Tamed by You (15 page)

God help her, she really did.

But what if he found her lacking? She could play whatever part he asked of her, but she knew he'd ask for more than she thought she was capable of.

He didn't seem to think she was capable of very much.

The nerves in her stomach flared again, and she took another sip of champagne so she could say, "But a kiss is all you'll get tonight. I'm not easy."

"No, you certainly aren't." Chuckling, his gaze fell to her lips. "Okay. A good-night kiss
that'll keep you awake
until dawn. Nothing more."

They touched glasses to seal the promise.

But his words rang in her head.
Nothing more.

Why not more?

She took another swig of champagne, her mind swimming. Part of her was playing the part of "companionable dinner date" and the other part was trying to figure out what would make her desirable in his eyes.

It all came back to Pal and
Doctor Zhivago
. If she got the part, Tony would change his mind. He'd see she had depth, that she was worthy. That she might be a good risk beyond one night—in more ways than one.

She had to have that part.

She slipped off the barstool. "Excuse me."

Taking her clutch, she walked toward the restroom. On the way, she stopped a server. "Excuse me. Could you take a picture of my boyfriend and me?"

The waitress smiled politely. "Of course."

Sophie took out her phone and set up the camera feature. "It's our anniversary, and I'd like a candid picture, so I can surprise him with it later. I do it on special occasions, so we have a reminder of happy times when things get tough."

The woman softened visibly. "That's so sweet. I should do that with my husband."

"I recommend it." Sophie smiled to hide feeling bad about deceiving the woman, and Tony. "It's saved our relationship."

"I'll do it, too. Thank you." She held up the camera. "I'll take the picture and then slip the camera back to you when he gets up or is distracted."

"Perfect." With another smile, she went into the restroom. She ran a hand towel under cold water and pressed it to her wrists, trying to calm herself.

What had she done?

Nothing—yet. She didn't have to leak the picture to the press. She could hold on to it. It was for "just in case."

She was such a good actress, she almost believed herself.

Chapter Sixteen

"E, my man." Bull opened the door. "I invited you over last night. You're twelve hours too late. You missed all the fine ladies."

Ethan nodded as he walked in. Last night he'd been in bed with Valentine, and there was no way he was getting out of bed to meet "fine ladies." Not when he had the finest pressed naked against him.

His only regret was that she never stayed all night. Around midnight she turned into a pumpkin.

He hadn't argued about it with her since that first night when she tried to sneak out of his apartment. He understood that her mother was visiting and she needed to exhibit a certain amount of respect, but part of him wished she'd picked him over her mother. Stupid, but true.

At least she'd agreed to have lunch with him today. He planned to dine on her.

"Dude, want something?" Bull led the way to through his spacious loft to the kitchen area. "I was about to make a smoothie."

"I'll have one." Ethan sat on a barstool at the counter.

His friend began piling ingredients around the blender. "What do I owe the pleasure of your presence to? Not that I'm unhappy to see you, but you gotta admit that it's weird. You haven't been by since you moved out."

"I wanted you to try this on." Ethan pulled the new, improved mouth guard out of his pocket.

"I'm not falling for that again." But Bull took it and put it in, working his mouth around. Then he spit it out and set it on the counter. "Feels good. I'll try it out when I work out today."

"I have a good feeling about this one." Ethan had a good feeling about life in general, and he was smart enough to know that it was in large part due to Valentine.

"One smoothie." Bull stuck a crazy straw in the drink and pushed it across the counter. "I've been adding kale. I think you'll find that it adds a certain something."

Ethan tried not to smile as his friend waited eagerly for his reaction. Bull took his smoothies seriously. The other fighters made fun of him, but none of them ever turned down samples.

Ethan took a sip through the straw and nodded. "You've got a gift."

"It's the crazy straw," Bull said modestly. "Everything's better with a crazy straw."

Not Valentine. Valentine was perfect on her own.

"Dude, something's different about you." Bull leaned in, studying him with a frown. Then he smacked the counter. "You got laid."

