Girl Gear 5: Wicked Games (27 page)

"Hello," Kinsey said, more meekly than she'd intended, definitely more meekly than one would expect from a woman wearing stilettos and velvet lingerie. She held out her hand. "Kinsey Gray."

He waited for an excruciatingly intense moment before he took her hand in his. "Marcus West. It's a pleasure to finally meet you."

She tilted her head, frowned, her heart pitter-pattering. "You're Doug's client."

Marcus nodded, smiled,
moved
his hands to his waist. The tails of his suit coat flared out behind him like bat wings. She wondered if he'd come to sweep her away to his cave. "I'm also his proxy."

"His what?" she asked, though alarm bells rang in her head and she knew. She knew! Doug might not be here for her, but he'd made damn sure no other man would have her. Did he plan on doing the same thing for the rest of her life?

"I guess I should've padded the bid," Marcus said, stepping closer to block her view of the rest of the crowd. Not a hard feat at all with the shoulders he had. "Made the man suffer for his sins."

"Doug put you up to this?" she asked in a whisper, having lost most of her voice.

"Yes, ma'am."

"Wait. What sins?" she asked, because that accusation was the only thing stuck in her spinning head.

"The sin of even thinking about moving away from
Houston
and leaving you behind."

Chapter 13

«
^

I
zzy paced the office at
Paddington's
Ford in bare feet, still wearing her auction costume, still denying what had happened out there.

Joseph Baron had bought and paid for her, and done so with a lot of hard-earned money. Exactly how hard he'd had to work to earn it and exactly what
that work
had entailed was the question that had her hackles raised.

He'd better get his ass back in here fast, and clear up what she prayed was a problem with a simple solution. She refused to be in love with a man who wouldn't come clean.

The thought brought her careening to a stop. She leaned back against the wall and closed her eyes, trying to remember the mechanics of breathing before she passed out flat.

In love? With Joseph Baron? After knowing the man for a month? Oh, not good. Not good at all. How could this be happening? And why now, when she felt so many things in her life finally settling into place?

Oh, wait. Oh, no. She rolled her head back and forth against the wall. She wasn't going to believe it. She couldn't, she wouldn't.

He was not, she repeated,
not
responsible for the satisfaction she'd been experiencing lately. Not at all. She was too smart, too independent to allow a man's influence to change her ways.

The idea that what she was feeling was due to the time she'd spent with Baron, the conversations they'd had, his insight into her psyche and the way he so calmly, so thoroughly pointed out the forest she couldn't see for the trees, was too frightening to entertain.

No. He couldn't be. He couldn't be. She buried her face in her hands.

A firm knock sounded on the door at the same time it swung inward. "Isabel?"

Her heart beat so hard in her ears it was a wonder she was still able to hear his beautifully deep and rich voice. "In here."

Baron pushed the door open fully and stepped into the small office, stealing half the space and at least that much of her air. She crossed her arms over her chest, holding herself still.

She needed answers and needed them now. Now, before she let go and crossed the room to wrap
herself
in the strength of his will and his body.

He closed the door, locked it and leaned back, hands behind him, feet crossed at the ankles. His pullover polo shirt was a crisp, sharp black, his stonewashed jeans tight on his thick thighs. His sex was thick, as well—not aroused, but thick, she noted, forcing herself to look elsewhere.

That brought her back to his face, to eyes that were dark and inquisitive, to a mouth that wasn't smiling. She wanted to see him smiling. She wanted to feel his kiss.

But it was best that they get this over with while the mood between them was as uncertain as her acceptance of her feelings. "Where did you get the money?"

He stared for a moment,
then
barked out a laugh, although his eyes remained stern. "You're kidding me, right? That's the first thing you have to say to me?"

It wasn't the first thing; it was just easier to ask than the question she really wanted answered. "I know what an EMT makes. You spend that kind of money to buy
me,
I can't help but wonder what you want in return."

His dark eyes darkened further. "What makes you think I want anything?"

"Don't you? Isn't that what this is about?" She brought up her chin in a challenge and moved away from the wall. "That was a big donation, Joseph Baron. All I'm asking is if you intended to buy more than my body. If you thought for that price you'd have a say in my life the way everyone in my family thinks they do."

He pushed himself away from the door and walked toward her. His presence was large and intimidating in the confined space. Izzy didn't know him well enough to say for certain, but she had a feeling he was not always a gentle man.

"You're not indebted to me, Isabel. I'm here because I want to be with you. If I thought I had to pay for that privilege, I wouldn't have come."

"But you did pay."

"I made a donation."

"That was not a donation, Baron. That was—"

"The price of keeping you out of another man's arms. And damn well worth it."

Shaking her head, she backed up to the edge of the desk. "The date with the winning bidder wasn't serious. It was all about raising the building funds."

"I wasn't willing to take that chance." Leaning forward, he planted his hands flat on the desk on either side of her hips. "I'm staking my claim, Isabel."

Her chest heaved mightily as she strove to breathe; her breasts threatened to spill over the top of the camisole. He was so close, so very close. "Your claim?"

It was the only thing she could articulate, what with the way her mind was reeling.

He nodded and moved in closer until his lips were stroking softly along the line of her jaw and her chin. "I want you."

She squeezed her eyes shut and tried to resist the temptation of letting him have his way. "And you're thinking your sizable donation guarantees you can have me?"

"The only thing my donation guarantees is that a house is going to be rebuilt a lot sooner than otherwise," he said, even while he moved his finger, just that one finger, to the edge of her bodice and caressed the swell of both breasts.

