Love Me Twice (22 page)

 His hand closed around her wrist and he glanced down to see she’d slipped one open end of the collar into his shirt. The cold metal was a sharp as a knife blade against his skin.

“Sean?”

“Celeste?”

“Did you hear me?”

“No.” He fought his way back to the world of the living. He owed her his attention for a few seconds at least. He had to say the words she needed to hear – the words that would release her to love Drew. Her pulse raced against his fingers, but his hand refused to release her. Not yet.

“I said, if you want me to wear this, you have to agree to my conditions.”

“What?”

“
Danse avec moi
.” She twisted her wrist to take his hand in hers. “Dance with me,” she translated for his paralyzed brain. “We’ll discuss my conditions.”

His feet moved, pulled along in her wake as she towed him to the center of the deserted dance floor. Oxygen was still on short supply so he repeated the mantra again.
Conditions.
She had conditions before she would wear his collar again. Did she know he’d agree to anything to have her wear his collar? Anything.

The first strains of the music began. Sean recognized the tango. He wasn’t much of a dancer, but this one, he could do. Life with Celeste was a daily tango. His head began to clear, and his heart began to beat without his constant supervision. He focused on the long column of skin revealed by the draped back of her dress.

 His.

His hand ached to touch her, to press his palm to the heated silk of her skin. His lips burned to taste the skin at the base of her spine. She’d swept her hair up into some kind of elaborately twisted arrangement, held in place by one red rose. His fingers itched to pull it free and watch her hair tumble down her back. It was all he could do to not drop to his knees and beg, but he wouldn’t, not unless she wanted him to. He guessed she had something else in mind as they came to a stop in the center of the floor. He shrugged out of his jacket and threw it blindly at the sidelines. She curled a finger toward him, an age-old invitation. Instinctively, he took her in his arms. They’d danced the tango many times. It was truly the only dance he knew, and that was because there were no steps to memorize. Each dance was unique, fueled and choreographed by the emotions of the dancers.

Celeste pressed against him, slightly offset, but chest-to-chest, hip to hip. He moved into the music, pushing her backward, one step, two. The piano thrummed to the beat of his heart, and the violins soared like the blood through his veins, like an electrical current. It hummed between their bodies, the connection making him more alive than he’d felt in years, ever since Celeste had walked away from him. She was back, and he wasn’t going to let her go.

“Condition one,” she said, and he spun her around to let her know he had conditions of his own. Celeste pushed back, propelling him backward for two long strides. Her eyes met his in a direct challenge. She’d changed. He’d given her time to get to know him again, never realizing he should have been getting to know the new Celeste. He liked this new, bolder, more self-assured woman. He raised one eyebrow to let her know he was listening.

“I won’t give up Drew.” Sean sent her reeling away from him, and snapped her back when she’d reached the end of his tether. If this is what she considered negotiations, they didn’t have much to talk about. Not give up Drew? He’d agree to anything. Anything but that.

 There was self-assured, and then there was insane.

“No Deal.” Sean released her, and turned to walk away. He felt the loss immediately, as if someone had pulled the plug on his life support. Her arms wrapped around his waist; stopped him before he reached the edge of the dance floor. For the space of a heartbeat, he thought she’d seen her error. He should have known better.

She pressed her length against his back and splayed her hands over his chest. “Negotiate,” she breathed against his nape.

Hell, why not? Something primitive rose inside him. Celeste was his. He could give her what she wanted. Maybe.

Celeste breathed a sigh of relief when Sean turned, pressed her backwards across the dance floor, and dropped her over his arm. She’d expected him to fight back. Instead, he’d walked away from her without a backward glance. One word had brought him back. Her head fell back and he stretched his hard body over hers and breathed against her ear, “Never.”

So much for negotiating. Nevertheless, it was the answer she’d hoped for, but it was too early in the negotiations to let him know that.

Celeste rose with fire in her eyes, and Sean swept her into another long waltz down the length of the floor. They came to a stop, and he jerked her against him. His erection pressed against her hip. She kept her eyes fixed on a spot over his shoulder, but he felt the shiver of reaction that shimmered through her body. She wanted him. His hand on the satin skin at the small of her back was like touching a live wire. The current held his hand captive.

“Condition two. Marry me.”

Had she conceded on condition one? She turned them, took the lead, and pushed him back in the direction they’d come. Her eyes met his and held as their feet moved in tandem like a four-legged beast. He could agree to condition number two. He’d do whatever it took to bind her to him for the rest of their lives.

He spun them ruthlessly. Celeste had no choice but to hold on tight and enjoy the ride. His aftershave seduced, and his arms held her like steel bands. He could take as long as he liked to contemplate her proposal, as long as he continued to hold her.

“Tomorrow. We’ll fly to Vegas.” He whispered against her neck as he spun them through the final turn. A thrill skittered along her nerve endings and made her giddy. She twisted away from him and back again.

When her eyes met his again, she held her triumph close and proceeded with the negotiations.

“Condition Three. I want kids. Three.”

She turned her back to his chest, wrapped one arm over his shoulder, and cupped the back of his neck in her palm. God, the woman could seduce a monk. Electricity skittered along his spine from the point of contact with her fingers, to her sweet ass pressed against his groin. He found it hard to think.

Sean held her close with one hand splayed low on her abdomen, and stroked the fingers of his other hand from her wrist, along her arm, past her breasts to her hip. Her shiver encouraged him. She was as affected as he was by the sensual game they were playing. He bent his head, brushed his lips against the pulse in her neck.

“One,” he counter-offered.

