Everything You Need: Everything For You Trilogy Book 1 (26 page)

Easy for him to say, he isn’t about to get it.

Inside the apartment, Jack leads me to the room I slept in last night. “Get a couple of hours sleep. You’ll be glad you did by the time the ball’s over.”

“That’s it?”

“What? Did you think I was going to take you over my knee? This isn’t about violence. Office discipline is largely psychological. A knowledge of consequences and a focused discussion about implementing them is usually enough to bring about change. Another good tip to adopt in the workplace.” He grins.

“You can be such a jerk, you know that?” I slam the door in his face, all at once relieved and embarrassed about letting my imagination run away with me. I throw myself onto the bed. Maybe having a head full of fancy works against me.

He opens the door again. “I’m sure that’s what many of my employees think.” He laughs. “You’re the only one I’ll let get away with saying it out loud though.”

I’m pathetic but he’s a bastard. The only reason I don’t walk right out that door, right now, is CaidCo. Life with Jack is exhausting. I never know what to expect next.

He returns with a cup of white tea and sits down on the bed. “So, what have you learned from this morning that might be applied to the working environment?”

“God, do you ever give it a rest?” I heave myself upright and lean back against the pillows.

“No time. So, infringement of company rules and expectations?”

I think fast, pulling my mind into focus. “Clear expectations and there must be absolute consequences to their contravention. People should expect to live with the fall-out.”

“The consequences thing, I like. Not certain discipline should be compared to nuclear fall-out though. It’s rarely goes that far when there are no mixed messages.”

I’ve certainly never issued Brent with clear expectations. Maybe Jack is right about that one. I sip my tea thinking about how much I wound him up this morning. “Be respectful of others if you want them to respect you.”

“That’s a good life lesson. As a boss it doesn’t do to let your mouth run away with you. That loses you respect. I’ll be keeping a close eye on yours from now on, Tabitha.” He stares at my lips when he says it until they tingle and not from the temperature of the tea.

I want to press my lips to his but fight the craving. “A joke, right?”

He shakes his head. “Anything else?”

There was his allegation about my insecurity and jealousy. No, I’m still insecure and probably will always be jealous of any woman wanting him the way I do. Forget that then.

I grasp at straws. “Be kind to Blackstock?”

“Blackstock can take care of himself.” He narrows his eyes and lowers his voice menacingly. “You keep your mind off Blackstock.”

Ha. He’s accusing me of jealousy when he’s jealous himself. He doesn’t like the thought of me thinking about his good-looking driver. I really want to kiss him now. I feel more ridiculously happy in this moment than I have done in days.

“What are you smiling about?”

There’s no way I’m telling him. “Thinking about all the things I’m learning.”

He doesn’t exactly believe me, I can tell, but he lets it go. “One more?”

“Mentoring is weirder than it looks.”

“What has it taught you though?” He gives me a little nudge, slopping tea in the saucer, as if what I’m searching for is obvious.

I’ve been cared for, confused, annoyed, irritated, amused, felt jealous and even totally horny. “Don’t know but I reckon I can deal with anything
you
can throw at me.”

Jack suddenly captures my lips with his. It isn’t a prelude to sex kind of kiss, but a kiss of reward. When he pulls back, my lips feel bruised; crushed. I put my fingers up to touch them as the blood rushes back and the burning intensifies. His blue eyes darken. That he wants me in that moment, I know for sure.

“You can deal with anything anyone throws at you. Always believe that. Now you’ve got a couple of hours. I’m finishing work online, then I’m going to drive you to the salon myself.” He leaves, propping the door open behind him.

He’s too jealous to leave me alone with Blackstock? Before my grin fades, I’ve closed the drapes, have my dress off and I’m under the covers in my sexy new lingerie.

Snuggling down I curl into a tightly contained ball. Like a chrysalis, the cocoon I’ve spun around me to protect me for so long is growing increasingly fragile and since Jack came back into my life, it’s straining to be breached. But what will emerge?

