The Seduction of Kinley Foster (What Happens in Vegas) (12 page)

Chapter Seventeen

Three craft sessions later, Kinley’s toes were toast. Time for a change of shoes.

She stepped into the crowded elevator. “Fifteen,” she said to the designated floor-button pusher, another conference goer.

How did Ian interpret her last text? She’d called him a liar. Did he see that as an invitation to spank her?

Or as a joke. A droll joke.

Like the time she put Nair in his roll-on Icy Hot dispenser his senior year during football season.

In no way had she been trying to solicit…

One of her mom’s mom-isms popped into her brain.
If you can’t be honest with your own brain and heart, why should anyone else be honest with them?

Truth was, spanking and kink aroused her curiosity. And who safer to experiment with than Ian?

She scanned her key card in the door, crossed her fingers he wasn’t in the room, and opened the door.

No such luck.

“Ian,” she said in a strangled voice.

He stood in the entryway wearing a smile. A sexy smile that caused the air to whoosh out of her.

His thick hair was wet from a shower. His chest was bare and beautiful and absilicious—just like she remembered when he and her brother used to peel off their shirts after football practice. A pair of jeans hung low on his hips. “I was wondering when you would show up for your punishment,” he said in a voice that scored a twelve out of ten on the sexy radar. Maybe a thirteen.

Shivers and quivers swept and swirled through her, leaving wobbly legs in their wake and a whole lot of sexual awareness toward the blue-eyed rake. She placed a hand on the wall for balance.

He was so freaking handsome. And sexy fearsome.

A blend of stranger-danger and promised wickedness.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” She fought an urge to turn and run. He was Ian. Only Ian.

She swept past him and glided into the living area, lifting her chin in an attempt to appear in control.

“Oh, I think you do.” He came up behind her, rested his hands on her shoulders, and lightly massaged.

She sidestepped away. The guy was like a sexual magnetic field to her girly parts. She couldn’t reason clearly around him with that going on. “I’ve done nothing that deserves punishment.”

He chuckled, a male sound of confidence. “Are you sure about that?”

She set her purse and conference bag on the table. “I’m afraid you’re going to have to tell me what you’re talking about.” She took a seat on the arm of a wingback chair.

He leaned against the doorway. His head tilted sideways, his cornflower blues caressing her face. “You won the bet.” His words sounded thick.

She gave him a wide-eyed look. “You said it wasn’t possible for me to win the bet.” She was glad her heart was on the inside of her chest and not the outside where its thrashing would be visible.

He swallowed, drawing her attention to his Adam’
s apple.
“I was wrong.”

The admission curled her toes with desire. “What do I get for winning?” The tune of
Alice in Wonderland’s
“I’m Late” came to mind.
I won, I won, I won, I won, I won. No time to gloat, or say you lost, I won, I won, I won.
She silently sang the revised words.

He sat down on the coffee table across from her and took her hands in his. “You’ve been taking that dialogue advice from your morning session to heart, I think. Between last night and your comments this morning and in our texts, you’ve been very fickle, Kinley. So let’s try some on the nose dialogue. No more games. I want to have sex with you. The question is, do you still want me to teach you about sex?”

Her throat went dry. “You want to have an affair? Between us—two consenting adults? For the duration of this conference?”

“Yes.”

She moistened her lips and looked at her lap. “Okay.”

“Okay what?” His voice was raspy.

She bent over and pulled off her boots. “Okay, I want to have sex with you. For research. But I don’t need you to help me get an agent. Teach me what you can about sex, and then it will be up to me to incorporate it into my writing. When this conference is over, there won’t be a need for us to ever be in contact again.” She couldn’t quite look him in the eyes when she said the words. Not yet. She needed time to process. And then there was her brother to consider. But she didn’t want to think about that now.

There was a long pause. “That’s not my preference, but if it’s yours—”

Which part of it wasn’t his preference? The part about not needing his help to find an agent? Or the part about not seeing each other again? No doubt both. “It is.” She kept her gaze focused on his chin.

