CHARM
Flora Dain
WOLFE TRILOGY: BOOK 1

Copyright

Mischief

An imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers

1 London Bridge Street

London SE1 9GF

www.mischiefbooks.com

An eBook Original 2014

Copyright © Flora Dain 2014

Cover design: Head Design 2017, cover images: Shutterstock.com

Flora Dain asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.

A catalogue copy of this book is available from the British Library.

This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.

All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins.

Ebook Edition © 2014 ISBN: 9780007579587

Version: 2017-08-19

Contents

Cover

Title Page

Copyright

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty-Five

Chapter Twenty-Six

Chapter Twenty-Seven

More from Mischief

About the Mischief

About the Publisher

CHAPTER ONE

It all started with a kiss.

Normally I’d never storm out of a high-end business gala dressed like a princess and head for the street with angry tears coursing down my face without first calling a cab.

Normally I’d never walk right up to the first man I see coming towards me, fling my arms round his neck and kiss him squarely on the mouth.

Normally, if he tasted that good and I edged away with a careless laugh and he scowled, pulled me closer and growled, ‘Hey. Nobody gets that close to me and walks away,’ I’d simply cut and run, not press up against him and burrow into his neck and sigh, ‘Take me somewhere. Anywhere.’

It was just the once.

* * *

After that things happened fast. He clasped one arm tightly around me while he muttered a stream of instructions into his phone, clearly changing his evening’s plans. I clung to him not listening, relishing the silky feel of his suit and the hard muscles lurking beneath. I nuzzled deeper into his neck and drank in his aroma, notes of citrus with deep undertones of feral male. Luscious.

I rubbed myself up against him like a cat on heat. But it wasn’t just heat. It was shock and despair at finding my on-off boyfriend had traded me in and was smooching the upgrade right there in the bar. All I wanted was to prove I could cut it – that I looked good and was still a fully functioning female.

Frankly, anybody would have done, but right on cue here was this stunning, Armani-clad male animal prowling towards me like a panther with attitude. How could I resist? Anyway, it was just a joke.

It seemed he didn’t do jokes.

And later I learned he wasn’t just anybody.

Boy, did I pick the wrong cat.

The instructions done, he slipped his phone into his pocket. Keeping his arm firmly around my waist he prised my arms away from his neck and clicked his fingers. A low-slung limo appeared like magic, the passenger door already swinging open.

His eyes glittered into mine as light glanced off the hard line of his jaw. ‘Now you’ll come back to my hotel and finish what you started. Or you can walk away. Which?’

Whoa. Did he mean it? Heat bloomed on my skin. Arousal enveloped my mind and made me dizzy. He’d tasted sensational, all honey and spice. And he felt even better, lithe and hard. Finish what I started? I could have finished him on the spot.

I ducked down and clambered in.

* * *

In the car he eyed me from the far corner while he murmured some more into his phone.

Who was this?

Too late to worry about that now. Tingling with excitement I drew in great lungfuls of air and flatly refused to look down from the high wire he’d just stretched over the void by calling my bluff. In the hotel elevator I launched myself at him and we fused together for long, blissful seconds, parting only to tumble out onto his landing and in at his door.

His suite was vast, the lighting low. There was music somewhere, singing. Before the door had slammed shut at the back-kick of his heel he’d pushed me up against a wall, wrenched my tight cocktail dress down to pin my arms and expose my breasts and then pressed his knee between my thighs.

He placed his hands flat on the wall at either side of my head and locked his eyes onto mine. His voice thrilled through me in a low throaty growl. ‘So, how do you like it? Hard? Soft? Slow? Fast?’

‘I have to choose? How about all four?’ I tried for playful but something in his steely gaze warned me he didn’t do playful.

How right I was.

‘Fine by me.’ He descended on my mouth and ground against me, kneading my breasts, pressing the hard column of his erection deep into my belly. I writhed against him trying to get closer and savoured the fierce heat of his tongue, filling me like I wanted filling but all in the wrong place. I started making little moaning noises deep in my throat as he pulled and tweaked at my nipples, sending shafts of heat straight to my groin.

He answered with low growls of his own as he pulled my dress down further so my arms were rammed against my sides and now I was trussed. He forced my legs wider and pressed his whole body against me while he took his hand away to unfasten his shirt, dragging his tie away from his shirt collar with a hiss and snapping at buttons. If I could have moved I’d have undone his flies for him but when my hands fluttered somewhere near his hips he pulled away from my mouth and grinned, his hand slipping down to explore me.

I whimpered as his fingers searched my swelling needy places and came away shining wet.

He rammed me against the wall with his chest as he held his hand close to my face. ‘What’s this? No panties? And wet already? Disgraceful. Lick.’

I ground my hips against him willing him on – and in – but he grinned and held his fingers closer, dangling his hand over my face to make me arch my neck to reach.

The deep rumble of his voice and the hot tingle of his touch sent flames licking all over me, little teasing darts promising so much pleasure I felt I might explode any minute. It was made worse by the growing feeling that he had his own plans and we were tracing out some pattern of sex that was new to me. His movements were confident and assured, his air of command as clear as the slice of a whip.

At last I stretched high enough to reach him. I pulled his fingers deep into my mouth and fellated eagerly. I tasted myself, salty and warm, and smelled my need, my thick juices filming his fingers with womankind’s very own original and best-ever lube. After a while he drew me away from the wall and bent me over, supporting me firmly by the hips with one hand and pushing me down low with the other.

‘Now me. Make me wet too. Take it in one, all the way.’

I gasped as he freed himself. It sprang out of his flies right before my face, purple and hot, tantalisingly out of reach while my arms were still pinned. I longed to touch it, map its silky ridges with my fingertips, measure its heat and its length and let my fingers tell my brain how good it would feel when it surged up inside me or maybe lunged deep into my throat. But it seemed only window-shopping was allowed.

‘Let me go,’ I pleaded, desperate now. ‘Loosen my arms. I want to feel you.’

It was awkward bent over like this, so close to the dark, warm richness of his loins – and deeply frustrating.

Above me I heard him chuckle. ‘No hands. Mouth first. All in one.’

Fire raged between my legs, still pegged wide by his feet. Awkward in my tight, bunched dress, I leaned over as he bucked towards my face and I plunged down over his shaft. He tasted gorgeous, hot and hard and salt. With a massive lunge I shifted so my throat curved right over and I managed him, riding back up a little way to reach the tip, swirled my tongue along the shallow curve at the top and lunged again. He gave a low growl that echoed somewhere in his belly close to my ear and then he pulled me upright.

‘Good girl. Now keep very still.’ Holding my eyes he reached into his trouser pocket. I heard the rip of foil and then all at once he pushed me hard back against the wall. I bucked forwards to reach him and with a matching thrust he entered me in a single plunge and pushed right up inside.

‘Yes,’ I screeched at the rightness of it. He felt so good, hot and thick, all I craved. With a few more thrusts he drove into me and then just as I thought I’d spill over into a massive climax he stilled, impaling me on his shaft, and stared into my face.

His eyes glittered. ‘Is this what you want? Hard, like this? Fast?’

‘Yes, yes. Please don’t stop. It’s glorious.’ I was panting now, desperate for him to finish and to finish me.

He continued to stand very still, buried deep inside me. ‘Ah, but it’s not that simple. You want more. You asked for soft and slow. Over here.’

He eased himself away and in one swift move he swept me up in his arms like a limp rag doll. He carried me into the middle of the room and laid me down gently on the rug. ‘You want soft? We’ll do soft.’

‘Loosen my arms. I can’t reach you.’ I was frantic now, longing to touch him, still forbidden.

He smiled slowly for the first time, showing perfect teeth. ‘I know.’

‘But I want to touch you,’ I pleaded.

His smile vanished. ‘Quiet.’ Pushing my knees apart he leaned down and began to feast.

It was too much. My arousal had been pounding like a drumbeat since the moment we’d met and now it rocketed through me like gunfire. I screeched aloud and writhed under his mouth and at last he took mercy on me and released me long enough to haul me up a little and flip me over.

My arms still pinned, he pushed my head down onto the floor, squashing my cheek hard against the soft pile of the rug, and pulled my hips up a little way to expose my ass. I shuddered as he began to fondle me with long, loving sweeps of his hands, making low growling animal noises of appreciation somewhere deep in his throat. The sound thrilled through me, making me moan.

‘Now we’ll take it slow and when you come again we’ll take it fast.’

‘How can you do this?’ How much longer could he hold out? It was delicious, mind-boggling – and entirely unexpected. I’d thought this would be over in seconds. Now I could see it lasting half the night. ‘And please loosen my arms. I can’t balance.’

‘Quiet. Spread your legs. Wider.’ He pushed at my ankles and now my ass was high in the air and my thighs spread wide. I heard another rip of foil – he must have thrown away the first when he pulled away earlier – and all at once he thrust into me again, slow at first, while he slapped me from behind.

I shrieked in excitement, the sound half muffled in the rug, but he carried on, the blows coming harder and faster as another orgasm began to build. It edged higher and higher with the jolting of the blows and the tight restraint on my arms as his pounding length stretched me wide, gliding in and out of my juicy slickness.

And as he paused at the peak of an almighty thrust I felt a glow of heat through the condom and he reached round to feel me with his hand. We came together, me with a shout, him with a grunt that echoed all through my belly and we collapsed together on the rug.

* * *

It lasted much longer than half the night. It lasted most of it. Sometimes we unlaced our limbs. At some point he took pity on my aching, pinioned arms and peeled my dress away and I lay along him on the sofa, my legs spread wide in wanton abandon. I nuzzled into his neck, breathing in his aroma while he explored me with his hands, searching every fold, every privacy, exposing every delicate cranny of pleasure in secret places I thought only I would ever know – and finding some I’d missed.

Commanded to stay in position, I writhed and twitched along his body while he teased me without mercy, laughing softly into my ear as I convulsed repeatedly around his fingers, insistent, intimate and probing. And later still we took our second champagne bottle, nearly empty now, into the master bedroom and finished it, spilling some of it on the sheets when he fastened his last mouthful over my sex and let the bubbles tingle all around my bud until I climaxed. I was in danger of losing count.

Sometimes we dozed, sometimes we talked – about silly, unimportant things like music and cartoons. It was clear he had no wish to talk about himself and neither did I. It was perfect just as it was.

Scared to break the spell, I didn’t even ask him his name. And much later, as dawn light started to gleam in a cold blue line under the edge of the drapes, I watched him dress, feeling the tiniest glimmer of regret – but only that it had to end. For the first time it also occurred to me that he’d behaved like a perfect gentleman throughout while I’d been rather less than a lady. ‘I don’t usually do this,’ I muttered, half to myself.

A bit late to say so but I felt he should know.

He glanced at me as he fixed a cufflink, one eyebrow tilted slightly, giving his angular face a delicate appeal. ‘Me neither.’

I swallowed. ‘Did I stop you doing something important?’

He glanced back to the mirror to straighten his tie and then he surprised me again, in this long night full of surprises. He bent down to run the back of his finger down my cheek, his touch whisper-soft. He looked into my eyes for a long moment, his expression grave. ‘Hey. We just did it. Now get some sleep.’

He brushed my lips with a light kiss and then made for the door.

That was the last I saw of him.

* * *

In the morning I woke to bright sunlight, tinkling silver and a splitting headache. Waiters were setting out breakfast on a side table. I pretended to be asleep until they’d gone and then hauled myself upright.

There was no sign of him. The suite was quiet.

Breakfast looked good – a basket of warm croissants, orange juice, honey and pale butter with lots of white china so bright it hurt. It smelled great but I doubted I could face any. Next to it was a bouquet of white roses with a card.

