He noticed her hand was empty and said, “Where’s your drink?”
She brought the other hand out from behind her back and held up some red silk scarves. “I brought these instead.”
“Where’d those come from?”
“You’d be surprised how much my little purse can hold.”
“Okay, but what are they for?”
She looked at him as if he should know the answer, and then it dawned on him. “You’re not planning to use those on me, are you?”
“You didn’t mind last night. Aren’t we trying to recreate a memory?”
“Yeah, but…”
“You just lie back and relax. You won’t regret a minute of it.”
Favreau liked the sound of that, but he wasn’t sure about getting tied up. Kinkiness had never been his thing. But then a woman this hot had never spent time with him voluntarily, so he didn’t put up a fuss when she crossed to the bed, wound one of the scarves around his left wrist, and tied it to the headboard.
She repeated the ritual with his right hand, and damn if he didn’t feel like a fool lying there in his BVDs with his arms splayed.
She noticed his discomfort and said, “Go with the flow, Frederic. Go with the flow.”
At this point, he didn’t have much choice.
But then she got up on the bed with the third scarf and brought it toward his eyes.
“Wait a minute — wait,” he said. “You’re gonna blindfold me?”
“It’s all part of the game, baby.”
This was the first time she’d called him that, and the way her tongue wrapped around the word, coupled with the shot of cleavage she was giving him, was enough to kick his motor into high gear. He could feel his body starting to react.
“Aww, fuck it,” he said. “Do whatever you want. I’m yours.”
She smiled and kissed him, then slipped the scarf over his eyes and tied it behind his head. He was relieved to see the fabric was thin enough that it didn’t completely obscure his vision. He couldn’t see much, but figured it was better than nothing.
She climbed off the bed and he heard her moving around, then the lamp on the nightstand clicked and the room went dark. The only light came from the open bedroom doorway.
A moment later he saw her standing there, little more than a shapely silhouette.
“I think I really do need that drink,” she said.
“Oh, don’t you dare.”
“You said to do whatever I want.”
She was teasing him and was damn good at it.
“Then get it already and get your ass back in here.”
When she disappeared from the doorway, Favreau felt a momentary spike of panic. What if this had all been some elaborate ruse? What if she really was working for Valac, and this was his way of making old Freddy look like a fool?
But then half a minute later she was standing in the doorway again, drink in hand. He could barely see her, but it was enough. She knocked the drink back, tossed the empty glass to the carpet, then took half a step forward and began peeling the dress off her body like it was a second skin.
What she was doing to him right now should not have been legal. Not here. Not in the US. Not even in his adopted home of France.
He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been this turned on. He was breathing too fast, almost hyperventilating, afraid he might lose it before she got any closer.
Or have a heart attack.
She stepped out of the dress, turning slightly, showing him her profile, and he could see her breasts bouncing. She paused a moment to stroke them, then she turned again, and he lost her in the darkness. But that didn’t matter, because a second later he felt the bed move as she climbed on, grabbed hold of the elastic waistband of his underwear and pulled, exposing him in all his glory.
Then he felt her skin against his and something warm and wet and wonderful happened and he tried to hold back but he couldn’t help himself, losing it in record time.
But that didn’t matter, either, because she kept on going until he was ready again, and no matter how much he begged her to untie him and take off the blindfold, she didn’t listen, didn’t say a word, just did things with her teeth and her tongue and her fingers and her body, and before he knew it they had gone three rounds—three glorious rounds—and he was exhausted, used up, spent, worn out, and slowly drifting off to sleep.
When he was halfway to dreamland he felt her untying his wrists, felt her hot breath against his face, but he couldn’t move, his entire being drained of energy. Weightless. Drifting.
Then she whispered in his ear, “I told you you wouldn’t regret it.”
And he fell asleep smiling.
CHAPTER 30
When Favreau opened his eyes, there was sunlight in the room.
Had he had another blackout?
But no, he knew he hadn’t, because he remembered every moment, every exquisite detail of what had happened during the night. His world had been challenged, conquered, rocked by a woman he was now convinced could get him to do anything she asked.
And do it gladly.
That’s how good it had been.
He remembered the feel of her body against his and felt himself stirring again. And then there she was, standing in the doorway, wearing that slinky dress and holding her shoes in her hand.
“I’m late,” she said. “The guys are gonna be mad.”
“Send them over here and I’ll kick their asses.”
“Somebody needs to.”
“Did I happen to mention how amazing you were last night?”
“You may have said it in your sleep a couple times. But maybe you were dreaming about someone else.”
He laughed. “Not likely. Why don’t you forget about work today? We’ll go outside, get sunburned. Have breakfast on the beach.”
“Listen to you. I thought you liked to stay indoors?”
“What can I say, I’m a transformed man. Tell your roommates to buzz off. You don’t need them anyway.”
“I made a commitment,” she said, “and I’d like to stick to it. But there’s always tonight, remember?”
“Tonight?”
“The party? At Pappy Leo’s house?”
“Gee, I don’t know, baby. Like I said, that could be tricky.”
She frowned. “Why? Are you afraid of these people?”
He thought about Valac’s thugs and lied. “No, I just don’t want to chance blowing the deal.”
“And I’m some kind of deal breaker?”
He grinned. “You’re a heartbreaker, I know that much.”
“I’m serious, Frederic. Are you ashamed of me?”
He sat up. “Now, come on, I never said that. But these are touchy guys and—”
“Okay, I see what this is. You got what you wanted and now you’re done with me. Thanks for a great time.”
She turned in a huff and disappeared from view. Favreau heard the door slamming as he scrambled out of bed and snatched up his pants. He yanked them on and nearly stumbled as he zipped up and ran into the foyer.
He pulled the door open, saw her moving down the hall toward her suite and said, “Alexandra, wait!”
She stopped. Turned.
“Screw it, all right? You can come. I want you to come.”
“I don’t want to blow your deal.”
“No, no, no, I’m an idiot. Forget those guys. Hell, they may even show me a little more respect if I’ve got you hanging on my arm.”
She softened. “Really?”
“Really.”
“You’re sure?”
“Absolutely, baby. I wouldn’t have it any other way.”
Alex had neglected to get a new room key, so Deuce had to let her in.
“I feel guilty,” she said.
Cooper stood near the computer cart, watching as Warlock ran a 3D simulation module based on blueprints and satellite images of the Latham estate.