In Good Hands (13 page)

Then he realized what he was thinking and groaned. “Holy shit, what is wrong with me?”

“Don't fight the feelings, Roger. Just feel them. Let them wash through you and go away.”

“They're not going away!” he snapped. “God, this came out of nowhere! Half an hour ago, I was feeling great.”

“It doesn't matter how you
were
feeling. Stay with what's going on now.”

“This is why I don't go to a shrink!” He threw his hands down and glared at her. “I just feel out of control! Ansty like that jerk of a kid. Powerless like I was when I was twelve. Completely useless. Jesus. Did I tell you that Sam won't answer my emails? He says we'll talk about it when I get back. Like this fucking economy is going to wait until I get back?
I'm going to come back from vacation and there won't be a company left. Between Sam's engineering flights of fancy and the fact that most people can't afford robots, the whole place is going to crumple and there's nothing I can do about it. Just like there's nothing I can do about my goddamn blood pressure but watch it go up and up and up and ruin my goddamned life!”

He was up and pacing again, his fists planted on his hips when he wasn't gesturing wildly. And then, just like that, he stopped and took a breath. He thought back over his rant and realized, with a rather large dollop of embarrassment, that this latest screaming fit was no more rational than his explosion about the color of his cherry tomato.

“I have to get a steak,” he said flatly. “All this salad has melted my brain.”

She laughed, pushing up off the couch to stand directly in front of him. “It sounds like you have some control issues. And some fears about the economy.”

He groaned. “Like that's original. So why am I the one on a forced vacation? Why not most of the world?”

“Because you chose high blood pressure rather than an ulcer, migraines, throat cancer or liver disease. Or whatever disease. Come on, Roger, don't worry about why you have the diagnosis. Try and release the stress that is driving you insane.”

“I just need to get back to work. Sam's just being an ass—”

She stopped his words the only way she could. She kissed him, and with a lightning shift of gears, he decided he was more than amenable to the distraction. He grabbed her around the waist and pulled her right up against him. God, she felt good as he ground his hard penis against her. But then she pulled back, her eyes dark with hunger, but her expression serious.

“These feelings are real, Roger. You'll have to deal with them sometime.”

“I am dealing with them,” he said as he started backing her into her bedroom. “I need to bang something.”

“And you want it to be me?” she asked.

“You objecting?”

She shook her head, pushing her own pelvis back enough to make him growl deep into her throat. “But after you're done banging out your frustration, you're going to have to meditate.”

“Oh, God, Amber, enough with the meditation alread—”

She covered his mouth with her hand, cutting off his words if not his expression. He was done with contemplating his navel. Done with emptying his brain so that all these stupid emotions could fill them. He'd been better off when he was thinking so hard he didn't feel any of this.

Except some part of him knew it wasn't true. The part of him that wasn't consumed with rage or lust, the part of him that could find a corner of quiet in this brain. That part reminded him that he had been feeling helpless and angry for a very long time. Sure, he'd covered it with work. Hell, he'd gotten his degree in record time, then had dived straight into eighty-hour work weeks. If it weren't for his blood pressure, he'd still be at it, firmly tucking the emotions away.

God, when had the fury gotten so hot? So dark? So powerful?

It didn't matter. It was with him now. As was a hot and willing woman.

“Okay,” he growled as he grabbed her wrist and pulled her hand away from his mouth. “I'll look at my
feelings.
” He sneered the word. “I'll meditate, I'll think about my issues.”

“You will?” she asked, her tone indicating her surprise.

“Yes,” he snapped. “Now I've got one question for you.”

She arched her brow.

“How do you feel about taking it from behind?” And with those words, he spun her around and bent her right in half.

A
MBER FELT A THRILL
of power rush through her at his rough handling. She knew that Roger could be the gentlest of lovers. She'd experienced that time and again this last week. But right now, he was blowing off steam. He was struggling with feeling out of control, and boy, did she understand that! After all, she was an MD who, almost by definition, liked to play God. Which meant she had her own share of dominance demons inside her. But perhaps that was why they worked so well together. She understood what he needed. And right now, that wasn't her bent over and presenting. He needed a challenge, he needed someone to fight him nose to nose and not break, even if she lost.

So while he was stripping out of his pants, she spun around to face him, her brow arched in challenge. “Been there, done that, big boy. In the elevator, or don't you remember? What else you got?”

If she had any doubt as to how he'd react, it disappeared in that moment. His hands stilled on his belt, his eyes darkened and his nostrils flared. But a slow smile began to curve his lips. Then he whipped his belt out and held it high.