I clambered out of bed to see what it said but it was blank apart from a small corporate logo, a wolf’s head over a pair of handcuffs.

And that’s how I finally found out who he was. Darnley Wolfe.

Just my luck.

* * *

That was a year ago.

Free of my ex, I went back to my normal life as a normal teacher in normal New England, about as far as it’s possible to get from the distinctly abnormal cut and thrust of high-end business. And unlike my ex I’ve so far resisted an upgrade, despite offers.

I’ve tasted Wolfe. Local tomcat’s not the same.

* * *

Right now I’m sitting on the edge of a cool blue pool in a flash hotel in Dallas, Texas, and I’ve just seen that logo again. The hotel’s full of it, the entrance area lined with oversized billboards plastered with it. It’s everywhere I look. Once again, I’m gatecrashing a company event. According to the posters it takes place this week.

That morning I left the flowers for the maids but I kept the card. I look at it often. Once or twice I nearly called the number on it but every time the menacing logo warned me off. Now I’m hemmed in by it all over again.

I shiver as I recall my narrow escape. This time I might not be so lucky.

Nobody gets that close to me and walks away.

Darnley Wolfe heads Wolfe Security, the company my ex was working for until he was fired and set up his own, which I gather is now doing rather well. Wolfe Security deals in surveillance wizardry and personal protection and was hosting the gala I stormed out of when I ran slap-bang into its CEO on his way in.

He’s wealthy and ruthless, likes women as fast as his cars, and right now he’s sitting at the far side of the hotel swimming pool watching me. He’s been watching me since the moment I walked in here.

I’ve just had a long hot drive from the airport. I walked out here to perch by the pool to cool off then caught sight of him and froze.

I’m hot and dusty. He has a long cool drink tinkling with ice and a fawning waitress at his elbow. He’s ignoring both to concentrate on me, as still and focused as his namesake predator.

This is worse than embarrassing. I’d no idea he’d be here. Now he’ll think I’ve come tracking Wolfe. In fact from where I’m sitting it looks like he’s tracking me – but I know that must be impossible.

I’ve tried to move on but the taste of Wolfe is fierce and heady. It lingers like civet. In the sultry glare of his designer shades I feel the power of his spell whip around me like giant liana, trapping my will, leaching away rational thought.

But I’m Miss Normal from New England, the land of Salem witches and Stephen King. We know a thing or two about spells. All I have to do to break this one is walk right up to him, say, ‘Hi’ and walk away again.

Easy as a piece of normal New England pie.

I grit my teeth, get to my feet and walk slowly around the pool to greet him.

CHAPTER TWO

When I start round the pool the first thing I find out about getting close to Mr high-and-mighty Darnley Wolfe is that nobody gets close. I thread my way through the crowded sun-loungers, past tables humming with easy chatter and bright with designer linens, but when I reach the ring of empty tables that surrounds him a security guard with a face like a cliff bars my way.

Irritated, I turn away. Instantly another guard bars my way, this time with double-cleft chins. Unsettled now, my temper rising, I glance back over my shoulder to see a silent signal has been given, a path mysteriously cleared and Cliff Face is now waving me through. A long cool drink is being set for me at a new place at Darnley Wolfe’s hallowed table. As I approach the waitress gives me a frightened nod and scuttles away.

As far as I can tell Darnley Wolfe has remained perfectly still throughout. His signals must be telepathic. I perch on the seat facing him and quietly start to panic.

He’ll have forgotten me. It’s been a long time.

Maybe he was dozing behind his shades and not looking at me at all …

‘Ella. It’s been a while.’

He remembers. He even knows my name. Shock slams me on autopilot and I smile politely. ‘Darnley.’

It’s the first time I’ve ever said his name out loud. A faint tremor goes through me like I’m bringing something to life. Miss Normal from New England notes that he stays seated to greet me but finally takes off his shades – the politeness of millionaires.

As he does so I almost wish he’d left them on. His look is hard and cold. Any fleeting hope that something remains of our wonderful night together instantly fades. Now I must face this stunning, powerful man knowing his heart is closed. Our brief moments of passion no longer offer any way in.

And he’s still watching me.

Curious now, I open my mouth to ask him why he’s here just as his low, stirring voice cuts in with the same question. As I blurt out an answer I forget my question. ‘Ryan – that’s my ex – asked me to meet him here. He wants to talk to me about something. He said it was urgent.’

Darnley’s brow lifts. ‘He’s here now?’

I shrug. I long ago lost interest in Ryan’s movements. ‘Apparently not. They told me at the desk he’s gone out for the day. Fishing.’

‘Fishing?’ His lip twists at the corner.

With a prickle of unease I remember I never once heard Ryan mention fishing. Why now? ‘That’s what he said. Does it matter?’

‘You were involved with him the night we met?’

Colour glows in my cheeks. So he does remember.

‘Yes. But not – that was why – I’d just dumped him.’ I break off, scarlet now, and take a sip of my drink. I’m mad at myself and madder still at the collapse of my plan. What happened to walking right up, saying hi and walking away?

He’s frowning. ‘So you two are – what? Getting back together?’

‘He just wanted to meet me. I was touring anyway. I broke it off for a few days to fly down here.’ I tail off and frown, puzzled. ‘Why? Is there a problem?’

He leans back, his eyes narrow. He casually ignores my question. ‘So where is he?’

I summon my patience. ‘I told you, I don’t know. Why’s it so important? Should I call the police?’ Now I’m uneasy. I’m glad to be free of Ryan but I wish him no harm.

Darnley replaces his shades and rises to his feet with feline grace. ‘Let’s hope it won’t come to that. Perhaps you’ll both join me for dinner. Say we meet around eight, in the President Bar? If he’s late we’ll save him a place.’

He glances at his watch, hinting he’s got better things to do and dismissing any lingering notion that I feature anywhere on his map. Like it’s an afterthought, he holds out his hand and I touch it lightly, feeling a tingle from his fingers, and then he turns and strolls away.

Miss Normal’s mission lies in ruins. His spell’s as strong as ever.

* * *

The President Bar looks like a movie set, all smiling guests, hushed chatter and the clatter and chink of glasses. It’s warm here and there’s a mix of evening dress and poolside chic but the general feeling is formal. The guests look well heeled and have a kind of generous ease about them. It’s not just from crossing into a new time zone. I’m in new country here, warm with broad smiles, real suntans and vigorous handshakes. All around me easy Southern drawls reflect warmer climes and make me feel very prim and New Englandish.

After the shake-up of my encounter with Darnley this afternoon I’m now fully restored. A refreshing shower and an hour’s pampering in my room worked wonders. Afterwards I tried to call Ryan but he was still not answering so to pass the time I worked down my call-list. My parents are still on a cruise, one of my friends is off on a date and too hyper to talk any sense, and two more are trekking in the Yosemite and have a poor signal, so I gave up.

On the way down I asked again at Reception but Ryan’s still not back.

At last I make it to the bar. As I take a look around I take a deep breath, smile and make a conscious effort to relax. I’m on holiday after all and this is an adventure for me. I’ve never been this far west.

The bar’s larger than I expected. It’s more a reception area for a selection of restaurants. Tall windows open onto the palm-fringed terrace around the pool, letting in warm, scented night air from the Texas heartlands. To me it’s as exotic as the South Seas.

As I weave my way through the tables I feel a flare of excitement. My short silk dress in a plain bright colour fits well and feels good. The matching heels I stuffed in my case at the last minute make me feel tall and graceful. I’m no great hairdresser but my hair’s out on parole from its daytime ponytail and piled up loosely on my head, stray curls and wisps peeking out shyly and doing duty as decoration. I don’t wear much jewellery.

I feel heady, like I’m on a date.

As I catch sight of Darnley my heart gives a thump. He’s at the far side of the room talking with a small knot of business people. He looks handsome and distinguished in a dark suit. Cliff Face hovers nearby and I notice a few more of the stony-faced henchmen, formally dressed now and kind of blending into the crowd, their watchful expressions giving nothing away.

I can only hope they’re having fun.

The next instant Darnley looks up and sees me, sweeping me with a look that shifts the ground under my feet. Heat flares through me in a flame of arousal so acute I feel almost weak. How exciting must it be to actually date someone like this? Maybe I should have called that number after all …

But as I walk across the room to greet him I pull myself together. Everything about him warns me this man is dangerous. Something tells me he doesn’t date Miss Normal from New England without good reason, and the odd, slanted questions he fired off at me this afternoon mask some kind of problem.

He watches me draw near, once more unnaturally still. ‘Ella.’

The sensual lilt he gives to my name sends a thrill through me. The intensity of his look paints colour in my cheeks.

We find a quiet table in an alcove and toy with our drinks until the waiter leaves us in peace. I’m foolishly asking Darnley whether he’s here for business or fun – forgetting his company’s hosting some function soon so obviously he’d be here – when all at once he reaches out and runs a finger along my wrist bone.

I halt mid-sentence.

‘Your wrist is very slender.’ He’s gazing at it, his expression rapt, his attention suspended. I hold very still as he takes my hand, turns it over in both his own, slides his fingertips over my wrist and circles it with his thumb and forefinger. His touch is doing strange things to me.

The feel of his hand holding me like this is exciting but oddly his touch is not close. It’s like he’s measuring me. What’s so interesting about wrists? Is he making up his mind to say something else?

‘It was a shock, seeing you again.’ His murmur is so low I barely hear it. He might be talking to himself.

His attention is still focused on my wrist and for a few seconds he circles it with his finger and thumb. They curl round it easily, meeting to complete the circle on the soft, sensitive place at the inside where my pulse is now in overdrive.

There’s something very intense, disturbing even, about his stillness as he does this. I hardly dare breathe. At the same time I’m keenly aware that we’re in a public place, surrounded by smiling, elegant people, but for some reason I don’t understand this is a sudden and very private moment between us.

When he lifts his eyes to mine I see a brief gleam in them that fades quickly into a polite smile.

‘You were saying?’

I take a deep breath. Do I care why he’s here? The main thing is he is. And Ryan may get here any moment and then all hope of saying anything personal will be lost for ever. ‘I may have given you the wrong impression the first time we met. I’m not really the person you think I am.’

Darnley’s smile twists instantly in a sardonic gleam. ‘You thought I hadn’t guessed?’

‘I just thought you should know,’ I backtrack, stiff and a tad offended.

I expected – what? Surprise? Disappointment? His open, forceful sneer is a shock.

His anger practically flows over me in a wave of heat. I flounder, stunned as much by his sudden change of mood as by his low tone, now hard-edged and bitter.

The flash in his eyes punctures the illusion that this was a romantic moment. ‘I guessed soon after. I can’t say I’m surprised. Oldest trick in the book.’

How cruel. A stinging feeling prickles behind my eyes. I fight it back and hold my ground. ‘Yes, well, I just thought you should know. And for the record I really enjoyed it. I guess you should know that too.’

His eyes snap in disbelief. ‘You enjoyed it? So that makes it OK, does it?’

I swallow, bewildered at his cruelty but determined to finish. ‘It was – the most thrilling night of my life.’

His grin turns into amazed disbelief. ‘Thrilling? So how do you plan to top it? Raid Fort Knox?’

I frown. ‘Wait – what are we talking about here?’

His eyes burn into mine as he leans forward and lowers his voice. ‘Hey, that’s a good question. What are you talking about?’

I colour and look away.

His low murmur etches into me like acid. ‘Ah, yes, the honey-trap. That’s what made me smell a rat. I’m talking about you and your former boyfriend defrauding me of five million dollars.’

There’s an explosion between us as my glass shatters on the rim of the table and sprays vodka martini everywhere.

