Taken by Chance (13 page)

And that one of
the guys who recognized her might be a skinny teenager with freckles.

“Oh God,” she
whispered.

Chance didn’t
hesitate. “Mike, this is my friend Lena. Introduce yourself.”

Chance nudged the
kid, and Lena didn’t miss the powerful glare he gave the boy. And she didn’t
miss the change in body language coming from Chance, either—shoulders
hulking, brow heavy, like he had been when he’d come between her and Paul
Cigna. He had moved next to her already, his sweat overpowering the stench of
the gym, his scent somehow providing some sense of comfort.

It was sweet to
see him being protective of her and paternal towards the kid at the same time.
It gave her a brief feeling of optimism, a silver lining in this awful, awful
situation.

“Mike,” Chance
said again.

Mike blinked,
looked at Chance, and then tore at the Velcro on his glove with his teeth,
slipped the glove off, and offered her his hand.

“Hi, Lena. I’m
Michael,” he said, and looked back at Chance. Chance tilted his head, like,
go on
. Michael gave her a shy smile and
said, “I’ve heard you’re a really good writer.”

So this was
surreal.

Lena was shaking a
very sweaty, surprisingly small hand that belonged to a teenage boy whose voice
hadn’t even changed yet, and who, despite Chance’s obvious efforts to manage
the whole horrible situation, had obviously seen her naked.
And
tied up.

There were no
rules of etiquette for a situation like this.

Lena just wanted
to get the hell out of there. She had no idea how to deal with any of this; she
somehow felt like she was doing something wrong just by
existing
in front of a child, and all of it was reminding her of
how Richie had screwed up her life.

Finally she
remembered her manners. “I don’t know about really good, but thank you,
Michael.”

“No, really,
Chance said you’re one of the best he’s ever read,” he said, transparently eager
to please.

Chance had
said…wait, what?

Lena turned her
head slowly to look at Chance. Another mindfuck. He’d read her work? When?

“Really,” she
said.

“Yeah, like,
really good. Who’d you say she was like? Someone famous, right?” the boy asked,
looking back up at Chance innocently.

Chance looked
speechless for the first time in her memory. He blinked,
then
shook it off. “Someone famous and dead, actually. Stop making her
uncomfortable,
Mikey
.”

“Ok, well, I just
came by to bring your bag,” she said, feeling the eyes of the entire gym on
her. When was that bell going to ring again? “If you want I can take the other
one back,” she suggested.

“I don’t have the
other one,” Chance said. “I’m just training Mike today, so I didn’t need
anything. And I’ll walk back with you,” he added, telling Mike, “Eight more
rounds on the heavy bag, light conditioning today, and stop dropping that
frigging shoulder. You’re telegraphing every straight right. You got that?”

“Sure,” Mike said.
He waved at Lena,
then
struggled to get his glove back
on while eying a giant digital clock attached to the bell. Apparently break was
almost over.

Lena just wanted
to disappear.

“Chance, you
really
don’t have to—”

“Yes, I do. Don’t
argue. And give me that bag.”

chapter
14

Chance decided to
let Lena sort herself out after the incident at the gym. She had retreated,
whether she knew it or not, into the guarded shell she’d only recently started
to come out of. She was still holding things from him, but that was to be
expected for someone with her issues. Chance wasn’t too worried—she’d be
ready eventually. Finding out that thirteen-year-old boys recognized you from
BDSM photos that had been leaked online would be an unsettling experience for
anyone, and he thought she’d actually handled that pretty well.

But the news that
he’d read her work seemed to shake her up just as much. That, Chance decided,
was weird. And his gut was still telling him that once she’d started to relax
again, it was time to tackle that one.

Which was just as
well. He had the public opening of Volare L.A. to plan for in the meantime. He
and Roman had come up with the idea in the wake of the
shitshow
that was the publicity surrounding Roman and Lola’s wedding; Chance figured if
the public was going to be into it, why not give them somewhere to go? The
Venice Beach location was perfect for that—Chance had just dedicated one
building in the compound as the public club and had kept the rest separate. All
the permits and such were in place, according to Ford, and all they had left to
handle was the actual opening.

Chance took a hard
line on the door policy. No idiots. Richie Kerns, for example, was already
blacklisted.

That said, there
were still all kinds of things to sort out, exactly the kinds of things that
didn’t interest him: guest list, promotional strategy, whatever. Good thing he
had his ad hoc executive committee to deal with it. Adra had taken to it like a
fish to water, and she didn’t seem to mind working with Ford at all.

Chance knew he
shouldn’t complain. Many of the details of running the club didn’t appeal to
him, but it was a good job. His stake in Volare had made him financially
independent, but hell, he needed something to occupy his time. And running
Volare was way better than providing security for a company in some godforsaken
warzone, given the kinds of trouble he’d gotten into in such places.