I catch sight of the red gown, hanging. Punishment. Pleasure. Promise.

I’m going to fuck you in that red dress.

Chapter Thirteen

“No!”

Jack comes at me again. I throw out a hand violently and land a smart backhander straight to his face. I hear the blow, his sharp retort and shocked intake of air. He grabs my wrist hard and restrains me as I struggle.

“Tabby. Tabby. Shhh. Wake up.” The soft bedside lamp turns on.

I crack open my eyes. Jack is hunkered down at the side of the bed pinning both my hands in one of his. He strokes the hair back from my forehead.

“Awake?” His eyebrow arches.

I stare wide-eyed. My heart pounds and my chest heaves. In my dream I hated him. He hurt me but I fought everything he threw at me. The feelings of rage haven’t subsided yet. I see the dishevelled bedcovers. It looks like I’ve been fighting the sheets too.

They’re wrapped around my waist exposing me in my underwear. My legs have kicked loose and are uncovered from hip to ankle, but somehow my feet are trapped and tangled. I struggle to pull my hands from his grasp.

“Are you awake yet?”

I murmur and nod and he releases me.

“I hit you.” I know it wasn’t only in my dream as I can see the livid red blotch staining his cheek.

“Yes, you did.” He doesn’t exactly sound happy about it.

I burst into tears throwing my arm over my eyes and sob into the crook of my elbow, not sure if I’m sorrier for him or for me. I’m so strung out I feel like a thin violin wire tightened enough to snap. Perhaps I already have.

I hear him rubbing and flexing his jaw. He deserves it for everything he’s put me through but that fact doesn’t make me feel any better. I must have been dreaming of transgressions and consequences. “What are you going to do?”

“Nothing.” Jack pulls my arm from my eyes. “For God’s sake, Tabitha, I don’t hit women. I was raised to respect women.”

A stray tear rolls down my face which he sweeps away with the back of his hand.

“You were having a bad dream, that’s all. I’m hardly going to get mad at you for having a bad dream. I’m not a monster.”

The word snatches at smoky wisps of my nightmare. “You’re not?” I don’t sound too certain.

He does. “No.”

At least I’m reassured he isn’t going to retaliate. I sniff and pull the sheets up to my chin, squirming my legs until they’re covered and my feet are free.

“Perhaps I’m pushing you too hard. Were you dreaming about me?”

I nod. I know that for a certainty. The feelings of abject hatred burn less brightly but they haven’t disappeared entirely.

“Not in a good way, huh?” He grins wistfully.

I shake my head. The fleeting cloud of hurt I detect, sweeping across his features, is gone in an instant. I want to reach out and soothe it away but grip the sheets in my fists to prevent it. I haven’t come that far yet. The manipulation, the mentoring, the sexual denial. I’m so wound up I’m probably glowing like a thermo-nuclear reactor. He’s lucky I only slapped him in my sleep. A vision of standing astride him with a heavy axe in hand chases through my brain. I clamp my lips together to stop myself laughing at the ridiculous image.

The corners of his mouth lift. “Feeling better, then?”

“Mmm.” I sit up clutching the sheets to my body. “What time is it?” The blackout blinds work effectively at keeping out all traces of light, but the brightness coming through the doorway from the living space suggests it’s not that late.

“Time to get up.”

I recollect the salon appointment. And the ball. My head swivels to look at the dress again as if it might just have been part of my torrid dream. It isn’t. I turn to Jack as a slow, dark smile grows across his lips. He’s remembering what he said he’ll do to me and I blush. I haven’t been able to forget it either.

“Get up,” he whispers, standing.

I haul the sheet around me coyly like he hasn’t already seen me naked. “Have I got time for a shower?”

“A quick one. Thirty minutes and we’re off, even if you’re covered in foam.”

I shift for the bathroom and close the door on his laughter, locking myself inside. I don’t doubt he’d throw me in the car with nothing but a bath sponge if I took a minute longer than allocated.

