Bound to Please (11 page)

She bristled. “I’m not the controlled priss you seem to think I am.”

He gave her a bone-melting grin. “Oh, baby. I know you’re not. I knew that last weekend when you had me between your legs. I still have scratches on my shoulders from your nails.”

Her cheeks burned as she reached over to turn up the air-conditioning.

“You hot, baby?”

“I’m not your baby. Or anything else.”

“But you did wear a dress for me.”

“It wasn’t for you. I always wear dresses.” She left out the fact that she never wore dresses on Sundays.

“And what about the panties? I hope you followed that direction as well.”

God, for such an expensive car, the air-conditioning really needed some help.

“Ruby?”

“Of course I’m wearing my underwear!” She didn’t mention that she’d been tempted to follow his orders, but she just couldn’t bring herself to do it. She tugged the hem of her dress lower.

He shook his head in that way of his—the way that let her know she was in trouble.

She needed to change the subject again, and now that she finally had him cornered, she wanted a definite answer about James Cleaver’s event. “So, Mark, I was wondering if we could discuss the Spring Fling—that’s what we’re calling it, by the way.”

“Shoot.”

She turned to face him, watched his long legs as he shifted into a higher gear, pulling them onto Highway 1. She swallowed; why did just watching the way he controlled the car heighten her awareness like this?

She said, “Can I get a confirmation from you?” She really needed him to say yes. James had sent her the guest list, and it included some very impressive potential clients. She needed to wow them.

“What’s the company again?” Mark asked.

“Boxware. Maybe you’ve heard of them?”

“Um, yeah. I’m young and a musician, but I’m not stupid.”

She felt her face flush, but this time from embarrassment. “Sorry. Anyway, the founder is a guy named James Cleaver. He’s young, hip, and very into keeping his employees happy. He’s a wonderful man.”

“Is that so.”

She nodded. “So are you interested?”

“Possibly.”

“Great. Right. Talk to the band. Get back to me.” She tried not to sound overly eager.

“Actually, I think I can speak for the band and agree—”

“Wonderful!”

“Under one condition.”

“What?” she asked skeptically.

“You take off your panties.”

She gasped. “I’m not going to take off my underwear for a job!” She knew she should be outraged. He was, after all, using sex to get his way. But instead she felt a buzz of excitement shoot through her.

“Oh no?”

“No.” She hoped she sounded convincing.

He shrugged. “Up to you.”

Crossing her arms over her chest, she stared straight ahead. She needed to convince Mark to play at the Spring Fling, but was he really going to agree only if she obeyed him? And if she did obey him, what did that make her?

Instead, she focused on the coastline whizzing past the window. The two-lane road hugged a cliff, at the bottom of which the Pacific Ocean crashed against rocks and sandy beaches. The sun was just starting to set, lighting up the ocean in an orange-and-yellow blaze.

They passed a marina, and she couldn’t help it—her gaze darted among the sailboats, searching for forty-foot craft with the word
Ruby
painted on the bow with big, scrolling letters. But of course, there was no boat. Twenty years had passed since she’d waved good-bye to her father as he’d sailed for the South Pacific. Problem was, Hawaii hadn’t been enough. He’d kept going. And Ruby had kept waiting.

“You’re a jerk.”

Mark slanted a glance her way. “Pardon me?”

“Using sex as an advantage over me. It’s disrespectful and unfair.”

He slanted a grin at her that made her stomach do a flip. “You seem to have a strange attachment to your underwear.”

“I do not!”

“First during the show, now tonight. What do you think will happen if you go without underwear for a few hours, anyway?”

“That’s not the point!”

“Just seems like a funny thing to get all uppity over. You know damn well your panties are coming off at some point tonight. Why not now? Then we both get what we want.”

“Just because I let you
you know what
me one time does not make you my boss. Or my dom.”

“You weren’t complaining last weekend.”

“I thought I’d never see you again. I told you, that was—”

“An aberration. I know.”

“You are a very frustrating man.”

Reaching over, he lightly touched her thigh. She jumped at the warm contact, hating the way it sent tingles down her leg. “Come on, baby. I’ll play this show, all you have to do is take off your underwear.”

