All He Needs (All or Nothing) (17 page)

She gave him a faint smile. “You really are on your best behavior.”

“Yeah, well”—a teasing grin—“I have plans.”

“I think we both do.” She was like ten times, maybe a thousand times, more susceptible to Dominic’s magnetism, to his charisma and allure in this bedroom, where so much of his childhood and youth were on display: in the photos on the walls, the trophies on the shelves, the collection of tin soldiers in the glass cabinet, the shelves of well-read books. He’d allowed her into his life, into his home, casually offered up his sister’s friendship. Not that he wasn’t staking ownership as well, she understood—but with a slightly pained expression and a polite smile that only made him more lovable. She wasn’t sure her independence would survive against the full onslaught of his willfulness.

But she loved him—anyway and every way.

Dominic wasn’t the only one who subscribed to a
what the fuck
philosophy.

Looking up, she took in Dominic’s raised eyebrows. He must have asked her something.

“I’m done. Is that what you wanted to know? I’ll wear whatever you want.”

“That’s not sarcasm?”

She shook her head.

“Good. So first—thank you. I really like to buy you things. I like to show you off. I can’t help it.” He smiled. “Really, thanks.”

She felt weirdly pleased when she shouldn’t, when the phrase
show you off
was seriously retro and against all her feminist convictions. “I understand feeling helpless.” She half-lifted her hand, searching for the right words. “I tell myself not to get involved. Yet here I am—involved. I’m letting you talk me into these clothes too. How’s that for helpless?”

With Kate in an accommodating mood, Dominic decided to push his luck. “Could we put that in our exclusivity contract—that I can buy you stuff when we’re together?”

Her green-eyed gaze turned guarded. “What stuff?”

“Just gifts.”

“This argument’s never going away, is it?”

“It’s a stupid argument,” he said quietly.

“Oh hell.” A sigh, a little bunny twitch of her nose, a grimace. “No jewelry, though.”

“Why not?”

“It’s too expensive.”

“We’ll toss a coin.”

She gave him a jaundiced look.

“You don’t trust me?”

“Not exactly. I’ve got a pile of luggage full of clothes and jewelry in my living room in Boston as we speak.”

“We’ll talk about it later.”

“Ohmygod!” she exclaimed, sitting up and jabbing a finger at him. “You already bought me jewelry!”

“Nothing grand.”

“Anything that’s not from Walmart is grand to me.”

“You have to broaden your horizons, baby. No shit.” Then he changed the subject because he was willing to settle for one victory at a time. He’d talk her into the jewelry later. When they were having sex.

She was a pushover after a few orgasms.

And some of the jewelry
was
for sex games.

He smiled a few moments later when she answered his question with categorical, left-brain indifference. “You decide what you want me to wear. I don’t care.”

“Now you’re talking. And by the way, it’s a real turn-on dressing you.”

“Ditto.” If his spending vast sums of money on her could be ignored, the hands-on activity of him dressing her
was
flagrantly arousing.

Her smile was really hot and sexy. He almost gave in to temptation, until he glanced at the clock. “Are you going to get out of bed or should I come get you?”

She patted the bed. “Why don’t you come here.”

He reluctantly shook his head. “No can do. We don’t have that kind of time.”

“When do we have to be there?”

“In fifteen minutes.”

“You mean we could have been making ourselves happy in bed instead of arguing? Why didn’t you say something?”

“It’s hard to read you sometimes, baby. I’m doing my best.”

“Hmmph.”

“We’ll be back in a couple hours. Or if you get hard up we can go into one of Melanie’s bathrooms and lock the door.”

A wide-eyed look. “I don’t think so.”

“Just saying.”

“I hope you’re not saying you’ve done that before at your sister’s.”

His face was impassive. “I’m just trying to be helpful.”

“It might be more helpful if you put on some clothes. You look too damn scrumptious standing there.”

He dressed in under three minutes like he always did, pulling on boxers and black jeans, shrugging into a black cashmere V-neck sweater, then jerking on socks and black suede lace-up boots, smoothly tying them with a few economical twists of his fingers.

She didn’t know if a dressed Dominic was any better. It was almost impossible not to drool at such sexiness. He was extraordinarily handsome dressed all in black, dark, intense, sensual, a graphic novel kind of hero, unequivocally hard-edged and powerful. His longer hair was the same style he wore in most of the surfing photos that cluttered the room. One huge, colored photo covered an entire wall. Dominic was in the pocket of a powerful wave, riding the face in a fluid turn, the white-capped lip so high it dwarfed him, and even from a distance, even racing against the thundering blast of water churning behind him, you could see his beautiful, wide smile.

