Temptation’s Edge (3 page)

“Gathering wool?” Connor asked, the deep timber of his voice breaking into her wandering thoughts.

“Hmm, yes, I guess I was.”

“What about?”

She turned to look at him more fully. His face was serious. Too damn handsome. “Oh, I doubt you really want to know.”

He shrugged again, reminding her of the breadth of his shoulders. He paused to eat a piece of sushi, chewing thoughtfully for several moments. “Maybe I do.”

Good Lord, he did. Connor realized he wanted to know exactly what was going through that gorgeous head of hers. He wanted to know everything about her. And it had nothing to do with his usual thorough investigation of a woman he was going to play. He simply wanted to
know
.

What the hell was wrong with him? He was as taken as a teenager with his first warm tit in his hand. And he didn’t even have his hands on her tits, although Lord knew he wanted to. Wanted to have her
under
his hands. Under his command. But Mischa was no quiet, passive, submissive girl. She was full of fire, this one. Which made the idea that much more tempting.

He didn’t mind a little power struggle. Not as long as he came out on top. He always did, no question about it. But he had the sense that it’d be one hell of a struggle with this girl.

The idea intrigued him. Fascinated him. Hell, he hadn’t been able to think of anything else since he’d first set eyes on her. With those lush curves, that fall of pale blonde hair, the way it kept falling over one eye like some old Hollywood siren. Full lips painted a wicked scarlet that was meant to imply sex. A woman as confident as she was, as cocky as any man, wouldn’t go down easily. But despite what she thought—and it was obvious she thought
she
was in control, through and through—he’d seen it in her. That unconscious response that signaled a spark of submissive desire. It may only be a small spark, but he was just the man to bring it out in her. It wasn’t simple ego talking. He was good at what he did in the BDSM arena. Or maybe it
was
some ego. Or just the power of his desire for this girl, which was frankly throwing him a bit. He wanted to sleep with her. Spank her. Feel her naked flesh under his hands. See what her body looked like beneath the tight-fitting black dress she wore. She looked like some 1950s pinup girl with that platinum blonde hair waving around her shoulders. Gorgeous.

He was almost getting hard just thinking about it. He had to will his cock down, to remember they were at a friend’s dinner table, and not the Pleasure Dome, which is where he’d much prefer they be.

The BDSM club was where he and Alec had met, where Alec had later introduced him to Dante. Their tastes all ran in the same vein, and it was a pleasure to have friends he could be completely open with. But this was not the time and place. Not to do more than flirt with the girl, at least until after the party was over. To tease her. To gauge her reaction.

She was definitely reacting. And he was sure as hell reacting to
her. Enough that he almost wanted to order another finger of scotch to help him calm down. But that was something he never did. One drink was his limit. He was as tough on himself as he ever was on any subbie girl he played with. Rules were rules. They were always there for a reason, and Lord knew he had his reasons. So why was he allowing this girl to challenge that rule, even for a moment? He’d best get things back under control.

He forced himself to talk with the others seated near their section of the table through dinner. Even though Mischa was the only one he wanted to talk to. But if he was going to be an idiot over this girl—and it seemed maybe he was—then he thought he’d at least put it off until he had her alone somewhere.

Ah, yes. Alone. Naked. Just strip that tight black dress off her and see the rise of her breasts, fill his hands with them. His mouth…

He groaned quietly, took the last swallow of his scotch, savored the burn as it slid down his throat.

“Was it good?”

“What?”

He whipped his head around to find Mischa’s pale brow arched.

“The chicken
satay
,” she said. “I haven’t tried it yet.”

He just sat and stared at her for several moments before he managed to collect himself. He forced his gaze from her plush red lips to her brilliant blue eyes.

“The food here is always excellent. You should try the
satay
. Here, have some of mine.”

He picked up a tender piece of grilled chicken, dipped it in the small bowl of peanut sauce and held it to her lips. She flashed him a quick grin full of sensual promise before she parted those gorgeous lips and took the food into her mouth.

The woman knew exactly the power she held over men. He
wasn’t immune to it—that was damn certain. But just as certain was the fact that he
would
gain control over her. He just had to wait until he could get her alone. Judging from her flirtatious behavior, that shouldn’t be an issue. The only question was when?

“Mmm, that was delicious.”

She licked her lips. His groin tightened.

“So are you, if you don’t mind my saying so.”

“I don’t mind at all.”

She smiled, and once more he felt that same jolt of desire he’d felt every time she’d smiled, every time she’d spoken to him. Need ran hot in his veins.

He leaned in a little closer, keeping his voice low. “Then perhaps you won’t mind an invitation.”

“An invitation?”

“To have that discussion I mentioned.”

“The negotiations, you mean?”

Ah, she was still flirting with him. This was a fine game they were playing, but they both had some idea of how it would end.

“Yes. And after that…”

“After that, what?” she asked.

The look on her beautiful face was pure sex. They both knew the answer. And they both understood the small thrill in having this conversation in front of all these people, their low voices making an intimate bubble around them.

Yes, pure sex, this girl.

“After that will depend on how the negotiations go. On how you answer my questions.”

“And if I have questions for you?”

“That’s part of it, isn’t it?” He let his pinky brush the back of her hand, watched her cheeks warm, the plump rise of her breasts flush pink. Which was exactly why he’d done it—to see
that response. “Power play is all about the give and take, regardless of what those less well versed in these things may think. It’s a power
exchange
. It works both ways. Except that I will be the one in command.”

She blinked, her cheeks going a darker, lovely shade of pink.

“Ah, you’re thinking to argue that, are you? I don’t think so, my girl. Are you still in?”

