The Dom of My Dreams: A BDSM Novel (25 page)

But what about the other times?
 
You’re always cold to me after we sleep together, always treat me like a nuisance, like you’re eager to be rid of me, like… like a scratch to an itch.
 
You treat me the same way I treated Mitch.

I crossed my arms over my chest and fought the urge to shiver.
 
The late afternoon chill was seeping through my bones, but it was Seton who had made my skin prickle.

           
He’d gotten a haircut.
 
His hair was shorter at the back and more neatly cut at the front—tiny wisps of wavy black hair spilled over his forehead.
 
The faint stubble that shadowed across his handsome face gave him a sexier, more dangerous look.
 
He wasn’t wearing a suit today.
 
He’d actually donned regular clothes.
 
His dark red turtleneck sweater hugged his broad shoulders, strong chest and lean waist to perfection and the blue jeans brought out his athletic thighs to full advantage.
 
Expensive-looking sneakers covered his large feet.
 
He was gorgeous in his immaculate tailored suits, but in casual wear he was…damn.

           
A slight smile tugged at the corners of his mouth.
 
“See something you like?”

           
I blushed and looked away, which made him laugh.

           
“Explain to me your strange behavior that night,” he insisted.
 
“There was more to it than my ignoring you.”

           
“Look,” I said, annoyed, turning my gaze back to him.
 
“I was drunk for most of that night.
 
It’s all a big blur.
 
I don’t remember much of anything.”
 
That was a lie, for I remembered—though vaguely—everything that had to do with Seton, but I’d rather be burned alive than talk about the weird stuff that passed between us that night.
 

“Well, I remember everything,” he said, his silky-rich tones dripping with sensuality.
 
“I especially remember thinking how lovely you looked in that red dress, and I remember slow dancing with you.”
 
His gaze glided downward, stopping where my nipples poked through my blouse.
 
“I remember how wonderful your body felt against mine.
 
I’m quite certain you remember that bit.”

I crossed my arms tighter against my chest and said nothing.
 
Yes, I remembered that bit, but I wished I hadn’t.
 
It would have been a whole lot easier if I’d forgotten that night altogether.
 
I especially wished I’d forgotten about meeting Karen York.
 
I wished I’d forgotten how beautiful she was and how much it hurt to see her flirting with Seton.
 
Speaking of which…

“How was your nightcap with Ms. York?”

           
He frowned.
 
“Nightcap?
 
What nightcap?”

           
“Last Saturday, while we were dancing, you told me you were having a nightcap with your agent and you invited me along.”

           
Amusement touched the corners of his emerald eyes.
 
“I thought you said you didn’t remember anything about that night.”

           
“I remember some of it.
 
So, did you and Ms. York have fun?”

           
He blinked at me a couple of times, a puzzled frown passing over his face, then ran his fingers through his shortened hair and sighed.
 
“After the party, I dropped Karen off at the train station and then I went home.
 
She wanted to return to New York that same night and I was too bloody tired for a nightcap.”

           
Relief fluttered through me.
 
He hadn’t spent the night with Karen York.
 
I’d been tormenting myself over nothing.
 

           
“What’s more,” he added, “if you thought that she and I were going to sleep together, then you’re wrong.
 
Why on earth would I invite you along if I’d wanted to be alone with her?”

           
“To have a threesome?”

           
“Not a bad idea,” he quipped, “but it honestly hadn’t entered my mind.”

I sighed.
 
Perhaps my drunken haze had clouded my reasoning.
 
In retrospect, I realized I was being stupid and illogical.
 
As I continued to digest his words, someone bumped into me from behind.
 
The man—a beefy biker type—mumbled an apology and kept on walking.
 
Worried, I looked into my Balenciaga city bag, making sure my wallet was still there.
 
(The whole bumping-and-wallet-stealing trick had been done to me several times.)
 
Seton cast a quick, almost annoyed glance toward the guy who bumped into me and grumbled something to himself about hating large crowds.
 
         

           
“You mind telling me why you want to end our dalliance?” Seton asked.

           
I turned angry eyes to him.
 
“Let’s just say I don’t like the idea of walking the streets looking like a Bratz doll in hooker getup.”

           
“You would have enjoyed what I had planned for us.”

           
Though the expression on his face was flat, the wicked, seductive lilt in his velvety-smooth voice spoke volumes.
 
A surge of desire washed over me in heated waves.
 
I cleared my throat and took a few steps back.
 
He was far too close to me for comfort.
 

“Why don’t you go play your little sex games with your other potential editors and leave
me
alone?”

