The Chase (4 page)

He starts to smile as I look up at him with what I hope is the expression of a sweet little baby seal. Reaching out, he tucks a stray lock of my long dark hair behind my ear, and then twines his fingers through my own to help me up.

“That’s quite all right, my dear.” His gaze flicks down to my cleavage as he helps me back onto the couch, then blushes, as though he’s embarrassed to have looked. Never mind that the dress is so low cut, my adequate C cups are practically hanging out there for the world to see. “Truth be told, I’m fairly new at this, myself.”

“You’ve never... aah... contacted Miss Black before?” I meant to emphasize that we could be each other’s firsts in this matter, but those storm cloud eyes of his darken, narrow, and my stomach does a slow roll.

Danger, Will Robinson. Change the subject.

Actions move more quickly than words, and so I
widen my eyes, then place my hand on his knee, slide it up a bit, the movement both innocent and—I hope—seductive.

His nostrils flare a bit as he looks down at where my hand grips his thigh, a breath shuddering out of him.

“Perhaps you’d be more comfortable if we headed up to my room for a drink.” Tearing his gaze from my hand and moving it to my face, Henry cocks his head to the side and studies me. Flirtation—and maybe a bit more—is evident in his voice.

Oh, shit.
That was... fast. I thought he wanted a date more than anything... but it looks like we’re moving right toward the sex.

The thought leaves me cold.

Well, you didn’t think you were going to enjoy it, did you Carly?

My expression must
reflect my shock, because he leans in, kisses my cheek sweetly, his lips warm against the cool skin of my cheek.

“Relax. Just a drink for now, away from prying eyes so you can relax.
I’ll order up some champagne, and we’ll admire the city... I have a stellar view.” Picking up his glass, he downs the last sip of whiskey, what hasn’t spilled out onto the table. “Tonight goes at your pace. You have my word.”

At my pace, I think as we stand, and he places a hand at the small of my back—a protective gesture, almost like this is a real date.

At my pace, like a real date.

And just like a real date, I know that he, the man, has his eyes on the prize. And I know as he guides me toward
the back of the lounge that I need to find some courage, and find it fast, because that prize?

That’s what’s going to give me the money. And m
oney is freedom. Just ask anyone who doesn’t have any.

Lured by this seemingly innocuous man, the comfortable feel of his hand on my back, the scent of his pricey cologne, when he
leads me to a service door rather than the main entrance, I only hesitate for a moment. But... aren’t the elevators to the upper floors through the lobby, back the way I came?

Well, he’s clearly been here before. Maybe he’s taking me this way so that we don’t run into anyone he knows. Though something about that niggles at my memory—didn’t he insist that I know his real name
for just that purpose?

But I’m
paid to make the client happy. And oh, how I need to be paid. There’s no room for me to be ridiculous.

“Come.” Ducking through the
heavy door first, Henry turns back, extends a hand for me, that flirtatious, eager smile on his face again, making his resemble nothing so much as a little boy about to open his first birthday present.

I’m guessing that I’m that present. And
I’m wearing the safety bracelet that Miss Black gave me, after all. I’m pretty sure it has a GPS in it. So how much trouble could I possibly get into?

“Coming.” I smile again, placing my hand in Henry’s own. My breath catches as he pulls me through the door, a little more eagerly than I had anticipated.

I hear the click of the door closing behind me as I register the chill of an unfinished service hallway. I can hear the busy sounds of the lounge’s kitchen, so we’re not separated from other people by much. But there’s no one else back here, and the scattered toolboxes, hard hats, planks of wood and buckets of drywall tell me why—this area is under construction.

We’re all alone, the smell of fresh paint stinging my nose. And while being alone appears to be exactly what Henry has in mind, I find it kinda eerie, the stillness of the hallway, the sounds of the hotel muted as though we’re underwater.

The thought is quickly jolted from my mind. My breath whooshes from my lungs as lean hands find my waist, pushing me back into the wall.

“What—” A kiss muffles my question. Just a kiss, an exploration of my mouth that might have even been pleasant if the concrete of the wall wasn’t causing chill bumps to break out along the bare skin of my back.

I yelp into his mouth, squirming in an instinctive effort to free myself.

Henry pulls back, looks into my eyes with an unreadable expression. His hand tightens on my waist. “I’m sorry. I just couldn’t help myself.”

Trying to catch my breath as a tingle of... something... begins to work its way through my gut, I examine Henry’s face.

What am I getting so worked up about? It’s just a kiss. He’s paid for it.

And I can’t imagine Miss Black will be pleased to know that I’ve taken off my big girl panties over nothing but a kiss.

“You caught me by surprise, that’s all.” I try to make my words sound flirtatious, hoping some playful banter might give me a chance to get my bearings. I’d been anticipating this part of the date—the sex—to play out in his room, not in a cold, silent hallway where I feel
more than a bit creeped out.

I have the bracelet.
And he’s smiling down at me again, eagerness playing over his face...

Why is it so bad for this to move a little faster? It means I can go home sooner, can go back to being
me
.

“Claire?” It takes a second for me to realize that Henry is referring to me. Not that that matters... a man as smart as he is, I’m sure he knows that I’m using a fake name.

Earn the damn money, Carly, so you can go home.

“I’m surprised... not unhappy.” Curving my lips in what I hope is a seductive expression, I splay my hand over his chest. He sucks in a breath, and I can feel his heart pounding beneath my palm, hard and fast.
Can see his pulse, just beneath the tanned skin of his jaw.

He’s all worked up. And it’s my job to make him even more so.

Standing on my toes—even in massively high heels, I’m still fairly short—I press my lips to his neck. He shudders, arching his neck, letting me kiss my way over to his jaw, then to his mouth.