* * *

Fifteen minutes later we’re alone in his suite. Attentive waiters and offers of medical help have all been impatiently waved away. On the way up here shock dried the roof of my mouth and kept my blank gaze fixed on his face. Now feeling’s flooding back and I want answers.

‘Just tell me what’s going on, Darnley, please. And start at the beginning. I’m sure this is all a simple misunderstanding.’

To do him justice, he seems equally shaken. Concern furrows his face as he fetches me water when I decline brandy and start to shiver.

‘Hey, you’re cold. You’re in shock.’ He puts his arm around my shoulders as I sip and I recover quickly, his warmth and closeness bringing a glow to my cheeks faster than any spirit.

He looks worried but the barrier’s still there. I nestle closer for warmth and all at once I sense him grow still.

‘Ella, can I try something?’

I stare up at him in alarm. ‘What kind of thing?’

What now? He wants to examine my phone? Check my emails? Prove I’m a liar?

He frowns, like he has to concentrate, his face barely inches from mine. ‘I’m not sure. I just want to make up my mind about something.’

He brushes my lips with his. I sit perfectly still for a long moment as sensation rockets through me. All at once something that reignited the second I saw him earlier this afternoon flares into a forest fire and I launch myself at him. In seconds I’m pinned beneath him on the sofa and he’s kissing me deep, his tongue surging into my mouth in a full-on invasion. One hand captures my wrists and hauls them high over my head. The other dives deep into the cloth-filled spaces between us as he probes the soft warmth between my thighs. The mounds of my breasts are crushed under the weight of the pounding heartbeat drumming through the muscles of his chest.

I writhe below him, thrilled at my capture, relishing imprisonment. I offer up all the spent, frustrated passion I’ve battened down so long, burning all the more fiercely now because it had no hope of release until he suddenly unleashed it.

Miss Normal heads for home.

At last he pulls away and I remember to breathe. He sits up and helps me rearrange myself and now I feel shakier than before, for different reasons.

I smile up at him through my eyelashes before I remember he doesn’t do playful. ‘Did that help any?’

He’s still panting, his chest hauling in air like he’s just run a race and inexplicably failed to finish. He darts me an irritated look. ‘Not really. Where were we?’

‘Industrial secrets?’ I prompt, gently.

He quits the sofa like he needs more air. Briskly he pulls up a chair, sits and leans forward with his arms on his knees, his fine long hands clasped loosely between them. ‘Know anything about thermal imaging?’

I roll my eyes and he sighs.

‘OK. Put simply, it’s taking pictures of heat sources. Detects people or animals in the dark. Useful for surveillance, war-zones, hunting, riot control. One of my companies was developing a cheap, mass-produceable micro-imager that could be used in home surveillance units. Not only that but it could calibrate the image to a precise enough ratio to give an instant read-out of the likely size and type of the source. So, say your home alarm system is triggered late at night while you’re away, it would tell you or your local police whether the intruder’s a cat, or a man or a group of men, their height and weight, whether they have weapons, and then send the data to your phone so you could decide on the best response.’

This is not entirely new to me. Ryan often came over all technical – one of his few charms, as I recall. Anyway it made a change from literature. When he took the trouble to keep it simple I even managed to follow some of it.

‘Did Mitchell talk much about his work?’

‘I only know he majored in surveillance technology. I gathered that was why he joined your company in the first place. But what’s the connection?’

Darnley’s eyes narrow to slits. ‘We sacked him. He was caught passing commercially sensitive stuff to a rival. But he was part of the team developing the thermal imaging software and when he left he took the untested version and all the plans with him and immediately set up his own company to develop it.’

I frown. Ryan was always wrapped up in his work. I could forgive that – so am I. What finished it for me were tiny lies, the constant lateness and the feeble excuses. He even filched money from my bank account. But this? I shake my head. ‘I can’t believe he’s a criminal. I’ve known him since college. He’s just – self-absorbed.’

As far as I was concerned it was the upgrade that did it. She was the last in a long line of female straws.

Troubled, I scan Darnley’s stern, classical face. With a shock I see he’s looking at me intently, his expression alive with something almost like pain. ‘So – you want to find him and make him give it back, is that it?’

He’s frowning now. ‘No, I just want to give him a piece of my mind. He used our resources to work on our idea and then stole it – along with the time and effort we’d invested in it. But his version’s untested, unreliable. He won’t get far if he tries to sell it on. I want you to give it back.’

I grin in disbelief. ‘Me? It’s got nothing to do with me.’

His eyes glitter dangerously. ‘I’d like very much to believe that. But we both know there’s a little more to it than that, don’t we, Ella?’

‘We do?’ Once more the conversation is slipping away from me. Miss Normal has given up and gone home and now nothing’s normal any more. And to prove it he suddenly says something so high and wild I know I must be dreaming.

‘Yes, we do. The patent he applied for is in your name. Right now you must be worth – at a rough guess – some five or six million dollars.’

CHAPTER THREE

I stare at Darnley, once more in shock. I’ve just found out that Ryan, my ex, is a criminal, Darnley, my once-only one-night stand, is now a bitter enemy and I’m rich beyond reason. Plus I’ve been on the road since dawn.

It’s been a long day.

What I need right now is a stiff drink, space to think and sleep. I rise shakily to my feet and head for the door. ‘If you don’t mind, I’ll turn in. This has all been –’

Darnley’s there before me. His hand closes over mine the second I touch the handle. Once more the shot of electricity from his touch fires instant arousal. Once more I’m helpless in the fierce intensity of his gaze, mesmerised by the force of his will.

‘Not yet, Ella. Please.’

I bridle, nerves still jangling. I’m puzzled but angry. In my current state it’s an unhappy mix.

His face softens. ‘Look, you’ve had a shock. You shouldn’t be alone. Stay here tonight. I’ll be told the minute Mitchell comes in. I’ll wake you.’

Stay here? I wrench my imagination back from the wild images spiralling before me. Mitchell? Who’s that? Oh, yes, my ex … for a split second I’ve forgotten his existence.

I lick my lips. It’s a tempting offer …

Darnley must read something of this on my face because I see his mouth twitch at the corners and his eyelids lower. He senses my weakness, predator that he is.

‘There’s more than one bedroom.’

His voice is silky now, his hand firmly planted over mine. I feel his thumb move gently. It grazes the tips of my knuckles in a tiny, subtle caress.

‘But I have to get my things,’ I falter, feeling my will drain away in the white heat of his steady gaze.

‘I had them brought up. You’re in the room on the left.’

‘What?’ I snap to attention. ‘Before you even asked me?’

He loosens his grip on my rigid fist and slides his hand up my arm. ‘Come and sit down again. You’re a terrible colour. I’ll get you a drink.’

His look is veiled, his tone calm, but it’s one shock too many.

I glare at him. ‘I’m fine. Please show me my room.’ I clamp my lips in a firm line so he won’t see them tremble and guess I’m on the point of giving in.

With an impatient sigh he leads me through the vast spaces of his suite to a large, gauzy room with filmy drapes. The bed is already turned down, my slip prettily laid out across the pillow. I turn to thank him but he’s already gone.

Still on autopilot I shower, brush out my hair and prepare for bed. At last I perch on the unfamiliar satin sheets, pull my knees up to my chin and gaze at the wall, trying to make sense of all that’s happened tonight.

* * *

The small pool of light from the bedside lamp makes strange shadows in this sumptuous, unfamiliar room. They mirror my thoughts. Nothing adds up. However I come at this I can’t seem to untangle it. All that stays with me is the strange feeling I had when I walked in here earlier today that I was on the brink of something new.

After a while – minutes? Hours? I can hardly tell – there’s a light knock. I look up with a start. News at last? I hope it’s nothing bad. I can’t take any more shocks tonight.

It’s Darnley. He slips into the room and stands in the shadow by the door, letting it close quietly behind him. As I take him in I hold my breath. He’s wearing a short robe in black velour, tied at the waist. He looks lean and muscular. On his chest I catch a gleam from the small wolf’s-head logo embossed in silver. In the shadows he looks stunning, the hollows in his cheeks etched in the dim light from the lamp, emphasising the jutting, predatory cheekbones, the tough line of his jaw and the cruel possibilities of his long mouth.

He looks like he’s trying to make up his mind about me and fast losing patience because he’s still undecided. ‘Are you OK? You’ve been awake for hours. It’s late.’ He walks slowly across the room, his easy grace at odds with his troubled expression. ‘Can’t sleep?’

He runs a finger lightly over the taut knuckles clasped around my knees. ‘You’re cold. How long have you been sitting like this?’

He holds my gaze as he sits down beside me on the edge of the bed, prises my hands away and folds them into his. His warm clasp revives me enough to shift towards him and stretch out my stiff, cramped legs.

‘Did my lamp wake you?’ I shiver as feeling prickles back into my calf muscles in a shower of pins and needles.

His frown deepens and he folds his arms around me and pulls me close, his gaze stern. ‘Not exactly. The thought of you sitting in here with the light on is putting me off. What makes you sleep, Ella? What is it you need?’

I lean forward and breathe in his glorious aroma, heady and feral, and as I lift my eyes to his I see that he knows. He knows all about what I want.

At the same time a tiny part of me notices he’s still fingering the bones on my wrist, his touch gentle, warm, like he’s measuring, probing. It’s oddly arousing, just that faint, persistent touch. I’d no idea that part of me, just at the inner base of my hand, at the thinnest part of my arm, could be so sensitive.

Or maybe it’s because whenever he touches me there he seems unnaturally still.

The rest of me suffuses with deliberate, blatant lust. My breath quickens as my breasts graze the soft fabric of his robe through the thin satin stretched taut by their weight as I lean forward.

A flicker of awareness crosses his face. He can tell. The faint tilt of one eyebrow shows his reaction as clearly as if I’d said it out loud. ‘Really? Is that all?’

I reply with the faintest brush of my lips along the edge of his jaw. He sits very still for a moment as I move round to touch them to his earlobes, his neck and then the delicious hollow at the base of his throat. It’s a kind of homage but I’m powerless to invest it with any meaning. I’m simply reacting to the sensual force field that’s building around us.

‘Can I ask you a favour?’ His smile is friendly, his expression veiled.

My eyes widen briefly and then I kiss him again, scared he’ll ask me to stop and this might be my last chance.

‘Can I tie you up?’

He might be asking me to pass him a tissue. I sit up, wondering if I’ve heard him right. His expression’s calm. He’s waiting for an answer. I’ve heard about this. I’ve even heard it’s fun. But nobody’s ever asked me to do it.

My pulse shoots into overdrive, pounding in my ears and almost drowning out my instant, unthinking reply. ‘Yes.’

In minutes his velour sash is looped under the corners of the mattress and first one and then the other slim, quivering wrist is slip-tied to one of the loose ends. When he pulls on my ankles to drag me down the bed a little way, my arms are stretched wide over my head. Without the sash to confine it his robe swings open as he works, his movements brisk and efficient as he spreads my legs wide to get me into position.

I gaze entranced at the sight of his rippling skin, gleaming in the low light from the lamp as he bends over me to fix me into place for whatever enormity he’s planning.

The thought that he’s done this before – and, judging from the efficient way he’s tying me up, often – sends arousal rocketing through me in sheets of flame.

Now the power of his spell is overwhelming and I’m falling fast. I cling to reality by blurting out one more question, my voice shaky. It’s not from panic but real curiosity. It’s also a feeble bid to assert myself against the floodtide of his energy, its force so great it threatens any minute to sweep me away. ‘Why? Why are you doing this?’

