He'd taken charge of my body, of my senses. There was no pleasure without his touch, no passion without his caress. It was all culminating in that one point, every bit of sensation inside me, building up, ready to rocket through me.
Ready to explode.
I almost cried out when the orgasm shot through me, but I managed to bite it back. He held me as I burst into a wash of stars, until I finally collapsed against him, my body shuddering from the force of the pleasure he'd brought to me.
My breath came in gasps and though I wanted to see his face, I didn't want to move. My head was on his chest, his hand upon my back. He had completely destroyed me.
For one brief, shining moment, I'd held the upper hand. But he'd deftly turned the tables, and I'd never been so happy to have been so soundly and thoroughly defeated.
"I told you," he said, leaning in close and whispering in my ear, "I like control. You want to fly with me tonight, Angie? Those are the terms."
I lifted my head to meet his eyes and saw my own passion reflected back at me. "Tonight?" I teased. "You want more?"
I'd caught him off guard, and he laughed, the sound rich and genuine. "Baby, we haven't even gotten started."
"I--oh."
"Let's get the hell out of here."
I nodded blindly. All I knew was that I wanted more. I wanted the man--and I wanted to see just where he would take me.
He carefully adjusted my panties and skirt--his ministrations sending little electric shocks of pleasure zinging through me. I felt a tug of satisfaction when he also adjusted himself. I had a feeling it wasn't particularly comfortable to walk with an erection, and I felt a swell of feminine pride for being the one who got him in such dire straits.
He took my hand and led me toward the back, pausing now and then to chat with some of the waiters, the dancers, the bartenders. All very normal. All very businesslike. And I thought I would scream in frustration every time he delayed for even a second.
Finally we moved through the employee area, passing dressing rooms, a conference room, several offices, and the kitchen on our way to the back door. He pushed it open, letting in a swath of sunlight that temporarily blinded me. As we started to step outside, I saw Cole emerge from one of the offices. I had no doubt that he saw us, too. Nor did I have any doubt about the deep frown I saw etched across his face.
Not that I had long to think about Cole's disapproval. The bright afternoon sun erased everything from my mind but the pleasure of the moment, and when we arrived at Evan's car, I laughed outright in joy.
"You have a convertible."
He looked offended. "Not just a convertible. It's a 1962 Thunderbird convertible. This thing's a classic."
"It's fabulous," I said, and meant it. It was a vibrant blue with sleek lines. Most important, the top was down. He held the door open for me, and I had to smile at the gentlemanly nature of the action in stark contrast to the very ungentlemanly way he'd had his fingers up my panties in public only moments before.
Evan Black was an exercise in contradictions, even more than I'd known. But, then again, so was I.
I slid into the car and settled back in the warm leather seat. Even before he started the engine, I imagined the thrum of speed and the wind whipping through my hair.
"There should be a scarf in the glove compartment if you want one," he said, as if reading my mind. He'd fired the engine and was waiting to make a left turn out of the parking lot.
"Not on your life," I countered, though I did open the compartment and peer inside. Sure enough, there were a variety of colored scarves. "For your harem?" I teased, fighting a knot of jealousy. Honestly, the man was gorgeous, eligible, and single. Just because I'd never seen him bring a date to Jahn's gatherings didn't mean there wasn't a gaggle of women waiting in the wings for him. I mean, that redhead had looked pretty cozy on his lap.
The thought didn't sit well with me at all.
"I have a lot of things," Evan said, as he accelerated. "A harem isn't one of them."
I didn't answer, but as I settled back to enjoy the ride, I was smiling.
Traffic was a bitch, so it took almost forty-five minutes to reach Lake Shore Drive and Uncle Jahn's--or rather, my--condo.
Evan handled the car with the same gentle yet firm touch with which he'd handled me, and the Thunderbird was at least as responsive. Now he had his hand draped loosely over the steering wheel and the other on my thigh, where it had been for most of the journey. It was just resting there, his thumb making idle back and forth motions that seemed unconscious, but I knew were purposefully designed to drive me crazy.
