Darkest Ecstasy (4 page)

“Yes, I suppose it would be, considering what you do,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

A honk jerked her out of her haze.

Tage's head snapped to the front and he hit the gas. The car surged forward like a jet.

She inhaled deeply, exhaled. This was the oddest date she'd ever been on already. And it had hardly started. The chemistry was insane. Staring straight ahead, she tried to decide if she should break the silence that had fallen between them with more small talk or not.

“I was thinking,” he said, doing it for her. “I have been wanting to look into some advertising for my company, maybe some color brochures.”

“Sure. That would be great.”

“I would insist on working with you. And I would also request you do the layout.”

She couldn't help giggling. “You say that without even seeing any of my work.”

“Something tells me you're not the boastful type. That you are truly talented.”

“I'd like to think I am,” she said, face burning with embarrassment. She really did hate talking about herself, and she truly wasn't the type to brag about her gifts. “I tell you what, you can come over anytime you like and determine that for yourself. I'll show you my portfolio.”

“I'd like to see it.”

“Just say the word. Anytime.”

“Okay.” He pulled into a grocery store parking lot and shifted the vehicle into park. There was no restaurant in sight. Not one.

She gave him a questioning look.

“You'll have to tell me where you live,” he said.

Did he mean . . . now? “Oh. We're going to my place first? I thought we were going out to dinner.”

“You said anytime.”

“Yes, I did.”

“We can order in. Unless you had your heart set on sitting in a restaurant.”

Slightly shaken at the sudden change of plans, she took a moment to think. She determined, rather quickly, that things were going very well. “No, of course carryout is perfectly fine. I live on Third Street in Maineville. Are you familiar with the area?”

“No. I just moved into town a few months ago. You'll have to give me some directions.”

“We'll need to head back north.”

“Okay.” He steered the car around and turned onto the road, heading in the opposite direction from which they'd been driving. “What kind of food do you like?”

“Anything.”

“Anything?”

“I'm a total foodie.”

“I like you already.” The light turned red, and once again they were waiting, gazes tangled. Her breath lodged in her throat, and her heart pounded hard against her breastbone as she stared into the darkest eyes she'd ever seen. The longer she looked, the more lost she felt in the shadows she saw there. And she couldn't help wondering what his story was, where he'd come from, what kind of life he'd led up to this point, and what he dreamed about.

“I like you, too,” she said. The light changed, and she pointed. “Someone is going to honk.”

“Let them.” He reached for her head, slid his hand across the back to cup it, and pulled while leaning toward her. His gaze, which had been fixed on her eyes, slid lower, to her mouth.

He was about to kiss her.

Kiss her!

A flurry of butterflies launched in her belly.

W
hat the fuck was he doing? What. The. Fuck?

This woman wasn't his type. The one he'd left behind, Angela, she was his kind of woman, the type he'd told himself he would marry. What the hell was this he felt with the little meek Michelle? It was as if he were being drawn in, ensnared.

Was she Chimera?

Think with your brain, dickhead, not your cock.

He closed his eyes and dug deep, searching for the strength to pull away.

Then she sighed. The sound was so enthralling, so enticing, he leaned closer. He inhaled, drawing in the sweet scent of her skin. She smelled so good. His heavy eyelids lifted. She had closed her eyes, those mesmerizing eyes. Her full lips were waiting for him, pursed ever so slightly for his kiss.

One taste. Only one. That wouldn't kill him. He'd always been able to maintain control, even while white-hot need was thrumming through his veins. It would be no different with this woman.

Using the hand he'd cupped around the back of her head, he pulled her toward him and lightly brushed his lips over hers. A tiny gasp filled the silence. Her gasp.

Her reaction pleased him. It made him hard, ready. Hot. He wanted her. Wanted to possess her. Now. Right there. In the car.

A horn blared behind him.

Fuck them.

It honked again.

Oh hell.

He couldn't get to her house fast enough. Yanking himself back to reality, he stomped on the accelerator. Until he was parked somewhere, he was going to have to keep his hands off her. And his lips, too. His tongue darted out, swept across his lower lip. Her sweet flavor still lingered there. It was delicious. He couldn't wait to taste her again. He couldn't wait to hear another sigh, too.

That was one sound he doubted he would ever tire of.

 

Had she died? Was she in heaven? In hell? The way she felt at the moment, it could be either . . . or both. Her body was burning, from her scalp to the soles of her feet. Agonizing blazes of need were rushing through her system, and she couldn't quite catch her breath. Between her legs her tissues were moist, warm, pulsing.

How was it that one tiny kiss could do all of that to her?

Staring out the window, she concentrated on breathing. Innnn. Outttt. Innnn. Outttt. Her head was a little less swimmy after a few deep breaths. But her body was still as hot and tight as ever.

And she was about to spend the next... who only knew how much time . . . alone with this man. Alone. In her apartment. And he wanted her. She could see it in his eyes.

