York?” I echoed. I’d always wanted to go to New York. Correction, I’d always dreamed of going to New York. The Statue of Liberty, Times Square, the art galleries, Coney Island and, of course, the Museum of Modern Art.

“We’ll be there for at least three days. If you didn’t pack enough, we’ll take care of it after we land.”

Without thinking, I volleyed back, “Yeah, well, if you’d been a little more forthcoming when you called, I would’ve known how much to pack.”

That earned me a full belly laugh. And a scowl. “Touché, Miss Barnes. Though I should punish you for being so outspoken. . . .” His expression once more turned wicked, and my skin started burning.

Punish me? What exactly did he mean by that?

4

D
uring the entire one-hour flight on the company’s private jet (I didn’t know the company owned a private jet!), Kameron worked on his laptop, leaving me to amuse myself. Fortunately, I’d downloaded a book onto my phone. It wasn’t a gripping page turner, but it was better than staring out the window and counting the minutes. Or staring at Kam like a goon while he worked.

For some reason, despite the fact that he’d basically blackmailed me into some sort of sexual arrangement I didn’t understand (because I hadn’t yet read the contract he’d given me), I just loved to look at him. And every time I did, I discovered some small thing that made him that much sexier.

After we landed, Kameron spent the limo ride to our destination on the phone while I gawked out the window. I read the signs as we crawled through clogged streets. Water Street, Broadway, West Street. Lots of cars and taxis and people and signs. It was almost too much to take in.

“Your first time?” he asked.

“Yes,” I said, shifting to look his way. “It’s so . . . busy.”

“That, it is.” He tucked his laptop into his briefcase. “We’re stopping at the condo first, to freshen up. My first appointment is in a couple of hours, so you’ll have a little time to relax and orientate yourself.”

“Sounds good.”

The limo pulled up to one of the many towering buildings I’d admired. This one had a gray stone façade on the first floor and red brick on the many floors above. The driver opened our doors, and out I stepped. Before following Kameron to the glass entry, I craned my head to look up. One, two, three . . . ten, eleven, twelve, thirteen, or was it fourteen? Fourteen floors. We stepped inside. Wow. Glossy wood paneling, a gorgeous chandelier overhead, an information desk to the right, and sleek, white leather couches on the left. We angled through a wide opening just beyond the information desk, to the elevators.

This was New York luxury.

In the elevator, I watched the numbers illuminate as we zoomed up, up, up. We stopped on the fourteenth floor. Together, I carrying my purse and he his laptop case, we stepped out into a neutrally decorated hallway. And within minutes I was standing in a spacious living room, looking out across blue water and the Statue of Liberty. “Wow.”

“This place was a steal for the location. And it has a pretty decent view.” Kameron stepped up beside me. “Let me show you your room.” He took my hand, weaving his fingers between mine, and pulled. Reluctantly, I followed. We traveled through the living room and down a hallway. He opened the first door. “Your room.” Pulling me in, he motioned to another door set off the side. “Your bathroom.”

My gaze swept across the luxurious space. The bed was huge, neatly made with crisp white bedding. The walls were painted a soft gray. Darker gray curtains flanked the window to the right of the bed. And directly across from the bed stood a sleek, white dresser with a flat-screen television hanging on the wall.

I felt like I was in a five-star hotel. “This place is . . . insane.”

“It’s really quite simple. I’ve toured some condos that would take your breath away.”

“I can’t even imagine.”

“I didn’t want to spend a great deal of money on a place here. I don’t spend a lot of time in the city. I just needed someplace to sleep.”

“Just someplace to sleep.” I chuckled as my gaze hopped around the room again. “You and I live in such different worlds.”

“Do we?” He placed his hands on my shoulders and turned me toward him. “Are our worlds really so different?”

“Of course they are. Look at this place. I live in squalor compared to this.”

“And I was raised in a trailer park,” he said, his thumbs dragging over my collarbones. “We had a single-wide mobile home. We lived there until I was twelve, then moved up to a bungalow in Redford.”

This shocked me. I’d always assumed he had come from money. As that old saying went, it took money to make money. So he’d somehow gotten his hands on capital to build his father’s business into the huge conglomerate it was today. “I’m sorry if I made an unfair assumption.”

“No need to apologize. It’s a common misconception. One I usually don’t bother to correct. But . . .” His brows pulled. His lips twisted. “Hmmm.”