“And do you still want to learn about non-vanilla sex?”

In a distant part of her brain, she knew this was a crazy idea, but in the forefront of her brain, things were coming up kisses and orgasms. “Of course.”

He hissed out a breath. “Tell me exactly what you want to try.”

Chapter Eighteen

Ian forced himself not to grin like a boy whose parents just told him they were leaving him home alone for the weekend. Kinley Foster just agreed to non-vanilla sex for the duration of the conference. “Non-vanilla can mean a lot of things. For instance—whips.”

She wiped her hands on her skirt. “No whips. But blind folds, handcuffs, sex toys, and spanking are all good.”

That was good to hear. He could never mark her beautiful skin with a whip. “I like your list. Anything else?”

“Maybe. I’ll let you know when I’m definite.”

Interesting. What did she want that she was afraid to ask for? “I think we need a few rules. About the spanking.”

“Like what?” She sat haphazardly on the chair’s arm. Like a bird ready to take flight if spooked.

He scooted the coffee table he was sitting on closer so he could have a good look at her face. At her eyes. “Like if you call me a liar, there will be consequences. A spanking. In fact, you’ve already earned a spanking.”

“Already?” She fell off the arm of the chair into its seat cushion, all arms and legs and monkey grace. “Why? How?”

“Because you called me a liar. I’m not a liar. I don’t lie. I will never lie to you. EVER.” He leaned in closer. “And you should know, your act of innocent alarm is wasted on me. I know you too well.”

“I have no idea what you’re inferring.” She pulled her glasses down until they perched on the tip of her nose. “I should get a pass on earlier. How was I to know that was grounds for being spanked?”

God, she was sexy. Even when she wasn’t trying. He stood and walked to the ceiling-to-floor windows. “I’ll take your request under consideration.” He didn’t see her triumphant smile, but he could feel the heat of it burning his neck. He turned around.

“What are the other rules?” she asked with a neutral expression.

“I’m in charge. For the rest of the conference, I’m the dominant, you’re the submissive. You do whatever I tell you to do. I’ll keep in mind all of the things you listed that you want to do.” When he thought about last night, about her soft body pressed against him, his groin tightened—so he did a few multiplication tables to cool himself off.
Six times six equals thirty-six. Seven times nine equals sixty-three.

She wrinkled her nose. “And if I don’t do what you tell me to do?”

He met her gaze.
“There will be consequences.”

She ran her tongue over her top teeth. “What kind of consequences?”

“You’ll see.” He strode toward the bedroom. He was due downstairs and needed to get dressed. “By the way, why did you come back up to the room?”

“For more comfortable shoes.” She grabbed her boots and purse and followed. “These hurt my toes.” She held up her boots to show him.

“Why did you wear them?” He took a shirt off a hanger and slipped it on.

She set everything down beside her suitcase and peeled off her tights. “Because that’s what women do when they come to conferences. They show off their new shoes to one another.”

Eight times five equals forty.
He did the math while walking toward her.

She took a step back until the wall stopped her retreat.

He reached down and slowly pulled her dress up, his hand caressing her naked thighs during the upward movement. When he reached her center, he ran his finger under the elastic edge of her panties. “Button my shirt.” For the life of him he couldn’t remember what two times two equaled.

She did, her breasts rising and falling rapidly.

He placed one hand on the wall beside her head and leaned in. “I’m going to enjoy spanking you.”

She licked her lips, and her fingers stalled, hovering over the buttons.

“Finish buttoning my shirt,” he ordered.

She fumbled her way through the rest of the buttons. “All done.” Her words held a soft, breathy quality.

“Where’
s your vibrator?
” he asked.

She gave him a sultry look that set his blood on fire. “Which one? I have three.”

He groaned and turned away from her.
Two times two is twelve.
“The one you had last night.”

“In my purse.”

He picked up her purse and took the vibrator and the remote out.

He glanced at the little purple toy and then handed it to her. “Put it in.”

Her thick lashes flew up. “Now?”

He nodded and sat on the edge of the bed. “While I watch.”

