Hostile Takeover
Page 3

Now she shifted back toward him, her hands settling on his thighs as if to push herself back to her feet. He was surprised the heat coming off him didn’t burn her fair skin, even through his slacks. Her gaze traveled along his thighs, lingering over his groin, where it was starting to be very obvious he was responding to her. He stifled a growl. She was putting off every signal in the world, challenging him to take over. When she moistened her lips at the size of his reaction, her eyes widening slightly, he almost gave himself away by putting a death grip on the chair arms. Those sultry lashes lifted, her brown eyes meeting his.
“Something else I can do for you, Mr. O’Callahan?”
He saw it in her eyes. She wanted to go down on him, wanted to feel his hand fisted in her hair, driving her according to his will. Since she wanted it that bad, he wouldn’t give it to her right away. He’d make her get up, turn around so he could grasp her hips, work her against him in a lap dance then and there, make her show him how much her pretty ass hungered for his cock. And then he’d blister it good, so that he’d wring a few tears out of her before he fucked her right here on his desk.
Holy fuck. She was teasing him the way a sub did, trying to goad a Dom into action. He had to be mistaken, but the set of her chin said she could get more determined about it, until she’d be outright bratting, blatantly topping. What the hell was going on here?
He didn’t know, but while one part of him was reeling, the part of him that was sure of this ground, as sure as breathing, steadied and locked like a collar clamping around a pale white throat. He knew this terrain, even if being on it with Marcie was unexpected.
“What are you doing?” As she rose, he met her eyes squarely.
“Just helping.” She wasn’t up to that direct stare. But that only made it worse, because what she did wasn’t calculated. She responded the way a natural submissive did when a Dom finally got his shit together and took the reins. She looked down. Back at his desk, straightening the contract unnecessarily, shifting his coffee farther out of the way. Then she stepped back, and she was smiling again, though it was a little forced. As she put that distance between them, she shrugged, tossed back her hair.
He’d seen that look before, usually when she’d been figuring her way through the difficulties that had been their home life until Lucas and Cass had gotten together and moved things in a better direction, with the K&A men becoming their extended family to help out.
“Hey, why don’t you let me take you to dinner tonight?” She held that smile, probably trying to pretend that whatever she’d been trying to pull hadn’t taken an unexpected turn for her as well. Her cheeks had a light flush. “You can bring me up to speed on the things you need me to do, and I can tell you all about my co-ops in the Big Apple and Europe. Don’t say no, because I’ve never paid you back for that trouble you bailed me out of in college. It can be an adult thank-you for helping me out when I was a kid.”
“You’re still a kid.”
That smile disappeared. He was getting an overwhelming compulsion to lick at that frosted color, see if it tasted sweet. As her brown eyes became more thoughtful, she leaned in, reaching out to touch his face. He caught her wrist, holding her there.
“Don’t.”
She blinked at him. Her fingers closed, touching his knuckles in a light caress. “I’m not a kid anymore, Ben. Will you let me take you to dinner?”
“To catch up.”
“Among other things.”
“No,” he decided. She reacted with a brief flash of hurt, which quickly disappeared behind an unfathomable expression. He needed to make this right, put it on the proper footing. She was still Marcie. He needed to talk to her about this kind of behavior. If she used it on the wrong guy…well, it wouldn’t be good for a lawyer to have a murder rap hanging over his head.
“I’ll take you to dinner. Old family friends don’t pick up the tab.” He managed a charming smile he hoped didn’t look like a big bad wolf salivating. “Pretty girls especially don’t have to pay.”
“Not with money.” She slipped his hold with a devilish grin and a little sass to her walk as she headed back to the door, contract in hand. It was as if that hurt look had never existed, but he knew better. Whatever Marcie had been trying to do, she wasn’t the duplicitous kind when it came to emotions. “I better get back to work,” she added, throwing him a look, the blonde hair spilling over her shoulder. “My boss might paddle my ass if I don’t get this contract over to Senecorp this morning. At least a girl can dream he might. Oh and Matt said he wanted to meet with you about fifteen minutes before Johnson arrives. I’ve pulled the file and the notes you’ll need.”
“Marcie—” He was going to give her a piece of his mind and then some, but of course Peter buzzed him. By the time he’d glanced toward the phone and debated whether to answer, she’d grabbed up some other folders on the desk and was gone, moving with breezy energy on those thin heels.