He pauses as he kneels over me, his powerful thighs warm at either side of my face, the crotch of his boxers already thrillingly filled and bulging and very close to my mouth. I can smell the heady aroma of mingled spice and earth that pervades his body heat.

He shrugs off his robe and hurls it across the room where it flaps over a low chair like a defeated vampire. ‘Because I want you to keep still.’ His eyes glitter as he leans over me, his jutting erection making his intention plain.

He grabs my ankles and hauls me down the bed a little further, forces a pillow under my hips and then pushes my thighs apart until they ache. He leans back on his haunches to admire me for a moment before he swoops down to kiss me on the lips, his tongue insistent and probing, forcing gently into my mouth and then lingering, massaging mine in a gentle greeting – or is it staking a claim? – before pulling away.

He looks deep into my eyes and for a second I see a glimmer of heat. ‘And because I like it.’

He pulls away and moves back down my body to where I’m splayed wide, open to his inspection and now throbbing painfully, powerless and aroused to the point of numbness. ‘Are you always as swollen as this?’ He peers at me intently and begins to probe me gently with his fingers, easing into me with the sure touch of an expert.

I gasp at his touch, my thighs jerking back together in a reflex utterly beyond my control, but his response is swift and painful.

He slaps me hard on my inner thigh. ‘Keep still or I’ll tie your ankles too.’

Now I’m staring at him in shock, my neck aching from the effort of holding up my head to see what he’ll do next. I’m starting to tremble and it’s making me jumpy.

He probes again, his fingers intimate and wildly provoking. He watches me closely as he does it. ‘Hey, easy. Lie back. I’m not going to hurt you, Ella. I just want to try something.’

What kind of thing? I stare back at him, helpless in his gaze as he probes me again, his eyes fierce but his touch gentle as a whisper, as if to prove he can do nice as well as nasty. And all at once I want both, and fast. I grin at the enormity of my surrender, my lips parted to drag in air. ‘Yes.’

It’s all he needs. Triumph flickers in his eyes as he lowers his head and begins to feast.

His tongue could launch ships or start wars. I’ve never been so tormented, so teased or so relished in all my life. He sweeps its long, strong tip all along one side of my wide, splayed dip, skims the apex and then runs it down the other side, sending bolts of arousal shooting through me. Then he does it again. And again. And infinitely slowly he works his way into my folds, testing and tasting deep into my petals, parting each layer with patience and careful skill as if each hidden secret he finds there is precious and each act of separation an experience not to be missed.

I writhe and buck under his exquisite torment, tugging on my soft velour bonds like a captive doe in the hunter’s grasp. Each time I twitch out of reach he slaps me, and soon he growls low in his throat as he does it, the sound almost a snarl, inflaming me further. At last he reaches my centre and the first light, tingling touch of his tongue on my pulsing, swollen bud makes me scream aloud in rage and frustration.

He slaps me again, harder now. ‘Quiet. You’ll have half the hotel in here. Use some self-control or I’ll have to resort to discipline.’

He’ll what? Ye gods … what have I started?

He stays on target, his tongue edging back through my layers and probing deeper, below me this time, to where my rump hovers, trembling over the void on its pillow hill. Now he brings his fingers into play, pushing them into me, first one, then more, and cruelly grazes my bud with finger and thumb, splaying me open with his other hand to expose me fully and deny me even the small satisfaction of feeling my own softness close and maybe tip me over the edge.

I whimper as his fingers continue to graze me, gentle and insistent, but never enough – never close enough, never hard enough – always easing away just as I think the pressure will make me erupt.

Now he cruelly abandons my quivering, pulsing, lustful little crater as he looms back into my line of vision. He leans up over me and continues his torment along my taut, rippling belly and finally reaches my jutting, heaving breasts. Here he takes his time, folding his hands around them and kneading hard, making them bulge and swell up before me like mountains. He smiles down at me as he rolls my nipples between his fingers and thumbs, softly at first and then increasing the pressure until I cry out.

As he slaps me again I feel something drip somewhere, I can only hope on the pillow. It tickles madly, adding to my torture, and right on cue he releases one breast and searches down below with his hand. ‘Someone wet already? We’ve got a long way to go yet.’

Keeping one hand busy on my breasts he leans back up and now his face is close to mine as he runs his hand lightly along the soft inner skin of my taut, captured arm. His fingers rest on my wrist and linger where the sensitive skin slants away from the loose binding because of the angle he’s forced me to take. He probes the skin under the loop with his finger, testing gently, and all at once I see a gleam in his eyes and a new stillness in his look. At the same moment his erection jerks painfully against my flank.

Whoa. What is this?

I hear him draw in a long, deep breath. ‘Beautiful.’ He looks back at me with a glimmer of heat so intense it scares me. It lasts only a second and then his expression veils once more and he returns to my breasts, his mouth hungry now. His teeth nip and tease at my nipples.

Something has changed, intensified. There’s a new urgency about him. Now each time I cry out he slaps me hard but I hardly feel it, I’m so excited. The places are beginning to join up into a hot glow. Each new blow from the hard flat of his hand simply stokes one more flame in a growing fire that rages everywhere down south and threatens to burn me up.

At last, as I whimper and thrash in my bonds, he takes pity on me and returns to the eager, pulsing furnace between my legs. His hungry mouth fastens once more on my most private place.

This time his hunger overwhelms even mine and I feel the power of his jaws as he sucks forcefully, bringing so much more heat to the surface I think I shall erupt. And at long last he fastens on my aching bud and sucks hard. I come in seconds, screaming aloud, and he instantly clamps a hand over my mouth. I scream against it until my throat aches, mewling and thrashing under his jaws. The force of my climax slowly ebbs away but he stays rigidly in place, feasting over and over, sucking on my throbbing, tormented bud time and again until I start to shudder and weep from the sheer depth of my forced pleasure.

Finally tears of weakness run down into my hair in a continuous stream. He pulls away and leans up over me to fasten his hungry, busy mouth on mine. And under his powerful, juice-laden tongue I yield all over again, weeping freely under his kiss in a desperate attempt to thank him for my pleasure.

When he pulls away he hauls out the pillow from beneath me and places it gently under my head. I watch bewildered, half expecting him to claim his own satisfaction. I wonder fleetingly if I have strength left to pleasure him like I should. I owe him. ‘That was sensational,’ I whisper.

In reply he simply smiles down at me, kisses away my tears and then leans over each balled fist, still securely bound in velour. He loosens first one knot and then the other and draws the sash out from under the mattress and loops it over his shoulder.

He leans down and touches his lips to mine. ‘Now get some sleep.’ He folds the quilt around me, turns off the lamp, retrieves his robe and heads for the door.

With the room in darkness all I can see is his outline, a darker shape against the night. From somewhere beyond the drapes at the open window his eyes must pick up a hint of moonlight because they gleam briefly in the darker shadow he’s now become, darkness on darkness as he smiles a final goodnight.

The door closes softly behind him and in seconds, thanks to the blistering storm of orgasms I’ve just endured, I’m adrift on some warm sea, glowing and content. As I drift I think I hear a man’s voice close by. It’s not Darnley, but it’s oddly familiar. Another guest? Someone in the corridor?

I’m too sleepy to care. Maybe I dreamed it.

I wake in the early light to find my thighs on fire and a note on my pillow.

It has just three words written on it. ‘Mitchell in contact.’

I groan, turn over and go back to sleep.

CHAPTER FOUR

‘You’re being ridiculous.’

‘No, Darnley. I’m being sensible.’

Morning’s here and already we’re arguing. Our food smells delicious – ham and eggs, warm pastries and coffee. Our intimate table for two is shining with silver and vivid with fruit juice. Our breakfast sparkles cheerfully in the sunshine.

Darnley glowers at me, his expression stormy.

I’m damp from the shower, my hair a curling, rebellious mess, and I’m wearing only the thin waffle-cotton robe supplied with our thick, luxurious towels. He’s fully dressed, his soft silk tie carefully knotted, his suit immaculate, no hair out of place.

He looks stunning.

I feel soft and pink and ready for bed.

His cheeks slant into deep hollows over his clenched, stubborn jaw. He’s already been at work a good two hours on seemingly endless business, most of it baffling and technical.

He’s just poured a third cup of coffee so he can stay at table long enough to make me eat the croissant he put on my plate before I sat down.

I’m not hungry. I’m trying to be reasonable. I’ll eat when he sees sense.

We’re arguing about Ryan and I’m gaining ground.

‘If Ryan’s gone to Fort Worth there must be some reason. And I want to talk to him alone. You’ll just get in the way. Or you’ll bully him into saying something he’ll regret.’ My affection for Ryan is long gone but I’m no fan of blood sports. Exposing Ryan to Darnley’s wrath without prior warning would be like pushing a puppy into the den of a leopard – or a Wolfe.

Darnley’s exasperated. ‘It makes no sense. You want to meet him. I want to meet him. We’ll go together.’

‘He wants to meet me,’ I insist, my temper rising. ‘And I want to hear his side of the story.’

The wave of anger from across the table hits me like a blast from a furnace.

‘His side? So I’m a liar now?’

I roll my eyes and start on the croissant, hoping this tiny concession will calm him down. ‘There’s two sides to everything and so far I’ve only heard yours. I know him. I can’t believe he’s as bad as you make out. Maybe you’ve got this all wrong. Maybe it’s all a mistake.’

He gulps the last of his coffee and crashes the cup back onto the table. ‘Fine, if you insist. At least let me put you in a decent car and send somebody with you. It’s a long drive. You don’t know the city. You’ll never make it in that death-trap rental you came in yesterday.’

I slam my knife down on my plate, spraying flakes of pastry all over the cloth. ‘It’s a perfectly reputable company and the car’s fine, thanks very much. It’s less than an hour from here. It’s hardly Timbuktu. If it makes you any happier I’ll get them to send a bigger car.’

‘Eat.’ He slumps back in his chair and I relax. If he’s scolding me about my calorie intake then I’ve won on the car. I cram flaky morsels of croissant and peach conserve into my mouth and pretend to chew. His sullen, furious gaze has made my mouth go dry. A hasty sip of fruit juice helps.

But I don’t hold his attention long. I’m starting to realise that running an empire is hard work. The time he devoted to me last night must have been filched from a tight schedule. I woke to the deep, steady staccato of his voice as he strode about the suite making call after call, taking others in between. They’ve carried on without cease.

He’s switched off his phone to pick a fight during breakfast but the fifteen minutes he’s given up to me and my problems are fast running out and now I see his eyes stray repeatedly to his watch.

With any luck he’ll soon leave me in peace. And as I finish the last of my croissant he heaves a long sigh, gives me an exasperated look and gets to his feet. ‘Fine. Do what you like.’

I get up from the table in a flurry of crumbs and shake out my damp, knotted hair. As I run my fingers through it he notices my wrists and frowns again. All at once he seizes my hands, turns them over palm upwards and inspects them carefully. Last night’s passion has left faint rosy rings on the outside edges where I tugged repeatedly during our glorious – my glorious – ordeal.

I recall with a faint blush that he held back from taking his own pleasure. I hold my breath and try to pull away but he grips me harder and glances up, his eyes dark as graphite. ‘Are you OK? Should you put something on these?’

‘I’m fine.’ I smile airily, my tone light. ‘The marks will be gone by evening. Anyway, what’s the big deal about letting me out alone? Scared somebody else will tie me up?’

His eyes flash and for a split second I wonder if I’ve gone too far. I breathe out slowly as his eyes narrow.

‘You don’t get it, do you? You might be in danger, Ella. You’re worth money now to the right people. You seem to think industrial secrets are a walk in the park but if there’s big money at stake – and I assure you there could be – you’re at risk. I just want to keep you safe, that’s all.’