Or given the kind
of trouble he’d gotten other people into in such godforsaken places.

Chance paused, his
hand on the sliding glass door that led to the sun-drenched patio by the pool.
Lena was out there. That was where he was going. Which meant he damn well
needed to make sure he wasn’t thinking about what had happened in Nigeria, or
what had happened, years before that, to Jennie.

He’d been thinking
about his past mistakes too often lately. Maybe because he couldn’t help but
wonder if he was making mistakes with Lena, too. The thought scared him.
 

But a man didn’t
run from stuff that scared him. He never had, never would. And neither did Lena,
come to think of it. It was one of the things he admired in her.

He’d given her
space. She’d settled down.

Now she was ready
for what came next.

The glass door
opened silently, a convenience that allowed him to sneak up on people intent on
sunning themselves. Sometimes he couldn’t resist.

Especially when it
was Lena.

Holy… Just look at
her. Lena. In a sky blue bikini, laying her beautiful body out, like the sun
itself worshipped her. Wouldn’t surprise him, come to think of it.

He walked over,
took another good, long
look
at her just because, and
sat down in the deck chair next to her. She had some sun tan lotion on the
ground—coconut. That was what smelled so good. He took the bottle in one
hand, and with the other reached across and unsnapped her top.

“That better be
you,” she said, eyes opening.

He grinned. “You
know I can’t resist ‘em,” he said. “Lie back.”

He drizzled some
lotion on her chest and indulged himself with rubbing it into her breasts,
watching the soft flesh yield as her breathing changed and her nipples tightened
into pert little buds.

“You’re done
avoiding me,” he said.

He saw her smile
playfully, eyes closed now against the sun. “Maybe.”

“No, I’m telling
you, you’re done,” he laughed, and tweaked a nipple.

She jerked
upwards, her toned tummy flexing in the glare of the sun, and bit her lip to
keep from smiling even more.

“Yes, sir,” she
said.

“That’s better.
Lay back.”

She did, and now
he just amused himself, fondling her breasts. He knew it would drive her crazy
and it had been just too long. At least thirty-six hours, possibly forty-eight.
Which, as far as he was concerned, was an eternity.

“I wasn’t really
avoiding you,” she said finally. “I mean, I was, but not on purpose. Not
specifically. I was just avoiding…everything.”

“I know,” he said.
“Did you figure out what you needed to figure out?”

She opened her
eyes again, squinting at him, maybe trying to see what he knew. “I don’t know,”
she said finally.

“You’ll tell me
when you do.”

She laughed. “You
probably won’t give me a choice.”

“Smart girl.”

She stuck her
tongue out. They settled back into an easy rhythm, Chance playing with her
breasts, straying down her stomach, her hips, her thighs, and Lena trying to
hide her increasing arousal. Let her try.

Finally she asked
him, as he knew she would:

“When did you read
my stuff?”

“When I packed it
up. I didn’t set out to, I was just trying to figure out what to bring. But I
read the first page, and…” He shrugged. “I got hooked. I wouldn’t have if I’d
known you were so private about it, and haven’t since. You’ll let me know when
you want me to. Unless, of course, I decide I need to for your training. Then
you don’t get a choice.”

He detected a
slight smile. She asked, “Which one?”

“It was untitled.
Looked like you weren’t done.”

“Aw, crap. That’s
the one that needed
so
much work.”

“Bull. It was
amazing. I didn’t finish, but I probably would have if you hadn’t pulled that
stunt with Paul Cigna.”

At mention of the
paparazzo’s name he saw her flinch, almost imperceptibly, then try to cover it
up. She was probably an excellent actress, with that degree of facial control,
and with her expressiveness. That expressiveness had just told him Paul Cigna
was very much still a real issue to her. She wasn’t ready to tell him about
that, either, possibly because she wasn’t ready to be honest with herself about
it—but she would be. And he was on it.

But right now, she
deserved a little pampering. Especially considering what he had in store for
her.

“Lift up,” he
said, patting her legs. He helped her lift them, then settled himself in
between, resting her legs over his while he straddled the deck chair to face
her. He had excellent access to everything this way.

He started on her
thighs. He liked to see her muscles jump when he touched her, like his hands
were electrified. This woman…

After a moment,
she said, “You were really hooked?”

He looked up in
surprise, not because of what she’d said, but because it was the first time
he’d heard her sound shy.

“How can that
surprise you?” he asked. “It’s brilliant. I’m not a bookworm or anything, but I
know a good story. Your agent should be all over that.”

