Johnson Family 2: Perfect (9 page)

That word—sex—conjured images of naked flesh and sweat slick bodies. She felt cornered, even though plenty of room existed in the large office.

Suddenly tongue-tied, Daniella fumbled for the right words. She’d had no idea of the extent of his expectations. “We don’t have to…have sex…there are options…” Her voice faltered.

“The only options are the ones I’m about to give you,” he said. “You’re going to move back into our home and wear your rings.” He came closer and whispered the next words. “And you’re going to spend every night in our bed.”

Chapter Nine

He was staring at her mouth, and Daniella felt the beginning pulse of a dangerous heat on the inside of her thighs. She shook her head forcefully at the dizzying effect of their conversation. She was having a lot of trouble with three letter words today. First
sex
, now
bed
. His warm tone and the images it conjured made her body throb in a very particular, suddenly damp spot—as if he’d licked her there.

“You’re out of your mind,” she said. “That is not going to happen. Isn’t it enough I agreed to your ridiculous request? Now you want to…”

“There’s chemistry between us. Always has been from the beginning. That hasn’t changed.”

“Maybe on your end.”

He captured her gaze, eyeing her with skepticism. “Are you saying you’re no longer attracted to me? That I can no longer make your toes curl?”

Inside her patent leather heels, her toes contracted. “That’s exactly what I’m saying.”

A slow smile spread across his full lips. The type of smile a fox had right before it raided the hen house. “Prove it.”

Her breathing arrested for a nanosecond, but she quickly recovered. “How am I supposed to do that?”

“Kiss me.”

“We kissed at The Savory Date.”

“That was a peck on the lips. I want you to give me a real kiss, and if you don’t feel anything, then we do it your way.”

“No.” She backed up a couple of feet. It was a trap, one that would ensnare her for sure. “I don’t have to prove anything to you.”

“Scared?” The softly spoken word was filled with mocking challenge.

“I told you before I’m not afraid of you.” She lifted her chin with a boldness she was far from feeling.

“Then give me a kiss.” He ate the distance between them with one long stride. “One little kiss, and if you prove me wrong, we do this your way.”

She lowered her lids against the seductive quality of his voice and stared down at the rich burgundy carpet. Her breathing had already grown fractured at the mere thought of kissing him.

“You know this color lipstick is my favorite,” he said. His fingertip swept the seam of her lips and made them tingle. “It’s distracting. Is that why you wore it? So you could distract me?”

She’d forgotten she was wearing ruby red lipstick. In truth he preferred her to be au naturale, but when she wasn’t his favorite color lipstick was ruby red. He said the color gave her lips a fullness and plumpness which turned her mouth into an invitation, begging to be kissed.

“I didn’t wear it for you,” she said.

He took her hand, and a shiver of awareness raced up her arm. He ran the blunt tip of his thumb over the spot where her rings used to be. Her pulse started to dance, faster and faster. “One little kiss, Dani.” He pressed his lips to the back of her fingers.

The inside of her belly trembled, as if a family of moths had taken up residence there. He pulled her closer, and she went to him with little resistance. She was shaking. She wanted him to kiss her. Badly.

One hand went to her back and trailed up and down her spine in a slow caress. Despite his cold, cruel nature in business, Cyrus was a sensual man and a master of seduction.

He drew her closer until she pressed against him. He was semi-erect, fitting because she was semi-wet.

Against the stimulus of his hard chest, her nipples pebbled and her breathing became shallow. She felt his hard strength and fought the reaction the best she could, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of being right.

His labored breathing could be heard in the quiet room. “Do you know how long it’s been since you left me?” he asked. “Three years, one month, eighteen days.”

Her heart pounded, echoing in her ears. He’d kept track, even down to the day?

“And five hours,” he added.

Her lips parted in shock.

“I know exactly how long you’ve been gone, and it’s been even longer since we’ve made love,” he said. “One little kiss, Dani.” His breath brushed her mouth and created a tingling sensation across the skin of her lips. “One little kiss for your husband.”

It wouldn’t be one little kiss. She knew it and was certain he did, too. He would consume her, because that’s what he did. She lost all sense of the present and time when caught up in his arms.

Cyrus lowered his head, and in the next instant their lips fused together. This kiss was different from the one at the restaurant. It was tender, even affectionate, and Daniella leaned in, enjoying the flavor of him way too much. She held onto his biceps, the power and strength of his arms sending little darts of pleasure along her spine.

Engulfed in the thrill of touching him again, she was unable to move away, and she certainly didn’t want to. His lips were warm, and little by little he increased the pressure against hers. The hand at her back dipped to her backside and tightened. She gasped into his mouth, the blossom of heat invading her thighs.

When he lifted his head, she felt bereft, and he must have felt it too, because his nostrils flared and he groaned—the sound in the back of his throat so low she almost didn’t hear it. Need flashed in his half-closed eyes. He dipped his head again and heaven help her, she lifted her mouth to meet his and parted her lips for his invasion.

A few seconds before there had been no tongue, just their lips meeting, reacquainting with each other. This time, his tongue foraged into her mouth and the arm around her waist tightened, drawing her even closer against the swelling hardness of him.

“Damn, I love kissing you,” he muttered. He wasn’t only concerned about his own needs. He wanted to
make sure she enjoyed it, too. He was amazingly thorough, and oh-so-good at it. Just like he was at everything else.

Her muscles became useless, as if they’d atrophied. She didn’t move, simply melted against him and enjoyed the way he took control, tilting her head back, devouring her, claiming her again.