She paused for one long beat, then said, a little breathlessly, “Yes.”

Damn it. He couldn’t get her out of there soon enough.

“Mischa, you’re sure you don’t mind riding with Connor? I didn’t realize our car would be full of gifts.”

“Don’t worry about me, Dylan. It’s fine.”

It was more than fine. Alone in a car with Connor. Then alone at Dylan’s apartment. They’d flirted all through dinner. He was every bit as interested as she was—he’d made that very clear. And she was
very
interested.

“You’re sure?” Dylan asked again.

“Of course. You and Alec go relax, open your gifts. I’ll see you in the morning anyway, won’t I?”

“Yes, dress shopping after a late breakfast, if that’s okay with you.”

“I
love
late.” Mischa grinned at her.

Dylan laughed. “Okay. But you have my cell if you need anything.”

“Knowing you, I’m certain your apartment is lacking nothing I might need.”

“There’s nothing to eat…I haven’t been home much.”

It was Mischa’s turn to laugh. “Like you’ve ever done anything
other than live off takeout. Stop worrying. I know where the menus are. Go home and curl up with your man.”

Dylan gave her a quick kiss on the cheek, then Alec led her out the door of the restaurant just as Connor came with her coat.

“I took a cab tonight,” he said, slipping her coat over her shoulders. “Parking is hell here. I didn’t mention it to Alec and Dylan. Hope you don’t mind.”

“A cab is fine.” She was trying to ignore the way her pulse was running hot and thready again. He really was an amazing-looking man, all hard muscle and sculpted features, and eyes that seemed to look through her. “San Francisco doesn’t have any decent parking, either, which is one reason why I rent an apartment within walking distance of my shop. I cab it almost everywhere else.”

She was trying to have a normal conversation with him when all she wanted was for him to slam her up against a wall and kiss her senseless. Instead, she was babbling. Totally unlike her. She took in a breath of the cold air as he led her outside. It was only now that they were both standing that she realized the full extent of his towering height, how massive his frame was beneath his black wool peacoat. The acute awareness of his hulking form beside her made her shiver as much as the damp night air.

Calm down.

He was just another man. This would be just another night of friendly, strings-free sex, which was the way she preferred things. Why did he have her so shaken up?

“You haven’t told me the name of your tattoo shop there,” he said as they stepped to the curb.

“It’s called Thirteen Roses. I’ve had it for almost four years.”

“Business is good?”

“Really good. Better than I’d expect in this economy. Actually,
part of this trip will be to discuss opening a new location here with another artist I met in the first shop I apprenticed in.”

“There’s a good customer base for tattoos in this town, I’d think.”

“Do you have any yourself?” she asked, hoping he did. Even before she’d started tattooing herself, body art had been a bit of a fetish for her. She thought it was beautiful—when done well, of course—but she really had a thing for tattoos. For hot men with tattoos, specifically.

God, to see ink on his skin…

“I have two,” he answered. “I’m looking for a third, once I find the right artist. Mine has moved to New York. If you’re a good girl, maybe I’ll show them to you later.”

She laughed. But inside, she was trembling all over.

Good girl.

No one had ever said such a thing to her before. No one had dared, frankly. Not even those few men she’d let tie her up, spank her, at the BDSM clubs in San Francisco. The submission thing had never been that serious for her, and just as often she’d been the one on top. But coming from him, it was sexy as hell.

He was staring at her again. Watching her closely.

She shook her head. “What is it?”

“I’m just wondering…”

“What?”

“If you’ll be coming home with me tonight. To have that discussion, you know.” His tone lowered until she had to strain over the noise of passing traffic on the wet streets to hear him. “I’m hoping you will. Because, to be honest, I can’t wait to get my hands on you, Mischa. I can’t wait to feel your lovely, smooth flesh beneath my palms. To have you over my knee. To hear your breath catch when I spank you.” He paused. “Exactly as you’re
doing now. Which tells me what your answer will be. But I have to hear it from you. Will you come with me? Or do I drop you at Dylan’s place so you can think it over some more?”

Had any man ever talked to her this way? So utterly sure of himself. Despite that he was basically asking her permission…to what? To do things to her she’d only ever played at. But never, she was certain, as seriously as this man could play. With him, it would be a whole new world of experience. One she found herself eager for.

“What will it be, Mischa?” he urged.

He was close enough that she could smell the faint, sweet tinge of good scotch on his breath. His hand was at her waist. Somehow, even through the heavy wool of her coat, she swore she could feel the heat of his touch. She shivered.

“I’ll come with you, Connor. Let’s go.”

Connor smiled, gave a small nod with his square chin before stepping into the street. He hailed a taxi with a loud whistle and a brief wave of his hand, commanding the cab as easily as he did everything else. Including, it seemed, her. She was surprised by it. Enticed by it.

“Come on, then,” he said.

He handed her into the cab, an old-world gesture she loved immediately, then he climbed in beside her and gave the driver an address in Belltown, the same section of Seattle where Dylan lived. It was made up of older structures and much of the old architecture had been preserved in the apartment buildings, warehouses that had been turned into lofts, the charming, funky retail stores and cafes. It reminded her a bit of home.

As soon as the cab pulled onto the street Connor wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her closer, sliding her across the
seat effortlessly, as if she were nothing more than a doll. His cheek was next to hers.

“I’ve been waiting all night for this. To get you alone. To kiss you.”

She turned to look up at him, at his glittering gaze reflecting the amber streetlights. Desire was stark on his rugged face, mirroring her own.

She licked her lips. “What are you waiting for?” she asked.