Honestly, I no longer gave a fig about the wind in my hair and the sun on my shoulders. With each mile, each foot, each inch that we drew closer to the condo, all I wanted was to climb out of the damn car and slide into Evan's arms. The anticipation was killing me, and despite the fact that during the drive, he'd touched me in only the most casual of ways, my body was primed--the rhythm of the engine, the vibrations of the road, and the presence of the man keeping me blissfully on edge.
When the condo was only one block ahead, rising in the distance like some fantastical phallic monolith, Evan turned to me. "Shall we just take off?" he asked. "Cruise all the way up Sheridan Road. Continue through Wisconsin and keep going until we cross over into Canada?"
Hell no. I wanted to scream the words. To rail at him for even thinking of teasing me like that. But I'd lost too many points in this game already, and so I leaned my head back, casually closed my eyes, and lifted a negligent shoulder. "Whatever you want," I said. I opened my eyes long enough to look at him. "You're in control, right?"
He chuckled, then kept his foot on the accelerator as we breezed past the condo. I bit back a curse, not quite believing that he was calling my bluff. Then he glanced sideways, met my eyes, and hit the brakes.
"Evan!"
"Forget Canada," he said, twisting the wheel into a sharp left turn and then speeding back toward the building. There was heat in his eyes as he pulled up to the valet stand. "I want you naked."
"Oh."
As the valet opened the car door for me, Evan popped the trunk and pulled out a leather briefcase. He tossed the keys to the valet, then took my elbow and led me inside. I knew the building intimately--I lived there, after all--but right then everything seemed bright and shiny and new. The doorman more regal, the concierge more friendly. The polished stone walls glowed, and the steel doors of the elevator gleamed in invitation. I was looking at the world differently now, anticipating something wonderful. Anticipating Evan.
There was no one else in the elevator bank, and we had the car to ourselves. As soon as we stepped on, he moved closer to me, pressing his palms against the wooden paneling as he caged me with his body. "Do you remember the alley?"
It was only the controlled sensuality of his voice that kept me from laughing. Did I remember it? How could I forget?
But I said none of that. I only nodded.
"Do you remember what I said I wanted to do to you?"
Suddenly shy, I didn't quite meet his eyes. But I nodded. Every single word was burned into my memory.
"Tell me."
My stomach twisted with nerves, but the rest of me tingled simply from the promise of what was to come. "What?"
He leaned forward, and I felt his lips brush against my ear as he spoke, the contact sending shivers rushing through me to pool between my legs. "Tell me what I said to you. Tell me what I want to do."
"I--" I wanted to protest, but one look at his face nixed that plan. I looked quickly away. When I spoke, my voice was so low I wasn't certain he could even hear me. "You said you wanted to strip me bare. That you wanted my breasts in your hands and my nipples tight between your fingers." As if in response to my words, my nipples tightened and my breasts felt suddenly needy.
He reached up and loosened the clip that held my hair. It tumbled to my shoulders and he ran his fingers through it, lifting it, then leaning even closer to graze his lips over my bar
e neck. I shuddered, certain I was going to come undone right at that very moment.
"I'm impressed," he murmured. "What else?"
"You--you said you wanted to spank me. To tie me up." My breath was ragged and I gathered my courage, then pulled away enough that I could see his eyes reflecting back every bit of heat that was coursing through me. "You said you wanted to make me come."
His eyes seemed to go even darker with my words, but his face remained unchanged, as if any reaction would trigger an explosion. For a moment, we only stared at each other, the air between us vibrating, my entire existence hinging on the need for his touch.
His voice was raw when he finally spoke. "I did say all that. And I want a hell of a lot more that I didn't say." He traced a fingertip along my jawline. "You said you wanted it, too." He paused, the moment hanging heavy between us. "Is it still what you want?"
I nodded as the elevator car shuddered to a stop.
"Say it."
I opened my mouth to speak, but it was too dry. I swallowed and tried again. "Yes," I said as the doors slid open. "Oh, god, yes."
He took my hand and led me off the elevator, but paused before opening the door to the condo. For a moment, he just looked at me. So long, in fact, that I began to feel uncomfortable.
"What?"
"All this time," he said, but didn't continue.
I shook my head, not understanding.
"All this time, all these years." His brow furrowed as he studied my face, as if I were a puzzle to be solved. "I've thought there was something about you. Something I couldn't put my finger on."
"You see me," I said simply. "I think you've always seen me."