“You want me without my underwear? Fine.” She pulled the lace down her legs, over her sandals, shoved them into the glove box, and slammed the thing shut.

Glaring at him, she settled back into her seat. “There. Happy now? See you at the Spring Fling.”

“That’s a good girl. Funny thing, though.”

“What’s that?”

“Looks like you locked the glove box. And I don’t have the key.”

Mark handed the Ferrari keys to the valet at the Ritz. The luxury resort was located on a dramatic piece of coastline in Half Moon Bay. Reluctantly, Ruby took his hand as he led her to the front steps.

The girl was on edge. With her neat hairdo, prim dress, and shiny clutch, she was sensibility personified. The only thing that gave away her sexy side was the strappy heels on her dainty feet.

He wondered what happened to that girl he’d met nine days ago. Now she had a wall around her ten feet thick. So much different from that woman who’d melted in his arms on the patio.

But it was all a facade. There was a connection between them, nearly tangible, and he knew it wouldn’t take much to have her belonging to him once again.

He was known for his patience, but he’d been waiting for this all week, and their time apart felt like the longest foreplay ever. He was ready to explode.

They entered the grand lobby of the Ritz, but instead of heading for the restaurant, Mark pulled her into a side hallway.

“Mark, what are you doing?”

“This.” He pressed her back against a wall and kissed her. It took all of two seconds before she started kissing him back, wrapping his neck in her cool hand and holding him steady. Her little tongue tasted him, gently at first and then more eagerly. Yes… here she was, here was that girl who’d given herself to him last week.

He pressed his hips against her, showing her exactly how much she turned him on. His cock was hard and heavy, and for a moment he considered just booking a room, ordering room service, and spending the night fucking her senseless.

Instead he continued to kiss her, running his hands through her hair, trickily loosening the strands of her ponytail so he could bury his fists in the silky black waves.

When he pulled away he was happy to see a small smile on her face. It was her first one of the night; score one for team St. Crow.

She put a hand to her head. “What did you do to my hair?”

“I like it down.”

“It’s a mess.”

“It’s perfect.” He heard the sounds of footsteps so he stepped back. Blushing, Ruby looked to the side, her silhouette casual, as the strangers passed them.

When the intruders had gone, he brought the back of her wrist to his lips and kissed it. Her skin tasted sweet and decadent, like chocolate. “You know you can trust me to never push you too far in public. I need you to trust me, Ruby.”

She looked at him for what seemed like forever before she shook her head in apparent wonderment. “Yes. Somehow I do know that I can trust you. I must be crazy.”

“No. You just like what I do to you, don’t you?”

“You mean make me question my sanity? Actually, no. Not so much,” she said, and then she laughed, a nervous little chuckle that made his cock twitch.

“You’re not questioning your sanity. You’re questioning your intense need to give yourself over to me.”

“You forget that I was with a bondage expert for nearly a year. I’m not some novice groupie.”

He leaned closer. “Tell me. How do we compare? Me and
him
? Now that you’ve had a glimpse of true surrender, what do you think?”

He saw the struggle in her eyes and wondered if she would answer him. But then she shrugged. “I like it. With you, you cocky bastard. It scares me how much I like it.”

“Aw, sweetheart.” He brought her into his arms. “No need to be scared. You trust me, remember?”

She laughed against his chest. “I barely know you.”

But when she said the words, he realized he wanted that all to change; he wanted to get to know her. But fuck. He didn’t want to hurt her, not Ruby. The very nature of his life meant he’d spent a total of twenty nights at home in the past two years, which was, frankly, just fine with him. It was a very handy excuse when it came to relationships.
Sorry, babe. See you next time around.
But now he had a hard time picturing himself saying those words to Ruby.

And these feelings? Lust could run deep, but he knew it didn’t last. What lasted was the music, and when you sacrificed one for the other, it never turned out well. That was a lesson he’d learned early on. His dad only needed a few beers to start reminiscing about the “good old days” before he’d settled down. Or rather, been forced to settle down. A wife, a kid. A “real” job.

“Come on,” he said, taking Ruby’s hand. “I’m starving. Let’s eat.”