The hot water soothes my tension away. I would like to stay under for longer but I’m conscious of Jack waiting. Punctuality must be in his training manual somewhere.

A quick towel dry and I come back to the bedroom for my clothes. When I open the sliding door to the step-in wardrobe, I see all the clothes purchased at the boutique this morning hanging on a rail and wonder who put them there. They must have been delivered in the scant few hours we spent having lunch. As I rummage I discover the lingerie too. Masses of it. Frothy bra and panty sets, stockings and basques. It’s a sex addict’s fantasy. I feel hot and tingly all over, never far from the edge.

I choose a short sky-blue flared skirt with a classic white blouse and pick out the sweetest white lace lingerie set I can find amongst all the mercury-rising sexiness on offer. As I’m heading for a beauty salon I don’t want to shock the life out of anyone. A slick of lip gloss, a little eye-liner and mascara and I’m ready for the world again. Somehow it seems a little easier to face which is a revelation.

I turn to see Jack carrying my wedge sandals. “Thought you might need these.”

“Thanks.” He can be very considerate when he wants to be.

Jack steers me backwards to the bed and pushes me gently until I overbalance and sit down. He lifts one of my feet, pivoting me back onto my elbows. He plants a kiss on my instep and trails his tongue over my ankle bone, tonguing the flesh travelling up my leg. I try to pull my leg away.

“Sit still.” His mouth does all sorts of bad things to my insides until I moan. I’m needy all the time. I swear he only wants to get me like this so I want him more.

“Please.”

He pauses. “Are you asking me to stop? To go on?”

Both. Neither. “Just make your mind up.” He never sees it through. Perhaps he’s the one who needs a lesson. Permanent arousal is an irritable state to be in. I sometimes wonder if that’s why Jack is so testy.

I feel him smile against my inner thigh. When he strokes his fingers over the white lace panties I’ve chosen he makes me jerk. “Good choice. I approve.”

His nuzzling takes me ever closer to the point of no return. I know by now it’s not going to happen though. “You said we had to leave in thirty minutes,” I gasp.

He pauses and looks up at me as I begin to smoulder. “We don’t have to do anything.”

“Do me, Jack.” I want this connection. I’ve been ready for his body for so long I begin to feel like a snowball melting from the inside out.

“Have patience. The reward will be greater.” He slaps my outer thigh crisply, making me jump. Holding onto my leg, he reaches down for one of the shoes and places my foot inside, lowering it to the ground. He takes my other leg from the floor, nips my calf hard, making me yelp and puts on my second shoe. A huge sigh emerges from my lips as he tugs me to my feet.

His state of arousal is obvious. I have no idea how he manages to maintain such self-control. I’d have jumped me long ago. It’s testament to just how much he wants to torment me.

With a frown, his hand comes up and he slicks away the gloss from my lips. This little act of possession makes me gasp. He rubs back and forth firmly causing the friction to sting a little. His lips land softly on mine as if to check. “That’s better.”

“You’re so frustrating,” I complain. I duck around him and leave the bedroom.

“Better not go there.” He steers me quickly into the elevator with a hot hand burning into my lower back. We turn simultaneously to face the closing doors in timed perfection.

Him, frustrated? My fresh new panties are drenched already. I consider suggesting we return so I can change but reconsider. I reach up under the flare of my skirt to make a show of adjusting them, wriggling my hips and bottom.

“Leave your underwear alone,” he growls.

I’m delighted to discover he can be made to suffer too. “It’s your fault.”

He quells my complaining with a glare and I’m rapidly learning when it pays to say nothing.

In the underground car park as I walk ahead of Jack towards the Bentley he grabs my wrist and changes direction. “Over here.”

Behind one of the vast concrete pillars there’s a silver two-seater. The car isn’t a make I recognise as it looks very unusual. Like something out of a sci-fi movie. No doubt fast, expensive and a thrilling, scary ride. The perfect car for the man.