“And if I were?”
“It wouldn’t work.”
“And what if I said I could give a shit about your cooperation and would rather take you back to my place and fuck your brains out?” he asked, going for the shock value but his cock didn’t know that and immediately reacted, going full-surge at the very idea. It was all he could manage to not adjust himself and was suddenly very thankful his lower half was hidden beneath the table.
Two high points of color flashed in her cheeks and she reached for her wine, all but downing it before answering but when she did, she tried to appear as if his question had not just tilted her sidewise. “You’re not my type,” she announced with a shrug. “I know that’s hard to believe given how gifted you believe you are but, you really do nothing for me. There’s just no chemistry. At all. Aside from the fact that your lack of morals and ethics are an instant turn-off, you and I would never suit.”
“And here I thought opposites attract.”
“No you didn’t. You don’t believe in that crap anymore than I do. You’re a realist, not a romantic.”
“Actually, I’m an opportunist,” he corrected her mildly, his thoughts still zeroing in on the delectable dirty things he’d love to do to her. At this rate, dinner would be a torturous affair if he didn’t at least get to slip a finger beneath her dress to sample what his tongue was dying to taste. “I never let an opportunity pass me by to take something I want.”
“Well, you can’t always have what you want,” she replied sweetly, the wine loosening her tongue. “Sometimes life is filled with disappointment.”
“Perhaps for others. Not for me.”
She groaned. “Oh, you’re impossible. What’s it like to live in your world?” she asked with a note of sarcasm. “A world where no one tells you no, and you’re always assured of getting your way? It must be endlessly boring to never face a challenge.”
He chuckled as he poured her another glass of wine. “I could show you,” he offered.
“No thanks,” she said quickly. “Something tells me the road to temptation is paved with Buchanan gold.”
He laughed. “Oh, come on, don’t be such a puss. Let me give you a taste of my world. No strings attached.”
“No strings? I don’t believe anything you do doesn’t come without fine print. Before I know it, you’ll be coming after me for my firstborn as payment for whatever you have in mind,” she said dryly and he stilled at the very idea as a strange flutter in the pit of his belly took him by surprise.
He leaned forward and he snagged her gaze as he said quietly, “Only if it were mine. And if that were the case…nothing would stop me.”
Emma’s breath hitched in her throat and for a long moment neither could break the spell weaving itself between them, tightening as it went round and around, drawing them inexplicably closer even though neither had moved a muscle. Vince’s hunger and need to claim the luscious woman across from him reached to a fever pitch and he half wondered if he were losing his mind or drugged. This sort of nonsense didn’t happen to him. He didn’t believe in fairytale romances nor love at first sight. He believed in the tangible expression of attraction between two people and that’s all this was. He was madly, ridiculously attracted to Emma, for reasons he couldn’t define and he was alternately freaked out and buzzed beyond belief. He’d never felt more alive. And he would do anything to put her, naked and writhing beneath him, fucking her until the sun rose the next morning. Anything.
A wickedness blotted out the confusion of his feelings and he focused on his mission for the night. He’d already confessed he was an opportunist so she shouldn’t be shocked when he created an opportunity to put her in his bed.
#
He was trying to get her drunk. The transparency of his tactic should have warned her to slow down on the wine but a part of her was giddy and feeling reckless. Why was he so damn handsome? Why couldn't he be one of those balding billionaires with a large paunchy belly and high-pitched feminine whiny laughter that came mostly from their noses rather than their throats? No, that was too much to ask. Vince Buchanan had to be quite possibly the most good-looking man she’d ever come across – most definitely the most virile. And that distinctly feminine part of herself, the one that she ignored so that she wouldn't feel lonely on those Friday nights when everyone else was out having a good time and she was back at her apartment eating ice cream and watching rental movies was seriously licking her chops, wondering what one night would be like with the brute.
“I just want to go on the record as saying I know what you’re doing and I think it’s pretty sleazy,” she said, feeling as if she didn’t throw that out there, every step made forward for feminine empowerment would disappear.
“And what exactly am I doing?” he asked, intrigued.
“Trying to get me drunk so you can get into my pants,” she answered without pulling any punches.
The low rumble of amused laughter sent chills skittering up her skin. “You’re not wearing pants. And would that work?” he asked.