           
He considered me for a moment, then, “What other potential editors?”

           
“I assume you’re being courted by other publishers.”

           
“I am, but Karen takes care of that for the most part.”

           
I raised an eyebrow.
 
“And you’re just going along for the ride?
 
That doesn’t sound like you.”

           
He leaned farther back against the door and looked at me from underneath his eyelashes, arms still crossed over his chest.
 
He was no doubt curious about where all of my comments were leading.
 
But I wasn’t about to enlighten him.
 
I wasn’t about to tell him that I was on to his game, that I knew he and Karen York were considering signing with Leather Binding Press.
 
I would let him tell me the news once he’d made up his mind.
 

           
I glanced down at my watch, slung my bag over my shoulder and said airily, “I’d love to stay here and chat, but I’ve got a million things to do.
 
So, if you don’t mind—”

           
“Get in the car.”

           
The sound of Northampton’s rush hour traffic filled my ears as I stared mutely at Seton.
 
He lunged forward, moved to the passenger’s side door and opened it for me.
 

           
I shot him a you-gotta-be-kidding-me look, my pulse rate racing into overdrive.
 
“I’m not going anywhere with you.”

           
A muscle jumped in his jaw.
 

           
“I’m not being coy.
 
I meant it when I said it was over, which is why I’m not going anywhere with you.”

           
“Just get in.”

           
“Why?” I asked snappishly, wishing I could ignore the rush of heat seeping through my veins at the mere sound of his command.

           
A sexy, come-hither smile touched his face.
 
“Because you look quite beautiful today and I just have to put my mark on you.”

           
My knees nearly buckled beneath me and my heart beat so fast I thought it would burst out of my chest.
 
Dirty talk was so sexy when it came from him.
 
Still, I made no move.

           
His smile faded.
 
“Get in the bloody car!” he thundered.
 
“Or I’ll pick you up and force you in.
 
I won’t care if someone sees me do it, I assure you.”

           
I snorted.
 
“Not even if I scream for help?”

           
“You won’t.
 
Now get in before I lose patience.”

           
The streets were full of passersby and all I had to do was walk out on him or scream for help, but I didn’t want to do either of those things.
 
I was too aware of the warmth that had started at the pit of my stomach and was now rippling down to my groin to be anything but turned on.
 
Sighing, I approached the car cautiously.
 
He stepped back and opened the door wider to let me in.
 
He closed the door for me and made his way to the driver’s side.

           
“Where’s George?” I asked him as soon as he climbed in.
 
“You didn’t fire him, did you?
 
It wasn’t his fault I returned the bag.”

           
He turned on the ignition and put the car in reverse.
 
“George is out running some errands for me.
 
He won’t drive me around anymore.
 
I’m taking over from here.”

           
I gave him a sideways glance.
 
“I thought you couldn’t drive in this country without an US license.”

           
He shrugged as he put the car into drive and sped away from the busy main streets.
 
“My UK driver’s license is valid for forty more days.
 
I’ll be getting my US driver’s permit as soon as I take care of more important matters.
 
Now”—he flashed me a gaze so full of lust it turned my insides to mush—“lift up your skirt.”

           
My eyes shot up at him with shock.
 
He glanced at the road before turning his gaze back to me.
 

           
“Do it,” he ordered sharply.

           
My legs quivered at the sound of his commanding tone.
 
I took a deep breath and peered out of the closed window.
 
We were passing small shops around the town square and moving up to the quiet residential areas.
 
The idea of touching myself in public excited me, but I was wary of police cars lurking around.
 
The windows in the Mercedes were slightly tinted, and Seton was driving at a regular speed, which meant no one would be able to notice a woman with her skirt hiked up to her waist unless we were at a stop sign or a red light.
 
Trepidation surged within me.
 
What was a horny girl to do?

           
Seton chanced a quick glance at me before turning back to the road.
 
“Lift up your skirt, Marjorie.
 
I won’t ask you again.”

           
Sighing, I lifted my knee-length pencil skirt to the waist, revealing a pretty pair of white lace panties.

           
He glanced down at me, green eyes darkening with passion.
 
“Take your panties off.”

           
My pussy hummed with arousal as I lifted slightly from the beige leather seat and eased out of my panties, letting them drop down to my ankles.
 
I turned my gaze back to Seton.
 
He was having a hard time concentrating on the road ahead.
 
He let out a strangled groan when he spotted a drop of moisture slip out of my slit.
 
He watched, mesmerized, as it trickled down my swollen lips.
 
I thought I’d faint from the sheer desire that blazed into those long-lashed emeralds of his.