The Exposure (14 page)

B
ack at her apartment, Meagan took a long, hot shower and then pulled out her file containing all the news articles she'd clipped about the unsolved fires.

She'd been so certain she'd done the right thing all those years ago in covering for her brother. Back then, she'd told herself if she went to the police, it'd make her dad look bad. For sure, he wouldn't get the promotion he'd been talking about for the last eighteen months.

And, there was a part of her that wanted to help her brother. If she kept quiet, maybe he'd recognize he'd been given a second chance and he'd straighten up. She reasoned with herself that no one had been hurt, other than her father, and it was only property damage. Plus, her father had asked her not to tell.

All those years, she'd kept her brother's secret and as time went on, she felt she could no longer come forward. It was much too late. In all honesty, she was now as guilty as he was. It really
hadn't done her any good anyway; someone had obviously known the entire time. Which brought up again: how did The Taskmaster know?

And again the questions came that she had no answers to: had he always known or had her brother let something slip in a recent conversation? Was he there when it happened? If so, wasn't he as guilty as they were? Not to mention the one question that wouldn't leave her alone: what did he want with Luke?

She knew what she had to do and before she could change her mind, she turned on her laptop and typed an e-mail to The Taskmaster.

I know where he keeps his photos, but it doesn't matter because I'm not doing anything else for you anymore. I'm done. D.O.N.E. Done. I don't care what you do or what you say or what you threaten. Find someone else to do your dirty work, this bitch is done.

The reply back was almost instant.

HAHAHAHAHAHA.

Which only made her angry. She typed back a reply, but thought better of it and deleted it before sending. He wanted her angry. He wanted a reaction. She'd be damned if she'd give him the satisfaction.

Instead she typed a quick text to Luke.

Dinner tomorrow night at my house?

His reply was almost instant.

Love to. What time?

7 okay?

See you then.

She smiled as she put her phone down. There. That was much better than going off on a man who could potentially ruin her. Dinner with Luke. Two weeks ago, she'd never have thought it possible. Especially when she'd convinced herself he was an ass and she wanted nothing to do with him.

Now she could admit that she wasn't sure she'd ever gotten over him all those years ago. She should probably thank The Taskmaster for forcing her to reconnect with him. Had it not been for him, she and Luke would still be strangers. She'd have completely missed out on discovering what an incredible man he'd become.

Not to mention the insanely good sex.

Speaking of which, she needed to straighten up the house and put clean sheets on her bed. And figure out what she was making for dinner tomorrow night.

On second thought, scratch that. She needed to figure out where she was getting takeout from.

*   *   *

T
he next day Luke showed up at her apartment at five minutes till seven. Of course he was punctual, of course he was. Meagan was still running around, trying to decide which shirt to put on.

“Coming!” she yelled at his knock, dragging a short-sleeve silk blouse over her head. “Be right there.”

He was smiling when she opened the door.

“Hello,” he said. He looked devilishly handsome in blue jeans and a T-shirt.

“Come in.” She held the door open wide so he could pass through.

He dropped a kiss on her cheek before stepping over the threshold. “Thank you for having me tonight.”

She smiled at the potential double meaning. “It only seemed fair, seeing as how you had me the night before last.”

He laughed softly. “Nice place.”

Meagan looked around her apartment as if seeing it for the first time. It was neat and tidy, perhaps overly so. But that was just the way she was. She had a tendency to stress-clean. And between her brother, Luke, and The Taskmaster, there had been a lot of cleaning going on. The decor was more contemporary than traditional, though the one thing she insisted upon was comfortable furniture.

Her place wasn't very large, so it took only a few minutes to show him everything. She ended the tour in the kitchen, where the fresh-baked smells of the lasagna she'd picked up at a local Italian restaurant filled the air.

“Something smells good,” Luke said.

“Lasagna.”

“You made lasagna?”

“I didn't so much make it as I picked it up from a nearby restaurant and reheated it.”

“Either way, it smells delicious.”

Once more he was charming and down-to-earth. He had a breezy, nonchalant air about him. She liked that; it buffered her more type-A personality. They talked over dinner about their families, their current careers, and where they wanted to be in five years.

As they were finishing up eating, Luke grew serious. “I feel the need to apologize for what happened all those years ago.”

“You don't have to,” Meagan said. “I get it. You didn't like me then.”

“What the hell? Didn't like you? I liked you
too
much.”

She snorted.

“Don't do that. Listen to me.” Luke took a deep breath and started. “After that remarkable weekend we had together, I spoke with a close friend of mine. He was older and more experienced, and I trusted him. I was so happy after that weekend and I wanted to be with you so much. I was so young and naive, I thought we would always be like that.”

As he spoke about it, the memories of that time came back to her. She remembered the joy and elation after they had spent the weekend together. And her heartache and despair when he ended it.

“But my friend told me I was walking on thin ice. To have an affair with the model in my shoot? Especially one of my first models? In that day and time, he told me I was only asking for trouble.”

She remembered when they'd broken it off. She'd thought she'd just move on, but days after, she went to another shoot with a different photographer. She'd forced herself to be all smiles and giggly and happy, but it didn't take long to see that something wasn't right. The guy was different, standoffish, almost cold, borderline indifferent.

Meagan, in her insecurities, thought she had done something wrong. For the duration of the shoot, she wondered what it could've been. Was she acting odd? Was the guy just having a bad day? Or was it more? Had word spread about her and Luke?

Her heart pounded. Did the photographer expect her to sleep
with him? That was why he acted so strange. Then she realized it would probably always be that way. The men she worked with would just assume she'd sleep with them. Suddenly, modeling didn't appeal to her anymore. Though she'd thought she'd cried herself all out over Luke before, she remembered crying herself to sleep that night, and for many more to follow. She mourned what she saw as the loss of her modeling career.

