By His Desire (3 page)

She cleared her throat and stared down at her empty dessert plate. “What if you did something I didn’t like? I mean...would I have to stay no matter what?”

He didn’t answer her right away, and after a minute she looked up again. He was staring at her with a blank expression on his face. “Sarah. Are you actually considering saying yes?”

What did
that
mean? Was this whole thing a joke after all?

“Oh, God. You weren’t serious, were you? Of course not. What an idiot I am. What a total—”

“
Sarah
.” One of her hands was fisted on the table, and now he reached out and covered it with his.

Sensation shot up her arm and through her whole body. His hand was warm and big and strong, and little pulses of pleasure emanated from where they touched.

“I’ve never been more serious about anything in my life. So let me answer your question.” He leaned towards her again. “If something happens that you don’t like, all you have to do is say so. You can call off the deal anytime. To get the painting, you have to stay with me the whole week, and you can’t say no to anything. If you do say no, or if you want to leave, the only consequence is that you don’t get the painting. That’s it.”

His hand was still on hers, and she found herself lost in his blue eyes. How many times in high school—and long afterwards—had she fantasized about being in Keith Logan’s bed?

Her skin prickled with heat and desire.

He thought the only reason she would ever agree to this was because of the painting. But the painting had nothing at all to do with what she said next.

“Okay.”

For a second he just stared at her. Then his hand tightened on hers.

“You mean that?”

“Yes. I’ll do it.”

Saying the words filled her with a kind of recklessness she’d never experienced before. She felt wild, like she might be capable of anything.

When the wave of recklessness was followed by a wave of anxiety, she reminded herself that she could call off the deal anytime.

The waiter came to their table with the check, and Keith let go of her hand. He took care of the bill, and then he met her eyes again. “I’ll send a car for you tomorrow afternoon. What’s your address?”

As she gave it to him in a shaky voice, she wondered what in the hell had gotten into her—and how long it would take to wear off.

Chapter Two

Keith had no idea how he got through the next day. He was useless for all practical purposes, and when Valerie finally asked what the hell was wrong with him he just shook his head.

“Would you believe I’m actually taking your advice?”

“Yeah? It’s about time. What advice, specifically?”

“It’s a long story. I’ll see you tomorrow at the board meeting.”

He’d forced himself not to call his housekeeper about Sarah until now, when he was finally heading home for the night. He’d told himself that by not asking, he was at least giving himself one day to hope and anticipate, even if she had decided not to go through with it after all.

But now, as he slid behind the wheel of his Jaguar, he pulled out his cell phone and dialed home.

“Yes, Mr. Logan?”

“Hi, Nancy. I was just calling to find out if Miss Harper arrived this afternoon.”

“Oh, yes, she’s settled in nicely.”

He was filled with a relief so intense he felt almost light-headed. “Good. Great. How did she spend her day?”

“Well, she put her things in the guest room you’d told me to prepare for her, and I brought her a plate of cheese and crackers and a glass of Burgundy. She wandered around the house a little and spent a lot of time looking at your art collection in the upstairs gallery. Then she went into the downstairs study with her laptop and did some work. She had dinner about an hour ago.”

“Did you give her my letter?”

“Yes. With the dessert, just like you asked. She went to her room after dinner, and I heard her filling the bathtub a few minutes ago.”

His mind filled with the image of Sarah taking a bath in his house, and he almost drove off the road.

“Okay. That’s good. I don’t think we’ll need anything else tonight, Nancy. Why don’t you head home?”

“All right, Mr. Logan. Do you want Paul to stay?” Paul was her husband, and also his chef.

“No. I had a late lunch and I’m not really hungry.”

“We’ll see you tomorrow morning, then.”

So when he pulled into his garage and went inside the sprawling mansion, he knew that he and Sarah were alone in the house.

It was eight-fifteen. He’d told her in his letter that he would come to her at nine o’clock, so he couldn’t cheat and go now, even though his heart was pounding and she was all he could think about. But he was the one making the rules, and he wasn’t going to break them.

