Authors: Joely Sue Burkhart
“Hey, Mal. How’d the day go?”
“We made amazing progress. Shiloh’s a fireball of boundless energy, and she had most of the details already thought out. She even has sketches for the hosted segments, including interview questions, which Georgia is eating up. It was just a matter of making a few final decisions now that Shiloh has our backing to proceed. You’ve made quite an acquisition in her, V, for yourself and VCONN.”
He knew Mal too well not to recognize the tightness in her voice. “But?”
“You should have warned her about Kimberly before we went to Silken.”
He ran his hand through his damp hair and muttered a curse. “You’re right. I never thought about it. How’d that go over?”
“Shiloh handled herself with class,” Mal admitted. “But there’s been a development that affects the show, and I’m not sure what you’ll think about it.” She hesitated, and Victor bit back the urge to reach through the phone and throttle her. “Kimberly wants a role on the show as a contestant.”
Silently, he let possible outcomes play through his mind. He didn’t care one way or the other. After two years and the hope he’d found in Shiloh, he didn’t give a damn whether he saw Kimberly again, married or not. But how would Shiloh feel to have his ex on
her
show, competing for his affections? “This is a mess.”
“You’re going to have to be very careful. On the surface, Shiloh is unsinkable and as gracious as a lady, but I saw the turmoil and doubt on her face when she looked at Kimberly. She sees her as competition, your not-too-distant past, and how can she possibly measure up?”
“Shiloh is night and day different from her.”
“Exactly,” Mal said. “So if you wanted to marry Kimberly, how can you possibly have serious affections for Shiloh?”
“Fuck.”
“That’s exactly what she’s going to think. That you only want her for the scene and what she can give you.”
“What can I do to make sure she knows I’m serious?”
Mal snorted. “You’re asking me? I don’t have any patience for hysterics and drama that some women seem to relish. Shiloh may be different, but I never understood why you wanted Kimberly, so I honestly can’t tell what you think about this new girl.”
What did he feel for Shiloh? Temptation, certainly, and hope that she might not be afraid of his darker sides, but he hadn’t allowed himself to think beyond the possible scene they might play. Despite the initial attraction months ago, he’d only let himself contemplate claiming her today. He’d refused to even let the thought enter his mind, because once he decided that he wanted her, he’d be driven to win her at any cost by his competitive nature and his own damned pride.
Deep down, he knew he’d spoken the truth when he’d told her she was his after the show, assuming she hadn’t bailed on him. It was too late for Shiloh to back out now; the Master had his entire will focused on her.
“I might have given Kimberly a ring, but I never gave her my heart. I couldn’t risk letting her in that far without her seeing all my darkest most horrible secrets at the same time. She never knew the monstrosity I carry in me, Mal. I pretended for her.”
“Why?” The shocked softness in his friend’s voice told him she was bewildered. “Why her?”
His chest felt heavy and constricted. “I wanted to try and be the kind of man she wanted. Someone safer, gentler, kinder. I thought it would make me a better man to control and eliminate my darker urges. But I was wrong, so wrong. I’m worse now than I ever thought I could be. I want…” He growled out a curse and swiped his hand through his hair, deliberately tugging it hard. “The things I want to do… Shiloh ought to run like hell.”
The door slammed behind him. He whirled around, forgetting about his bad knee. Pain shot up his thigh and the knee gave, throwing him off balance.
Shiloh glared at him, her mouth tight with fury, her shoulders stiff. She marched close and shoved him hard enough in the chest that he collapsed to the bench behind him. “You’re an incredible man, Victor Connagher, and you’re sure as hell not getting rid of me that easily.”
Shiloh didn’t stop to think about what she was doing. While he was off balance—mentally and physically—she knelt and pulled his foot into her lap so she could exam his knee. He only wore a pair of black sport shorts and his hair was still wet. Shirtless, hair loose about his shoulders, and his muscular body practically bare, he didn’t seem as intimidating…just drop dead gorgeous.
It was much easier to concentrate on the surgical scars than soak in his bare chest. Gently, she probed his knee with her fingers, noting the swelling and soreness each time he tensed. She risked a glance up at his face.