“I could tie you up,” he said, his voice dark with promise.

She straightened and as quick as she could manage, she
grabbed his belt and wrapped it around her arm. She could tell she surprised him, and that made them both happy.

“You could,” she drawled. “Or we could just see who's the stronger bitch.”

“You called me the alpha dog the day we first met.” He arched a brow. “Or don't you remember that?”

She leaned forward. “I remember. I'm just demanding you prove your status. After all, who knows? Maybe all that salad has turned
everything
to mush.”

He jerked backward on the belt which was still wrapped around her arm.
Bam,
she flew into his arms where he captured her tight against him. His legs were even braced apart, framing her thinner ones. And yeah, she could definitely tell that mush was
not
one of his problems. He was rock hard and pulsing with heat.

“Game on,” he breathed, then he bent to plunder her mouth.

She fought him. Not to avoid his possession, but to possess
him.
While he tried to push into her mouth, she struggled to get into his. She'd never done this before with any man, but wow, this was fun. They ended up climbing over each other in their attempts to assert dominance. They lost their balance and tumbled to her futon, but that didn't break the game. It only added more of a challenge.

Then he played dirty. He'd been worming his hands underneath her shirt, so when he abruptly reared upright, her clothing went with her. Her yoga top stripped off in one piece only to catch on their entwined arms. He'd have to unwrap the belt if he wanted her shirt fully off.

Apparently he didn't because while she was gasping in shock at her sudden nakedness, he descended back onto her. This time he won the possession of her mouth, but she got something else. She got hold of his penis and gripped him tight enough to catch his attention. His pants were already
open, so he had only his silk boxers to soften the strength of her hand. He stilled, then slowly straightened up from her, his eyes dark and his expression hungry.

“Here's what we're going to do,” she said clearly. “You're going to get naked and let me tie you up.”

His eyebrows shot to his forehead, but he didn't speak.

“And then,” she continued, “you're going to lie there and take whatever I choose to dish out.”

He chuckled, shaking his head no. “I don't—”

His words stopped on a strangled gasp as she gripped him even tighter. “You are going to obey me,” she rasped.

“You can't hold on forever, Amber,” he growled. “The minute you let go of your grip, I'm going to turn you over and spank you.”

Now that did surprise her. No one had ever threatened to spank her, not even as a kid. But she found the threat rather titillating. Especially since they both knew he was bigger and stronger than her. In a fair fight, he would win hands down. Good thing she had no intention of playing fair.

Her eyes drooped and she tried to make her lip tremble. “You wouldn't use your big manly strength against me, would you? That's not fair.”

He leaned right up to her nose and whispered, “Try me.”

So she did. She gripped him hard enough to make his jaw bunch. And as she did, she unwound her arm from the belt. She made sure to hold his gaze the entire time, tensing for the moment he would leap. But she never wavered with her grip, never gave him the idea that she would go easy on him.

Okay, step one accomplished. Her yoga top was off. She stood before him naked from the waist up. Now on to step two: getting him naked.

“Let go of the belt.”

He did, raising his hands slowly into the air.

“Now take off your shirt.”

Again, he did exactly as she bid. But he didn't lure her into loosening her grip. Not even when he stood there apparently docile as she pushed his pants down to his ankles.

“Now back up and slowly lie down on the bed.”

She maneuvered slowly, working hard to keep her grip strong. He was impressively large, so that helped. But it was more awkward than she'd expected, trying to hold on to a man's penis through silk while he lowered himself onto her futon. She managed it, but only barely.

And then she realized she had a problem. She had a futon without a headboard. Nothing but fabric and lightweight plastic crates. Sure, she had a belt in her free hand, but even if she could manage to wrap it around his wrists, there was nothing to anchor him to. And smart man that he was, he knew exactly what was going on.

“Problem?” he drawled.

“Of course not. I—”

He struck. She hadn't even loosened her grip, but he called her bluff. He probably guessed that she wouldn't do anything to really damage his anatomy, so he surprised her with a quick blow to her shoulders. She even saw the move coming, likely because he intended her to. He raised his hands and shoved them forward at her, and she reacted as most normal people would, raising her arms to block the blow. She succeeded, taking most of the impact on her forearms. It took a split second more for her to realize that she'd lost her grip on him.

Oops.

Especially since he continued the motion, surging up off the bed and wrapping his arms around her, restraining her movement. A second later, he used his size to push her down. Before she could take a second breath, he had her pinned beneath him. And even worse, he didn't need something like a headboard to hold her down. His larger bulk made it easy for him to keep her still while grabbing the belt.