So he went to his bedroom suite instead, loosening his tie as he climbed the stairs and pulling his clothes off as soon as he was in the room. Then he turned on his Jacuzzi shower and let the hot water beat down on his naked skin. He resisted the urge to jerk off for the hundredth time that day, even though he was starting to think he probably should, just to take the edge off.

Because he was so hard right now his cock could crush diamonds. He hoped Sarah had followed orders and put on the blindfold he’d left for her, because he was afraid the sight of his lust-crazed expression and raging hard-on might make her rethink their agreement, given how inexperienced she was.

And he was afraid that despite his promise, if she told him she wanted to leave, he wouldn’t be able to let her go.

* * *

Sarah tried not to think about nine o’clock. Every time she did, a wave of anxiety made her stomach tighten and she wanted to run back home.

She didn’t know what gave her the courage to stay. Maybe it was Keith’s letter, which had been oddly reassuring.

At nine o’clock precisely, be on your bed in the blindfold you’ll find under your pillow. You can wear whatever you want. And remember that you can’t do anything wrong, because I’m in charge.

Had he guessed about her ever-present fear of doing something wrong? Or was her neurosis just really obvious?

Sarah took her time in the bath, shaving her legs carefully and trying not to think about Keith touching them later. Even with his reassurance, if she thought too much about what might happen tonight she knew she’d chicken out.

By the time it was ten minutes to nine she was so nervous her hands shook as she got dressed. She’d agonized over the decision of what to wear, and finally chose her favorite pajamas over the more risqué set she’d bought that morning at a boutique downtown.

She’d always secretly thought she looked sexy in these, even if she’d had them for years. Something about the cut of the white cotton camisole top made her small breasts look firm and shapely and perfect. The bottoms were thin and soft from many washings, and felt wonderful against her silky smooth, just-shaved legs.

Underneath she wore the white satin panties she’d bought that morning. They were simple and elegant and made her butt look amazing, which she supposed was some justification for spending thirty dollars on underwear.

Five minutes to go. Something told her that Keith would be punctual. She sat down on the center of the king-sized bed, brushing her fingertips over the burgundy silk comforter. The blindfold she’d found under the pillow was silk, too—a simple black band she’d tried on earlier.

Three minutes to go. She looked around at the beautiful room—the antique furniture, the Aubusson carpet, the fireplace and the artwork on the walls and the floor to ceiling windows hung with burgundy velvet drapes.

One minute to go. She lay down in the center of the four-poster bed, resting her head on the pillow and sliding the blindfold over her eyes. Her heart was beating so hard she could hear it.

And then she heard the door open.

Her hands fisted involuntarily, and she found herself clutching the comforter. For a minute there was silence, and then she heard footsteps coming towards her.

A wave of goose bumps prickled her skin. She felt the bed give as a large male body sat down on the edge, and every muscle in her body tightened.

She heard a match striking, and there was a faint whiff of sulfur. Then she caught the sweeter scent of wax, and realized that Keith had lit the white candle on her bedside table.

“Candlelight becomes you.”

His voice was low and raspy, like last night when he’d said he wanted her in his bed.

Was she supposed to say something in answer? A spasm of anxiety tightened her stomach muscles. She had no idea what the rules were, what he expected of her, what she was supposed to—

And then she remembered his letter.

You can’t do anything wrong, because I’m in charge.

If he wanted her to speak, he could say so, or ask her a question. But since he hadn’t done either of those things, she could do what she wanted.

And she wanted to stay silent. She wanted to take in everything that was happening, the sound of his voice and the scent of the candle and even her own nervousness. She had no idea what was going to happen next, but it was up to Keith and not her.

All she could do was wait.

“You mentioned last night that you like sweet wine, so I brought a bottle of that Hungarian Tokay I told you about.”

He slid an arm behind her shoulders and helped her to sit up.

“Try this,” he said softly, and then she felt the rim of a glass touch her mouth. She parted her lips, and Keith tilted the glass very slowly until she could take a sip.

