You Are Mine (20 page)

But would he stop?

The thought was insidious, doubt winding through her brain like a snake. She didn't know what to do. Saying it would admit the fear, but if she said it and he didn't stop …

But all Zac did was take his hand from her, his weight lifting as he shifted back to sit on his heels, cold rushing over her bare skin.

The loss of his warmth felt almost painful and she shivered again, helplessly.

“I'm not going to do any of those things to you, Eva,” he continued calmly. “I'm going to leave you hungry and wanting and aching, with nothing but those images in your head to taunt you.”

From somewhere she managed to find the ghost of her old bravado. “Seriously?” Her voice was a raw scrape of sound. “That's a punishment?”

Zac's hands rested on his thighs, the expression on his face uncompromising. “Perhaps you won't understand it now. But you will. Your body will burn for me. Ache for me. And you'll wish like hell you'd done what I told you to. Because until you do, you'll never be satisfied.”

She wanted to laugh because her body had never done that in her whole life. Never burned or ached, and as for satisfaction, what the hell did that mean anyway?

You know what he's talking about. You ache already.

Eva tried to smile and knew it came out more of a grimace. “I don't care.”

“You will, Eva,” he said quietly and with such certainty she almost shivered again. “Oh believe me, you will.”

 

CHAPTER TEN

Zac rose to his feet, watching as Eva's wide eyes were drawn helplessly down his body to the line of his cock, pressing through the wool of his suit pants.

Yes, he was hard. So fucking hard. But physical control was easy for him and he ignored it.

What mattered now, what was balm to his dominant soul, was that he'd showed her who was in charge of what was happening between them. And who would stay in charge. Him.

That she'd needed him to be was painfully obvious the moment they'd gotten here and he'd realized, as soon as she'd tried to get into another deflecting conversation, that he'd let it go on too long as it was.

She would keep on fighting, keep on hiding behind those walls of hers, keep on protecting herself till hell froze over, and all the patience and care in the world wasn't going to make her stop. Which meant he'd have to take those walls down himself, whether she wanted it or not.

He'd thought waiting for her to step out from behind them had been the right thing to do. The gentlemanly thing. But it hadn't been. It had only let her keep running longer, harder. Prolonging her pain and entrenching her fear.

So he'd had to be cruel. Storming all her defenses, overwhelming her, forcing her to see that her fear was blinding her, trapping her. Holding her captive as surely as she'd been held captive in that house.

He hadn't left her completely unprotected though. He'd given her a safeword that she could use any time to stop what was happening. The problem was that using it meant acknowledging the fact she was scared. Which hadn't happened.

Damn, she was strong. Stronger than he'd thought. She was going to give him one hell of a fight.

Perhaps she didn't trust you enough to use the word. Didn't trust that you'd stop.

He didn't like that thought. Not one bit.

“Safewords are sacred,” he said abruptly into the silence. “If you'd said it, I would have stopped. Always. Understand?”

Her lashes veiled her gaze as she looked away. “Sure. I understand.”

No. She didn't.

Fuck.

Anger stirred inside him, heavy and slow. She should know he would stop. She shouldn't hesitate or wonder or doubt. Christ, hadn't he earned that by now? After so many bloody years?

With an effort Zac forced the anger away.

Perhaps there was no hope for her. No hope for either of them. Perhaps he'd misjudged her strength. Perhaps it was too brittle. Perhaps she'd break completely if he pushed and wouldn't be able to build herself up again. He'd thought her spirit was more resilient, but maybe he was wrong.

You can't give up yet.

No. Not now that he knew the pale, smooth texture of her skin, the warmth of it. The hard press of her nipple against his palm and the soft weight of her breast in his hand. The silky, damp curls between her thighs and the wet heat of her pussy. The musky sweet taste of her desire on his fingers.

She'd been worth the wait. Every day, every hour, every single fucking minute of it.