“No.” Maybe. The truth of it was she hadn’t been with a man in a long time. Sex was very low on her priority list but faced with the idea of spending some naked time with someone like Vince….No! She hated him, a voice reminded that drunken little slutty voice whispering justifications in her head. “It absolutely won’t work because I am not attracted to you. As I said before, you’re not my type.”
“Yes, you mentioned that. Let’s play a game,” he suggested, surprising her. “If I guess what kind of guy you typically allow in your pants, as you say, I get a kiss.”
“One kiss?” she repeated, mildly disappointed he hadn’t asked for something more scandalous. “I suppose that’s fine.”
“Anywhere I like.”
She gasped, her cheeks flaring instantly. Oh! That sneaky Buchanan. “On the lips only,” she added, though she should’ve shut him down completely. “But you’d better be dead-on accurate or you lose and get nothing.”
“One thing you should know about me is that when the stakes are high I never lose.”
Emma didn’t doubt that. “We’ll see,” she said.
He leaned back and regarded her with open scrutiny, searching for the answers through the windows of her eyes and she wondered how close to the truth he would get. Not that it mattered, she wasn’t going to grant him a kiss. She’d lie through her teeth if she had to to prevent his kiss from happening.
“In the past, you’ve been attracted to men who don’t threaten you in any way. Beta boys who are kind and considerate to the point of castrating themselves so as not to offend you in anyway. They’re always politically correct and never make the first move, which in a way suits you because you like to be in charge but deep down, you don’t respect them because you find them to be pussies.” Her breath caught and a subtle frown followed as a protest bubbled to her lips but he wasn’t finished, saying,
“They have safe, stable jobs with a modest income not that it matters to you because you and the guy disdain money and the trappings of wealth as ostentatious and obscene but what your poor beta boys don’t realize is that as their politely touching your tits and asking your permission before sticking their little dicks inside your pussy is that you’re not actually attracted to them at all though you seek out their benign presence. Their sweet kindness bores you to tears even as you profess to appreciate their gentle consideration. There’s a fire that burns inside of you that has only begun to build but you have no experience in how to stoke it to a wild inferno because thus far, you’ve only allowed amateurs tend the flame. You may disdain wealth but you were born to be fucked by a man who knows how to turn a woman inside out with all the tools available — which includes all that money can buy.” He leaned forward and she swallowed as the air squeezed from her lungs. “My guess is that you’ve never really had a good fucking in your life but you’re dying to know what all the fuss is about. Am I right, pretty girl? Tell me I’m wrong.”
“I…I…don’t
think this is appropriate dinner conversation,” she stammered, reaching for her wine glass to wet her parched throat. She darted nervous glances around the room but found no one was paying attention to their tucked away alcove. More’s the pity. Vince’s gaze had turned decidedly feral and she was shaking all over at the promise in his eyes. She wouldn’t put it past him to push the flimsy table aside and do terribly naughty things to her right there in front of God and country. “This…I…you’re wrong,” she managed the lie, though barely. Her vocal cords were strangling her as if trying to prevent the words from burying herself. She pushed away an errant curl that had escaped from her updo and tried a confident smile but it was far too shaky to come off as anything but a front at hiding the turmoil in her body.
“You’re lying,” he said quietly. “Perhaps we should’ve discussed the punishment for not being truthful.” Her eyes widened and his slow wicked smile stole whatever breath she had left. “It is far more tantalizing than a kiss,” he promised darkly.
“I didn’t agree to that,” she said. “That wasn’t part of the deal.”
“Silly girl…the game was an illusion. There is no deal…only you and me…and the rest of the night.” She started to tremble but not from fear. God help her, she was tingling over her entire body and heat had liquefied her core until she knew with complete mortified certainty if he were to touch her, his fingers would come away wet with her juices. “Tonight I will show you what it’s like to be beneath a real man — one who doesn’t take orders but gives them — and I’m going to twist you in knots as only a sexual deviant such as myself can.” He smirked as he lifted his wine glass to his lips. “But first…we eat. We will need our strength for what is to come.”
As if he hadn’t just alternately scared her senseless and left her wanting for something she couldn’t even name, he ordered their dinner.
Hands shaking beneath the tablecloth, Emma knew without a doubt, by the end of the night, Vince Buchanan was likely going to ruin her.
And she was going to let him.
-9-