The Theory of Attraction (7 page)

“Thanks. So do you. You remembered to comb your hair and everything.” And he’d come straight from work, so he was wearing decent jeans and a nice enough navy blue dress shirt. “Usually you’d tell your date that before the movie, though. So are you ever going to explain it to me, so that I do get it? The control issue, I mean.”

We were pulling into the parking lot next to the restaurant and were lucky enough to catch a space somebody was just vacating. Ivan parked, jerked the emergency brake more forcefully than was perhaps necessary and shook his head. Not a negation, a shake like he wasn’t sure how to respond. “That would probably be a bad idea, Cami.”

“Camilla,” I said automatically, then bit my tongue. If he wasn’t allowed to make me call him Professor, I shouldn’t be demanding he call me Camilla. “Sorry.”

“You’re not doing a very consistent job of letting me be in control,
Camilla.
”

And the look he gave me then made me understand how the gazelle feels when it realizes that the rustling it hears isn’t a stray breeze in the tall grass but a lion about to pounce. Only difference was, I wouldn’t have tried to run. I wasn’t sure my legs would even work.

“I’ll try harder,
Professor.
”

Ivan looked fascinated by me. It was heady, that feeling of being the center of his attention. He started to lift a hand, as though he might touch my cheek, but he pulled it away at the last minute.

“See that you do.”

* * *

Dinner was a study in the surreal.

Ivan was polite and didn’t talk much. So that right there was a little bizarre. He said his prepared things about work and remembered to follow up with, “And you?” He remained noncommittal about the movie, and while he may not have charmed anybody he didn’t piss anybody off. But mostly he focused on me. Ordering for me, as he’d said he would. Nigiri, and we shared a fried banana dessert that was actually much better than I’d expected. I let him be in control, because I was curious to see what he’d do.

When he offered me the last bite of our dessert on his fork, Athena kicked me under the table. But by that point I was too enthralled to even think about responding to her. Or allowing her to pull me into the bathroom for a conversation, as she seemed bent on doing. I wallowed instead in the glow of Ivan’s regard, fake though it might be. I took the last bite of fried banana, wishing it meant more than it did.

The trouble was, Ivan still hadn’t given any definitive sign that he was interested in something other than playing a role to practice his social skills. He’d even warned me off. Sort of. And he hadn’t batted an eye at the cleavage on display in the borrowed shirt. Or at my ass. Or even at my feet, though I’d gotten a real nail salon pedicure for once and was wearing extremely cute sandals.

Of course, it was perverse in the first place that I wanted him looking at my boobs, ass or other body parts. Mostly I hated it when guys did that. Maybe it was just that Ivan never did it, so that was what I ended up adopting as the objective standard for whether or not he was interested. Because I knew I had nice enough assets in those areas, if not quite Athena-standard, and I wasn’t that cynical about using them to good advantage on occasion.

But he wasn’t looking. And after we left the restaurant and the company of the others, he’d said very little else to me on the ride to his office. Aloof, that was Ivan. And damned if that didn’t make me all the more determined to get under his skin. Or at least into his pants.

“So, was the call about some big breakthrough or anything?” I asked, kicking my heels idly against the leg of the table on which I’d perched to watch him work.

“Kind of,” he said, to my surprise. He even smiled a little bit, though his eyes never left the image on the computer monitor in front of him. “We finished our planning and preliminary scale-model testing for the station-mounted parabolic reflector, and that means we can move on to designing the full-size prototype. Paulo wanted me to double-check an equation before he sends the grant reporting in.”

“Wow. You mean you actually finished a project stage?” I knew enough about his field to know how rare an occurrence that was in the constantly evolving design process of all things space-related. “Closure?”

“Closure,” Ivan confirmed. “At least of this phase.”

“Well. Congratulations.”

“Thank you.”

He typed in a few more things, stared at a few more incomprehensible images on the screen, and then started closing it all down again, apparently satisfied with what he’d seen.

“Is it always this cold in here? My office is so hot all the time.” Even in my cold-theater clothes, I felt a distinct chill in the darkened lab.

