Breathe (2 page)

If she did, would he understand that—more than anything—she yearned for a man who would be strong enough to take control for her?

Samantha started to speak, then shut her mouth tight as the rational part of her brain took over. She couldn’t even admit these desires out loud to herself . . . she certainly wasn’t about to tell them to a stranger.

No matter that the stranger was the most gorgeous man she’d ever seen.

“I’m Samantha.” Swallowing back everything she wanted to say, she gave him the big smile that she used on the rare occasions when she poked her head outside her studio. Her name seemed to break the heavy tension between them, but the slight cock of his eyebrow hinted that he knew there was something else she wanted to say.

Then he took her hand in his, encasing her fingers in the heat of his palm, and she forgot all about trying to keep her thoughts to herself. The simple touch, the way he rubbed his thumb over the curves of her own palm, sent sizzles shooting through her arm.

If he wanted her, he could have her. It wouldn’t even occur to her to say no.
Wait—where did that come from?

“Elijah Masterson,” he said, continuing to stroke his fingers over her hand, his eyes telling her that he wanted exactly the same thing she did. Overwhelmed by his sensual touch, she didn’t register the name right away. After a beat, the light went on in her mind.

Elijah Masterson. His gorgeous face, with that devil-may-care grin, had been on the front page of the local paper several weeks earlier, for an interview about the erotic-art show he’d been putting together for his resort.

His
resort. Indulgencia.

Good Lord, this man owned the entire place.

“Oh, ah, I mean . . .” Samantha tried to tug her hand free. She should escape this encounter while she could. But she felt she should thank Elijah for accepting her piece into his show, although that would mean admitting it was hers.

“What brought you here tonight, Samantha?” Elijah gave her fingers a firm squeeze that spread through her body before he let her tug her hand away. Those bright blue eyes stayed focused on her as if she were the most interesting woman he’d ever come across.

“I . . . I don’t know.” The lie left her feeling uneasy. The sculpture had just been the first piece to the puzzle. Once her work had been accepted into the resort’s exhibit, she’d longed to know more about the erotic-art scene. From there she had made some subtle inquiries, asking around to see if anyone knew what exactly went on at Devorar, the club inside the upscale hotel. She’d looked online to educate herself, entering every search term imaginable, since she wasn’t entirely certain what it was she was looking for.

Yes, she’d been curious to see what her sculpture looked like on display, wanted to see if its sensuality still shone when surrounded by the more overtly sexual pieces that made up this showing. But more than that, she’d thought she might get a glimpse into the lifestyle that had started to fascinate her so much.

Apart from the wildly suggestive art, however, there was nothing there that suggested anything other than opulence and luxury. She wasn’t sure what she’d been hoping for—waiters in leather chaps? some whips and chains?—but none of Devorar’s secrets were revealed in the posh lobby of Indulgencia.

“Don’t lie.” Elijah’s tone was stern. Startled, Samantha looked up into his eyes. He didn’t appear angry, but the look on his face made her feel guiltier than if he had been. “Tell me why you’re here.”

Samantha couldn’t quite work up the courage to speak. She began to tremble with nerves, thinking about what to say, and was exasperated with herself for the anxiety.

With it came an unbidden memory, a face from her past. The man in her mind’s eye was old enough to be her grandfather, with salt-and-pepper hair and cold, dark eyes. But he too had been rich, and commanding.

She was her own woman, and wanted to think she was strong enough to live her life the way she wanted, without painful memories overshadowing things. But the truth was, she just didn’t know if she’d wind up hating herself for what she wanted.

“You won’t find any judgment from me, kitten.”

Samantha gaped for a moment.
Kitten
? He’d called her
kitten
?

She’d just been insulted. She should have felt insulted.

She didn’t.

“I . . . I’m curious,” she finally admitted, feeling her cheeks flush the same color as the wine she was drinking. “I’ve heard about Devorar and I . . . I thought someone here might have some answers for me.”