I'm going to sleep with him.

A bolt of energy charged through her, knocking the air from her lungs again. Her face and neck heated. Yes, she was going to sleep with this gorgeous, sexy man.

Her voice was very quiet and small as she delivered directions to him. She could hear the nervousness in it. She wondered if he could, too. If he did, he said nothing, just quietly followed her directions. He drove skillfully, following the speed limit. Even though there was little to no small talk during the rest of the drive, she found herself gradually relaxing. They stopped at her favorite Italian restaurant on the way to her place. She ordered her usual, a pasta dish that she'd never had anywhere else. It was rich and decadent and delicious. He followed her advice and ordered the same. While they waited for their dinners to be cooked, he suggested they sit at the bar and have a drink.

His gaze was locked on hers when he asked, “What would you like?”

Another one of those kisses would be great.
Her heart
pitter-pattered
. “A glass of wine would be nice.”

He ordered two and while the bartender filled their order he swiveled his stool to face her. “Are you nervous?”

Oh God, her face was going to ignite. “Is it that obvious?”

“No. I'm just . . . I notice those kinds of things.”

The bartender set the glasses on napkins in front of them. Michelle appreciated the bartender's timing. It kept her from having to explain her jittery nerves to a man who had probably never felt nervous on a date.

Tage pulled out his wallet, fished out a couple of bills, and handed them to the bartender, telling her to keep the change. She responded with a wide smile and a “Thank you” and moved to the man on the other side of Tage.

His attention focused, Tage waited for Michelle to pick up her glass. “Shall we?” He tipped his glass.

“Sure.” She raised hers and gave him a go-ahead nod.

“To . . . fortunate coincidences.”

“I'll drink to that.” She tapped her glass against his, then sipped. Delicious. Smooth. As she swallowed, she could feel her nerves untangling a little, the tightness in her neck and shoulders easing. She took a few more swallows.

“Why are you nervous?” he asked as he set his glass on the bar.

Shit.
“Oh. Um.” She took another big gulp. She couldn't tell him everything. Some of it was just plain embarrassing. “I haven't been on a date in . . . a while.”

“Really? That's hard to believe.” He set his left hand on the bar's polished top.

No ring. Definitely no ring. Or tan mark. That didn't guarantee he wasn't married, but it made it more likely.

“It's the truth.” So much for her pride. “Lately I've been so focused on work, I haven't had much time for anything else,” she explained, deciding that rational excuse would make her less pathetic than the truth.

“Hmmm. I understand that. I've been there before, too. But I've learned more recently that it's one thing to work to live; it's another thing to live to work. I love what I do, but I don't let my work be everything anymore.”

His confession intrigued her. If what he said was true, it explained why she didn't see a ring on his left hand. “I would like to get there, myself. I will. But I have some things to prove to my boss right now. So, it's mostly work and very little play for this girl.”

“I see.” He scooted a little in his seat, sliding his arm along the bar top and leaning closer to her.

Her nerves sizzled at his nearness. She explained, “I kind of screwed things up with a huge client, and the client cancelled the contract and went with another company.”

“Hmm. I'm sorry.” He lifted his glass and took a couple of swallows.

“I'm just glad I wasn't fired.” Feeling as if the conversation had veered off into dangerous territory, specifically her messed-up career, she waved a hand. “Enough about my problems. Tell me about your work. You said you're a computer programmer.”

“It's not very exciting, I'm afraid. My brothers' careers are both more interesting.”

“You have brothers?”

“Two. I'm the youngest.”

“The baby.”

“Not anymore.” He smiled. It wasn't a sweet smile. It was the kind that said,
I'm-very-much-not-a-baby
. “I definitely outgrew the baby thing a long time ago.”

“Oh, I didn't mean to imply—”

“You didn't offend me.” He winked. “I just thought I'd clear that up.”

“Ah, got it.” Like he needed to point out the fact that he was physically as far from an infant as a man could be. He was big and hard and masculine. He carried himself like a man who knew what he was doing, what he wanted, and how to get it. The latent power that she sensed lay below the surface intrigued her. No, it excited her.

She took one last swallow of her wine, emptying the glass, just as the bartender came scurrying toward them with a bag in her hand. She set the bag on the bar. “Sorry for the wait.”

“No problem.” Tage stood, grabbed the bag's handles, and, turning his attention back to Michelle, motioned toward the door. “Shall we?” Turning back to the bartender, he waved.

Michelle couldn't help noticing the bartender's sparkly-eyed stare as she returned his wave and called out, “Have a great night.”

A little jolt of something charged through her at the sight of those sparkles. She immediately shoved that something aside and produced some sparkles of her own as she stepped through the restaurant's door, brushing past Tage as he held the door for her.

Outside, she took a few deep breaths. The wine had helped settle her jangly nerves somewhat, but she still tensed up whenever she got close to him. The tension was strange. It wasn't entirely bad.