I laugh softly, still high as a kite after his lavish attentions last night. ‘Now who’s being ridiculous? You keep me safe? You’re the most dangerous person I know. You go off to your meeting. I’ll see you later.’

As he turns towards the door I follow him. Still playful, I lean up and kiss him lightly on the jaw like a happy housewife in a fifties commercial.

Mistake.

‘What the hell’s that supposed to mean?’ His eyes flash. He glares down at me, his jaw rigid, and kicks the door shut again with his foot.

I feel the blood drain from my face. Now what? His breathing is laboured, his eyes wild. Something about me has enraged him but I’ve no idea what it is. Is he always like this?

‘Dammit, Ella. Kiss me like you mean it.’ He closes his arms around me and fastens his mouth on mine, his tongue making fresh claims, his lips hot and hard. After last night I’m still fired up and my warm, sensual shower did nothing to calm me down. Now his eager mouth reminds me that only hours ago I was stretched out at his mercy, aching and wet, while he was doing his utmost to make me wetter.

And now I’m wet again and in seconds he finds this out for himself as his questing fingers betray me. He pulls away, his gaze steady, his expression unreadable. Nervous now, I have the grace to blush but something new and determined about his manner tells me I’m not to be let off lightly.

‘Open your legs.’

He reinforces his command by forcing his knee between my thighs and pushing me up against the wall. ‘Now put your arms up over your head and lean on them. Hard. Push away from the wall.’

Startled, I obey as heat flares once more between my thighs, the embers of last night’s passion stirring instantly to life.

‘Hold still.’ He continues to hold my gaze as he pushes my robe wide open and reaches round to scoop it into a twist, coiling the thin cotton into a roll. In seconds he’s bundled it into a cushion and wedges it behind my shoulder blades.

‘Spread wider.’ His look is focused, absorbed. He could be a master arranging the limbs of a puppet, except his voice has dropped to a low growl. His tone is so deep it scares me. I look on entranced, my heart pounding with excitement, my arousal beginning to burn. I glance down as I feel his shirt cuffs brush my belly and instantly earn a reproof.

‘Don’t look down. Keep your eyes on my face. I’m simply undoing my flies.’

Heat flares again. Now? He wants to do this now?

He takes his time, like the emotions crossing my face are the most fascinating thing he’s ever seen. I sense movement down below and feel the brush of fabric against my hips as he loosens his trousers, hear the light whisper of silk as he frees himself.

‘Now unlace your arms. Keep them over your head.’

As I do it his hand runs lightly over my breasts, skimming each nipple with masterly precision. He pauses to follow through with his fingers, feeling and teasing my stiffening nipples outwards a little, his touch not yet painful but tormenting as hell since I’m straddled at this unnatural angle and they’re thrusting up against him, entirely at his mercy.

‘So what happened to the meeting?’ I say, shakily.

‘We’re having one. You hadn’t noticed? Oh, that one? I’m in plenty of time. I’m never late for meetings.’

Inwardly I sigh. I bet he isn’t. Mr Control-Freak operates on a different planet from the rest of us. But then I see the gleam in his eyes and I sense something else is happening here.

‘Tell me, Ella, did you enjoy last night? Have you had it like that before?’

I gasp. ‘What a question. Never. Why?’

He reaches up to grasp my wrists, his grip strong, his fingers closing around them like a vice. He hauls my arms taut and leans into me, his face barely an inch from mine. My eyes widen as a column of hot, power-laden gristle burns against me, reaching nearly up to my navel.

‘I thought not. Now I want to watch you come. I want to see it in your eyes.’

Pinning my hands, his look burning into me, he starts to move against me. He flexes his hips with such precision I wonder instantly how often he’s done this. I hope desperately – though I know this must be impossible – that it gives him as much excitement as it’s giving me. I was already weak with lust when he pinned me here and I’m still glowing from last night. Now everywhere between my legs erupts into full-on heat as his scorching shaft grinds against me, jutting deep into the soft flesh of my rippling, nervous belly. The ridged muscle works in tiny shifting movements hard against the very apex of my thighs where my swollen, aching folds split apart. They yearn against him to push forward my eager little bud, so engorged now a mere whisper of air or fabric might set it off and tip me over the cliff he’s building …

‘Open your eyes. I want to watch.’

His voice is harsh as his hips jerk me painfully to attention. My eyelids snap open and now I’m in trouble. I’m consumed with flame and about to peak but I usually climax in the privacy of darkness or with my eyes closed. Women are coy about these things.

Under his fierce look and in bright sunlight I feel almost ashamed to show him the full force of my pleasure. As a deep blush spreads over my cheeks I want to protest and tell him this but his look is so stern and so controlling I’m helpless in it, a rabbit in headlights. I stare back at him as shame and pleasure fuse in a terrifying, heart-stopping eruption of rapture and I climax violently against him.

He holds me pinned, curving over me, his loins thrust hard up against my writhing hips, his burning erection harder and hotter than ever, so close and yet so far out of reach, its control over me now as complete as if it had surged up inside.

Emotion wells up like it sometimes does when I come as hard and as often as this. I look up at him imploringly, aching for his entry. ‘Are you going to …?’ I tail off, unsure how to ask for this. A helpless tear trickles down my cheek.

‘Hey. Don’t cry.’ Concern flickers instantly across his face as he touches the trickle with his lips, tasting gently, and then moves lower and fastens his mouth on mine. He kisses me softly, his touch light and honeyed. I shudder in his grasp as the fading echoes of my orgasm briefly intensify.

‘What do you want, Ella? You want me inside you? Is that what you want?’

I’m still pinned. His grip is still as thrilling, his look still as fierce and his hot shaft still in place. He must want relief. He held off all last night. How can he do this? It’s unnatural.

Something of this must show in my face. His gaze softens and I see his eyelids lower. ‘I’ll take that as a yes. But you’ll have to wait a while. I’ll take you when I’m ready, not before.’ He stoops to kiss my breasts, taking a mouthful of each in turn and sucking hard, drawing the blood to my fevered nerve-endings and leaving my aureoles rosy, swollen and tingling. All at once he straightens up and kisses me full on the mouth.

‘Now I have to work. I’ll only be an hour or so. When I get back we’ll go see your boyfriend.’

He releases me with a smile and closes the door softly behind him. I stare after him and rub my wrists as my robe slowly unwinds at my back.

At that moment my phone rings.

Ryan.

Still shaky, I grab it and peer at the display but it’s not Ryan, it’s my old friend Billy Brown. I tried to reach her yesterday and now she’s calling back.

‘Willamina. Hi, where are you? Fixed your new job yet?’ My voice sounds shaky but as usual she chatters on without drawing breath.

Her new internship in a big Boston law firm has really caught her imagination. She joined them as a researcher. She’s small, dark and dynamite and gets bored easily. This is her third try in a firm so prestigious even the janitors seem to have college degrees.

I tell her she’s aiming too high. She laughs, and I know that her elfin face has lit up with mischief. That’s all that’s worth aiming for, she says, and anyway she can afford it and I aim too low.

Ouch. After we graduated we both took a course in law but I went back to literature, my first love. While she took the risky route via a legal internship Miss Normal took the safe one and decided to teach. Unlike Billy’s father mine’s no millionaire, just a country physician. I need to earn money. Also I have a paralysing shyness that sometimes roots me to the spot in interviews and forbids me to speak.

At least in the classroom it can’t do any harm – not lose me a case, like it would in law, my first career choice, or fluff a broadcast like it would in journalism, my second. Students just laugh.

So for various reasons that I’d never tell anybody else my third career choice – teaching – was also the hardest for me and presents a daily challenge. But I’d never complain. I love it.

Now she’s curious about my unscheduled trip west. I can almost see her eyes narrow. ‘I thought you were invited to speak at the Charlotte Academy Summer School in North Carolina? So how come you’re in Dallas, Texas, of all places? Come on, spill.’

I sigh. ‘It’s complicated. Ryan-related.’

‘That asshole.’

She must be feeling good. Her usual comment would make a trucker blush. I grin into the phone. ‘Tell me about it. Catch you passing through, maybe?’

She’s on office business in Austin so we could meet. We leave it in the air and I ring off. Billy’s brisk, no-nonsense energy has put me back on the rails. Now to get my day to match.

And the first thing I decide is to drive over to Fort Worth by myself. I’ll meet Ryan, find out what he wants and then get back here. Why wait for Darnley? It’s not like it’s really his business.

* * *

I leave him a brief note and then shrug on some clothes, scrape back my hair and set off to the parking bay to retrieve my hire car. Too late I recall my hasty promise to call the company for an upgrade but I decide to risk it.

At last I turn out of the impressive hotel driveway into the freeway running southwest, lower the window when the air-con fails once more to kick in, and switch on the radio.

I love driving in strange places. It’s about the most daring thing I do these days, so I’m happily bowling along, and singing along – at the top of my voice and in my best nasal twang – to Tammy Wynette and then Hank Williams on a local radio station, when I glance at the rear-view mirror. Some way behind me there’s a dark car. It looks like an expensive brand and it’s maintaining a steady distance behind me. Other cars are sliding past each other or falling behind but this particular car never seems to shift out of view.

After a few minutes I glance back again. It’s still there.

I frown at myself. Fort Worth’s the next town. Lots of people are going there.

Plenty of cars follow other cars – for miles, sometimes. I do it all the time. Why am I so jumpy about this one?

You might be in danger. Away from the seamless protection of his wealth and his lavish hotel suite Darnley’s words take on new meaning.

I press my lips together and turn up the volume on the radio. Bobbie Gentry’s mournful lament about Billie Joe McAllister fills the car and brings tears to my eyes. Irritated I switch it off and change lanes twice, speed up for ten minutes, and then slow down and change lanes again.

Other drivers lose patience and lean on the horn but to my relief the dark car has disappeared.

Panic over. My heart still thumping, I switch on the radio again and start drumming my fingers on the steering wheel as some couple – sadly not Johnny Cash and June Carter but pretty good all the same – crow about getting married in Jackson but all of a sudden I’m not listening any more.

That car has just reappeared in my mirror. It’s keeping a precise distance away from me, it’s travelling at exactly my speed and in the last twenty minutes it switched lanes each time I did.

Sweating now, I infuriate my fellow drivers further by swerving right across the slow-moving traffic and take the first exit slipway I see. I’ll lose him in the suburbs.

CHAPTER FIVE

Funny how memories of your first boyfriend stay with you long after you know he won’t be your last. In the case of Ryan and me it was more a matter of convenience than anything else. I was shy around most boys – the speaking thing made me nervous – plus he turned up to all the dances I did and he seemed a nice guy. Correction, he seemed a carefree, brilliant kind of guy and he was not only a member of the teaching staff but a rising star in his faculty.

I was young and fresh from the country – a small town in Maine’s not much prep for the cut-and-thrust of hard-hitting Boston, it seemed to me then – and romantic.

So many fellow students, mostly females, told me how dishy he was and how lucky I was to go out with him that I overlooked the weak chin and the take-it-or-leave-it sex. And so many men on campus said how clever he was, I told myself he had his mind on higher things and forgave the missing rent money, the unexplained weekend trips and the late-night ‘seminars’ with female ‘students’ who looked nothing like any students I knew.

But when I graduated and my new teaching job started to cover all the bills while his generous salary never seemed to help out, I began to smell a rat. He begged me to be patient. He was onto something big. Everything would come right, yada, yada. So our relationship was already pretty shaky that night I walked into the business gala hosted by Wolfe Security where he was planning to clinch some deal and saw him clinching his female boss instead.

Or maybe that was the deal.