She placed one foot on the bed beside his hip. She slowly raised her dress so that her lace panties were on display, then moved her thong out of the way and slowly slipped it in.

Did she always maintain a waxed canvas? Or was that just for the conference? For him? He liked the idea of her doing something just for him. He leaned back on his elbows, held up the remote, and turned it on with the push of a button.
One plus one equals sex.

She kept her leg on the bed. Her eyes grew heavy.

He increased the speed. “Look at me.” In all of his life, he’d never seen anything more beautiful than what he was seeing right now. Nor knew so little about math.

Kinley slowly leaned forward. She reached for the button of his jeans.

“What are you doing?” he asked in a husky voice. “I didn’t say you could touch me.”

She nibbled her bottom lip. “May I touch you?”

“May I touch you what?” he asked, not allowing himself to yank her down on the bed with him and have his way with her.

“May I touch you, please?”

God, he wanted to say yes. “No.”

A sound of disappointment came from her.

He bit down on his tongue until the pain cleared his mind. “There will be time later.”
One plus one equals two.
He turned the vibrator off. “Right now, I have appointments in ten minutes.”

She blinked.

He sat up, and she lowered her leg.

She made a pouty noise and turned away from him.

“Where are you going?” he asked.

She stopped and glanced over her shoulder at him. “To remove the vibrator.” There was an edge of anger to her voice.

“Leave it in,” he ordered.

Her eyes closed. “Why?”

“Any future questioning of my orders will result in a spanking.”

Chapter Nineteen

Ian stepped into the session on Naughty Words for Nice Writers being presented by author Cara Bristol, a writer of erotic romances.

He sat down next to an older lady, probably in her early seventies, with gray hair and pearls. He wondered if she was published or still trying to get her first contract.

“Some men have nicknames for their penises. I once knew a guy who referred to his as Fred,” the speaker said. She was best known for her Rod and Cane Society domestic discipline series.

“Who would call their penis Fred?” the lady sitting beside him asked in a smoker’s voice.

He shrugged, trying not to smile. He couldn’t tell if she was shocked or tickled.

She elbowed him in the side. “Well…I bet there’s a good story behind the nickname.”

“I imagine you might be right,” he said.

“If you’re going to write romance where a man’s penis is up for thought or discussion, you’re going to need a variety of terms you can use to describe this noble organ,” the speaker said.

His elbow partner elbowed him again. “What do you call yours?”

Ian pulled his phone out of his pocket and pretended to have a phone call. “Sorry,” he mouthed to the lady. Then he got up and went further back in the room, away from the elderly lady with too many questions, and spotted Kinley. She raised a hand in acknowledgement of him.

He didn’
t stop. Didn
’t try to sit in the empty chair next to her.

He’d come to the workshop in hopes of catching the speaker afterward and buying her a drink. He wanted to learn if she was open to mentoring a new author of erotic romance. Of course, he’d pay her. Kinley need never know. He’d agreed to Kinley’s term of ending their connection at the end of the week, but there wasn’t any way he could just walk away without making sure she had all of the resources she needed to be successful. Cara could help her incorporate her new knowledge into her manuscript in a way the readers found believable.

“Erection, corona, manhood, staff are just a few names you could use to describe a man’
s cock,
” the speaker said.

He’d never thought of himself as one who had to be in charge in a relationship, but he’d be lying if he didn’t say he was intrigued now that he and Kinley were exploring the lifestyle. Did real Rod and Cane societies exist in New York?

He found a seat several rows back where he could see Kinley. He’d have to ask her what her favorite word was to use when describing a man’
s cock.

“Just as there are many names for a man’s penis, there are also many names for intercourse,” the speaker said.

Kinley was taking notes on her laptop. She reminded him of an over-achiever student eager to learn and to please the teacher. How hard would she work to please him in a long-term relationship?

“You can fuck, hump, ravish, surge, just to name a few.”

Not that Ian needed to know the answer to that question. Theirs had an expiration date. After this week, she was off-limits. But no wonder her writing was so strong—she obviously loved to learn.