“What?”

“Nothing.” He looked into my eyes for a moment, and I felt like the world had stopped spinning. His head started dipping down. He was going to kiss me. Ohmygod, he was going to kiss me.

I closed my eyes and held my breath and silently waited for his lips to find mine. When they did, I sucked in a little gasp. His mouth pressed against mine, possessing it, claiming it. It wasn’t a soft kiss. It wasn’t a tease. Not at all. And when I parted my lips to pull in some much needed air, his tongue slid inside, filling my mouth with his sweet, intoxicating flavor. Our tongues met, tangled. And with each stab and stroke, more of my body warmed. My chest, my face, my stomach, and farther down. Between my legs. One of his hands skimmed down to my breast, cupping it through my clothes.

My spine tightened, arching forward, pressing my burning flesh harder into his hand. A soft moan bubbled up my throat, echoing in our joined mouths.

I could hardly believe this was happening. I was in a beautiful apartment in New York City. With a man who threw away more money than I made in a year. And he was kissing me, touching me, like he couldn’t get enough. Like I made him burn as hot as he made me.

I let my hands wander over his clothed form, imagining the muscular body that lay hidden beneath the soft wool jacket and smooth cotton shirt. But as my hands inched down to his stomach, he grabbed my wrists and jerked them behind my back.

Startled, I tried to pull away, but he yanked me roughly, forcing me against him. His eyes were dark, his eyelids heavy, as he looked down at me.

“Do you remember what I said earlier?” he asked, his voice a low growl.

“When?”

“You take far too many liberties with me,” he murmured, looking as if he might gobble me up at any moment. “I didn’t say you could touch me.”

“Oh.” My face flushed. “I’m sorry, sir. I thought you’d—”

“I didn’t say you could touch me,” he repeated.

A little quiver buzzed up my spine.

Walking, he forced me backward until I was trapped between the wall and his scrumptious body. I didn’t mind that so much. No, it was actually quite nice. He was warm too, and the heat radiating off him only amplified the burn sizzling in my blood. A wet, pounding need was thrumming between my legs, and I longed for him to rub it away.

Still holding my wrists behind my back, he kicked my feet apart. “I can’t wait to punish you,” he murmured as he nibbled and licked my earlobe.

Instantly, my left side was covered in goose bumps. I tipped my head to the side and closed my eyes. Ahhh, he did things with his teeth and tongue that no man had ever done to me before. He nipped just hard enough for me to suck in a little gasp and tighten all over. Then he gently laved that same spot, soothing the burn. Within seconds, I was hot and cold, shivering, breathless, and dizzy.

My hips were rocking back and forth, my wet tissues rubbing against his thigh. But the ache was only getting worse. I couldn’t take any more.

“Please,” I murmured.

“Please what?” Releasing my hands, he warned, “Keep them behind your back.”

I nodded. “Please,” I repeated, unable to articulate what I craved.

He unbuttoned the waistband of my pants. “I like skirts,” he stated as he pulled the zipper down.

“Yes, sir.” I wriggled while he pushed my pants down to my ankles. Then, at his unspoken prompt, I lifted one foot and then the other so he could remove my shoes and pants.

His hands skimmed up the outsides of my legs, coming to a rest on my hips. He pulled them, forcing them forward, and pushed his thigh against the damp crotch of my panties. It felt so good, and yet I craved more. So much more.

“You’re wet.”

“Yes, sir.”

“You’re warm.” He pulled his leg out and replaced it with a hand, cupping my crotch. A fingertip teased my slit through my panties.

I shuddered. “Yes.”

That fingertip pushed deeper, forcing the sodden material between my labia. “You want to come, don’t you, precious?”

“Yes.” I slid my feet wider apart, opening myself to him.

He hooked his fingers, sliding them between my panties and my simmering flesh. “You need to come.”

So dizzy I could barely stand, I grabbed his shoulders as I fought to keep from falling over. Never had I wanted a man to touch me this much. Never had I been so desperate for relief. “Yes. Please.”

“I didn’t give you permission to touch me,” he snapped. Moving too fast for me to process, he jerked away, leaving me stumbling and staggering.

“I’m sorry, sir.” Unsure whether I should stay put or follow him, I took one faltering step forward.

