“Do you like it?” he said as soon as she answered. She didn’t miss the way his voice had deepened, sounding rougher than usual. Obviously he liked it.
Her traitorous body instantly fired to life at the sound of his voice, the memory of how he’d growled dirty things to her in the darkness. How she’d become putty in his hands when he’d taken control of her body, how she’d loved every second of it.
Gah! She squeezed her eyes closed. She had to stop thinking of that night.
She wasn’t going to fall all over him just because he bought her a damn dress. No way would she make this easy for him. “How did you find the time to get it? I only agreed to be your sexual plaything last night.”
He was quiet for several seconds. “Don’t say that, Alex. That’s not what this is.” He sounded pissed.
She wasn’t touching that with a barge pole. “Sorry, does escort suit you better?”
He growled. “Alex…”
The rough sound sent an erotic tingle down her spine. “Whatever. I take it this is what you want me to parade around in for you tonight?”
“Yes. There should be shoes there as well?”
He was back to being Mr. Chill. Good. This was an arrangement, a deal—granted, a sick and twisted one—but in the end they’d both get what they wanted, nothing more. The building would be out of his hands, and she’d never have to answer to him again, and that’s all that mattered.
He’d said himself he wasn’t interested in a committed relationship, and she’d do well to remember it.
“Worried I’ll embarrass you in front of all your stuffy suit friends?”
He sighed. “No. But cutoffs and a Metallica T-shirt won’t fit the dress code. We’d be turned away at the door.” He was quiet a heartbeat. “And I wanted to do something nice for you.”
Jesus. If he tried to be nice, she wouldn’t survive the next few months. “Well, you’ll have to excuse me for questioning your motives. I’ve recently learned your good deeds come at a high price.”
She could almost hear his teeth grinding down the line. “I’ll see you at my place at seven thirty sharp.”
“I’ll be there.”
“Yes. You will.” Then the phone went dead.
Crap.
…
Deacon looked at his watch. His little viper should be here any minute.
He’d been off his game all day, his mind fixed on Alex. After their phone conversation this morning, he’d begun to doubt his plan. But drastic situations called for drastic measures.
She was afraid of her own feelings, afraid of what might happen if she got close to him. He’d seen the way she looked out for his sisters. The way she almost clung to them. She was afraid all the time, afraid that one day she might lose them, too.
But she hadn’t been able to hide her response to him when he’d shown up at her place. He’d seen the longing in her eyes. So much so, he’d been tempted to come clean, tell her everything, tell her the way he felt, but then that fear, that wariness had rushed forward and she’d withdrawn from him, throwing up that damn wall. He knew in that moment his only option was to move forward, continue on with his plan. She wanted him as much as he wanted her, he knew this, but if he eased up, gave her an inch, told her the truth, she’d run a mile. He just had to chip away her defenses, get under her skin, prove to her that she could trust him, that he wouldn’t disappear on her.
Not this time.
He’d let security at his apartment know Alex was coming. She would be spending a lot of time with him over the next three months, and he wanted her to come and go as she pleased.
He wasn’t surprised when the quiet, almost hesitant knock came. He didn’t waste time answering it, afraid she’d change her mind and run before he got there.
When he opened the door and laid eyes on her, he was glad he still held the door handle. His mouth went dry and his dick hardened at the sight of her. She was wearing the dress he’d picked out. He’d had a friend of his open her shop after Alex had agreed to his conditions. As soon as he’d seen it, he’d known it was the one.
The deep red was the same shade as the petals tattooed on her upper arm and shoulder, and the dress hugged her curves in all the right places. He dropped his gaze and stifled a groan. The shoes looked sexy as hell, and slightly edgy, like the woman herself.
He’d never seen her in heels before—never seen her in a dress, for that matter. She wouldn’t meet his eyes, her gaze darting everywhere but at him. He grabbed her hand and pulled her into his apartment, and when she did finally look up at him, he could see she was trying to appear unaffected. But she was biting her lower lip, something he knew she did when she was nervous.
“You look stunning.”
“Um…thanks.” Her gaze darted away again, widened. “Holy crap, this place is huge.” Her hair hung down her back, sleek and sexy. His fingers itched to reach out and touch.
He chuckled. “Thanks. I like it.”
She eyed him, and he saw that spark she got right before she put someone in their place. “It wasn’t a compliment. The place is like a mausoleum.”
“Do you plan on being a brat for the whole evening?”
“Haven’t decided.”
She was nervous and purposely trying to piss him off. What she didn’t know was that he loved that feisty side of her nature, just not when she was using it to protect herself.
He ran his hands over her bare shoulders. “This is our first official date.”
The pulse in her throat fluttered madly. She shrugged. “I guess.”
“I don’t want you to be worried about tonight. My meeting is an informal one, just drinks and some dinner with a client.”
Her brow scrunched. “I’m not worried. I couldn’t care less what your client”—she lifted her fingers, adding air quotes—“thinks of me.”
He ignored her rancor and cupped the side of her face. She stilled but then licked her lips. Always a contradiction. “You know what tonight means, being our first official date?”
“That you’ve officially lost your mind and crossed over to the dark side?”
He brushed his thumb across her jaw, and she leaned in, swaying a little closer. He didn’t even think she was aware she was doing it. Her body was saying the opposite of that smart mouth. She couldn’t hide the way he affected her, no matter how hard she tried.
“No.” He dipped his head so his mouth was half an inch from hers, close enough he could feel the way her warm breath rushed from between her parted lips. “It means I can kiss you…whenever I want.”
But he didn’t. He waited, needing her to close the gap, to show him she wanted this as much as he did. Her hands went to his shoulders, fingers digging in, and she pushed. There was no real feeling behind it, so he held his ground.
Alex stood there, breath coming harder, faster.
Shit. His gut twisted.
Just when he thought it wouldn’t happen and this whole plan had been the biggest mistake of his life, that Alex didn’t want him and he’d have to give her up and walk away, she stopped pushing, gripped the front of his jacket, and going up on her tiptoes, tugged him closer.
Her lips collided with his, and as soon as they did, she whimpered into his mouth. Yes.
He kissed her like he’d been aching to for months, and she returned it just as fiercely, her tongue sliding against his in that amazing uninhibited way he would never get enough of.
He slid his hands from her waist up to her beautiful breasts, and she made a strangled sound but pushed closer. He lightly nipped her lower lip, and she kissed him back harder, thrusting her fingers into his hair, and held him there so he wouldn’t stop. God, her reaction to his touch made his dick strain and his balls ache. How would he get through dinner with her right beside him?
He brushed his thumbs across the hardened peaks of her nipples and nearly came in his pants when he felt the small bar that went through the right one. He groaned and tore his mouth from hers. “Fuck, Alex. You’ve had your nipple pierced?”