“You surf much?” she asked, pointing to the photo. “Or is that in the past?”

“I do when I have time. But that was one of my more
awesome days,” he said, grinning. “In Hawaii. The beach had been blackballed because the waves were so dangerous. But that just means you have to ride the wave hard core, no fear. Everyone crashed that day except me. I iced that kamikaze wave, Gerry caught me on camera, and there it is. One of my better memories.”

“You look young.”

He pursed his lips for a second. “I must have been fifteen or sixteen—no, sixteen—I was living here already. I bought this place so I could be near Melanie. I helped baby-sit her first two kids before I went to college.”

“Can you do that?”

“What?”

“Live on your own at sixteen.”

He shrugged. “I never asked. Melanie signed for me. It worked out.”

As Kate bit back the dozen prying questions crowding her brain, Dominic tapped his watch. “Enough memory lane shit,” he said. “We should get you dressed.” He held out the clothes draped over his arm. “Although, if you want, there’s still enough time for me to give you a little prize for being so nice.”

She smiled. “Am I nice?”

“Nicer than anyone I know,” he said softly, his eyes half-lidded, a ghost of a smile on his lips.

A hot current of need ran up her spine. She’d seen that look before. “Tell me I don’t have to talk to your mother,” she said quickly, rising from the bed, her heart fluttering against her ribs. She refused to melt into a puddle of lust on cue.

“Don’t worry,” he said calmly, as if he hadn’t registered her reaction. “I don’t
want
you talking to my mother. She’s troublesome,” he added dryly.

Coming to a stop before him, Kate tipped her head back and grinned. “You’re way too good to me. Life’s strange isn’t it?” Her voice went soft. “How we met, how I can’t live without you”—she smiled—“at least for long.”

“It’s good strange, babe. And it’s the same for me… your absence tears me up.” He almost said,
You have to sign the exclusivity contract
, but caught himself. Time enough in the morning to begin that battle. “Lift your arms now. We’re on the clock.”

Loss of control aside, when it came to pure gratification, she had to admit that having Dominic dress her was right up there with Venezuelan chocolate and winning the lottery. The act itself was tender, affectionate, impossibly erotic. And in her current mood of complete, utter adoration, Kate glanced at the shimmering midnight-green-velvet long-sleeved, scoop-neck blouse Dominic was holding and said, “Should I wear a bra?”

“I wasn’t going to ask.”

“Should I?”

“You might be more comfortable.”

“It’s not about me being comfortable.” She smiled. “Are you worried about your mother?”

He shook his head. “That’s useless. There’s no pleasing her. But I don’t like other men looking at my tits. You know that.”

“Yours?” Her voice was teasing.

“Yes. Mine.” Not a scintilla of teasing in either word.

She shouldn’t feel a hot, sexy rush flood through her senses when he spoke like he owned her. Taking a small breath to tamp down her desire, she tried to speak in a normal tone. “I suppose you have some bras here.”

“I suppose I do.”

She waved her hand at the walk-in closet, a great variety of women’s clothes visible on the racks. “How do you do this on short notice?”

“Phone.” From Paris. But he left that unsaid.

“And everyone scurries.”

“They don’t mind. They’re paid well.”

“I suppose you have a bra in a matching color.”

“I expect so. Should we look?”

He found a dark green lace bra in a drawer of bras and held it out for her while she slid in her arms and turned her back to him.

Reaching around her, he slipped her breasts into the lacy cups, slid his fingers up the straps to smooth them over her shoulders, hooked the bra, and bent to kiss her shoulder. “Maybe you won’t need a maid. Maybe I’ll always dress you,” he whispered, his fully clothed body pressing into her back, his fingers slipping over her shoulders and downward to the swell of her breasts. “Would you like that?”

Suffused with desire, Dominic’s powerful body and gentle touch stirring her senses, his sweet comments affecting her susceptible heart, she leaned back into his solid warmth and nodded because tears were welling in her throat.

“Hey, baby. We can’t have you crying,” he whispered, beginning to recognize her moments of silence. He turned her in his arms. “You’ll mess up your nonexistent mascara.”

She giggled.