“What’s this?” Inside the dining room of the Ritz, they’d been led to a table with the best view of the Pacific Ocean, and after Mark had pulled out her chair, she’d sat down to discover a small box at her place setting.

A small box that happened to be a very unique shade of robin’s-egg blue. Her pulse jumped with a feminine excitement she couldn’t tamp down. “Is this for me?”

He looked almost sheepish as he dropped his napkin onto his lap. “I don’t see any other girls around.”

She was quite sure her smile must have been downright goofy, but she couldn’t hide it. “This is a Tiffany’s box,” she said, stating the obvious but unable to say anything else.

“Yeah, I hear girls like this kinda thing.”

“Yeah. They do,” she said, her smile stretching even wider.

“Go on, open it,” he said, as if he’d given her something as trivial as a newspaper.

Her fingers hovered over the shiny ribbon as she glanced up. “Are you sure?”

“Just open it.”

Slowly, drawing out the moment, she undid the little bow and pulled the ribbon aside. Then she delicately separated the lid from the box and pulled out yet another velvet case. Her heart beating wildly in her chest, she opened the small box.

With a gasp, she glanced up. “What’s this?”

A dainty silver chain sparkled against the blue velvet lining, coming to a V in the center, where a small pendant dangled. “It’s a lock,” she said as nerves took flight in her belly.

“A
diamond-covered
lock. ’Cause I’m classy that way,” he said with a wink.

“W-what does it mean?”

He took the box from her hands, got to his feet, and came around to stand behind her. “It means that, whenever you wear it, you’re mine.”

Her heart thudded in her chest. She wanted to wear it, and not just because it was a gorgeous piece of jewelry from Tiffany’s. No, there was more. She wanted to be owned, by Mark. Sure, it was just a fantasy, and a fantasy that seemed so very wrong, but she couldn’t help it, and knowing it was temporary somehow made it okay.

Behind her, his hands were warm on her skin as he pulled her hair aside and fastened the necklace. “It’s not a real lock, you know. There’s not a key. You can take it off any time.”

“Well, I guess I can wear it,” she said, lightly stroking the pendant now hanging between her collarbones. “Tonight.”

He pressed his lips to the nape of her neck, and then his teeth nipped gently at her cherry blossom tattoo. “Good girl.”

Trying to calm her racing heart, she looked for a menu. “I don’t have a menu. Or any silverware. You’d think in a place like this, they could give a girl a knife and a fork.” God, she sounded like such a dork, but she couldn’t seem to stop babbling.

“You don’t need a knife or a fork, not tonight.”

She looked up to find Mark giving her one of those heart-stopping grins of his. The one that usually meant he was up to something.

“Actually, I do. To, you know. Eat?”

“Trust me.”

She rolled her eyes, wondering what the man had up his sleeve. He seemed to have ordered ahead of time, because a bottle of champagne had been chilled and poured, and then a waiter approached, holding a tray.

“Shrimp cocktail.” The server placed a large glass in front of her. The inside of the glass was filled with red sauce, and five large prawns hugged the rim.

“This looks divine.” She looked up. “Aren’t you going to eat?”

His eyes were dark, unreadable. “I think I’ll just watch you for now.”

Shrugging, she picked up a prawn and dipped it into the cocktail sauce. Then she brought it to her lips and took a large bite. The shrimp flesh was salty, like the sea. The red sauce was perfectly spicy and set off the subtle flavor of the seafood. Blissful. She looked up again and saw that Mark was watching her eat, studying her. She licked a drop of sauce off her lips.

“You missed a spot,” he said, reaching across the table. He dabbed the corner of her mouth with his fingertip, then slowly, gently, ran the pad of his fingertip over her lips.

The entire time he held eye contact with her and didn’t look away. And she didn’t want him to. She wanted to look him in the eye as she sucked his finger, as she’d done the other night. It was insane, how easily he excited her.

“
Under My Thumb.” Her mother had always hated that song, said it was degrading to women. And yet she’d been totally infatuated with Ruby’s father, so much so that she would literally follow him to the ends of the earth. Ruby would never be so emotionally dependent on a man. Ever.

“Ruby,” he said, and she snapped out of it.

“What?”