He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been so outmaneuvered, taken by surprise, flat out punched in the gut. By a freaking kid, a twenty-three-year-old baby. He had about a hundred things to wrap his mind around from that little interchange, but there was one thing his aching hard-on was telling him, loud and clear.
That’s no baby, buddy. She’s a freaking natural submissive, hungering for a Master.
What the hell had happened to Marcie? Did she know she’d just thrown down a gauntlet to an experienced Dom, daring him to pick it up?
He was afraid she sure as hell did.
I’m really glad to be here, very grateful, but sometimes—don’t tell Cass and Lucas—I feel so isolated. A lot of these kids came straight from high school, from lives where they didn’t have a lot of responsibility. They talk about being on the basketball team, in clubs, with loads of friends they miss, because they hung out together so much. I miss my siblings. It’s crazy. I miss taking care of them, feeling like they’re counting on me to look after them, even though I remember days when I had to step outside the kitchen and scream, pull at my hair, because it became too much. Sometimes I think I should have gone to a community college with single moms, or adult students, where the intention is to learn, not to party or be on my own for the first time. I don’t really know what this kind of freedom is supposed to feel like, Ben. If it’s supposed to feel good or bad. Or how to even handle it.
Letter from Marcie to Ben, freshman year
Chapter Two
Marcie bolted for the fire stairwell, avoiding the elevator. Once she was three floors down, she stopped in the echoing stillness of concrete and metal. Leaning against the rail, she put her hand on her stomach, calming the butterflies. She’d done it. She’d fired the first shot, and she was pretty sure she’d scored a direct hit. Oh God, she was so over her head.
That was the only toe-to-toe volley she’d get, she knew it. She had to come at him from a more unexpected angle next time, keep him off balance. Once Ben O’Callahan rallied, he’d either rebuff her like an impenetrable fortress or… Her cheeks heated at that loaded or.
Don’t tease the wild animal. Isn’t that what they posted at the zoos? Kneeling between his thighs, she’d seen up close what she was poking with a stick, had felt the heat coming off him. She’d heard the rumors about his size, but if that was a partial erection, there were monsters in Japan who would run screaming.
It gave her a half chuckle, which helped calm her down some. Age wasn’t a factor in negotiation, unless you used it to your advantage. Cass had told her that. It was all about confidence, will, commitment, being prepared. More prepared than anyone else, one step ahead.
Only that was the irony. She didn’t want to be one step ahead. Her goal was to be a step behind. Following a Master, following his lead, serving his desires, no matter how extreme they were. Following Ben.
So while she was experiencing a somewhat hysterical form of exultation at what she’d just accomplished, making him see her as a submissive, even if only for a second, she also had a wrong sort of coil in her belly. She was approaching the problem from the only direction that would work right now, but it didn’t mesh with who she really was or wanted to be. This was a means to an end, that was all.
She couldn’t deny the forces at work seemed to know what they were doing. Right before she’d stepped into his office, she hadn’t been sure what the hell she was going to do, but when she saw him, something else had taken over, guiding her into that crazy maneuver with the pen and pad.
A girl’s gotta do what a girl’s gotta do, as the song said. Before she could serve him, she had to push him past any reservations about wanting her. The whole “kid” thing. Touching the pendant at her throat, her fingers glided over the words engraved on the flat back. She knew what she knew. She wouldn’t start doubting herself now, no matter how scared she was of opening a tiger’s cage and stepping back to see what would happen. She could handle herself. She would. The stakes were too important.
* * * * *
Ben sat back in his chair, the contract forgotten, his coffee cooling. That trouble in college… Well, he’d been kind of obligated to help, hadn’t he? Since he was the reason she’d needed bail.
Under her serious nature, he’d glimpsed something struggling to get out. A fresh wildness, the reckless innocence of youth she’d never been able to indulge. He remembered one of her freshman letters, talking about how out of sync she felt with the other students. He told himself he remembered it nearly word for word because he had a damn near photographic memory. Not because he’d read it a little too often, feeling an uncomfortable connection to what he’d experienced in college.
He’d called her, because her loneliness had been too much for him to address through the written word. He didn’t remember half of what he’d said, but he’d stayed on the phone for an hour and a half with her, until he had her giggling uncontrollably and calling him names. He’d told her to loosen up, stop worrying about everything. Do something unexpected, stretch her wings and relax her inhibitions. Get in trouble occasionally, for Chrissakes. Not real trouble, okay, but you know. “Stay out overnight, get a little tipsy on Budweiser, kiss a boy you don’t know very well who has a cute butt.”