All He Needs
Page 16

 C.C. Gibbs

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“Ye of little faith,” he said with a full smile. “It’s business.” He’d deliberately not immediately escorted her to his bedroom as a matter of courtesy. Tact and conciliation—that was his plan.
“Don’t keep me waiting too long.”
Whether it was a threat or a plea he understood the message. “Literally, two minutes.” He brushed her cheek with a kiss. “Don’t get too comfortable.”
But of course it wasn’t two minutes. It was closer to fifteen minutes by the time Dominic had seen that his security understood the newest mafia threat in the city and he was assured that the trading station was securely locked down. Tan’s relatives would be summoned as well. His family came from a warrior culture slightly tamed by modern legalities, but not entirely pacified.
When he walked into the conservatory—home to a superb collection of orchids—he glanced at the coffee service on the table and the cup in Kate’s hand and grinned. “Coffee? Am I expected to be up all night?”
“You are.” She gave him a happy smile buttressed by her recent orgasm and some delicious chocolate petit fours. “Otherwise, I’d be wasting my time.”
“We certainly wouldn’t want that,” he said, taking a seat opposite her, stretching his legs out, and making himself comfortable on the cushioned rattan chair.
She pointed at the silver pot. “Coffee?”
“I’m good, thanks. My adrenaline is pumping big time.”
“How nice for me,” she murmured, setting her cup down.
“And me. Now all you have to do is tell me what you want. I’m going to be really careful not to cross any red lines tonight, so the agenda’s entirely up to you.”
“Well, first I want to come again. I don’t care how.”
His lashes lowered infinitesimally. “You’d better watch your choice of words, Katherine.”
“How about the usual then?”
A flicker of a smile. “Your usual or mine?”
“I’ll take potluck.”
His smile broadened. “Here I’m trying to be a good boy, and you’re breaking the game wide open. You sure?”
“With that look—probably not.”
An extravagant shrug. “So we’re back at square one.”
“Not necessarily,” she said, a teasing light in her eyes.
He exhaled softly. “Now you’re just fucking with me.”
“You’re better at this than me. If you’re doing something I don’t like, I’ll just say no.” She drew in a small breath. “That’s probably not going to happen.”
The raw need in her voice was like a drug to an addict, the elixir that stole through his senses and made him feel as though, for this moment in time, the world was perfect. “Why don’t we begin with something simple,” he murmured, “and we’ll go on from there. Open your blouse for me.” She was wearing her own clothes—not the clothes he’d bought for her in Amsterdam—the army green slacks he’d seen at her first interview, a plain white blouse, no jewelry, tan lace-up shoes.
A small start. “Here?”
“Yes, here.”
“Your staff,” she said nervously.
He dipped his head faintly. “Just do it, Katherine.”
She hesitated, quickly scanned the plant-filled conservatory, the colorful orchids spilling down the trunks of trees, the open door to the terrace and the tropical night.
“None of it’s a problem,” he said gently, watching her quick survey of the nineteenth-century glass house. “I thought you wanted to come again,” he prompted, his lounging pose unaltered, his voice mild. “Open your blouse and we’ll get started.”
“Please, Dominic,” she whispered, shifting slightly in her chair. “There are people around.”
“I don’t see anyone.”
“They might come in any minute.”
“Not unless you call them. Would you like some company?”
“God, no.” But perversely, a lustful jolt shuddered through her and she clenched her thighs together.
“Really, Katherine,” he said with a faint smile. “You’re getting wet, aren’t you? Does the thought of performing in public appeal to you?”
“Absolutely not!”
“Should I check?”
“No, stay away,” she said tensely.
“Me—stay away?” His voice was soft with insolence. “Would you prefer Johnny Chen? I’m sure he’d be happy to fuck you, although I don’t think you’d enjoy him. I’m guessing he’d come in two seconds and then what would you do?”
“And I suppose you wouldn’t?” She knew it was stupid even as she said it, but Dominic’s unfettered arrogance never failed to get a rise out of her.
“If you’re going to be argumentative, at least be reasonable,” he said amiably. “No, I wouldn’t come in two seconds, as you well know. So take off your blouse.” He smiled. “Pretty please?”
She blew out a breath. “I don’t know how you’re always so restrained, when I’m falling apart.” She tried to suppress her libido, reminding herself how she disliked Dominic’s corrupting power, how she disapproved of docilely yielding to him. That she’d left Dominic in order to avoid relinquishing her freedom.
“I like that in you,” he said pleasantly, immune to issues of power when he wielded incomparable authority. “I like your irrepressible passion. Please don’t change.”