As he greedily sinks into the kiss, I try to feel—something.
He’s hot. Our bodies are rubbing together—shouldn’t I have some kind of reaction, be aroused at all?

I’m not. It would be so much easier if I was, and that pisses me off. Closing my eyes, I turn my entire focus onto the kiss, giving it everything I’ve got, trying to elicit a response in myself.

To my utter shock, it’s Adam Kincaid’s face that pops into my mind. That silver eyebrow ring emphasizing those intense eyes as he casts me a cocky smile, then takes my mouth without asking.

With that image in my head, I find myself warming up a bit. I press against Henry, and he moans into my mouth when
I lick my tongue over the seam of his lips. His hand slides into my hair, fists a little tighter than I’m comfortable with, yanking me back to reality.

My lips still for a second. That stings. But I’m not going to lose this paycheque because he likes to pull hair. My preference sheet said I was open to a little bit of kink.

I don’t know if I am, really—I’ve never come across any. But I felt like I had to put
something
, and nipple clamps are just not my cup of tea.

T
hat hands fists tighter, pulls harder. The hand on my waist slides to my shoulder and presses me back, pinning me in place.

“Mr. Thomas.” My body stiffens as he draws back, looks down at me, his expression unreadable. I try to muster up a flirtatious smile, even though warning bells are starting to clang in my head. “
I’m looking forward to this part of our evening too. But it’s a little chilly back here. Why don’t we go up, have that drink... and draw out the anticipation a little bit longer?”

He dips his head, nuzzles his lips against my neck as if in apology, and I start to relax again.

Then his teeth sink into the soft curve of my shoulder, far too hard to cause anything but deliberate pain. I cry out, my hands fisting against his shirt, and he chuckles against my neck, then whispers a name.

“Oh, Avery.”

Avery?

When he pulls back, I scan his face with wide, anxious eyes. When his lips curve into that smile of his again, all traces of seduction are gone, and dread blooms in my gut.

“Ah...” Damn it.
Damn it.
Is this part of what he wants from the evening? What am I supposed to do? I didn’t indicate that I was into pain play, but really... it was just a bite. Do I have room to complain?

But none of this is at all what Miss Black prepared me for with this man.

“I was going to save this part for later, but really, you’re just so perfect.” His hand leaves my hair, slides down to cup my breast, his thumb rubbing over my nipple. “All that dark hair... those big eyes... I can almost believe you’re her.”

That hand slides up to wrap around my throat, and my blood freezes in my veins.
This
... this is not okay. I’m scared, and looking at the glint in his eyes, I can see that that’s exactly how he wants me to be.

“Mr. Thomas, I’m not okay with this. Please remove your hand from my throat.” He’ll do it. He has to.

Instead he leers, and I can feel jagged icicles forming in my veins.

“We’re going to do some role playing now, Miss Daniels. Is that all right with you?” The hand wrapped around my throat squeezes, just a bit... and I’m not stupid. It’s a warning, to keep quiet and do what he says.

I can’t bring myself to speak, but I do manage a short nod.

“You’re going to play the part of a whore... oh wait. That’s not acting, that’s true.” Temper and shame twine tightly inside of me, dizzying when combined with the fear. “But we’ll pretend your name is Avery. You’re perfect for the role. And as for me... you’re going to call me Sean.”

“Who’s Avery?” I manage to wheeze out, my pulse kicking into hyper-speed. This has gone far beyond any role playing that I imagine Miss Black would allow. I’m scared. And being scared pisses me off... I thought I’d left that part of my life behind.

The memory of one of my mom’s boyfriends, the most well off one actually, chasing me through the trailer park in the middle of the night, laughing as I screamed, groaning when I finally kneed him in the balls...

My bracelet—I need to get to my bracelet. But the way he’s holding me, I just can’t reach.

“Who is Avery?” Henry repeats
as though I’m a child, shaking his head at me with mocking disappointment. Even though I’m gasping for breath, my temper flares at the condescension and I see red, but his next words chill me to the marrows of my bones.

“Have you ever wanted something simply because it belonged to someone else?” There’s a light in his eyes now, and it tells me that he’s absolutely
fucking crazy.

My bracelet. I need to get to my fucking bracelet.

“There is a man who is the bane of my existence. Just by being, he gets everything he wants. Everything
I
want.” His voice is conversational, as though we are still back in the lounge, making small talk over whiskey and wine. The hand on my throat lowers, his hand sliding down, down, inside the silk of my dress. My bra is so low cut that it offers no barrier at all, allowing him direct access to my skin. I blanch at the unwanted touch, and in punishment, he pinches my nipple, hard enough that I cry out.

“Now, that’s a nice sound.” He does it again, hard enough to make my eyes water.

I won’t cry. I won’t give this asshole the satisfaction.
Hell no.
In fact, as soon as I get the opportunity, I’m going to make sure he loses all ability to father children.

“This man
, Sean... He owns a woman named Avery. A big-eyed, brown haired whore just like you. And since Sean has ensured that I can’t get to her right now, I suppose you’ll have to do.” His hand slides out of my dress, presses it over my heart. The organ is thundering in my chest, and he lowers his head, listening to the sound, making a small groan like he’s sliding inside of me.

“Ah. You’re afraid. That’s very good.” He nuzzles me, the movement unexpectedly tender, and all the more terrifying for it. Then he slides back up my body, every press of his
clearly excited flesh against mine loathsome.

“My enemy like
s it when women are afraid. He likes to make them scream.” Henry pulls back just enough to look into my face. “I want you to be afraid.”

And then he reaches into his pocket and pulls out a switchblade. It’s small, but gleams wickedly in the low light of the abandoned hall when he flicks it open.