Eva didn't move, her jaw set in a familiar, stubborn line. The halves of her shirt hung open, baring her small, perfectly shaped breasts and pale pink little nipples. She made no move to cover herself even though he knew she must be desperate to. Showing him she wouldn't be cowed.

Except instead of the brittle determination she so often radiated, there was something different in it this time. She was flushed and although she'd looked away from him, her gaze kept returning to his groin as if she couldn't help herself, the silver of her eyes darkening.

His anger shifted and changed, morphing into a hard kind of satisfaction.

So. Clearly she wasn't a lost cause after all.

Because that's what he wanted. Her, thinking about him. Thinking about what he'd told her he'd do to her. Images of pleasure in her brain instead of the memories he knew lived behind her eyes whenever he touched her.

Memories he was going to obliterate if it was the last thing he did.

Zac took her bound hands and undid his tie. The silk had left faint red marks around her wrists so he chafed them gently, ignoring the way her muscles locked then relaxed, locked then relaxed.

She wanted to pull away from him, and no doubt all her nerves were at screaming point given the overload of sensations he'd piled onto her. But it seemed she wasn't going to give in to the need.

Christ, he should have started this long ago, when her barriers hadn't gotten so entrenched. Then again, given the year or so she'd spent on the streets, maybe they'd already been like that.

Releasing her wrists, he rose to his feet. Then took off his jacket, laying it down neatly on the couch, before undoing the cuffs of his shirt. Then he pulled the hem from the waistband of his pants and began to undo the buttons.

Eva blinked rapidly, watching him as a deer watches a wolf come slowly toward it. She still made no move to cover herself though he could see goose bumps rising all over her breasts and flat stomach, down to the where he could see the black waistband of her panties, the buttons of her jeans undone.

Zac shrugged out of his shirt and stood there for a moment studying her.

Her eyes had gone even wider, her gaze trailing over his chest and abs, down to his hips.

Good. He wanted her looking at him like that, wanted to fan that little ember of desire into a burning flame.

She was a sensual being, even though she wasn't aware of it herself. It was there in her need for warmth, her pleasure in soft blankets and hot tea and open fires. And now he hoped he'd stoked that need, woken it up, made it aware. Given it something to latch onto and focus on. Showing her there were other things in the world, not just fear and pain.

Certainly the way she was looking at him now wasn't that of a woman afraid. More like a woman in need.

Satisfied, Zac stepped forward and lifted the shirt. “Put your arms out.”

Her gaze narrowed. “What are you doing now?”

“You need something to wear home.”

A flash of surprise lit her gaze then vanished. Wordlessly she held out her arms and he got rid of the remains of her T-shirt and bra, discarding them onto the floor before dressing her with ruthless practicality in his shirt.

As he leaned forward to do up the buttons she said in a breathless voice, “You don't need to—”

“I have other ways of punishing you, Eva. Don't think that I don't. So be quiet and sit still like a good girl while I do up these buttons.”

She didn't say anything more, but he could feel the tension in her. And he knew what was causing it. Him. His nearness, his bare skin. The feeling of his shirt against her sensitized skin, his scent all around her.

Good. Let it bother her. Let it maintain the level of arousal that he'd already built in her. Let it confuse and distract her. Keep her thinking about him.

He slowed his movements as he did up the buttons, allowing the tips of his fingers to brush her skin. The lightest of touches, accidental almost, yet it would keep her on the edge, heighten her awareness even further.

When he'd finished, he straightened, looking into her eyes. Gauging her reaction and, sure enough, her eyes had gone a tarnished silver color, darkening with arousal. Her lips were parted a little, and for a second he debated whether or not to kiss her. Allow himself a small taste.

As if she'd read his mind, her attention dropped to his mouth.

Oh, good girl. Very good girl indeed.

But a punishment was a punishment. There would be no kisses, no more touches until she asked for them.

He took a step back from her chair and went over to retrieve his phone from the pocket of his discarded jacket.

“What are you doing?” Eva asked, her voice thick.