A muscle ticked in his jaw. “Mal, I’ll talk to you later.” He hung up and set the phone on the bench beside him.
Before he could interrogate her, she asked in her most professional voice, “ACL and MCL tears, right? How many surgeries did you have?”
“Two, with a third on the horizon if things don’t improve.”
She wrapped her hands around his upper thigh and firmly drew his leg through her fingers, over his knee and down his calf.
On a low groan, he dropped his head back against the wall.
“Too much?”
“Hell, no. I can stand it harder if your hands are up to it.”
She repeated the long strokes, concentrating on the deep tissues above and below his knee to work out all the knots that had built up over time.
Think of him as a patient, not as a man you’ve dreamed about for months.
After a good fifteen minutes, he asked, “Where did you learn how to do this?”
His voice sounded thick and mellow, his muscles melting beneath her hands. What she wouldn’t give to give him a full body massage. “I took a sports injury class at a highly recommended massage school.”
“My knee has never hurt this good before. You’ve got magic hands, baby. I don’t remember anything on your resume about certification.”
She felt her cheeks heating, so she concentrated on her work. “I never worked as a massage therapist. Just a hobby, I guess.”
He leaned forward and grabbed her chin, tilting her face up to his. His fingers were gentler than when he’d touched earlier. Even his eyes were softer, and hot enough to melt her into a puddle. “You took that class for me.”
“A hunch,” she admitted. “If you lie down I can do a better job.”
He studied her for long seconds while her heart lodged somewhere in her throat. With a wide, startling smile, he set his phone on the floor and stretched out on the bench, shifting to get his long frame comfortable. She didn’t fail to note that he kept the towel he’d used on his hair strategically placed across his lap. “Well, then, I’d better think real hard about the best way to thank you.”
Swallowing the lump in her throat, she stood and moved to the foot of the bench. “Getting my hands on your body is reward enough, sir.”
“V,” he replied in an easy voice. “Or Victor, I don’t care which. I might be a Master, but I really don’t care for all the formalities. I’m not interested in a slave relationship.”
With firm, deep strokes, she rubbed her thumbs down the top of his knee to the back on both sides, using cross friction against those sore tendons. “What are you interested in?”
“You, whatever that means.”
Ducking her head a little, she concentrated on his knee. After meeting his ex-girlfriend, she had her doubts.
As though he read her mind, he said, “I apologize for not telling you about Kimberly. She means nothing to me.”
She worked her hands up higher, kneading his quadriceps. “She wants to be on the show with us, along with Ryan.”
“I couldn’t care less. If you don’t want her there, tell them both to forget it with my blessing.”
“Why me?” She bit her lip and flicked her gaze up to his face to check his reaction. He had closed his eyes and his mouth was soft, his lips barely parted. She’d never seen his face so fully relaxed before. He could almost be asleep.
Good, maybe he didn’t hear my insecurities blurted out like a teenager.
“Did you see my picture at Silken?”
She shuddered at the memory. Not asleep, then. “Yes.”
“I should have demanded they give it to me instead of letting them keep it in their office like some sort of holy display.” He blew out a disgusted breath that made her lips twitch. “Which Victor was in that picture: the CEO of a sexy cable channel or the sadist?”
His thigh was heavily muscled from the years of physical therapy he’d invested to rehabilitate his knee. Dark hair sprinkled across his skin, matching the thin line of hair that led up his ridged abs to the darker patch on his chest. She licked her lips and thought about pressing her face between his pectorals. Would he allow her to breathe in his scent and rub her face on him? “You were all Master V.”
Softly, he whispered, “What did you see in my eyes?”
She clenched her thighs, trying to calm the need burning through her body. She ached, desire humming in her so loudly she was surprised he didn’t hear it like a siren call luring a ship to its doom. “Hunger.”
“That’s why you’re here with me now. Ryan and Kimberly think that picture is just a sexy photograph done as an old-time Western. They don’t see the real me in that picture.” He paused, waiting until she looked back into his face. His eyes bored into her. Even lying flat on his back with a swelling knee, he possessed the commanding presence of an emperor. “They don’t see the man who aches to use that crop on you until you beg me to stop.”
“I won’t,” she choked.