The very next day, after my spectacular and unscripted one-night stand with Darnley, I packed my things, made some hasty phone calls and walked out on Ryan for good. That night I went back to my old room in Billy’s tiny apartment and stayed there.

I’ve not seen Ryan since.

Which is partly why I’m curious to see him now. Especially as Darnley’s version of him is so out of character. For all his faults Ryan’s no shy, driven backroom geek – he’s clever for sure but he’s also happy-go-lucky and charming and makes friends easily. I can’t see him as a big player.

I think Darnley’s got him all wrong. And Darnley strikes me as a very big player indeed – he’s got all the charisma, the forceful energy and the sheer class to wipe the floor with a dozen Ryans. And I’m getting wet just thinking about it. All those qualities make him also very, very hot.

But then he must know that. He’s way out of my league too.

I glance in my rear-view mirror and feel a trace of relief. At last I’ve lost that car. But now it dawns on me that I’m lost too. I’m deep in the Dallas suburbs. This looks like some poor neighbourhood. I’m cruising past low-rise liquor stores, deserted parking lots and small businesses long boarded up. People going nowhere lean on fences daubed with graffiti. They look up as I drive past and follow me with their eyes.

It seems not all Texans are in oil.

I pull over and park across the street from a news kiosk. I’ll ask there, or at least buy a map.

I get out and stride purposefully across the street. There’s not much traffic. On the sidewalk a small group of men in jeans and leather jackets appear from nowhere and bar my way. Up close they stop talking and stare at me. My stomach shrivels. The one standing directly in front of me makes no attempt to move out of the way.

‘Can I get to the counter?’ My voice sounds tinny and unreal, and I sense movement behind me as more of them gather round.

‘What counter, babe?’ He’s just spoken but his mouth hardly moved. And I sense the others closing in. Now I’m surrounded and all at once I’m scared.

More men quietly join them, appearing from nowhere.

I’m no local and I’m clearly lost. I must reek of fear.

He shifts aside to show me the kiosk behind him is closed. It looks like it’s been closed a while – possibly months.

I open my mouth to frame a question about directions to Fort Worth that won’t make me sound like a frightened rabbit asking how to get back in the hutch. All at once there’s a commotion in the road behind me – a screech of brakes, a blare of horns and the crash of car doors being flung open. The men around me all stare at something past my shoulder and I’m instantly forgotten. I spin round to see what’s happened and clap a hand to my mouth.

A low black car has pulled up at a crazy angle across the street, blocking both carriageways. As I watch, men leap out and start walking purposefully towards us.

The effect is terrifying. They look mean and professional and they move in formation. And at their head is Darnley, his jaw set, his blazing eyes locked on mine.

The men around me have melted away. Now they’re watching from doorways, edging round corners. Darnley towers over me, his face like thunder.

‘Where is he?’

I stare at him, my mind a blank. ‘Who?’

The flash from his eyes could sear metal. ‘Don’t play games with me. I said to wait. We’d go together. Then you set off on your own. We tailed you. When you tried to shake us off I guessed you must know something we don’t. Mitchell’s here somewhere. You’re going to see him. So where is he? Which building?’

Now I’m getting angry too, spiked by adrenalin. ‘You tailed me? Since when is Ryan your ex? This is my problem, not yours. I want to talk to him alone. Stay out of this. Your beef with him is just business. Mine’s personal. So let me do it my way.’

‘I repeat, where is he?’

‘I don’t know. I’m lost. I was trying to get back to the freeway –’

I break off as he turns and signals to his men. As one they pause.

The street immediately around us is free of traffic now. Cliff Face is waving it on. The kerb is also clear. Curious passers-by have shrunk out of range. Faces peer from windows. The men who confronted me have regrouped across the street. They think it’s a gang thing.

They watch like cheated hyenas as a pack with a prior claim and better suits claims their prey. No one’s picking a fight but now they’re curious, hoping for drama.

Darnley turns back to me, his expression veiled but his manner brisk. ‘OK, you’ll ride with me. One of the men will return your car.’ He takes my arm and propels me towards the dark car, whose engine is revving up and ready for the off.

Some of the men have already piled into the rear seats and the driver’s poised with his hands on the wheel. Darnley pushes me onto the low bench seat alongside his and climbs in next to me, slamming the door shut as he wedges himself thrillingly against me.

Across the street my hire car is already easing into the traffic, one of his men at the wheel. We do a swift half-turn and set off in the opposite direction.

The whole incident took about three minutes.

* * *

Fort Worth seems pleasant and leafy, from what I can see of it. After twenty minutes wedged next to Darnley’s thigh I’m finding it hard to concentrate on the scenery speeding past.

It’s back, the invisible thread that pulled me to him the night we met, that drew me into the spell of his gaze the instant I walked into the hotel pool area. It’s been tugging us closer every second we’re apart. Now, with his men all around us, we’re forced to sit painfully close but forbidden to touch in the way we need to touch. I can feel the heat from his chest, his arm and his thigh burning into me, the coiled power in his muscles tense against my softer body.

He rests one hand loosely in his lap, close to mine, but his other steals round the back of my waist and clutches me to him as we sway slightly at any swerve in the road. His fingers do the talking, pressing into me, his touch thrilling and heady. His heart’s beating steadily somewhere near my arm. Or is it my heart? I can’t tell.

From time to time he mutters a curt instruction to the driver. Finally he leans close to murmur in my ear. At least I think what’s why he leans close, but he breathes deep before he finally whispers, like he’s drinking me in, ‘We’re headed for his hotel, a little way out of town. That was where he said he’d be. Unless you know something different?’

His breath drifts over my skin like a caress, making me shiver.

I glance up and breathe in his aftershave and the light, spicy scent of his skin. ‘That was where I was headed too. I tried to text him but I can’t get a signal.’

‘You mean he’s not been in touch? Show me.’ His lips are so close they almost touch me. His breath on my neck is soothing and seductive but his tone is low and abrupt.

In a daze I hand over my phone.

He flicks through my messages and then hands it back. ‘Here. Keep it switched on. We can track him if he tries to make contact.’

‘Why do you want to see my messages?’ I’m curious. Watching experts always interests me.

‘To see if you’re lying.’

I waste a furious glance at his elegant profile as he looks away. A sudden clench in his cheek warns me he’s still angry.

We ride the rest of the way in silence while his men talk quietly about baseball.

Ryan’s holed up in a sprawling ranch-style complex with distant golf courses and fenced-in rides for horses. There are pennants flying, golf buggies cruising by, and leisurely middle-aged couples in bright Bermuda shorts strolling on the fairways. As we pull up I stake my claim. ‘Let me go in alone. I want to see him first.’

Next to me his thigh stiffens thrillingly. I try to ignore it.

‘We’ll go in together. Let me handle this.’ As he gets out I move to follow. His driver grabs my arm but Darnley glances back as my arm jerks free. ‘It’s OK, she can come too. I’ll keep an eye on her. Wait here.’

The lobby is spacious and friendly. Darnley hangs back while I lean on the counter and try to catch the attention of the neatly suited blonde. She’s staring at Darnley like a stranded goldfish, mouth open.

‘Ryan Mitchell,’ I say for the third time, my voice rising along with my temper. ‘He’s expecting us.’

She tears her glance away from Darnley just long enough to check a screen on the desk in front of her. ‘Mr Mitchell … checked out two hours ago. According to our records he’s no longer on the premises.’

I stare. ‘But there must be some mistake. Maybe he’s waiting in the bar. He asked me to meet him here.’ My heart sinks at this repeat no-show. Dallas? Fort Worth? What’s he playing at?

At this point Darnley steps forward, his voice like granite. ‘Check again.’

The woman looks startled, flushes bright pink and stares obediently at the screen for a moment, her eyes wide. ‘No, sir,’ she stammers, batting her eyelashes. ‘Mr Mitchell’s definitely gone. Can I do anything else for you?’

‘Yes. You can show us our suite.’ He hands over a card. She jumps like a startled deer and glances at me with new respect.

‘Yes, sir. Certainly, sir. Right away.’

Now it’s my turn to stare as I glance back at Darnley. ‘What are you doing?’ I keep my voice to a low hiss but it’s an effort.

‘You have luggage, Mr Wolfe?’

Darnley eyes her calmly across the counter. ‘My men have already prepared the rooms. Just show us where they are.’

Her eyes widen, her swift downward glance at my bare, unmade-up face, plain ponytail and rumpled shorts a simple surprise reflex that someone like me should be travelling with someone as important as this.

I barely notice. A startling fact is hammering into my brain. He’s planned this.

Our rooms are subtly prepared with lamps switched on, beds invitingly turned down and a well-stocked refreshment trolley. They look out over the lawns and distant golf courses.

As the door closes behind him he rounds on me. ‘What the hell’s going on? Why couldn’t you wait? Now we’ve lost him, thanks to you.’

‘It’s not your business, Darnley. Let me do this on my own.’

His eyes blaze. ‘When all you do is take risks? From now on you travel with me. What made you get out of the car in a neighbourhood like that?’

‘A neighbourhood like what, Darnley? Full of poor people? Poor people aren’t dangerous. They’re just poor. We can’t all be millionaires. I just wanted to ask them the way. If you weren’t so keen on playing Good Cop, Bad Cop they’d probably have told me.’

‘Or they could have raped you, hauled you off to some crack den, mugged you and left you for dead. Don’t do that again.’

His rage is making me angry too and I’m saying things I don’t mean. In truth I was badly scared and glad to be rescued but now we’re alone I’m rattled. I want him so badly I ache.

He glares at me, his gaze steady and unsettling. ‘In a quiet, run-down neighbourhood anything could happen. The back streets are a perfect place to stage a drive-by shooting, for instance.’

I frown. ‘A what? That’s crazy. Why would anybody do that?’

His eyes narrow. ‘Let’s just say somebody who wanted to reclaim patents they’d taken out in somebody else’s name that that person knew nothing about, that’s who. For fuck’s sake, Ella, use your head.’

I glare at him. ‘Ryan’s a murderer now? That’s ridiculous.’

He looks away, his jaw rigid. ‘Let’s hope so. Meanwhile you stay close to me. It’s the only way I can keep you safe.’ He glances at me and reads something in my face. Instantly his expression grows troubled. ‘You’re worth money now. Anybody might do anything. From now on you stay with me at all times. Is that clear? And don’t go off-plan. You wasted valuable time today. Has it occurred to you that he might be on the run? That he can’t wait around while you talk to strange men in the street? It’s possible we’re not the only people who want to talk to him.’

He’s got a point. I’m out of my depth here. But I’m still angry and I’m not finished yet. ‘You booked a suite here just to tell me that?’

Mistake.

His eyes narrow to slits and I see a new glint in their depths. ‘No. I booked a suite to teach you a lesson.’

All at once he seizes me round the waist, pulls me to him and crushes his mouth on mine as the low, burning arousal that’s eaten into both of us for the last thirty minutes flares into white heat. I press up close and his tongue makes deep, angry surges into my mouth like it’s shouting without words.

When he pulls away I’m panting too like I’m running a race and I’ve a long way to go. I bite my lip to fight back the urge to laugh from sheer joy. ‘What kind of lesson?’

* * *

Half a minute later I’m staring at him in blank disbelief. ‘You’re going to what?’

His eyes are gleaming. A slow, sinister smile twists the ends of his long mouth. ‘You heard.’

‘I can’t believe I’m hearing this.’ It should be a joke. But something about his stillness and the heat in his look tells me he’s serious.

He wants to spank me? What’s going on here?

And all at once I’m burning up, seeing myself sprawled over his knee, at his mercy, his hands working overtime … I’m a grown-up person. At least I thought I was. But the very thought of him doing something so ridiculously humiliating is turning me to jelly, making me throb with excitement, making me wet. ‘Now?’ My voice has shrunk to a squeak.