“That’s my girl,” he grinned. “We gotta get moving,” he said, stepping back. “Oh Christ.” He almost took her bra off again she looked so goddamn sexy with her pale breasts in high plump mounds above the scalloped cups. He almost gave in to temptation and had the clock not inopportunely chimed the quarter hour, he would have. Instead, he sucked in a breath, grabbed the velvet top, and quickly slid it over her head and down her arms. Adjusting the scoop neckline bordered in beaded glitter, he smoothed the delicate velvet down her rib cage.

“I can’t decide about panties,” he said.

“I can tell it’s a family party.”

“You’re right. Panties tonight.” He leaned over and smoothly slid two fingers into her succulent sex. “But I promised you one for the road. Interested?” When she didn’t answer other than to clutch his shoulders, he whispered, “That must be a yes.” Gracefully dropping to his knees, he spread her legs wider with a little nudge of his free hand, then leaned forward and added his tongue to his fingers, licking and sucking her clit while he lazily stroked her pulsing tissue, deep and slow, in a gentle ebb and flow, or side to side, or more forcefully and compellingly at times—his virtuoso skills well honed. Practice makes perfect was not just an idle phrase for Dominic Knight.

Kate’s world narrowed to soft, lambent sensation, to touch and feel, to the exquisite cadence and rhythm of Dominic’s fingers, to the benevolent performance of his mouth and tongue. To a simmering, seething, increasingly frantic delirium as he scissored his fingers open inside her
for better access, reached for her G-spot, and licked it like a lollipop.

She captured his head in a viselike grip, wanting to preserve the intoxicating pressure, the wild, fierce glory, whimpering as flame-hot rapture ravished her senses, spiked through her core, left her quivering in limbo.

He drew his head back fractionally. “Ready, babe?”

Did she have to answer? Could she find the breath to answer? What if she couldn’t? She struggled to speak.

“It’s okay, Katherine,” he said gently. “I’ve got this.” Carefully forcing in a third finger, he slowly slid it in palm deep, until she was gorged, until every sleek bit of tissue was stirred and stretched, throbbing in time to the frantic beat of her heart. Then he dipped his head, recaptured the small nub of her clit, and sucked with tender, exquisite restraint.

She instantly climaxed with a familiar unbridled scream.

He smiled; there was no faking it with Katherine. Careful not to move his fingers, he waited until she slowly opened her eyes. “Satisfactory?” He glanced up from under his lashes.

She sighed and unflexed her fingers clamped in his hair. “As in completely mind-blowing, Mr. Knight.”

“Good to hear, Miss Hart,” he replied politely, sliding his fingers out, coming to his feet, touching his fingertips to his mouth. “Ummm… nice. If we weren’t going out, I’d leave your mark on me, but”—he gestured at a comfortable chair—“sit for a minute. I’ll be right back.”

Dropping into the soft, cushiony chair upholstered in a sunny, surfing motif fabric, Kate basked in a warm post-orgasmic haze while the sound of running water echoed
from the bathroom. Even when Dominic returned, she didn’t move. “Sorry,” she murmured. “I’m on pause.” She smiled at him. “My body’s in overload.”

“You’ll have time to wind down at the party. Then you’ll be ready again.” He grinned. “Because we’re on vacation.”

“Is that what a vacation means? Nonstop screwing?”

“I’ve never taken a vacation before. But nonstop screwing is definitely on my agenda with you. I hope you don’t mind?”

“And if I did?”

He glanced at her, flashed a smile. “I’d have to change your mind.”

“Oh, God,” she groaned, instantly tight and hot with longing, the undeniable power of his soft intimidation frightening—and recklessly compelling. “How do you do it? I’ve never been like this before, insatiable, constantly horny, seriously oversexed.”

“There’s no such thing as oversexed.”

Her brows shot up. “For you maybe.”

He smiled. “Then I can teach you. But not right now.” There were very few people in his life he chose to please, but Melanie had always been at the top of his list. “We gotta get out of here in the next few minutes.” Squatting between her legs with the effortless ease of killer muscles in perfect harmony, he wiped her sex with a washcloth, threw the wet cloth into the bathroom, then slipped on her a scrap of green lace that functioned as panties and a pair of black, skinny, cropped-leg jeans. That she was still in a minor trance didn’t deter him; he lifted her effortlessly, zipped and buttoned, said, “Perfect,” softly once, giving her a pat on her knee, then stood and disappeared into the closet.