“Calling your car to take you home.” He dialed the number, glancing at her.

She was sitting on the edge of the armchair now, her hands on the arms, like a bird about to take flight. “I thought … I thought you said you didn't want me going home.”

“Oh?” He arched a brow at her. “So you want to stay then?”

“No, I didn't say that. But—” She stopped, frustration and confusion clear on her face. “You … You're…”

“I'm what?” He paused as Temple answered and he issued orders for her to come and get Eva from his house. Then he ended the call and tossed the phone back down on the couch. “I'm what, angel?”

Eva's gaze once more dropped to his groin where his cock ached, still hard and ready, before she looked away. “It doesn't matter.”

“If you want to get down on your knees and suck my cock, angel, I'm more than happy to let you,” he said easily. “But I'm not touching you if that's what you were hoping.”

“Don't.” She pushed herself to her feet in a rapid, jerky movement. “I don't want you to touch me. I never wanted you to touch me.”

But he was ready for her anger. He'd been expecting it. “Yes, you did. You've been craving my touch for years, Eva King.” He took a couple of steps toward her, watching her gaze flare with fear, yes, but awareness too. “You've just never had the guts to ask for it.”

As he'd intended, her anger leapt higher. “Well, how about you try being a sexual slave for two fucking years. Then you can talk to me about guts!”

There was pain behind the anger in her voice, all the anguish she was trying so desperately to hide. And he heard it, recognized it. He wouldn't let his protective instincts get in the way again since it was indulging those instincts that had led to this situation in the first place. But he could give her a little something of himself. She wasn't alone, no matter what she thought.

“I was kept in a Russian prison for eighteen months,” he said coolly. “I know what it's like to be held captive. I know what it's like to feel helpless. Why do you think I'm still here?”

She stared at him and he stared back until her gaze dropped, wrapping her jacket around herself as if she was suddenly cold. “Well, fine. I'll go home then.”

A heavy silence fell that he made no effort to break. If she was uncertain and confused, that meant change. That meant her defenses weren't as strong around him as they had been, and that was a good thing. He wanted to be there when they collapsed. And he would be the one to keep her safe as she rebuilt them.

Some things had to break in order to be put back together again. Made stronger, more durable.

“What about this … party thing?” she asked at last. “I thought we were going to sort it out tonight.”

“Actually, I think you need a break and so do I.” He reached down to where his cock was still aching like a bastard and blatantly adjusted himself, satisfied when her gaze followed his movement, lingering for a second before hurriedly glancing away. “Tomorrow, Eva. I'll come and pick you up at ten sharp.”

“What for?”

“To continue your lesson in trust. And no, before you start hoping for more of what I showed you today, it won't be along those lines.”

Her chin lifted, the ghost of the snarky, sarcastic Eva showing itself. “For fuck's sake. You really think I'd want anything like that again?”

“I think your fear is telling you that. But if you stop listening to it for once, I think you'll find your body is telling yourself something different.”

“You arrogant son of a bitch.”

“I'm not arrogant, angel. I just know you.”

She had no answer to that, mainly because it was true.

From the depths of her leather jacket, Eva's phone chimed. She got it out and glanced down at the screen. “That's Temple. And fucking not before time.”

She turned without a word, heading toward the door.

“Eva,” Zac said softly.

At the sound of her name he was gratified to see that she stopped, her back to him.

“When you're alone in your bed tonight, you'll want to give yourself some relief. But if you do I'll punish you, understand? Any orgasm you have will come from me and me only.”

She said nothing, tension radiating from her.

“I'll know if you do,” he added. “I can see right through you, angel. Remember that.”

Eva didn't reply, heading straight for the door.

And slamming it behind her on her way out.

*   *   *

Eva didn't expect to sleep that night. She sat up in front of her computers, checking and rechecking her firewalls in case of any more hacking incursions, and at the same time, going over and over search results for “Evelyn Fitzgerald.”