His voice drops to a purr. ‘In a while. We have some matters to see to first. First off, you’ll stay close to me until we’re both satisfied your boyfriend’s no longer a threat. Agreed?’

My eyes widen. ‘If he is a threat. I’ve only got your word for that.’

His jaw tightens. ‘Whatever. We track him together. Promise me.’

I swallow, partly from fear, partly from excitement. ‘And staying with you involves what, precisely?’

His eyes flash. ‘What do you think it involves, Ella? You started this. I just want to finish it, one way or another. Are you scared to go on? Say so and we’ll split. I’ll assign you a bodyguard.’

I lick my lips. He’s asking me to take a massive step – but at the same time he’s just made a massive admission.

He wants me. And he wants to try things with me, starting now. With a spanking.

And all at once I know I want this too. I’ve never wanted anything so much in all my life. ‘We’ll go on.’

His face remains grave, but somewhere behind his eyes I sense new heat, like a fire long suppressed that’s just flared into life.

‘Very well.’

‘What do you want me to do?’ I stand very still as he runs a finger down the line of my throat and over the swell of my breast, where my skimpy top makes it bulge.

‘Stay close. Simply that. We’ll travel together, we’ll share rooms, and we’ll tolerate each other as best we can. It’s only for a few days. He’s round here somewhere. He can’t get far.’

Flames spurt deep in my groin as he runs his finger inside the waistband of my shorts, making the skin ripple over my belly. ‘And what if it takes longer?’

He unfastens my shorts and pushes them down a little way and slips both hands inside, his fingers probing deep between my legs and under the lacy trim of my panties. I close my eyes and moan as his thumbs graze the twin slopes of my apex, where the folds are already swelling and super-sensitive. He lingers, sensing my need, his touch so intrusive and insistent I start to throb, parting my lips and closing my eyes, telling him that I want this even more than he does.

I hear his voice lower to a growl, a sure sign he’s noticed.

‘Then it takes longer. Enough questions. Time for your bath.’

CHAPTER SIX

A bath? I accept meekly. Nothing surprises me any more. I’ve agreed to his terms. I’ll go with it for now.

I’ll yell later.

He strolls into the bathroom, starts the taps, tips in various things from bottles, strolls back and inspects our lunch trolley.

I’m too excited to eat but the array of canapés, sandwiches, fruit and drinks looks tasty. Maybe I’ll try some.

Soon he closes off the taps and the suite fills with the warm, moist aroma of the bathwater but he’s in no hurry for me to get in. ‘Eat something. You’ve had a shock.’

He sinks onto the sofa and pats the seat beside him. As I take my place on the cushion next to his I can only think of the ordeal I face.

He’s going to spank me. When? Should I have refused this? How much will it hurt?

He’s surprisingly calm about it. In some mysterious way this makes it even more exciting. As he passes me dainties from the trolley and cracks open a couple of beers our fingers touch, our eyes meet and a smile plays at the corners of his mouth.

I feel colour rising in my cheeks. To distract myself I focus on the reason we came here – my ex. ‘Did you ever meet Ryan? Or is he too far down the pecking order?’

‘I watched him at interview once. Seemed pleasant enough. Struck me as a lightweight. But his work was good, they tell me. Innovative.’

I take a swig of my beer and gasp at its icy cold. His eyes dwell on my throat as I tilt the can. They burn into mine as I lower it.

‘Do that again.’ His voice is barely a murmur.

I feel a tremor run through me as our lunch turns into foreplay. Slowly I raise the can and sip again. ‘Hold it right there.’ I tilt the can down a little so it won’t spill and hold my breath as his fingers run lightly over the skin of my taut throat and then fold around my neck.

Throats are vulnerable, private. Especially so at this angle – and when you react to someone’s touch as violently as I do. I feel myself shudder.

‘What’s the matter, Ella? Are you scared of me?’

I lower the can and look him full in the face. ‘Sometimes.’

He tilts an eyebrow, his smile brief. ‘Only sometimes?’

‘Not when I’m angry.’

‘I noticed. Have you finished eating?’

I nod.

‘Drink your beer.’ His voice is soft, his expression grave.

Heat flares.

He pushes the trolley away, holds out his hand and raises me to my feet. ‘Come. Bath time.’

* * *

In the bathroom I stand in silence, arms outstretched, legs apart, as he slowly undresses me. I feel like a doll. When I try to speak he frowns and touches a finger to my lips. ‘Quiet. We’ll talk later. Let me do this.’

He inspects me as he removes my clothes, first my skimpy top, then the shorts he’s already unfastened. He lets them pool on the floor and then kicks them away impatiently. I resist the urge to pick them up, fold them and put them somewhere they won’t get wet.

He signals me to raise my arms high and then to turn for him, slowly. He takes in every angle of me as I circle. I try not to flinch as he scoops my breasts out of my bra and rests them on the cups, making them bulge a little, and then pulls my panties down so the lacy trim rests just below my hips. He runs his hands repeatedly down my sides, lingering in the dip of my waist and feeling my ribcage with his thumbs. His touch is making me burn. I’m nervous, wondering what he’s going to do.

‘Reach up and hold onto the towel ring on the tiles over your head.’ His voice is remote, its note of command edged with steel.

Warily I reach up and grasp it, feeling instantly exposed as my breasts thrust up towards his face. He smiles and stoops to fasten his mouth on my left breast. I jerk to attention as he sucks at me, his eager tongue swirling round my aureole, his teeth grazing my pebble-hard nipple with tiny nips that both scare and inflame me.

After a while he transfers to the other breast and I jerk again. This breast knows what’s coming so my nipple is that much harder, the burning feeling that much hotter. I moan aloud and writhe in his embrace.

His lips loosen around his generous mouthful of breast. I whimper as his fingers squeeze my other nipple and pinch hard, sending flames shooting all through my groin.

‘Quiet. And keep still or I’ll have to restrain you.’

‘Do I get a say in this?’

He leans up, his gaze hard. ‘Soon. Be quiet and keep still. Or you’ll be sorry.’

I arch an eyebrow, playful now. ‘Oh? How?’

He stands upright and folds his hands round both of my breasts, his grasp gentle, warm and deeply arousing. In his grip they feel enormous, resilient, like his touch alone is making them swell. My nipples tense instantly, the ache squeezing my aureoles tight around them, making them stiffen and grow numb.

‘How? Well, your spanking might be harsher and last longer than it would have just now, let’s say.’

Deep between my legs something begins to throb. It was pulsing before, but now it’s positively painful. He’s not playing. Something about his manner tells me that for him this is deadly serious and I’ve just agreed to it and accepted his terms, whatever they are …

Ye gods …

‘Are you going to hurt me?’ I try to sound calm. I must know the worst.

He looks interested. ‘Not if I can help it. Why? Do you want me to?’

I stare. ‘Absolutely not. But I’m new to this. I don’t know what’s involved.’

He frowns like he’s puzzled and draws me into his arms. ‘Hey, you’re shivering. Just trust me. Can you do that?’

I swallow. This is all so unexpected. In reply I simply kiss him on the jaw.

He frowns down at me, troubled. ‘Do I take that as a yes?’

‘It’s just …’ I tail off as I search for words.

‘Hey. Your bath’s getting cold.’

I grin. ‘In Texas? In summer? It’s just this. If you’re doing this because you like it then fine, I’ll try it. But if this is some kind of punishment then you can forget it. I’m not accountable to you.’

He touches his lips to mine, his gaze stern. ‘You’re setting terms?’

I hold his gaze. ‘Yes. I guess I am. Isn’t that what’s supposed to happen?’

He raises my hand to his lips and kisses my fingers. It’s just a light brush of his lips across my knuckles but I sense a climb-down.

‘Fair enough. Let’s just say I like it. We’ll take it slow.’ He kisses me on the mouth, his tongue urgent and hungry, and pulls away with an effort. I can sense his excitement. I can even feel his heartbeat. I’m curious. Why does he find this so moving?

‘Now the bath. And no more talking. I’ll tell you when. Strip.’

Slowly I take off my bra and then my lace-edged panties and toss them through the door into the dry safety of the other room. At his stern look I step into the bath. I sink gratefully into the water and he stands over me, peeling away his own clothes as I drink in the view – first his sturdy chest and shoulders, his narrow waist, and the light coating of dark hair that clusters where it matters and thins where it should, snaking a trail past his navel.

Where it reaches appears next as he unfastens his trousers and kicks them away, and finally removes his boxers.

I gasp as his stiffening erection looms into view, plump and swollen, its thick curve echoing the swollen, tight feeling down between my legs where I’ve been pulsing steadily since we walked in here. He holds my eyes calmly. The arrogant flare to his nostrils tells me he enjoys my steady gaze and feels no need to hurry.

As he slips in beside me he leans along me, running his hand over me, slippery now in the foam, and watches my nipples jut and swell as his fingers encounter them. ‘Open your legs. Put your feet on the sides.’

His hand slips between my thighs and cups my sex, his fingers questing deep into me, searching, sliding in and out, teasing me with the suds. He fastens his mouth on mine, suppressing my moans with his busy, invading tongue.

This is beyond arousing. The warmth of the water and the insistent pressure of his fingers are having an electric effect on me, making my thighs ache as I grip the edges of the bath with my feet. I moan and he seizes my shoulders as he eases his hand away and pulls away from my lips, tasting gently. ‘Hey, easy. There’s plenty of time. Now me.’

I start to massage him, smearing suds into the powerful landscape of his chest and thrilling to the ripple of the muscles below. He watches lazily as I explore him in turn, teasing his hard little nipples into nubs and making him twitch. I ease down towards his shaft where it leaps and jolts above the water, and curve over to lick gently at the broad, distended head.

He pulls me back and puts a foamy finger to my lips. ‘Hey. Not yet. Keep washing.’

Obediently I run my hand down his hard, muscular abdomen and slide my fingers deep into his hair, reaching deep to soap and fondle him and then slip further back, between his legs. I feel his thighs tense along mine as I ease in deep, sliding in the slippery gel-laden foam like he did with me, and he captures my mouth again.

When he pulls back his face is stern. ‘Enough. We’ll get out now. We have things to do.’

He surges smoothly out of the water like Neptune in all his glory, knots a towel at his hips and then raises me up, scoops another towel round me and pats me dry all over. I’m sleepy after my scary morning, all soft and clean and ready for sex.

More than ready.

But sex is not on offer, I remember with a snap. We have things to do.

Still swathed in our towels he leads me into the bedroom – or rather one of them – and sits on the bed. ‘Now for your spanking. You know why I’m doing this?’

‘Because you like it?’

His eyes glitter as he hauls me over his lap, pushes my head down onto the quilt at one side of him and starts to arrange my legs on the other. ‘Try again.’

He sounds angry but I’m still defiant. ‘Because you think I’ll like it?’

I shriek as his hand makes contact with a real, stinging slap. ‘Nowhere close. Try again.’

‘That’s assault,’ I wail.

He pulls up my head by my ponytail and puts his face close to mine. He looks angry too. ‘So is kissing strange men on the mouth without warning. This is long overdue. And another reason is you’re infuriating. You take risks when I’ve tried to be reasonable.’

At that moment his phone sounds. With a sharp sigh he leans over me to reach for it, keeping his elbow pressed into my back and his leg planted firmly over mine, pinning me down.

‘Wolfe.’

The voice hums too low for me to make out the words. I see him frown. ‘The interview with BGN? Not now, I’m busy.’

The phone hums gain, the sound reproachful.

‘Make it tomorrow.’