Her arms inched around his neck and she opened even more to him. She traced the shape of his mouth with her tongue and felt the violent tremor that rocked his hard frame. Hands at the back of her thighs, he lifted her onto the desk. Shoving items out of the way, he cleared a space and lowered her onto her back, and she welcomed his heavy bulk between her open legs.

Burning up, Cyrus fumbled with the buttons on her silk blouse, careful even though he wanted to yank the edges apart and tear it off of her. He finally peeled back the material to reveal a black, lacy number that barely covered her soft skin. He popped the front clasp and her sweet breasts bounced free, forcing her to emit a slight whimper. Plump, with engorged nipples standing upright like little caramel party hats, they called to his mouth. He lowered his head and before he even touched them, she was arching her back and gripping his head, anticipating his touch.

He didn’t want to hurt her, but he could barely contain himself. He’d been deprived for so long, he devoured her breasts, having suffered without the taste of her for what seemed like eons.

Control. Rigid control. That’s how he’d kept it together the past few years. But now that she was lying beneath him and he could feel the heat between her legs, he couldn’t fathom how he’d managed for so long without storming her apartment and dragging her back here.

“Dani…”

He wet her nipple with the pull of his lips, swiping his teeth over the puckered flesh and then following up with soothing strokes of his tongue. His ears ate up every moan, every broken plea of her surrender. Sounds that could turn even the most impotent man into a Casanova.

He ran his hand down the middle of her chest and massaged her breasts, squeezing them and alternating by deliberately rubbing the dark flesh of her nipples between his finger and thumb. Each time he did she let loose a little moan and her face contorted into a pained expression.

Through his pants Cyrus could feel how hot she was. He reached between them to undo his belt, his only thought to ease the pain of the southward rush of blood. He’d already undone the buckle when he hesitated, registering during a moment of lucidity this was neither the time nor the place. When he and Dani made love again, he wanted to go slow and savor every inch of her. He wanted to bury his head between her legs and inhale her musky, feminine perfume and lick at her essence with his tongue. This rushed coupling that threatened to overwhelm them would not do.

Her ruby red lips were full and swollen, and he dived back in, kissing her hard, savagely, and taking as much as he could until he could have her beneath him in the proper setting. Her legs came up around his waist and she grinded her hips into his. The sensual motion almost wiped out his resolve, but he lifted his head from the temptation she presented and cupped her cheeks in his hands. Her eyelids fluttered open, and as he looked down at her, the dazed expression in her eyes slowly disappeared and her legs fell away.

“As much as I want to make love to you right now, I know you’re not ready,” he whispered. It was too soon, and she would regret it. Gently, he pulled her into a sitting position and noted the widening of her eyes. “You’re surprised.”

“I am.” Her voice still held the breathless huskiness of arousal.

She turned away from him, and he could see her embarrassment at her easy capitulation, but as far as he was concerned, that was the way it should be. They’d both been caught up in a tidal wave of desire and emotion.

“You have nothing to be ashamed of,” he whispered. “You’re my wife, and it’s my job to make you feel good, but I don’t want us to rush.”

“You have surprising restraint.” She closed her bra, squeezing her ample bosom to do so and creating the most beautiful cleavage he’d ever seen. His penis jumped. He watched with regret as she started buttoning her blouse and couldn’t help but wonder if he’d made the right decision to wait.

He stepped back so she could step down onto the floor. “Not always. Look at my desk,” he said. “Look at all the chaos you’ve caused again.” The words had a double meaning. He was talking about something bigger, grander than the desk. He couldn’t keep order in his life when Daniella was around.

She kept her head bent, continuing to button the blouse. Her fingers shook a little with each movement. “This didn’t exactly go as I’d planned. I guess you were right about us having chemistry.”

“You had doubts?” he asked.

“No,” she admitted. She finished buttoning her blouse and looked up at him with resignation in her eyes.

He ran a finger down the velvet soft skin of her jawline. She didn’t turn away but lowered her lashes. “Ivy’s engagement party is next weekend, and I want you to come with me.”

Her eyes narrowed a little, and he saw the distrust in the copper-brown depths as clearly as if she’d spoken it out loud. “If we’re getting back together, we have to let people know. Why are you making this hard?”

“First of all, we’re not getting back together, and you know why I’m being difficult.”

“Because you think I can’t be trusted.”

“You can’t. The things you do…to people…it’s not right, Cyrus. You can’t force everyone to bend to your will every time you get an idea.”

Her words disturbed him, but his tactics were the most efficient way he knew to get things done. “It works.”

“You can catch more flies with honey, Cyrus. Your way is not the only way.”

He didn’t say anything at first, merely looked at her, examining her features. “It’s not,” he conceded.

She seemed surprised he’d agreed with her. “Do you think…will you give Roland his job back?” she asked in a tentative voice.

He watched her closely, trying to gauge if there was more than a friendship between her and Roland. “What does it matter to you?”

“I think it’s the right thing to do.”

He would make this one concession, but only because she asked. “I don’t know why you care about that lowlife, but I’ll give him his job back on one condition. He stays the hell away from you. For good this time.”

“I’ll tell him.” He frowned, and she added hastily, “I’ll only talk to him to tell him what’s going to happen.” She tucked her shirt back into her pants and smoothed her hands over hips. “One more thing,” she said. She hesitated before she continued, a sign he wouldn’t like the next words. “After three months, if I don’t get pregnant, you’ll give me a divorce.”

“No way.”

“We can’t do this indefinitely. We don’t know what will happen. What if we can’t get pregnant? You have to give me an out.”

Normally Cyrus didn’t negotiate if he had the upper hand, content to smash the other party with a take-it-or-leave-it attitude. In this case that behavior wouldn’t be necessary.

“Six months,” he countered. “Not a day less.”