It was like drinking light—so sweet and sinful she felt half-drunk from just a taste. She parted her lips again, hoping for more, and Keith gave a low chuckle as he tilted the glass again.

She took a bigger sip this time, relishing the way the wine bloomed on her tongue as it slid down her throat.

Then the glass was gone and something else took its place.

Keith’s mouth was on hers.

It wasn’t a kiss as much as a whisper of satin. The brush of his lips left hers tingling, and when he did it again she actually leaned into it.

The arm around her shoulders tightened, and his other hand slid into her hair. The pressure of his mouth was firmer now, and when she felt his tongue trace the seam of her lips she parted them eagerly.

And then he took her mouth for his own. His tongue was everywhere, stroking her until she felt it between her legs. Her heartbeat was thundering in her ears. The sensations were so overwhelming that she pulled back with a gasp.

Then she panicked. She’d pulled away. Was that allowed? No—it couldn’t be. He’d said she had to do everything he wanted.

“Sarah.”

His arm slipped from behind her shoulders and he settled his hand on her hip. She tensed up, waiting to hear what he would say next.

“There may be times this week when you say no or pull away but you don’t really want to end our deal. So when you say no or pull away, I’m going to ignore it. You may even decide you like the way that feels. But if you’re serious about wanting me to stop whatever I’m doing, then I want you to say...” He hesitated a moment. “Abstract Expressionism. If you say that, then I’ll stop, and we’ll be done. Okay?”

He’d given her a way to freak out without ruining everything. She relaxed in relief, and nodded. “Okay.”

“So let’s try this out,” he whispered, leaning close.

One of his big hands brushed up her arm, over her shoulder, into her hair. His thumb stroked the sensitive skin of her earlobe, and when she shivered in pleasure he did it again.

Then his other hand was on her left shoulder, and he slid one finger under her camisole strap.

A rush of sensation and anxiety made her stomach clench, and she felt herself stiffen.

“Tell me no,” he said, and she realized that she wanted to. Not because she wanted him to stop, but because this was so new and intense she needed an outlet for her nerves.

“No,” she whispered, and then Keith put his hands at the hem of her camisole and pulled it off so quickly she squeaked.

She covered herself instinctively, crossing her arms over her chest. Keith gripped her shoulders in his powerful hands and exerted steady, inexorable pressure to ease her down onto the bed. He grasped one of her wrists and pulled it up over her head, slipping something soft around it. He did the same thing to her other wrist. And then she was lying with her arms stretched over her head, her hands caught in velvet cuffs and her upper body naked.

Her heart thumped in her chest and her breath came in ragged pants. “Stop,” she gasped, as Keith’s mouth descended onto her breast. And then—“Stop,” she said again, even as her back arched involuntarily to bring her closer to him.

His hand replaced his mouth, kneading firmly. “You can beg all you like, Sarah. I have no intention of stopping. Not until I’ve taken what I want.”

Now both his hands were on her breasts, and it felt so good she squirmed, unable to stay still. She jerked against the handcuffs, and when she felt how securely they held her a flood of warmth surged through her.

His hands tightened until it almost hurt...almost but not quite. She wondered suddenly what it would feel like to cross that line, to move from pleasure to pain.

As soon as the thought crossed her mind she was ashamed of it. She didn’t crave pain. She didn’t want to be tied down like this. This wasn’t her. This wasn’t anything like—

And then the almost-painful grip was gone, and his tongue was there, drowning her in sensation as shockingly soft as his hands had been hard.

Oh, God. He sucked her nipple into his mouth, and she wished the rest of her could follow—that she could pour herself into him somehow. She did the closest thing she could and arched her back, and then Keith’s hands slid under her shoulder blades and he held her suspended above the bed, swirling his tongue around her other nipple before biting down without warning.

It wasn’t a hard bite but the shock went straight down her body, stabbing through her stomach and between her legs. Then he was soothing her with his tongue again, licking her softly and thoroughly. His hands slid out from under her, letting her settle down on the bed as he took her nipples between his fingers and thumbs.