Teaching her about sexual tension very well might be the exquisite death of him. Not taking her this afternoon nearly undid him. But not giving in to the desire to ravish her was part of his job as the dominant one in their relationship. He’d learned that many years ago when he did extensive research into the BDSM lifestyle before he started representing erotic romance authors. And having done the research, he’d discovered aspects of the lifestyle appealed to him. He hadn’t progressed to NDA’s and red rooms of pain, but he knew his preferences and had no problems finding women whose appetites aligned with his. Thank you again, Miss E.L. James.

“Moving on, let’s talk about terms that describe oral sex.”

He had to have enough control for both of them. By the end of this week, she would know what sexual tension felt like. She’d be able to write about wanting something so bad you’d kill for it.

“The most famous would be deep throat. But it’s also known as giving head, eating, and going down on.”

An image of Kinley going down on him caused his cock to harden. He shifted in his seat to adjust himself and felt the presence of the remote to Kinley’s vibrator. He pulled it out and turned it on, watching her as he did so.

She jerked and straightened. Lifted her hair off her neck.

He smiled when she shifted in her chair, obviously trying to get the vibrator in the right spot. He changed the vibration, not sure if he was making it harder or softer.

Kinley stood suddenly and sidestepped her way out of the row she was in while holding her laptop under her arm. She glanced around for him, but he ducked his head so she couldn’t spot him.

He watched through lowered lashes as she left the session.

He should feel bad. She obviously wanted to learn from the author. He’d buy the author’s book and give it to Kinley.

What she had to learn from him was more important.

…

Kinley stepped out of the session and walked quickly away from the conference room. She had to get out of remote control reach. She stopped at the ladies’ room and then went to the check-in counter. “I need to cancel a reservation under Kinley Foster.”

The attendant punched in her name, glanced up at her, and smiled. “It’s already been canceled.”

Kinley frowned. Ian must have cancelled her reservation. When did he cancel? Before she told him she was in or after? “May I have a rain check on the two nights you were supposed to comp me for not having a room for me when I arrived?”

“
I don
’t see why not.” She pushed some buttons and then printed off a form, signed it, and handed it to Kinley.

“
Thanks.
” Kinley tucked the voucher in her conference bag.

Stepping away from the counter, she got a text and checked it.

Don’t remove the vibrator.

Her heart high-jumped a beat. “Too late,” she muttered. She’d removed that thing the moment she left the session, and she was only too grateful the bathroom hadn’t been crowded, because that particular pleasure device had a long range indeed. And she wasn’t putting it back in until it was time to go back to the room.

What Ian didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him.

Between listening to a speaker instructing writers on how to write hot sex and how to write spanking scenes, and Ian playing loose and ready with the remote to the vibrator she wore, she was about to lose control in more ways than one.

She either had to flee the sublime torture or she was going to be reenacting the
When Harry Met Sally
scene that made the movie famous. Definitely not something a school librarian could pull off in a public place while hoping to keep her day job.

Her phone rang. Without looking to see who it was—figuring it was Ian, making sure she followed his instructions—she answered. “
Hello.
” Hopefully he was going to order her back to their suite for a late afternoon of passion.

“I can’t believe you didn’t call me back,” her brother said, sounding like a pissed-off army sergeant.

“I can’t believe you had Ian pick me up at the airport like I’m an idiot who can’t make it to the hotel by herself.”

Her brother laughed, a noise more annoying than hell springing a leak in August in Dallas, Texas. “That bothered you, did it?” he drawled. “It was time for you two to make up. If I can forgive him, you have no reason to be mad at him. It’s been a decade, Kin. Seriously.”

“You forgave him because you’re a guy, and guys don’t know how to stay mad. You punch each other in the face, have a beer together, and get over it. If you knew how to stay mad, you would have never let him off the hook.”

“The way I look at it, he saved me from being married to someone who would cheat on me.”