Outside of telling him when and where to turn, she didn't say much as they drove the rest of the way to her apartment. Her heart started pounding really hard when he pulled into the visitor parking space next to her building a few minutes later.

He motioned for her to stay in the car, then opened his door and unfolded his bulky frame. Within seconds he was standing next to her open door, offering her a hand out. She accepted, which put her almost chest to stomach with him as she straightened up. Her head tipped back, and she looked up into his dark eyes.

“Thank you,” she murmured.

Something flashed in his eyes, and she froze in place. His fingers moved, tickling her hand. The touch sent blades of wanting piercing through her body.

“You're welcome.” He moved, blocking her in, and her heartbeat raced even faster. There was something very dangerous and exciting about this man. At times he emanated this strange energy, almost predatory. But rather than being scared by it, she was drawn to him, mesmerized.

Most men she'd gotten that vibe from made her nervous in a bad way.

Feeling sexy, alive, she let her lips curl into a flirtatious smile. “Did you change your mind?”

“About what?” he asked as he shifted his weight, moving closer.

“About going inside?”

 

This pretty little thing had no idea she was playing with fire. None. He could tell she was inexperienced. Much to his surprise, her awkwardness and shyness made his blood burn. He'd never reacted to a woman like that before. Evidently he'd been wrong all these years, thinking he needed women with experience, submissives who knew what their limits were and understood the rules of the game.

He hadn't touched a fresh one like Michelle ever. He couldn't wait to see her on her knees, begging for release. He couldn't wait to taste her kiss, to hear her whimpers and sighs. To smell the sweet scent of her desire.

He cupped her chin and stepped closer, and a wave of need pulsed through his body. Oh yes, this was intense. He could tell by her wide eyes, dilated pupils, and deep, quick breaths that she felt the chemistry, too. Maybe it frightened her a little. He imagined it did. That was good. The little edge of fear would make her pleasure so much greater.

His thumb ran across her lower lip, and her sweet breath warmed his hand. “I haven't changed my mind. Have you?” Her lips were lush, plump, pink temptation. Not waiting for her to respond, he dipped his head down and tasted them. Delicious. He needed another taste. Decadent. And another. Intoxicating.

She shifted forward, pressing her soft, curvy body against him, and he hardened. His cock strained against his pants. How he wanted to spin her around, bend her over, and take her. Hard. Right there. Right then. His thick rod would make her shiver with pleasure.

“Ohmygod,” she whispered into their joined mouths. Her little hands curled into fists, his jacket caught in them. He pushed a thigh between her legs, and she trembled. The heat of her desire burned his leg through his pants. She was so incredibly responsive. This was going to be fun. This was going to be hell. Both.

Taking advantage of her lips parting as she drew in a breath, he slipped his tongue inside to deepen the kiss. As he'd expected, she was sweet. Sweeter than any nectar, any fruit or berry. His body tightened even more. He tipped his hips, pressing his throbbing hardness against her, and wrapped his arms around her, pulling her flush to him. She fit against him perfectly, her soft femininity a perfect contrast to his hard, lean masculinity, her inexperience a perfect contrast to his wide and varied experience, her innocence a perfect contrast to his corruption.

Would he taint her by taking her? Would he ruin what was most beautiful?

“Please,” she whispered.

He broke the kiss and forced himself to step away. Studying her in the dim semi-light of the weak, yellow parking lot lights, he pulled in a deep breath. A second one.

What was he doing? What the hell was he doing? This wasn't the kind of woman he should be playing with. It wasn't fair to her. Unlike the women he met at the club, like Angela, she didn't realize what kind of depraved man he was. All she knew was that he made her tremble with need. Made her wet and hot and ready. He licked his lip. Damn, her kisses were intoxicating. Addicting. He wanted another one. And another.

Leave her. Now. Before things get out of hand and you ruin her.

“Actually . . .” His voice wavered ever so slightly as he spoke. He lifted a hand to stroke her soft cheek, but before his fingertips touched her satiny skin, he pulled it back. “I should be going. I have to work early tomorrow.”

The lips that were still swollen from his kiss puffed out in a semi-pout. “I—I understand.” Her hand shook slightly as she lifted one to finger her mouth. “I'll see you Monday. Normal time. Normal place.”

“Yes, Monday.” Placing one hand on the small of her back, he escorted her to her building's entrance, handed her the bag of food, and waited until she was safe inside before he climbed back in his truck. He cranked on the engine, hit the gas, and steered his vehicle back to the road. As if it were on autopilot, it took him to the club, which was a good thing. There was no way he'd sleep tonight without burning off some of the heat blazing through his body first.

With tension wound through every inch of his body, he strode inside. Hoping to find a new submissive—someone athletic, maybe a little brunette with a high tolerance for pain and a flexible little body—he made his way into the open dungeon space.