“Yeah, I tried
that. Don’t think he read it.”

“His loss.”

Her
turn to shrug.
Chance didn’t
like the expression that was gathering on her face, like a storm front moving
in, threatening to ruin her mood.

“What about Adra?”
he asked. “She’s an agent now, right?”

He watched Lena
very carefully. That suggestion hadn’t dispersed the storm clouds—it had
strengthened them. She looked somehow frightened, threatened. He wouldn’t have
that.

“Lena,” he said
sternly. “Tell me.”

Lena pursed her
lips, sighed, and opened her eyes. Every fleck of gold and green embedded in
the rich brown of her irises lit up in the sun, dazzling him, locking him in
place for the moment. They would have made it impossible to focus on anything
else, if there’d been anything else he cared to focus on.

She said, “Look,
Adra—and everyone else here—they all seem to like me. They
respect
me. I just really want to keep
it that way.”

“You assume that
if they read your work they’d no longer respect you?”

No answer to that.
Chance saw an opportunity. He moved his hands lower on her belly and slid his
thumbs under the edge of her bikini bottoms. She jumped a little. He wondered
if
she
had noticed how much easier
she found it to talk about things when she was physically exposed. He sure as
hell had.

“Have you ever
opened up?” he asked her.

She
frowned,
her brow furrowing and her eyes squinting open. She
put her hand on top of his as if to stop him.

“What kind of
question is that?” she said.

Chance just looked
at the offending hand.
Then at her.
Awareness dawned
on her, and she removed her hand.

“Not good enough,”
he said as he untied the double ties on the sides of her bikini bottoms. Lena’s
abs tightened, but she leaned back and said nothing. He picked up her wrists
and placed them on the armrests of her deck chair, then tied them down with the
ties from her now useless bottoms.

Not a strong
restraint, but effective. Restrained, naked, and spread.

“You were saying
something?” he said.

“You are a piece
of work.”

He spread her legs
farther apart and watched her shudder.

“True. Answer the
question.”

“It’s a bullshit
question! Like, ‘Have you ever given your heart to someone?’ No, because that’s
some romantic nonsense. It doesn’t work like that in the real world.”

Chance let his
hands roam aimlessly, rubbing her inner thighs, then her belly, then her
breasts. Just teasing her.

“How does it work,
then?” he asked lightly.

She opened her
eyes and glared, even as he could smell her growing arousal. “Don’t patronize
me,” she said. “It doesn’t ‘work’ at all. People like each other for a time, or
use each other, or get what they need, and move on.”

“And what,” he
said, grazing his thumb over her clit, “do you think I’m getting from you?”

Lena flinched.

Chance studied her
silently while he rubbed her stomach. She wasn’t ready to tackle whatever lay
behind this little display, either. He’d ease the tension out of her now, but
it was pretty clear to him that, while what Richie Kerns had done to her was
bad enough on its own, it had been made far worse because it tapped into an
issue she already had. And he was already planning to deal with
that
himself.

But
for now?
He’d just tell
her the truth.

“Everyone does
like you and respect you,” he said. “Hell, they’re crazy about you. I doubt
there’s anything you could do that would change that at this point, kiddo. But
you don’t have to do anything you’re not ready for.”

She gave an
audible sigh of relief and wiggled her hips at him. He had her body ready to
burst.

“Oh, don’t get too
comfortable,” he laughed. “There’s some other stuff I’ve decided that you
are
ready for.”

She opened one
eye. “Like what?”

“You’ll see.
Tonight. Eight o’clock. Be waiting for me on the north side of the hall around
the atrium, top floor.”

“That
sounds…nefarious.”

“It is.”

“Why is it when
you say something like that, I get turned on?”

“Didn’t I tell you
I’d train you good?” he said, slipping his thumbs between her inner and outer
folds, searching for the bundle of nerves hidden there. Her tummy tightened
again as he put pressure on her, the sensation almost visibly coiling up and
down the length of her body, and her eyes flew open in surprise.

“What…what are
you…?”

And then he just
decided,
Aw
, hell, I want to.

He held her hips
like a cup and bent down to drink.

He lapped at her
slowly, in big teasing strokes, just glancing the sides of her clit, circling
around it, driving her nuts until her thighs squeezed at the sides of his head
and her hands reached for his head. He knew her body even better now, knew he
could give her one quick orgasm to warm her up, even if he could have eaten her
all day. He loved the taste of her.

They were so
connected that he could feel her start to come in a way that drove him wild,
like he could actually feel it
with
her, so that by the time he had her thighs shaking and her hips bucking, he was
hard as steel and half there himself. She came silently, her body keening and
her hands white-knuckled on the armrests, still afraid of being seen.