But the way Ian stares makes me feel so naked. Physically, emotionally, spiritually.
It terrifies me. Thrills me. Sets me on fire.
I'm an exhibitionist.
But that doesn't make sense. The idea of dancing at the club terrifies me. All those strange men, staring, reaching, touching.
If it was just him, sitting in a booth, watching me move, beckoning me into his lap—
"You're thinking something." His eyes fix on mine.
"About the club. I thought about dancing. To make more money. The dancers made four, five times what I did. But I didn't have the stomach for it. The thought of strange men watching me… touching me… it made me sick. But last night… I liked that. Being on display. The way you looked at me when I peeled off my dress. Knowing we might get caught."
"You would dance if it was for me?"
That's a good way of putting it. I nod.
"Do you want that?"
"Maybe."
He studies my expression. Nods with understanding. "What else?"
"The way you touched me. And that tone of your voice." The rough parts. And the soft parts too.
His gaze travels down my body. Slowly. Carefully. "Take off your top."
I don't ask for more instruction. I turn toward him. Look into his eyes as I pull my crop top over my head.
He studies my bra—the plain black thing I bought on sale. I thought it was sexy, at the time.
Now, it feels cheap and worn. Not something that fits into his expensive world.
Even so, he looks at me like I'm a sex goddess. "You didn't like the lingerie?"
"It's for dinner, isn't it?"
He nods true. "You did like it?"
"Yes." My blush deepens. "A lot."
"I'll send more. Wear that under your clothes. At all times."
The imposition should annoy me. But it doesn't. I love that he's sending fancy lingerie. And not because it's more for my collection.
Because it's our secret.
His voice drops to that demanding tone. "Take off the bra."
I undo the clasp. Let it fall off my shoulders.
"Fuck." His pupils dilate. "You drive me out of mind, Eve."
"Already?"
"Since the first time I saw you."
"What about me?"
"Everything." He motions come here.
I scoot closer.
The leather of the bench seat is cool against my thighs. The air-conditioning is on full blast.
I can feel the pressure against my stomach, chest, nipples.
But I'm not cold.
I'm on fire.
There. My knee brushes his thigh. The smooth fabric of his slacks. There's something about the way it falls over his limbs.
Like a tattoo or bright hair or combat boots, the suit defines him.
What is that like? How does he feel when it comes off?
I need it to come off.
Now.
The ache in my sex is overwhelming. I need him in every way I can.
My lack of experience is a distant concern.
It doesn't matter that I have no idea what I'm doing. That I'm scared of embarrassing myself in front of someone so smooth and collected.
Only that I touch him. Feel him. Taste him.
He brings his hand to my cheek. "What do you want? Right now."
"You."
"Specifically." He runs his thumb over my temple. Brings his other hand to the curve of my waist. "Tell me exactly what you want."
Chapter Twenty-Four
Eve
What exactly do I want?
It's impossible to answer.
I want everything.
His hands, his mouth, his cock.
I want to strip and tease him. And I want him to throw me on the bench and fuck me immediately.
I'm not ready for that.
So I…
That's it. "I want you in control."
He nods with understanding. "Did you pick a word?"
"Austin Powers."
He half-smiles. "I suppose I can't ask if you feel randy then."
"I might slip. Say it by accident." My laughs melts the tension in my shoulders.
I'm nervous.
No, I'm terrified.
My entire life, I've clawed for every ounce of control.
Now, I'm offering it to a man I barely know. A man pulling me out of debt. Paying for my future. Proving he has the resources to destroy me.
The thought only winds me tighter.
He can bend me, break me, destroy me.
Or make me come until I pass out.
"Come here, vixen." He pulls me into his lap.
I stare into his dark eyes for a moment, then my lids flutter closed. My lips find his.
He tastes so good. Like mint. Like Ian.
One hand goes to my lower back. The other goes to my chest.
He cups my breast with his palm. Runs his thumb over my nipple with slow, perfect circles.
His kiss is hard. Hungry. No patience. All need. Like he's going to die if he doesn't consume me.
He tugs at my hair, pulling me back. Then his lips are on my chin, neck, chest.
He sucks on my nipple until I groan. Moves to the other. Teases it mercilessly.
His suit covers too much. I can't touch him properly. Only his neck.
My hands go to his tie. I fumble over the knot—I've never used a tie before.
He breaks the kiss. "Like this." He places his hand over mine. Shows me how to unfold the fabric. How to peel it from his neck.
He's more wild without the tie. Or maybe it's the look in his eyes. Like he's a predator and I'm his prey.
It should scare me.
Instead, it makes my sex clench.
"Give me your hands." His voice stays firm.
I stare back as I place my hands in my lap.
"Behind you. Like this." His hands go to my hips. He unbuttons my shorts then he turns me ninety degrees, so my back is to him. "On your belly."
Huh?
He takes my hands. Places them on the bench seat on front of me. Helps me onto my belly.
My forehead on the leather seat. My chest against his thigh. My stomach against his crotch.
I can feel him, hard against my belly. But still slow and patient.
He brings his arms behind my back. "Palms together."
I press my hands together.
He loops the tie around my wrist. Cinches a loose knot and pulls it tighter. Tight enough to restrict my movement.
Silk around my wrists.
His expensive tie binding me. Leaving me splayed over him, utterly at his mercy.
Slowly, he rolls my jeans over my ass and hips. All the way to my knees.
So my shorts are binding my legs.
He runs his fingers over my panties, pressing the soft fabric into my tender skin.
The friction is divine. Too much and not enough.
He does it again. So softly I can barely feel it.
Then again.
Again.
Until a groan falls off my lips. Then too many groans to count.
Fuck, that feels good. Too good.
He strokes me again and again.
Until I'm wound so tight I can't take it.
I need his hands on my skin.
Still, he strokes me with his first two fingers.
His other hand goes to my lower back. He presses me down, just enough I feel his hard-on against my stomach. Just enough my entire body fills with need.