It was more than just getting laid, but he wasn't sure he was ready to tell Bull, of all people, that. Ethan
liked
Valentine—a lot. It was more than her little sweaters and the way she made him so hot. He liked talking to her, he liked her mind for business and that she had opinions, and he liked that she believed in him.

He just plain
liked
her.

He hadn't felt like this in so long—as if he had something to look forward to. For the first time since he'd retired he felt like there was hope for the future.

Only he wasn't ready to share any of that with anyone, so he just said, "I think I finally got the mouthpiece right."

"Forget the mouthpiece. Let's talk about you getting laid."

"No." He gave his friend the look he always flashed at an opponent before the first bell sounded.

"Fine, I can play along." Bull rolled his eyes. "You must be psyched at the possibility of returning to the ring."

"I haven't thought about it much lately, but yeah," he confessed.

"You haven't
thought
about it much?" Bull set his glass down with a sharp clack. "What happened to you? Did someone hit you again?"

"I'm thinking of manufacturing the mouthpiece." Valentine had raised a good question: What if he got hit in the ear? The mouthpiece might not offer the best protection then. He wasn't willing to risk cutting short his future with her.

Bull gaped at him. Then he exclaimed, "Holy shit, you didn't get laid. You got
in loved
."

Love? He wanted to deny it, but he let the idea roll around in his head. Any time someone had brought up love and emotion in the past, he'd run in the opposite direction. Now he didn't feel any of the nail-biting fear or dread, just a sense of peace.

He'd never felt peaceful before, except for while he was fighting.

"Who is she?" his friend demanded. "She's not a stripper, is she?"

"She's a businesswoman." He pictured Valentine stripping, and it was the cutest image ever. It made him grin.

"You've got it bad." Bull shook his head, his expression amazed. "I never thought I'd see the day you'd love something more than the ring."

"We haven't talked love. It's too soon." At least that was what he imagined Valentine would say. He didn't agree.

Bull shrugged. "It's just a matter of time. You care about this one. It's all over your goofy face. When can I meet her?"

"Never." Grinning, he got up and set his empty glass in the sink. "Let me know about the mouth guard."

"You leaving already?" His friend pouted. "I thought we could work out."

Ethan glanced at his watch. "I've got to get going."

"Date?"

"Yes."

"Does she have a sister?" Bull asked as he walked him to the door.

"A twin," he replied, because he knew it'd push his friend's buttons.

"Hot damn, you have all the luck." He grabbed Ethan around the neck. After a squeeze, he pushed him out of the loft. "You know how most people would say 'don't do anything I wouldn't do?'"

"Yeah?"

"Well, I'm saying do it all, man." His friend winked. "Just be sure to tell me about it."

Shaking his head, Ethan went to where he'd parked his Jeep and drove back to Laurel Heights to pick up Valentine. She'd told him to meet her at Grounds for Thought instead of her office. Not that he minded—her office gave him a headache with all its glittery gold.

When he arrived, she was inside with one of her friends, sitting in the window talking. He paused a moment to watch her, the prim way she sat that conflicted with the sparkle in her eyes. As she spoke, she touched the pearly buttons of her little sweater, unconsciously teasing him.

One day, he'd have her wear that little sweater for him and nothing else. Maybe even today.

He looked at the woman she sat with. He recognized her as the girl who worked in the lingerie store down the street. Not that he ever went in there—he just saw her in the window all the time. She was cute and bubbly and pretty enough.

He walked straight up to Valentine's chair and tipped it backward to kiss her.

When he was a fighter, women threw themselves at him all the time. He had no delusions—he knew when they looked at him they saw dollar signs. When they melted against him, he knew it was his bank account they were snuggling with.

Not Valentine. Valentine wanted
him
. He could feel it in the way she sighed when his lips touched hers and the way she always tried to press closer, like she wanted to crawl inside his skin.