“Answers to what questions, Samantha?” As he’d promised, there was no censure in Elijah’s tone. Instead there was heat—enough that Samantha felt herself start to burn as the flush spread from her cheeks through the rest of her body.

But she froze as thoughts of her mother came wending their way into her mind. Another reason she had held herself back from going after what she wanted.

Her mother’s . . . vices . . . had nearly ruined her daughters’ lives. If Samantha weakened, gave up control, was she any better?

“I . . . I think I’d better go.” Closing her eyes against Elijah’s penetrating stare, Samantha pressed her hands to her temples and turned away. It was tempting, so tempting, to give in to what she was quite certain she wanted.

But the memory of her mother’s mistakes was a reminder that giving in to temptation could lead to disastrous results. No matter how much she felt this need, deep in her very core, she shouldn’t have come here.

“Samantha.” Elijah’s voice was firm as Samantha began to walk away. She turned back halfway, not enough to see the gorgeous man again, but enough that she was confronted with her own work of art.

The sensual visual overwhelmed her senses and made her ache.

“Come back anytime.” There was a note of concern in Elijah’s voice that made Samantha hesitate. Not all men were like the ones who’d flitted in and out of her mother’s life. Rationally she knew that.

But this man was gorgeous, wealthy as sin, and likely into some very kinky things, given that he had opened a BDSM club in his resort. That was enough danger to send Samantha running, even as she nodded, acknowledging his offer.

Even though, rather than walk away, she found herself wanting to tangle her fingers in that messy golden hair. Wanting to tilt her head up to receive his kiss.

She said nothing, though she felt his penetrating stare on her back as he watched her. It caused heat to simmer low in her belly, a sensation she’d never felt before.

The sensation didn’t abate, not even as she exited the resort and walked to her car, a ramshackle bucket of bolts she’d purchased two years earlier, when she’d first moved to Mexico. She sighed as she slid into the driver’s seat, the image of Elijah’s sexy-as-sin face and his interest in her warring in her mind with the memories of that other man.

Samantha twisted her lips together as she put the key into the ignition and turned.

It was going to be a long night.

•   •   •

E
lijah was puzzled and horny as hell.

He had been part of the BDSM lifestyle for a long time, and over the years he had become incredibly adept at reading people, especially women. The slender goddess of a redhead walking away from him had looked him directly in the eyes, then had steeled herself and walked away.

Elijah wasn’t overly caught up in himself, but he had never lacked for a woman when he wanted one. That woman, Samantha, had clearly come here looking for something. Yet the fact that she had walked away from him was not suggestive of someone with a naturally submissive personality.

And yet something about her pulled at him, made him yearn. He’d learned the hard way that he needed someone who was truly submissive to make him happy, and in the years since his divorce he had trained himself not to even look twice at a woman who didn’t meet that one particular criterion.

But the combination of sass and fragility in this particular woman—Samantha—very nearly had him running after her.

When the application for the stunning green sculpture currently showcased in his exhibit had come in, he’d been immediately entranced. It was innately sexual, the artistic expression colored with a dark need. When he’d seen it in person he’d become nearly obsessed. It painted a perfect portrait, to his eye at least, of dominance and submission, and he’d known at once that the artist behind it must have had a perfect understanding of the lifestyle.

Now, after meeting Samantha Jane Collins—he’d done some research, for the biography that had accompanied the application had been woefully incomplete—he wasn’t so sure. She’d been interested, had responded to his dominance—he was sure of it.

But though she had come to the exhibit, though she’d admitted that she had questions, he’d bet one of his properties that she was a neophyte.

It had been on the tip of his tongue to offer to teach her—he knew he hadn’t imagined the heat that had sparked between them. But then she’d reached within herself for something—what, he had no idea—and had walked away.

“Damn it.” Bad marriage or not, Elijah was a man accustomed to getting what he wanted—in the bedroom, at least.

Suddenly he wanted Samantha.

In his younger years he would have been arrogant enough to be certain that she would submit to him regardless of her sexual preferences. He’d since learned that it took a very strong woman to fully submit care of herself to another.

