Until I Break (16 page)

“Undress.”

It’s not a request; it’s a command, issued as
she walks to a dimly-lit desk that’s barely visible behind a lacy
tri-fold screen. She comes back with a measuring tape. When she
sees I’m still fully clothed, she crosses her arms over her chest
as if settling in to wait. And to watch.

I start peeling off clothes. It’s an
unnerving task with her looking on, even though I only disrobe down
to my underwear.

When I’m finished, she approaches me,
maneuvering me this way and that, dragging the tape along my limbs
and around my waist. She doesn’t write down a single number. I hope
she can remember them all, because I’m not coming back.

When she’s finished, she gives me a graceful
nod and purrs, “You may dress. I’ll have Marilynn show you out.”
And with that, she disappears through the door, leaving me to get
dressed.

Alone.

********

It’s well after dark by the time I arrive at
Alec’s home on Seabrook Island. I park in the driveway and cut the
engine. I sit behind the wheel, staring at the single lighted
window for several long minutes before I open the door and get out.
After I pull my bag from the back seat, I make my way up the steps
to the front door.

It opens before I can even knock.

Alec is standing in the opening, wearing
black slacks and a pearl gray silk shirt, unbuttoned at the throat
with the sleeves rolled up. I’m pretty sure I’ve never seen
anything sexier. “I was afraid you’d changed your mind,” he says as
he reaches forward to take the bag from my shoulder.

“No you weren’t,” I blurt. He knew I would
come. Maybe more than I did. It’s disconcerting, but it’s true. He
knows he’s got me.

“No, I wasn’t,” he replies honestly. And he
grins. For the first time, I get to see not the polite, cool
gesture, but a genuine smile. And I’m totally disarmed. Here is yet
another deadly dimension to this dangerous man.

“At least you’re honest,” I mutter as I step
inside.

“I’m always honest.”

I could argue that, based strictly on the
Alec Brand / Dr. B thing, but I don’t. There’s no room for that
here. Not now. By unspoken agreement, we’ve moved on. My being here
says that. Besides, this weekend is for…something else.

“Always honest, huh? Then you can tell me
what you have planned for this weekend,” I say casually as he leads
me through his magnificent home.

“I could. But I won’t. You’ll just have to
trust me every step of the way.”

I’m trying
.

Alec leads me up two levels to what I assume
is the master bedroom. It occupies the entire third floor and
includes a private balcony beyond the bank of windows that
dominates one side of the room.

Although I associate Alec with dark colors,
which suit his brooding personality, this room seems to fit
something in him as well, even though it’s done completely in stark
whites and rich creams. From the plush antique white duvet to the
bear skin rug in front of the white marble fireplace, this room
screams luxury and sensuality, both adjectives I would use to
describe Alec.

Alec sets my bag in the corner beside another
door then leads me through it into the most opulent bathroom I’ve
ever seen. Its rich beauty is further accentuated by the softly
flickering candles that cover every white surface.

My stomach twitches in excitement when Alec
stops in the center of the room and turns toward me. Taking both my
hands in his, he brings one to his mouth and presses his lips to my
knuckles.

“I’m going to help you get ready for tonight.
Your clothes shouldn’t be too long now. But first…a bath,” he says,
never taking his eyes off mine.

I don’t know what to say. I feel like I
should argue, at least for propriety’s sake.

We’ve only even kissed once and now he’s
talking about a bath?

But no words form on my lips. Everything else
in the world seems pointless compared to what I see in Alec’s
eyes.

Pulling me further into the room, he stops in
front of an oversized tub, half full of water, suds and flower
petals.

“Those are for you,” he says. “I thought a
more romantic ambience might put you at ease.”

And he was right. But it doesn’t eclipse the
reason that I’m here. That we’re both here. “Thank you,” I whisper,
keeping my insecurities to myself.

“This is all about you, all
for
you.
This is to show you that I’m always considering you, that you can
trust me. You
must
trust me. You must do as I ask. Every
time. Without hesitation. Do you understand?”

I get the sense that he’s warning me. Again.
But the thinking part of me refuses to heed it. Again.

When I don’t answer, he reaches up to push a
lock of hair behind my ear. “All good?”