Something in his chest tightened, a pleasure-pain that he wouldn't have traded for anything in the world. Definitely not even another chance to fight, if it meant cutting his time with her short.

He stared at her in wonder. Her lips were reddened and her eyes told him she wanted him as much as he wanted her. Whatever spell she'd cast on him, he didn't care.

"Hot," the lingerie girl said, watching them avidly.

Valentine cleared her throat. "This is my friend, Nicole. Nicole, meet Ethan."

He nodded at her and returned his attention to Valentine. "Ready to go?"

"Yes, but I only have a little time. I need to check on my mom."

"Okay." He'd accept whatever time she gave him. He waited impatiently as she said her good-byes, finally taking her hand and hauling her out of there and away from her friends’ prying eyes.

"Where are we going?" she asked.

"My place."

"Good." She gave him a look the belied her innocence. "I've been thinking about you all morning."

He almost picked her up and slung her over his shoulder to get home faster. "Just all morning?"

"And night."

As tempting as it was to point out that she shouldn't have left him, he focused on the moment and getting her naked as soon as possible. He hurried her to his apartment, locked the door, and rushed her into his bedroom.

She laughed the whole way, a sunny sound that warmed the cold recesses of his heart. Inside, she turned around and took off her sweater, no flirtation, no games. Simply an honest desire for him flushing her cheeks.

He yanked his shirt off and tossed it aside. "Get undressed."

She arched her brows but eagerly began stripping out of her clothing.

"Leave the shoes," he said, his voice raspy with needing her so badly. "And put the little sweater back on."

"Kinky." But she did as he requested, standing in front of him with her delicious body framed by soft pink.

He pulled her close, loving the softness of her body nestled against him. He hummed deep in his throat as her hips pressed against his hard-on.

She looked over his shoulder. "Shouldn't we close the drapes?"

"If you're thinking about drapes, I'm not doing my job." He abraded her nipple with his fingers, plumping it ready for his mouth. He bent his head and lapped at it gently, thoroughly.

Gasping, she ran her fingers through his hair and held his head close. She rubbed her pelvis against him.

Cursing the layer between them, he stepped back to get rid of his pants, tossing a condom from his pocket onto the bed before taking her in his arms again. He tilted her hips forward and bent his knees to rub himself in her cleft, satisfied when she gave one of her little mewling cries.

"How do you feel about the drapes now?" he asked.

"What drapes?" She wrapped a leg around his and arched into him.

He felt the scrape of her heel on his calf and, growling, tossed her on the mattress.

Laughing, she scooted backward as he stalked toward her, but he grabbed her ankle and held her in place.

"You look like the big bad wolf coming to eat me up," she said with a grin.

"Exactly what I'm going to do." He nipped her thigh and spread her open. He took a second to admire the view—the pink sweater open, showing her little nipples, her sex bared to him, a small triangle of red hair guarding his paradise.

Paradise he'd waited long enough to sample. He lowered his head and ran his tongue over her.

Gasping, she arched up.

"More?" he asked, nuzzling the side of her leg.

"Yes, please," she asked, breathy but proper.

He wanted her propriety to fall away. He wanted her to be wild for him—to cry out and thrash. To drench him with her desire. So he licked a circle around that spot at the core of her and then drew it into his mouth.

At first, he did nothing but worry it gently with the tip of his tongue, but slowly he pulled on it with his lips, sucking it softly, letting her build slowly until she writhed on the bed.

Her little fingers clutched the covers and her back bowed high. "Please, please, please," she chanted, her eyes squeezed shut.

Only because he needed to be inside her, he focused his attention on the spot that made her take off like a rocket.

She screamed, arching up, her thighs tensing around his head. He eased a finger inside her and felt the ripples of her orgasm intensify.

Enough. He lifted his head, rolled the condom on, and slid into her.

She started to come again, instantly, the waves of her orgasm cresting again. He gritted his teeth, trying to hold out but knowing it was futile. He followed her, calling out her name with one last hard thrust into her.