She fought him, of course. She wriggled and pushed and even nipped at him. But it wasn't enough. He hauled her arms above her, then used the belt to cuff her wrists together. She would have slammed her arms down on top of him, but he kept his weight on them enough that she couldn't budge.

But now he was the one with the problem. She still had her yoga pants on.

“Now what you gonna do?” she taunted.

He arched a brow. “I'll make a deal with you. You take off your pants while I suit up.” He indicated the box of condoms on the floor nearby. “It's a fair trade unless you want to risk pregnancy.”

She stilled for a moment, her mind distracted from their game. A child.
His
child. The idea was completely nuts. She didn't have the money to support a kid right then. Not to mention that she wasn't sure she'd make a good mother. After all, shouldn't parents at least have a pretense of understanding themselves and their world? She was still floundering. She hadn't even decided if she was going back to traditional medicine and Mandolin yet.

And as she was struggling with all those thoughts, she watched Roger's eyes widen in surprise, his body stilling. Well, most of his body. His organ pulsed hard against her, telling her without words how much he was interested in making a baby with her.

But it was nuts. Completely nuts.

“Oh, my God,” he whispered. “You win.” Then he abruptly pulled off her, his hands shaking as he rolled to a sitting position beside her. She followed him up, her own body feeling a little weak. She had to keep her bound hands in front of her, but that didn't stop her from pressing tight to his side.

“I didn't say anything,” she protested.

“You didn't have to. You were thinking about it.”

She pressed a kiss into his shoulder, feeling the heat from
his skin as well as the play of muscles underneath. “It was a passing thought, Roger. I do want children someday. Maybe even yours, but—”

“I know. But we just met. You only feed me salad. It might feel like the perfect thing right now—”

“But we've known each other a week,” she continued for him. “A great week, but just a week.”

“You'd make a great mother,” he said.

She laughed at that. “Not a prayer. I still don't know which end of my life is up. But you'd be an awesome dad.”

He turned to her, pressing his lips to her forehead. “You're so patient. I've never seen anyone as honest and patient as you are. And you're brilliant, too. That's gotta help, right? Kids these days are way smarter than I ever was.”

“I don't know about smarter, but definitely slicker. And thanks to the internet, they can find out a zillion dangerous and awful things. Just a few keystrokes and you can pull up a list of pranks purposely designed to drive your parents crazy.”

He groaned as he pulled her into a fierce hug. “You'd still be great.”

“You'd make up for my lacks. You know what you want. You could teach them so much about discipline and goal setting and how to stay focused without wandering off following every little flight of fancy that hits you.”

He turned to look into her eyes. “Is that what you think you've done?”

She shrugged, feeling suddenly vulnerable. “Yeah,” she finally confessed. “I often do.”

“I think you're innovative and brave.”

“Ha!” she snapped. “Not brave. Just really, really stubborn.”

“Works for me,” he said and stroked a finger down her cheek. Then he leaned forward. She met him halfway. There
was no dominance struggle this time. Just the two of them sharing a tender kiss. One that steadily built in intensity. Within a moment, he was undoing the belt holding her wrists. Then as soon as she was free, she stripped off her pants while he reached for a condom. He ripped open the package, but stopped when he noticed she was watching him.

“I like the idea,” he said softly. “I really do, but—”

“We're not ready. Neither of us.”

He nodded slowly, and she reached over. Together they rolled the condom on.

And then he began to stroke her. Soft caresses over her face, then breasts. She was panting with desire by the time he slid a finger between her folds. She touched him, too, any and every part of his glorious body that she could reach. Then he settled between her thighs and she opened them to receive him. But he didn't enter her. Instead, he held himself still until she was looking into his eyes.

“Thank you,” he whispered.

She arched her brows. “For what?”

“For showing me that life doesn't have to be a fight.”

“It was a sex game,” she said slowly.

“And it was great.” He leaned down to stroke a tender kiss along her lips. “But this is better,” he said. Then he slowly, steadily entered her.

“Way better,” she whispered as she raised her legs to hold him tight.

They began to move together, their bodies in sync as never before. And it lasted long after they had both crested. In fact, Amber was still feeling it after it was done and they were curled together, relaxed as they should be after a great bout of sex. She felt safe and happy. She still had questions about her life, but in this moment, she felt strong enough to face them.

And so she straightened up enough to look at him.

“Roger,” she said.

He slowly opened his eyes. “Hmm?”

“There's something I have to tell you. About Jack and our trip to Mandolin.”