“Yes. But just like in the movie theater, it would be comfortably warm if you were more appropriately dressed.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Your shirt doesn’t make sense,” he said, sounding annoyed. “It covers your elbows, but it leaves your forearms and most of your sternum completely bare. It must have extremely poor heat-retention properties.” He started toward the door and I followed, then had to wait as he went back to turn his desk lamp off. The room was still bathed in the eerie glow of dozens of LEDs, and the steady red glare of the exit sign.

I took a few moments to process what he’d said about the shirt. I wasn’t even sure how to classify it. Nobody could possibly be that obtuse. Could they?

“But it looks good,” I pointed out.

Even in the faint light I could spot the tension in his face, the way his upper lip flexed as he geared up to his full problem-solving mode.

“It’s impractical.”

I shrugged, failing to stifle a tiny defeated sigh. “It’s extremely practical. It does exactly what it’s designed to do, Ivan. Which any normal human guy with normal human guy needs would know has absolutely nothing to do with keeping me warm.”

Then I turned and half whispered as I reached for the doorknob, “Any straight guy, at least.”

Before I could open the door, a pair of hands slapped against the wall on either side of me, trapping me between two lean arms. My world constricted in a heartbeat to the cinderblock wall in front of me, cold and gray with layers of glossy institutional paint…and the body behind me, hot and firm and undeniably male.

“Camilla,” he growled, “I want to make some things perfectly clear to you, and you are going to listen to me. Do you understand?”

Unable to speak because my heart was threatening to pound its way out of my chest, I nodded. Then I whimpered as he leaned closer still and his breath tickled over the fine hairs behind my ear.

“First thing. I am not stupid.”

“I never said—”

“Quiet! You started this, but I’m going to finish it. I am not stupid. I may not like people, I may have asked for help getting through this fundraiser, but that doesn’t make me an idiot about all human interaction. And I don’t appreciate being teased.”

Miserable, excited, I held my tongue and tried to think about anything but the shivering, melting sensation that was beginning to course through my veins. The slight draft near the door could never account for the goose bumps prickling over me. And nothing but Ivan’s proximity could possibly explain the effervescent heat between my legs.

“Second thing. I am not blind. If you flash your cleavage enough times, eventually I will not be able to avoid getting an eyeful. That shirt ups those odds considerably. So unless you really want to be ogled, I can’t imagine why you would go around wearing such a thing. It’s nothing like your usual style. You don’t need to wear something trashy to get noticed.”

He noticed my usual style? It was news to me. Also news that he knew the difference between trashy and not, and knew I normally chose the latter. Not that this shirt was trashy, although I had to admit it skirted the line pretty closely.

“And third,” Ivan continued, leaning in closer, “I want to stress that I am a completely normal human male in a lot of respects. And since I am most decidedly
not
gay,” he added, pressing his hips forward into my ass so I couldn’t possibly mistake his prominent hard-on, “you’re playing a pretty dangerous game. I can only take so much teasing, Camilla. Sooner or later, if you keep it up, I am going to assume you want me to follow through. That would come with some additional requirements you probably aren’t prepared for.”

Offering a silent prayer to any love gods who might be listening, I arched my back a little so my backside pressed more firmly against that delicious, hot length of barely restrained need.

“Why would you ever assume anything else?”

He hissed through clenched teeth, pulling away for a second and then pressing forward with a groan to pin me to the wall. His hips ground against me, and I shivered as his hands left the wall and circled my upper arms.

“I don’t play these games out in the real world, Cami.” His voice was rough, almost resentful. Torn, he sounded torn. I felt a surge of raw hope and need, even as he said everything he could to deter me. “I know how to fuck. I like to fuck. I just don’t do well with people, and I have very particular tastes.” He had worked his hands forward between me and the wall now, and he cupped my breasts and plucked sharply at my nipples through the infamous shirt. “I can’t be nice about it. I’m tempted by you, I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t, but I’m not like the men you’re used to. I don’t do sweet. This isn’t what you’re looking for.”

“If you don’t know people,” I gasped, biting my lower lip as his fingers tugged and tweaked the already pebbled peaks, “you shouldn’t make assumptions about what they’re looking for. I want this. I want you.”