I nod. “All good.”

Alec drops to one knee and wraps his large
hand behind my leg, lifting until it bends and my foot comes off
the floor. He slips off first one shoe and then the other.

I watch the top of his dark head as his
fingers tease the tops of my toes. “Did you know,” he asks,
glancing up at me with his burning eyes, “that to some people, feet
are an erogenous zone?” As he watches me, his thumb begins to make
deep circles on my arch. I feel the sensation all the way in the
lowest part of my stomach.

His eyes still on mine, Alec slowly stands
until he’s towering over me at his full height. I feel intimidated
and excited and a little fearful of what he could do to me if he so
chose.

“I’ve imagined what your breasts look like,”
he says as he curls his fingers in the hem of my shirt and eases it
up. When it’s free of my arms and lying on the floor behind me, he
continues. “Pale white and perfectly round,” he whispers as he
slides both bra straps off my shoulders and down my arms, pulling
the cups over my nipples. His eyes fixate on them in a way that
feels like a physical touch. He lets out a sigh that sounds both
pained and excited. “With pink nipples that taste like candy.”

I feel them tighten as he speaks, as if
begging for him to try them. And he does. In a movement so slow it
almost hurts, Alec unhooks the clasp between my breasts and bends
his head to take my aching nipple into his mouth, swirling his
tongue over it until I can’t breathe.

I let my head fall back, immediately lost to
the sensation. It’s easier than it usually is. But I shouldn’t be
surprised. From the moment I first saw Alec, I’ve found myself lost
in him, lost
to him.

“I’m making introductions,” he explains,
trailing his mouth across to my other breast, “because you and my
tongue are going to become close friends. Best friends, in fact.”
He flicks my nipple with the warm, wet muscle then sucks it into
his mouth. When he releases it, he licks his way down my stomach to
the waist band of my skirt. “You’ll dream of it,” he says, his
hands moving to the small of my back where he unbuttons and unzips
the closure. Easing it over my hips, he lets it drop to the floor.
“And you’ll think of it every time you go to put on your panties.”
Leaning forward, Alec runs his tongue along the elastic band, his
chin grazing the top of my most sensitive body part.

He hooks one finger inside the material where
it runs between my legs and he brushes it back and forth over my
nearly-smooth flesh. “Hmmm,” he groans. “These are already damp.
That’s why you won’t be wearing panties while you’re here.” He
glances up at me as he continues dragging his finger seductively
over me, his knuckle grazing my clitoris. “I want all this on me,
not wasted on satin and lace.”

I can’t move. I can’t speak.

Alec drags my panties down my legs, leaving
me standing completely naked before him. I’m not thinking of my
modesty, however, I’m thinking of his touch. I know it’s coming.
Part of me is begging for it. Part of me is dreading it.

He pauses, his face only inches from my
moist, hot center, and he watches me. Closely. As though he’s
reading my mind.

I feel the shift and I know he saw into me.
He saw my hesitation. And he’s adjusting his plan.

Rising, Alec directs his attention to his
shirt. His hand moves to the collar, drawing my attention as well.
I watch his fingers move deftly over each button, unfastening them
as he makes his way to his waist. My pulse is throbbing erratically
in my neck and I’m rooted to the spot.

When he slowly parts the two halves of his
shirt, I can’t look away. I’m mesmerized by the flexing of rock
hard muscle under smooth bronze skin. His chest is broad and
sculpted, his abs are rippling and defined, and his waist is trim
and narrow. He is a study in perfection.

“Do you like what you see?” he asks quietly,
bringing my eyes up to his face. “Because I can keep going.” His
hands go to his belt buckle and stop, awaiting my instruction. He’s
leaving it up to me—how far we go right now—and as curious as I am
about what’s inside those pants, and as hopeful as I am that he can
be the one to do what no other has been able to thus far, fear that
it will all fall apart wins the day.

“What else did you have in mind?” I ask
shyly, hoping I don’t sound like a high school virgin.

Alec says nothing, moves nothing, for several
long tense moments. I want to know what he’s thinking, but I’m
afraid to ask.