“You must learn to obey,” he said in a chilly voice that cooled my burning blood a little. If this stuff was a game, he took it very seriously. Maybe a smidgen too seriously. “Didn’t you read the contract?”

“N-no.”

“Why not?
You
insisted I give it to you last night.”

“I intended to read it last night. But, like I said, something came up. I’ll read it as soon as I get home.” Dammit, didn’t he expect his employees to have lives outside of work? He was expecting so much, maybe too much. But because my livelihood depended upon playing these games with him, I apologized without a second thought, “I’m very sorry, sir. I’ll do better. I promise.”

His cold expression softened a tiny bit. It was enough to allow me to take a deep breath. “On your knees.”

I dropped to my knees, grateful for the plush carpet underneath them.

“Hands behind your back.”

I clasped them behind my back, as commanded.

He pulled his tie from his collar as he circled me. Stopping behind me, he leaned over my shoulder. “That’s more like it. I have no patience for disobedience. Do you understand?”

A shiver quaked my body. I was nervous and unsure, but also oddly aroused. “Yes, sir.”

Smooth, cool silk circled my wrists, sliding across my skin. It felt nice. Not so nice, though, when it tightened, binding them together.

He’d tied my hands again.

A little pulse of unease zigged up my spine. As it reached the base of my neck, a wave of heat followed. Once again, my body was reacting to my apprehension in a way I hadn’t expected. A second, stronger wave of heat burned through my center, pooling between my legs.

Crazy.

I had to be crazy to get turned on by this, by being scolded and tied.

Feeling guilty and conflicted, I let my head drop forward and closed my eyes. After everything my mother had gone through, how could I let this man treat me this way? Even worse, how could I enjoy it? Had my childhood scarred me somehow?

Had to be.

I felt tears burning my eyes as the shame of my response gripped me.

“Much better. Now, look up.”

I lifted my head but kept my eyes closed. I wouldn’t let him see my shame. That would only give him more power over me. I needed to hold on to something.

He cupped my chin in his hand and grazed my lips with his thumb. “Does it hurt? Did I tie your wrists too tightly?” His voice was softer now.

“No, sir.”

He released my chin. The tears were drying up, enough that I risked slitting my eyes open a little to see what he was doing.

He was standing before me, arms crossed over his chest. Staring. Assessing.

I opened my eyes a little more and focused on his face. His jaw was tight. His eyes were dark. His expression was serious. I wondered what he was thinking. Was he trying to decide what kind of cruel torture he’d do next?

Or was he trying to decide whether he’d fire me?

“Sir?” I whispered, opening my eyes fully and meeting his gaze. “This is all new for me—”

“No need to explain,” he interrupted as he pulled up a chair. He set it directly in front of me, then eased into it. He sat, legs apart, leaning back, still studying me with an expression I didn’t know how to read. “I can see you’re willing to learn.”

“Yes, sir.” Willing for now. Willing until I found a new job and could walk away from all of this. It scared me as much as it intrigued me. And the fact that I was so intrigued frightened me more.

“And you’re only doing this to keep your job?”

“And to keep you from going to the police,” I added, making sure he didn’t forget that part.

He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “Why are you willing to go to such measures to protect your brother?”

The answer seemed obvious to me. “Wouldn’t anyone do the same?”

He shook his head. “No. If I had a brother, which I don’t, I wouldn’t protect him.”

“Really?”

“Really. I wouldn’t.”

“You wouldn’t protect your younger sibling?” I echoed, shocked and disappointed. Did this man care about anyone but himself?

“Not if he’d broken the law. Not if he’d risked my job. No. I’d let the law take care of him.”

I didn’t respond right away, fearful my initial reaction would make him angry.

“What do you think about that, Abigail?” His tone was cool.

I doubted he wanted to hear the truth. “I guess we see the situation very differently.” My tone wasn’t much warmer than his.

“That’s all you’re going to say?”

“It is.”

“Hmmm.” He stood, circled me, doing a full 360 before making a second lap. This time he stopped behind my back again. A fingertip traced my arm, from shoulder to the silk binding my wrist. Little tingles pricked my skin where he’d touched me. “You confuse me, Abigail.”

I confused
him?
“I’m sorry,” I apologized again. This time I wasn’t sure exactly what I was apologizing for. At his soft touch, the muscles of my arm tensed slightly. My fingers curled into fists. And a tiny shiver wriggled up my spine.