“Don't apologize.” She reached across the table and took his hand. “Yes, you hurt me, but that's part of growing up. The truth is, you left me with much more than you took away.”

“How's that?”

“If it hadn't been for that weekend, I'd have never explored my submissive side. Thank you for that.” It occurred to her she'd never thanked him for that before.

“You're too good, Meagan.”

“No, not really.”

“You know what I would like to do?” he asked.

“Wash all the dishes for me?” she teased, just because she liked seeing his smile.

“Not quite. But I would like to see what we could be together.” He spoke quickly as if he expected her to interrupt. “I'm not asking for forever. Not even a solid commitment. Just these few weeks while we're working together. I'd like to explore us.”

No-strings fun with Luke? It was better than nothing and she'd be a fool not to take what she could get. “Would there be sex involved?”

His eyes grew dark. She still held his hand and he squeezed her fingers. “Count on it.”

“I'm in.”

He lifted her hand to his mouth and his lips brushed against
her skin. She sucked in a breath. “Should we wash the dishes now?” he asked.

She thought he was teasing her back. She hoped he was teasing her. He continued to brush his lips back and forth across her hand. Each pass of his lips sent shock waves of lust throughout her body. He was watching her intently, like he
knew
what effect his mouth had on her. And he was asking about dishes?

She almost told him yes, just for kicks and giggles and because the question was so ludicrous, it deserved a likewise ludicrous answer. But right as she opened her mouth to reply, he bit,
fucking bit,
the fleshy mound of her palm at the base of her thumb and she was gone.

“Hell, no,” she said, and he chuckled.

“Don't you think it's better to wash them now instead of letting them sit?” he asked, but was still holding her hand.

“That's what the dishwasher's for,” she managed to get out and then stifled a moan as his teeth scraped the delicate flesh on the inside of her hand. “Fuck.”

“Let's at least put them in the sink,” he said.

“Honestly, you're concerned with dishes?”

“It'll be bad if they get sticky.”

“Sticky can be good.”

“How's that?” His teeth had left her hand and he was now nibbling his way up her arm.

“If I got some caramel and put it on your cock and then licked it off.”

Mischief danced in his eyes. He dropped her hand and went searching through the kitchen cabinet drawers. She tried to peek over his shoulder to see what he was doing, but his shoulders were too broad. “What are you looking for?”

He turned around and had a thin fabric napkin in his hand. “This.”

“A napkin?”

“Or a makeshift blindfold.”

“Kinky.”

“Not yet but give me a few minutes. Turn around.”

This could be fun, Meagan thought. Being blindfolded in her own kitchen. He didn't bring any toys with him tonight, and he didn't ask where hers were. He must plan on using his hands. Or, maybe he was going to be creative and use some kitchen utensils. Regardless, she was very curious, so she turned around.

Within seconds the makeshift blindfold had covered her eyes and she could see nothing.

He pushed her shoulders. “On your knees.”

She carefully made her way to the floor, thankful she had mopped it not long ago. She almost laughed, thinking of mopping the floor when she was kneeling in front of Luke.

“Okay,” said Luke. “I want you to open your mouth and hold out your tongue. I'm going to give you something to taste, and if you get it right, you get a reward. An incorrect answer? Well, we'll have to see about that.”

She heard him rummaging around in the refrigerator and her mind worked frantically to try to remember what she had in there. Not much. She didn't often cook, so most of the items were just for snacks. The refrigerator door closed and she heard Luke walk to stand in front of her.

“Open.”

She opened her mouth and stuck out her tongue. A cold, round object was placed inside.

“Bite.”

The grape exploded in her mouth, deliciously sweet and somehow even better because of the position she was in.

“Like that?” he asked.

“Yes, Sir.”

“Open.”

This time when she opened her mouth, it was filled, not with food, but with his thumb. She sucked it deep into her mouth.

“That's it, sweetheart. Suck that thumb.” His voice was thick with need. “Damn, you feel so good. So hot. You like sucking that thumb, pretending it's my dick?”

She couldn't talk with his thumb in her mouth, so she simply nodded.

“I thought so,” he said. “Suck it good and I might let you taste my cock.”

She moaned, wanting it, wanting him, badly. She ran her tongue around the tip of his thumb and relished his soft groan in reply. How she loved bringing him pleasure. The knowledge she could take this strong man and turn him on, make him moan simply by twirling her tongue around his finger? Heady stuff.

“Fuck,” he said when she scraped his skin with the edge of her teeth.

She expected him to pull away and drop his pants. After all, that's what she assumed the purpose of him sticking his thumb in her mouth had been. But apparently, either that wasn't the case or he changed his mind.

One minute, she was kneeling on the floor with his thumb in her mouth and the next, he'd hoisted her up on the countertop. She had no idea he could move so quickly. She barely had time to register where she was when his hands were at her waist and he unbuttoned the top button on her pants.

“There are times I like watching you strip for me. See the slow reveal of your delicate skin. Then there are times like today when I want to undress you for myself.” He unzipped her pants. “It's like opening the best Christmas present ever. Made all the better because I know what lies underneath is all mine.”

He gave a hard tug and her pants came off. She wished she wasn't blindfolded so she could see his expression. All she had on from the waist down now was a tiny lace thong.

“Holy fuck,” he whispered, running a finger along the upper edge. “You look so damn hot.”

“Thank you, Sir.”

He dragged a finger along the lines of the lace, following the edge down between her legs. She didn't need her sight to know how wet she was. She could feel it. And apparently, the evidence of her arousal turned him on.

“Someone likes getting dirty in the kitchen,” he said.

She opened her mouth to agree with him when his finger began to rub back and forth over the dampness on the silk fabric and whatever she was going to say died in her throat. She bucked her hips in an attempt to get his fingers where she wanted them.