His eyes narrowed and he tensed beneath her hands. His breathing rasped loud in the silence. Blistering coldness flooded over her, along with a sense of his withdrawal.
Quickly, she explained. “I won’t beg you to stop.”
The tension bled out of him, but he closed his eyes, and his voice was gruff. “You will, baby. You will.”
“You don’t know me well enough to make that judgment.” Leaving his knee, she moved to the opposite end of the bench. She sank trembling fingers into his hair, seeking his scalp. He made a low purring sound and tipped his head back into her caress, so she swirled her fingertips along his temples. She drew her fingers back in firm strokes, as though she could pull out every last bit of tension and pain that lingered in his magnificent body.
“Every time I go home, Mama threatens to have my brother hogtie me so they can give me a proper hair cut.”
“Don’t you dare,” she growled out.
He arched a brow at her but didn’t open his eyes. Afraid she’d overstepped her bounds with him, she changed the subject. “You should ice your knee tonight to keep the swelling down.”
“Hand me my cell. I’m lucky I didn’t fumble it when you tackled me.”
Blushing furiously, she handed him his phone. “I did not tackle you. I pushed you to get you off your knee. You’d already strained it enough.”
He leaned up on his right elbow and typed in a text message. “I’ll ask Léon to bring up some ice packs and bandages, if you’ll be so kind as to help me wrap it.”
“Of course.”
He set the phone aside and stretched back out on the bench. His eyes smoldered, but a faint smile played about his lips. “Now you have approximately five minutes to kiss me before we’re interrupted. This is your chance to taste me without me trying to bite a hunk out of you.”
If she thought it amusingly fair to keep him off balance, then the least he could do was surprise her in return. Unbelievably mellow after her strong, deep massage, he hadn’t felt this relaxed in years.
Shiloh Holmes had accomplished the unthinkable: she’d wrung lighthearted teasing out of the sadist.
She eased around to his side and trailed her fingers across his face to lightly stroke his lips. “Maybe I’d like for you to bite a hunk out of me.”
“Promises, promises.” He quirked his lips into a wide smile the likes of which his face hadn’t seen in years. He’d forgotten how much fun sensual teasing could be. He was usually too aggressive to even think about a joke. “Time’s a ticking. Léon is most efficient in his duties. The only thing that may delay him is whatever concoction he has bubbling on the stove for dinner.”
She leaned down to hover over his mouth. Her warm breath sighed out against his face. He smelled the sweetness of her scent, no heavy cloying perfume but a hint of sage that made her smell as green and fresh as the outdoors. Their lips just inches apart, his heartbeat thudding like a bass drum inside his skull, he waited for her to close the distance.
He knew she expected the Master to reach out and take control. He was curious how she’d react if he made her close the distance between them. Would she suspect him of some trick? Or would she be too shy to take what she wanted from him? Too hesitant because of her natural submissive inclinations?
She locked her mouth over his. She inhaled his lips, her hunger as great as his own. He felt her desperation, the endless ache swelling within her. Emptiness, loneliness, and yes, the deep, raw need to wallow in pain, to let its molten heat blaze through her.
A need that would lure him to the dark side.
He opened his lips and she surged deeper, groaning against him. Her thumbs tugged at the corners of his mouth, urging him wider, trying to prod him into taking control. Fisting his hands, he fought down the urge to do exactly that. He wanted to give her a nice, safe kiss while he was able. They’d never have another first kiss, and he didn’t want her memory of it to be pain and darkness.
Sucking on her tongue, he drew her deeper. God, he could drink her down, drain her dry, and still crave her taste. He raked his teeth over her tongue, reminding her of his threat, and it took every ounce of control not to sink his teeth harder and punish that tongue for daring to invade his mouth—so he could suck her deep again.
Sliding her hands down his neck, she gripped his shoulders and pulled him closer, silently begging him. She made a little sound that sounded suspiciously like a sob. And then her teeth sank into his bottom lip.
Growling, he clamped his left hand on the back of her neck and jerked her down so she fell against his chest. Yet she didn’t let go of his lip. Splinters of pain fired through his veins, pumping blood harder, faster through his body. She knew exactly what she was doing to him, too, because she gnawed harder, rubbing her teeth against that tender flesh while her tongue teased from the other side.