She did something with her feet, and before he knew it, she was face to face with him. She flattened one small hand against his chest and pressed the collar into his skin.

“Two.” Like a true negotiator, she countered without passion, but the pressure of her hand on his chest propelled him backward. He considered arguing further, if it would keep her hands on him.

“Done.” He’d give her a whole goddamned baseball team if she wanted, but she didn’t have to know that, not yet anyway. They could renegotiate pregnancies later, preferably in bed. He was smart enough to know this wasn’t about the numbers, but the principal. An image of Celeste, round with his child, made his already stiff erection go hard as steel. If he wasn’t inside her soon, he’d die. “Is that all?”

One sinful leg slid through the slit in her dress and caught his thigh in a stranglehold. He wrapped one arm around her waist, and the other slid from her ankle to her thigh, where it came to rest, anchoring her to him. He drug her across the floor like a caveman bringing home his woman. Celeste wrapped her arms around him and pressed her cheek to his shoulder. Ahh. Surrender? He should have known better. She used her position to spin him around and bring him to his knees.

He’d underestimated her, again. Celeste used the heel of her hand against his forehead to force his gaze to hers. She stood over him like a bullfighter sizing up her opponent. His face was no more than a few inches from her heat. He filled his nostrils with her scent. He needed to touch her. Her leg peeked through the slit in her skirt. His hand found the smooth flesh above her knee and slid slowly up, parting the fabric as he went. When he reached the top of the slit, he slid his hand around her hip until his fingers found her.

She was an excellent spy. If he believed she’d crumble because he groped her in public, he had another think coming. She held her ground as his fingers explored at will.

“No more spy shit. No government work, period. We’re both retired.” Her hands bracketed his jaw and applied pressure. He followed her direction and came to his feet, reluctantly pulling his hand from the heaven he’d found between her legs.

“I quit five years ago. You’re the one still swimming in the alphabet soup.” He put his hands on her waist and spun her around. His erection pressed against the soft round globes of her ass, and he missed a step as he propelled her across the floor. The music hit a down note, and he flung her away from him like a yo-yo and reeled her in before their fingers parted and he lost his lifeline. He wasn’t letting her go, not now, not ever.

Celeste had to call upon everything she’d ever learned in the spy business in order to continue. All Sean had to do was touch her, and she’d agree to anything. Not that she wasn’t going to retire anyway, it was after all, her condition.

“Done. I want a house, someplace safe.” The words, spoken to the air over his shoulder, sounded hoarse. Sean tucked her pelvis against his and led her in a spin that left her dizzy. She was still reeling from the way he’d touched her, the heat of his fingers stroking her. She was wet, and with nothing beneath the dress as a barrier, his fingers had slid easily over her swollen flesh. He knew her every secret, knew he had her, but still he played the game.

“Done. Anything else?” He held her hip to hip, but with one hand around her waist, used his advantage to pull her upper body away from his. His free hand closed over her breast and squeezed, hard. Celeste gasped.

It was time to end the game.

 “I only submit in the bedroom.”

Sean knew he deserved this one for publicly groping her. “Done.” His hand traveled from her breast to her hip, and he pushed her into a twirl. Her arm slid along his, and he stopped her momentum with his fingertips. She spun back to him like a sparkling bit of steel to a magnet, and clung there.

“About Drew,” she persisted.

Her breath fanned across his neck, just below his ear. He pressed her across the floor again, his strong legs guiding hers, one long, suggestive stride at a time. He needed time to think, to consider. He had her. She was his. He could afford to be generous. He lifted her, spun her around, and let her slide through his arms to her knees. As she had done before, he cupped her face with his hands and lifted her. When she was on her feet, he continued to hold her face captive. His eyes met hers, and when he was sure he had her undivided attention, he said, “One more time. The three of us. Tonight.”

Celeste flattened both hands on his chest and pushed away, her arms above her head elongated her body. She moved,a column of black fire consuming the dance floor. The glass beads of her dress refracted the dim lights in the lounge like a human mirror ball. He felt the loss—sensed her pulling away with each spiraling turn. His gut clenched, and his heart stopped beating.

Sean forced air into his lungs and went after her. He caught her around the waist as she reached the edge of the dance floor. With more force than necessary, he pulled her against his chest and splayed both hands over her. One came to rest under her breasts, the other over her lower abdomen. So low, he felt the slight rise of her mound beneath the heavy fabric of her dress. Her fingers encircled his wrists and tried to dislodge him.

He held tight, and taking long backward steps, pulled her into the dance. They weren’t finished negotiating. Not yet.

He growled into her ear. “Say goodbye to him tonight, or I’ll kill him.”

The negotiations were over. Celeste smiled inside. She’d gotten what she wanted. That last comment from Sean told her everything she needed to know. Unlike five years ago, Sean was ready to fight for her. It was on the tip of her tongue to tell him she’d only been goading him about Drew, and that she and Drew had already parted ways, that Drew was ready to move on. But that could wait. Breathless from their dance, she released Sean’s wrists, and twisted in his arms. He let her turn, and she met him, eye to eye.

“
Oui, Maître
. Yes, Master.” She waited for recognition to dawn, then dropped her eyes and sank to her knees at his feet. The music continued, a slow, sensuous strain. She’d once read a poem that described tango music as, “all-absorbing love of a tyrant, jealously guarding his dominion, over women who have surrendered submissively, like obedient beasts.” The passage reminded her of Sean, in a good way. Tonight she definitely felt like a beast, and Sean was being a jealous tyrant. She was ready to let him have his way.