He’d yet to find that woman, and so he remained alone, limiting himself to sexual encounters here and at a few other clubs that he had part ownership in, particularly In Vino Veritas, the combined wine bar and club that he owned with two friends back home in Vegas.

He’d been with enough women that he’d learned a hard truth. Unless he could find a woman who would submit herself to him entirely, he would be miserable. But that didn’t necessarily mean that he couldn’t enjoy a diversion with the woman whose skin flushed so deliciously when he looked at her.

Elijah slid his hands into the pockets of his suit pants as he watched Samantha hurry through one of the open stucco archways in the lobby. The hem of her little sundress slid up her thigh as she got into the ugliest car he’d ever seen.

It was an affront to his senses—a woman that beautiful belonged behind the wheel of something sleek and sexy. Yet his eyes moved past the hideous vehicle and greedily took in the lithe curve of her leg, which ended in a strappy, high-heeled red sandal that made his mouth water.

Need pooled low in his belly. He was a sucker for sexy shoes on a gorgeous woman.

Hell
. He wanted her, whether she was submissive or not. Maybe he was playing with fire—he had no desire to be proven wrong again, and something about their instant connection told him that Samantha had the potential to be more than a quick fuck. But the more he thought about further exploring his interest in her, the more he decided he had to have her.

Snagging a glass of wine from a passing waiter, he sipped as he contemplated. Mouton Rothschild. His friend Alex had introduced him to this one, and it was now one of his favorites. It added to the heat in his gut.

Damn it
. He was going to pursue Samantha Collins. He knew it.

He just hoped he wouldn’t be consumed in the fire that was sure to come with it.

CHAPTER TWO

E
lijah’s GPS took him to a small house on the outskirts of San José del Cabo. The town itself was a tourist draw, and this cottage was just far enough out to have a solitary feel. That, combined with the woman’s awkwardness at the party the night before, had him wondering if she was a bit of a hermit.

It was another piece of the puzzle that was Samantha Collins. He smiled to himself as the first hit of adrenaline began to work its way through his veins. It had been a long time—years, in fact—since he’d had to pursue a woman. The fact that she’d walked away from him the night before had sent his predatory instincts into full gear.

Most of the women he knew were interested in his wealth, his status as a Dom, and his looks. He knew it—even used it when he wanted to.

But this woman was something different, and he was enthralled.

After parking the Carrera on a small pad of gravel in front of the house, Elijah shrugged out of his jacket and exited the car. The front yard of the cottage was covered in that same crushed rock, with the occasional dried weed poking its head out, gasping for a reprieve from the Mexican heat.

He strode up to the door, painted a vivid red, a startling color against the shabby green of the rest of the building. There was no doorbell that he could see, so he settled for several sharp raps. Peeling paint flaked away under the blows.

Damn it
. There was no answer, but Elijah was sure she was home. He felt that same heightened awareness that he’d experienced when he’d first laid eyes on her.

Yes, she was here. Somewhere.

Elijah moved around to the side of the house. It was much the same as the front, lots of gravel and weeds, with the addition of two grumpy garden gnomes who glared at him with their pudgy arms crossed.

The gnomes made him grin. He appreciated whimsy.

He was so caught up taking in the scene that it took him a moment to register the sound. A rumble, like the dull roar of a low fire, disturbed the air. His eyes homed in on a small shack at the far end of the yard, its boards faded by the sun and nearly indistinguishable from the rocks and weeds that surrounded it.

That was where the noise emanated from. Elijah squinted and could see waves of heat undulating from an oven-sized window that had been propped open with a stick.

Found you
. Elijah grinned once more as satisfaction flooded him. She was home all right—she was working.

His blood pumping hot and fast, he hesitated only a moment outside the door of the studio. He knew the polite thing to do would be to wait for an invitation. But he hadn’t amassed his fortune by being polite. Rude as it might be to enter uninvited, it would also catch the woman off guard, which upped his chances of success.