Back and forth went his finger, over one firm orb and then the other. His touch was soft, his skin not quite so, his intent hard to ascertain. So she looked down and watched, seeing the contrast of the lemon yellow silk with her skin, which was darker than his.

"I'll tell you what, Isabel. We'll make this easy. I'll go after what I want. If it's something you don't want me to have, then you tell me to stop."

At that, she looked up at his face—only to find his focus drawn to that place where they touched. She wanted to believe him, to believe that he had no interest in directing her choices or decisions, but only in being with her. "You make it sound so simple."

"Why borrow trouble when there's already too much to be had?" He dipped his finger beneath the edge of the garment and grazed her hardening nipple. "I'm here for you. I think we've got something going on that's worth looking into. But if you don't want me here, if you don't agree, tell me and I'll go."

"How do I know—
"

"Faith, Isabel. Trust. Let me earn it … not with donations, but with what I say. And what I do."

And then he lowered his head and opened his mouth over her camisole-covered breast, sucking her into his mouth, where his tongue swirled and teased.

She watched it all until it became impossible to do more than feel. That was when she tossed her head back and closed her eyes, moving her hands to his shoulders for the support she felt slipping away.

When he freed her, she glanced back in time to brace herself, grabbing his forearms as he took hold of her waist and lifted her to sit on the desk. She spread her legs; he moved between, bunching up her flowing skirt and settling his big bad hands on her bare thighs.

She hissed back a sizzling breath right before his head came down and his mouth covered hers. His kiss was as hard as his body, as fine as the man he was. She circled his neck with both arms, circled his waist with both legs and kissed him back.

His lips were magic, his tongue sweeping into her mouth and sharing his taste, which she loved. Beneath her hands, his neck was thick and strong. Beneath her bare heels, his ass was firm and solid, and suddenly she couldn't stand the barrier of clothing between them. Or what clothing Baron wore, because she certainly had little to get out of the way, as his hands were discovering, having moved up her thighs to the crease of her hip and the elastic leg of her high-cut panties.

She jerked her mouth free and pleaded, "Baron, please,
stop
."

He eased his head away; his sharp-eyed gaze bored into hers. He'd done as she'd asked, stopped the kiss as well as the seeking caress of his fingers. She had to fix this and quickly.

"Baron?" She locked her legs even tighter around his waist.

"Isabel?" His fingers remained pressed into the crease of her thigh.

"It's hard for me, to let someone new into my life. Someone who doesn't come from the same place that I do."

"You mean someone with my background," he growled.

She hurriedly shook her head. "It's not that. It's just that with my family, I know to expect busybody interference, advice I didn't ask for, don't want and don't need. Mamma and Gramma Fred love me, yes. But I'm tired of fighting their beliefs and their insistence on how I live my life."

She sensed him backing away and knew she had to hurry through her explanation, which suddenly seemed ridiculous when she thought about
who
it was she was explaining herself to here. "I want to be wanted for who I am, faults and all, not for who I have the potential to be with a nip here and a tuck there."

Baron didn't say a word, but neither did he stop her from going on. As if he knew she had this huge need to get all of these feelings off her chest.

"I respect Mamma and Gramma Fred, and know my ways are not their ways. We're three generations and have seen a lot of change. The clashes we have from time to time are to be expected." She gave herself permission to indulge in a private smile. "You should've heard Gramma Fred when I cut my hair and started working on my dreads."

He smiled then. "Now that I can imagine."

Izzy glanced up into his eyes, laid her palm to his cheek. "It's different, being with a man, a new man, a man I have only started to know, and not being sure—"

He captured her hand in his own. "Are you afraid of me, Isabel?"

Oh, yes. Oh, yes, she was, and she nodded.

"Because you think I'm going to want you to change?"

"Because I don't know. And I'm already so crazy about you that I don't think I can hold myself back."

A broad smile broke over his face. "I wouldn't be here if I wanted you to be anyone other than exactly who you are."

"Are you sure? I mean—"

"Shh." He silenced her with a finger pressed to her lips. "Faith, Isabel. Trust. And, yeah. I know if we hook up here, I'll be seeing a lot of the inside of your
uncle
Leonard's church."

"And you're okay with that?"

"We can all use a spiritual kick in the pants now and again."

"Leonard delivers a good one."

His smile widened, and he moved his hand to rub a thumb along her cheekbone before he cupped the back of her neck and held her still. "You better now?"

She nodded. "I think so. And I'm sorry for spoiling the mood."

"Ah, Isabel. You didn't spoil a damn thing," he said before he brought his mouth back down to hers.

His kiss was solid and hard, and he filled her mouth with the taste of his tongue and that of her freedom. He swept her away until she knew nothing more than the feel of his hands roaming her body and the need to shed her clothes.

Instead of reaching up to cup her hands around his face, or to wrap her arms around his neck, or to hold him by his broad shoulders and pull him close, she grabbed the hem of her camisole and pulled it over her head.

Her breasts bounced; her nipples tightened in the cool air and beneath the heat of his gaze. Then they tightened further as he began to suck, his hands making their way beneath her skirt again until he managed to slip one long finger under the elastic of her panties and into the wet and swollen folds of her sex.

She tossed back her head and cried out, leaning her weight on her palms first, and then her elbows as she lowered herself to the desk. Her legs remained wrapped around Baron's waist—at least until he moved back and away and held them braced against his thick thighs.