I curled my hands over his in encouragement, and he responded by pulling his hands away only long enough to slip them under the shirt and then back up to resume his previous torture.

“You don’t even know what
this
is.”

“Then
tell
me. What are you, into cross-dressing? A furry? What is the big deal?”

Ivan yanked his hands from under my shirt, grabbed my shoulders and spun me around to face him. His expression was grim, his eyes stern and ominous in the scarlet glow. He said he was tempted, but he seemed to be looking for something from me, and I felt frustrated beyond words that I didn’t know what it was. I wanted to give it to him. Short of putting on a fur suit, in that moment I would have agreed to about anything. Maybe that was what he needed to see.

“I like to be in control.”

“I think I got that part.”

“No.” He squeezed his eyes shut, gripping my shoulders at the same time as though he was trying to force the understanding into me. “Camilla, I like to be
in control.
And for my partner to give up her control to me.”

Slowly, very slowly, a picture was beginning to form in my mind. “You mean like tying people up and stuff?”

That earned a smile. “Sometimes. But there’s more to it than that.”

“Like ordering people’s food for them? And quizzing them on the movie?” And why did that suddenly seem like the sexiest of all possible things?

“You didn’t pay attention to the movie at all, did you?”

I shook my head, unable to speak in the face of the intensity in his eyes as he leaned closer.

“Bad girl.”

Oh holy fuck.

In the National Geographic movie of my twisted mind, the lion had just leaped on the gazelle, pinned it to the ground and mounted it from behind. Apparently, the devouring could wait. I should point out that these little flights of fancy on my part often involved extremely improbable animal pairings. I blamed cartoons.

“Ivan…” I wasn’t sure what else I planned to say, but I felt I should say something to distract myself from the creeping wetness between my legs, the wobble in my knees and the mad thrill in my stomach.

He shook his head. “Professor. Or Sir.”

“Oh. I get it now.”

“Do you?”

“Not really but I think I want to,” I half moaned. “I really, really want to.” With every lust-soaked fiber of my being, I wanted to. But I had absolutely no idea how to proceed.

Ivan, however, did know how to proceed. It took him a few seconds of deliberation, during which he stroked my shoulders and trailed his fingertips over my collarbones in a deliciously enticing way. I could feel my nipples tightening in response, wanting to be touched again by those evil-scientist hands. But I sensed that I had to wait, to let it be his decision whether to take it further. To let him be in control.

“Maintenance has already come and gone,” he said at last, “and I don’t think anybody else will be in tonight. We’ll hear their key first if they try to get in, anyway.” He sounded as though he was talking himself into it, as much as he was reassuring me. “If you want this, then prove it. Right here and now.”

Underneath his brusqueness I heard the lashing of doubt, and I decided to quell that doubt. Who knew if I would get another chance, if I turned this one down?

“What do you want me to do?”

“I want you to strip. Then I want you to get on your knees and wait for further instructions.”

Okay. I hadn’t really predicted he’d come right out and demand something like that. But I’d gotten a taste of his touch, I wanted more, and I was determined to follow through. Gulping, I started to reach for the hem of my shirt, only to experience a moment of stage fright that froze me with only my stomach exposed.

He was standing there, watching. Not saying anything. Not helping. Just watching. He still had one hand on my hip, and his fingers were tracking along my waistband, but other than that he was a blank.

And right then I decided that my new goal was to replace that blank with something. Anything. Any expression. I wanted to see him feeling things. I wanted to see him have feelings so strong he couldn’t hide from them. Couldn’t control his reactions. I wanted to make Ivan Reynolds completely lose his shit. Barring that, I would settle for Ivan making me completely lose my shit, which seemed a lot more likely.

I think he was maybe a little startled when I pushed his hand out of the way and moved a few steps toward the center of the room. He let his arm fall to the side as my shirt and bra dropped to the floor, followed within seconds by my shoes and pants. I was able to scoop off my undies too, getting the whole thing in one go. Not the most graceful undressing I’d ever done, to be sure, but it was practical. And I was naked. In the middle of the astrophysics data lab, kneeling in front of a still fully clothed Ivan.