It hums again, fainter now.

‘Contact the owners of the network. Offer a global discount on their contract for the next two months. No more calls for two hours.’

He tosses the phone across the bed and turns back to me. I’m staring at him, open-mouthed. ‘You’re doing an interview with BG News?’

He grins, his hand gliding smoothly over my soft, scented ass, which is now high in the air over his lap. ‘Nope. I’m giving you a well-deserved spanking. I’ll do the interview tomorrow. Or the next day. Whenever.’ He feels me once more, his touch firm and sensual, his breathing quicker. His voice lowers to a purr. ‘You’re right, I do like it. But it’s not just a punishment. I should have done it the minute we met. I wish to fuck I had. We wouldn’t be in this mess now.’

His hand lands again and all at once this has stopped being a joke, it’s harsh and it stings. After a while I wonder if I’ll ever draw breath again. When I do nothing’s changed. His hand’s still landing, the blows still raining down. The first few knock all the breath out of me but as I start to relax long enough to draw in air they keep coming. Their pounding rhythm settles deep in my groin, making me ache with arousal. After a while the pain and the jolting fuse deep between my legs into an agonising, regular throb.

At last he pauses to admire the view, keeping his elbow and his leg firmly in place. I hear him laugh softly as he runs his hand over my flaming backside. He’s out of breath. So am I, sobbing as I draw in air, my bottom on fire, and my groin an aching, needy furnace. Each blow delivers a violent jolt of arousal. His hand long ago lost the power to sting. Now my sex is all on fire, swollen and hot.

Seconds later he finds this out for himself. ‘Did you enjoy that, Ella?’

I sniffle. ‘You expect me to answer that?’ How can I? Heat, shame, fire and rage are burning me up all at the same time.

His voice lowers. ‘I’ll give you a clue. From what I can feel down here –’ his fingers slip slowly and deliberately along my sex, making me writhe ‘– I’m guessing you did. Be honest with me. Why are you so wet?’

I sniff again.’You have to ask? OK, I enjoyed it. Very much.’

‘Then maybe I’ll give you a tiny reward. Would you like to come?’

What a question. I squirm but it’s no time for pride. I hiss a strangled ‘yes’ through clenched teeth.

He caresses my punished backside with a loving sweep of his hand, cool now against my fiery skin. ‘Then you shall. But you’ll have to earn it. You’ll have to beg.’

And now the torment really begins. His hand lands hard, making me cry out, and instantly his fingers sink into me and over my pulsing mound, barely grazing my hottest place.

Yes, yes, I’m nearly there … I strain to reach his hand but he wrenches me back and removes his fingers, leaving my quivering orgasm poised in space. ‘Another?’

I’m frantic now. ‘Yes, yes, another.’

Nothing happens. ‘And the magic word?’

I grit my teeth again, earning a painful tweak on my nipple. ‘Please. Another.’

Another fearsome blow lands on one side of my fiery bottom and his fingers mercifully slide into me again. I lean into his hand as my climax edges even closer.

Again he holds off. ‘Another?’

I writhe and once more he takes his hand away.

‘Well?’

‘Yes, yes, another already,’ I wail. With an effort I remember my manners. ‘Please.’

It goes on far longer than I’d have thought possible. I start to tremble, tearful with the constant agony of denial. But at last he takes pity on me and his hand lingers, his fingertips circling gently. They slip along my wire-live sensitised folds, probing intimately as the jolt of his final blow jerks me against his fingers. My orgasm explodes and I convulse round his hand, shrieking at the suddenness of it and overwhelmed by the wave of rapture that engulfs me.

I hang over his lap, sobbing. He sits very still and holds me in place over his knee. He waits in silence. As I grow calmer he hauls me off his lap onto the bed and I curl up in a ball, sobbing into the quilt. He curls round me in a warm, protective shell as the spasms fade into a deep, contented glow. He reaches between my legs to cup my still glowing mound, his hand warm and firm.

For a while we talk, for a while I doze. He keeps his hand firmly in place, taking possession, staking his claim and stubbornly refusing to give ground. But I’m growing edgy. I want him inside me. I want him to fill me. He must want it too, surely?

His erection juts at my back, hard, silky and hot. The very thought of it so tight and so close sparks new flames. My climax was spectacular and gut wrenching but I’m only half done. Sex is a game of two halves. Right now I need his half, the hot thrust of ridged gristle that completes my pleasure, fills me up, plunges and surges deep into my hidden, needy places and gives them purpose. But to my fury he still holds off.

Why? If this is my punishment it’s pretty effective. Now I’m needier than ever, aching for him, still incomplete.

His phone rings, making me jump. He slides his hand out from the warm, clinging nest deep between my legs and puts the phone to his ear.

‘Wolfe.’

This time the message is brief. He switches it off with an impatient flick and sits up beside me. ‘We’ve got a trace on Mitchell. He’s back in Dallas.’

CHAPTER SEVEN

‘You’re a what?’

It’s late evening. We’re driving back to Dallas and sitting in the back of Darnley’s limo, either end of the softly cushioned rear seat. I’m glad of the distance between us. He seems indifferent.

To pass the time he’s asking me what I do.

It’s always a mistake to tell people. I glance out of the window at the ghost of my reflection. Its stern gaze warns me I should have kept quiet. Too late now. I’m used to this reaction but somehow it’s disappointing coming from him.

I frown at myself. Why should he be any different? Beyond my shoulder I see his startling, predatory face. His brooding eyes are fixed on mine, waiting for an answer.

He makes sure of his facts, something I never do. It’s led me to this and it’s led me to him. And now it looks like it’ll drive him away.

I brace myself for his scorn, his laughter – I’ve heard it all – and try again. ‘I’m a poet. Well, when I say “poet” I really just play around with words. It’s a kind of hobby. I teach literature and drama at a small private academy near Boston. But I guess you knew that. That’s where Ryan and I –’ I break off at his sudden frown.

He looks out of the window, seemingly unconcerned. ‘So how come you’re in Texas?’

How does his mood change so fast? Barely an hour ago I was lying in his arms, hot for him. Now I wonder how we ever got close at all. His tone is distant and impersonal. It’s like we’ve barely met.

‘I told you, I’m meeting Ryan – or trying to. It might be easier if you didn’t muscle in whenever I get close.’

His frown flickers again. ‘It might be easier if you told me the truth. You teach in Boston yet you flew here from Charlotte. We checked. So what took you to Charlotte? You were on a driving tour?’

I sigh again. ‘Partly. I’m due to speak at a poetry summer school.’ I take a deep breath and feel my cheeks go pink. ‘They’ve asked me to read my new poem.’

Try as I might it’s impossible to say this without a tiny spurt of pride. I wait for him to laugh.

Instead he looks thoughtful. ‘You’re a poet? Say some.’

I grin. ‘Don’t get me started. What do you like? Homer? Sylvia Plath? Kanye West?’

He’s not smiling. His tone bristles with impatience. ‘Something of yours.’

I want to tell him that’s not how it works. Poems don’t come to order.

I take a deep breath and say the first words that come into my head. ‘You crave control but cannot tell me why.’

For a split second emotion flickers over his face and then his expression grows opaque. The vast car hums around us, closing us in as we come in range of the bright lights of Dallas. ‘That’s a poem?’

‘Not a very good one.’ I feel myself blush. ‘It’s all that hit me on the spur of the moment. But it’s got rhythm, it’s got bounce – and it’s true. A poem has to be true – it’s like a snapshot, something you see that other people miss.’

I’ve touched some nerve. He’s sitting very still, his expression blank.

‘“Crave control”? Who says?’

‘I say.’ Now it’s my turn to be curious. ‘And it is true. Isn’t it? It’s just something I sense about you …’

I tail off. Something’s wrong. He’s unhappy about this. Before I can pursue it his phone rings and he slaps it to his ear.

‘Wolfe.’ He listens for a while and then murmurs into it, turning his face away from me. ‘Fine. Keep me informed.’ He slips it back in his pocket and turns back, his eyes cold. ‘We’ve picked up another trace from Mitchell’s phone but we can’t be sure precisely where he is. All we know is he’s definitely back here in the city. They think he’s using prepaids. So keep yours switched on and tell me if he makes contact. We might fix his location.’

We finish our journey in silence. To my relief he stops asking about my chosen hobby. And he has the grace not to laugh.

* * *

In the elevator I feel self-conscious in my rumpled shorts and top. Around us well-heeled guests are coming and going, formally dressed and carefully not looking at me. I’m guessing they must think I’m some tramp he’s just picked up in the streets. Darnley leans against the wall opposite, his sultry gaze not helping.

Our suite is all low lighting and fresh linen. Darnley tosses his jacket on the bed and reaches once more for his phone. ‘Shall we try the restaurant this evening? You look like you could use a shower. I’ll make some calls.’

His tone is brisk and businesslike, his glance cool. He’s used to making the rules.

In my room I flip through the selection of things I’ve brought with me. From my scanty vacation wardrobe I choose some slim pants in white linen and a low-cut top with thin, sparkly straps and decide to go bra-less. I brush out my hair, feeling freer with every stroke. My tight daytime ponytail has made it springy so loose curls bounce on my shoulders and down my back. I aim for carefree but I feel nervous. Ryan might be annoying but Darnley disturbs me. A touch more make-up, a dash more scent and I’m ready. And hey, I’m still on vacation and have a date to eat with a good-looking guy – what more can I ask?

As I join him my heart does a flip. His calls were constant. I could hear the murmur of his voice all the time I was changing but somehow he’s showered, shaved and shrugged on a tux and now he’s fixing links on the cuffs of yet another dazzling shirt.

He looks sensational. I hold my head high and decide to let the warm glance he sweeps over my bare throat and shoulders serve as adornment – it certainly brings colour to my cheeks.

‘Any news?’

I pause on the way to the elevator and recall the purpose of our stay here. ‘From Ryan? No, nothing yet.’

Darnley frowns as we step into the elevator. His face darkens as another couple join us. ‘Is your phone switched on?’

I gasp. ‘It’s – I’ve left it upstairs. Shall I go back for it?’ I gaze at him, troubled. Something in his look clouds.

‘Leave it. We’ll check it later. You’re very forgetful lately. I wonder why that is?’

His tone is bitter – more suspicion. In truth I forgot all about Ryan for the same reason I forgot my phone just now – the sight of Darnley puts my head in a spin. He’s quite something.

I decide not to say so. He’ll be well aware of it – such men always are. I feel myself colour and avoid his eye. But as we reach the next floor down I decide on action. I grab his arm and pull him out of the elevator. ‘I suppose you think I left it behind on purpose. Take me back and I’ll fetch it.’

Pressing my lips together I run lightly up the steps to the next floor and wait for him to insert the key card. When he arrives I bite my lip and toss back my hair. ‘I’ll be really quick,’ I say lightly, giving him a playful look. ‘You needn’t come in. Wait here.’

He lets me in. I step quickly in front of him and scan the room. My phone is lying on a low table. As I move towards it I hear the door close softly behind me.

‘Hey.’

I spin round to see him looking down at me like he’s waiting for something. He folds his hand round my arm and pulls me to him, his lips brushing mine in a tender, whisper-soft kiss. As he pulls away his eyes darken and I feel his breath on my skin as he frowns.

‘Ella.’

I gaze up at him, alarmed.

‘Do you always toss your hair about like that?’

I stare. What an odd question. And then it hits me – he’s aroused. Something – anything – a sheen on a curl, a glance from my eyes – has caught his attention and now I feel a wave of heat as he pulls me closer and kisses me again, his fist still closed around my upper arm, his thumb moving gently on my skin, his fingers tight as a vice.

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