She made a face. “It’s a male weakness. I’m simply looking after you by making sure he knows that what he did has permanent consequences. The fact that he saved you from Stacy is completely beside the point.” She didn’t add that part of her anger was based on Ian turning her virginity offer down.

“He did offer you representation, didn’
t he?
”

Kinley paced in a circle. “Why didn’t you tell me he was a literary agent?”

“Because out of the gazillion questions you nonchalantly asked me about him, thinking I’m not noticing, not once did you ask what he did for a living.”

“And you couldn’t have just said, ‘hey, by the way, since you’re a writer and all, I thought I’d mention that Ian’s an agent?’”

“You made me promise never to bring him up in conversation when you were around. All I was allowed was to answer your questions about him. Which was a bit childish to me, but since you are my
baby
sister, I didn’
t argue.
”

“Why did you send Ian my book without asking me first?” When her circle walking drew glances, she turned and walked down the Strip.

“Why wouldn’t I?” her brother replied in a
well duh
tone. “Your book’s freaking awesome. I was doing both of you a favor.”

“You should have asked.” Kinley knew he meant well, but she stood her ground. There had to be boundaries. “I’m an adult. I don’t need either of you interfering in my life the way you did when we were kids. My book wasn’t even ready.”

“Is that your way of saying ‘thank you, big brother, for getting me the best agent in the business’? And it was ready, you’re just too much of a perfectionist to let it go.”

Kinley stumbled on a crack in the sidewalk. Or that was her story if anyone saw her. “I told him I wasn’t interested in being one of his authors.”

“
Damn it, Kinley.
” Her brother never—well, almost never—swore. Only when he wanted to knock heads together, which was seldom. “Are you kidding me?”

“Who kids about something like that?” She avoided a peddler trying to hand her a flyer for a strip club—or maybe it was for a brothel. She avoided the next one by stepping inside a casino.

He made a noise of disgust. “You’re cutting off your nose to spite your face.” He used another one of their mom’
s mom-isms.

Tension coiled in her belly like a cottonmouth snake ready to bite her ass. She didn’t like it when her brother was mad at her. “He gave me ideas on how to make my manuscript stronger.” That was true.
Engage in kinky sex so you know what you’re writing about.

There was a deep sigh. “Like what? What in the hell is wrong with your book?”

She couldn’t tell him the truth. What happens in Vegas stays in Vegas. But even if they were in Mayberry, USA, their secrets weren’t going anywhere. “Like writer stuff you wouldn’
t understand. I
’m working on the weakness. I love that you want to help me, but you need to step back. I’ve got this.” She weaved her way through slot machines.

“Why can’t you two go back to being friends? It’s obvious you both miss each other. Why else would you both question me about the other? I used to think you wished he were your big brother instead of me. Then I thought you had a huge girl crush on him.”

“Never. And you’re the best brother in the world. You’ve just got to stop trying to take care of me. I’m a grown woman.” She stopped at a slot machine and put in a dollar.

“You don’t stop worrying about someone just because they grow up. Why do you think mom never remarried? I’ll tell you why. You don’t stop loving someone just because they’re no longer with you.”

Was that true? Did love not have an expiration date? Had she ever truly stopped loving Ian? Or had that love remained beneath her shield of indignant anger? Could puppy love survive a winter of hate? Absolutely not. “You do if you’re smart. Love is for suckers.” She pushed the button again and again lost.

“I think you’re afraid to let him represent you. I think you’re afraid you might like him.”

“God. If I didn’t know better, I’d think you’re trying to matchmake us. Is that what you’
re doing?
” Was that hope she heard in her voice?

“Hell no. He goes through girlfriends like you go through tissues when you’re watching your sappy movies. He’s not hitting on you, is he?”

Just how many girlfriends did Ian have?

The answer didn’t matter. She wasn’t looking for a relationship. Just some fun. “For the last time, my sex life is my business. My life is my business. Don’
t interfere.
”

“Your sex life? Are you thinking about having sex with him?”

“Did you hear the part about no interference?”

“Damn right I’m interfering. What kind of big brother would I be if I didn’t?”