But then, much to my relief, he abandons his
buckle and steps closer to me instead. He sweeps me into his arms
and carries me to the tub. Dropping to one knee, he sets me in the
warm, scented water. “I want you to concentrate. Hard. Focus all
your attention on
not
enjoying my hands on your body,
okay?”

I’m surprised and confused, but thrilled that
his task will be easy for me. I nod in agreement.

Alec takes a brand new bar of soap in his
hands and lathers them. Starting at my throat, he massages the
thick, creamy froth into my skin in lazy circles. He works his way
down my chest to my breasts. Then I understand why the tub is only
half full. It leaves my upper body out of the water. Open to his
eyes. And his touch.

I tremble as his gaze follows his hands.
“These nipples are mouthwatering,” he groans as his slippery
fingers move over them. “I can only imagine how they would look all
red and tender from being covered in hot wax.” As if to punctuate
his thought, he pinches them, unleashing a gush of heat that floods
my core. I clamp my lips against the gasp that traps air in my
lungs. Remembering his words, I think about how I shouldn’t be
enjoying what he’s doing. And I’m not. Not really.

Or am I?

No, I’m still too nervous, still too sure of
how this will end to truly enjoy it, right? I know he can’t give me
an orgasm. No one can. Right?

Or is this why I’m here? Because he’s the
one man who
can?

Pausing in his torture, Alec re-lathers his
hands and turns his attention to my arms. He works the scented soap
into the skin from my armpit to my fingers, even soaping in between
them. The way he moves in and out of the webs of my fingers makes
me struggle
not
to enjoy his ministrations.

Lathering up again, Alec leans toward me,
circling my waist with his hands, moving them up and down my sides,
his fingertips meeting at the center of my spine. Each long stroke
brings his face closer, my back arching further and further. His
eyes are trained steadily on mine, neither of us speaking as he
strokes me, up and down, up and down.

On his last downward stroke, Alec lets his
hands trail down to my hips. His fingers dig into my flesh, pulling
me up off the bottom of the tub as he slips under me to massage
each butt cheek. His fingertips fan inward, moving along the crease
between them. They glide teasingly inward then playfully away.

When Alec stops to soap his hands again, I’m
breathless and I don’t really know why. Maybe it’s because of the
way he’s watching me. Maybe it’s because I know where he’s going
next. Either way, anticipation is curled in my stomach like a snake
ready to strike.

Alec’s foamy hands disappear under the
bubbles. My body is vibrating with tension as I await his touch.
But it never comes. He just watches me, his hands floating
somewhere beneath the bubbles.

I suck in a breath when I feel his palms
settle on my lower abdomen. My muscles twitch reflexively.

Alec splays his fingers out wide, covering me
from hip to hip, and moves them slowly downward. I’m completely
focused on where they’re headed and, against everything he told me
to do, I’m anxious for it. I want it. But then, at the last minute,
he parts his hands and drags them down the outside of my
thighs.

My frustration mounts until Alec stops just
above my knees and pulls his hands inward, toward the inside of my
legs, and begins to climb back to my center, his thumbs pressing in
as he ascends.

Mere inches from my core, Alec stops, his
expression knowing, as if he can see my fingers curling against the
warm ceramic of the tub. And then he moves again, all the way up to
my heated center.

His thumbs part my swollen lips, allowing
warm water to rush over my sensitive flesh. I clench my teeth,
trying to hold still and keep quiet. But when his thumb grazes my
clitoris, a single pant of air escapes before I hold my breath in,
repeating the mantra over and over again.

I won’t enjoy this. I won’t enjoy this.

Up and down, Alec’s thumb moves gently over
me. My instinct is to writhe against him, to grind against his
hand, but I remain perfectly still, not stirring or speaking or
uttering a single sound.

One hand leaves my leg, turning over in the
water to cup me. “I’ll be tasting this soon,” he whispers, teasing
my entrance with one fingertip. “Bend your knees,” he commands.

I do as he asks, placing my feet flat against
the bottom of the tub, opening myself to him. He slides one long
finger deep inside me. “God, you’re tight,” he groans. His
heavy-lidded green eyes are turned nearly black by his dilated
pupils. “You’ll grip my cock like a glove.”