The sourness in his gut eased and relief loosened his tense muscles. All was not lost. “That’s true. Vera likes to control everything, and everyone, she’s involved with. I’m glad you turned down her offer.”
“I turned it down because I want my business to be mine, not because of you.” She stared at him. “In fact, all but two things have been crossed off my list of fantasies.”
It hit him then that if he didn’t start giving a bit more of himself, if he didn’t take a chance and open up a little, she was going to walk away. And he still wasn’t ready to let her go.
But, she’d said . . . “Two more things?”
T
he only way to get what she wanted wasn’t to hold out for it. Instead, she was going to go after it.
She’d met Val because she hadn’t been scared to let her inner bad girl out, to cause a little trouble, and that was how she was going to keep him.
She stood and sashayed closer, looking up at him from beneath her lashes. “Yes, two things.” She put a hand on his forearm and urged him around the desk. “One of which is to have you sit in your chair and do absolutely nothing while I show you something.”
With a gentle shove she had him in the high-backed leather chair behind his desk. Despite the heat that was creeping into his eyes as she eased up onto the desk in front of him, he looked quite . . . severe.
Almost principal-ish. It wasn’t the clothes; he was still wearing his usual daytime outfit of jeans and a T-shirt, with his luscious locks loose about his face. It was his rigid posture, and the stern expression on that handsome face.
She wondered if he’d put her over his lap and paddle her for being bad.
Before her mind could go too far down that path she started to inch the hem of her skirt higher up her thighs. A surge of adrenaline went through her, her body heating, softening. This might be the last time she saw Val, and if it was, she wanted to be embedded into his memory forever.
Val sat in front of her, his hands curled lightly on his muscled thighs, his eyes steady as she reached up and undid the clip in her hair. She ran her hands through the fine strands and fluffed it. She wanted that “just out of bed” look that made his eyes gleam with hunger.
“Don’t move,” she warned. “Just watch.”
Her hands drifted down her neck and brushed lightly over her breasts. She cupped them, thumbs rubbing over the nipples until they stood hard and proud through her clothing before her hands traveled down over her belly. She spread her thighs apart, lifting her skirt higher so he could see the tops of her stockings and the inches of bare flesh before her electric blue panties blocked his view of her dampening sex.
“Do you like what you see?”
“Very much.” He met her gaze. “But I like it better when you’re not wearing panties.”
A thrill went through her. He always picked up on exactly what she wanted. “Your wish is my command,” she said softly, and slipped her fingers up under her skirt to pull her panties down. She dropped them from her knees and hooked them on her foot. Straightening her leg, she waved them in front of Val. “For you.”
He slipped them off her foot and lifted them to his face for a deep breath. Heat flooded her body and the intense rush of arousal made her sex clench.
Leaving her thighs spread so he could enjoy the view, she brought her hands back up and began to slowly unbutton her blouse. She watched Val’s eyes flick back and forth from her hands and the skin she was slowly uncovering to her thighs and the skin that was already uncovered. Once all the buttons of her blouse were undone, she spread it off her shoulders so that it caught on her elbows. She arched her back and cupped her breasts through her bra. She lifted and squeezed and teased with Val’s eyes glued to her movements.
He wanted that bra undone, it was clear in the way his hand started to reach out before his fingers curled and he stayed his movement.
“Good man,” she murmured. “Don’t touch, just watch.”
One hand dropped to her thigh and began a leisurely walk toward her pussy. She could feel herself thicken as blood pooled between her thighs and she spread her thighs farther. A naughty thrill filled her soul as she traced a fingertip over her swollen lips before slipping in between them to test the warmth and spread the juices.
With eyes closed, she let her mind go and began to pleasure herself. Her finger circled her swollen clit and the other hand pulled her breast out of the bra cup and began to tweak and pinch her nipple. She concentrated on the sensations rushing through her and the sound of Val’s harsh breath as he watched her work herself toward orgasm.
As good as it felt, this was for him.
She spread her thighs even wider and bent her knees, tilting her pelvis and shoving a finger deep into her hole to fuck herself. A low groan reached her ears and she cracked her eyes open to see Val rubbing his cock through his pants.
“Stand up and take it out,” she commanded.
He stood and, eyes glued to her hand, unzipped his jeans. Saliva pooled in her mouth when he pushed his jeans low on his hips and his cock jutted out into his hand. He stroked it slowly, the head gleaming purple, his hand visibly tightening when she licked her lips.
Feeling the heat of his eyes on her while she watched him made her blood run faster and her clit swell. The hard little nubbin was itchy and begging for more attention. She’d denied herself because she knew as soon as she focused on it again, she’d come quickly.
Not holding back, Samair pulled her wet finger out of her hole. Slowly she brought her finger to her mouth, and when Val’s eyes met hers, she licked it like a lollipop.
“Oh, baby,” he growled and stepped forward.
“No!” she said sharply. “Stay there.”
He froze in place, jaw clenched and nostrils flaring.
“Come with me. I want to watch you make yourself come.” She placed her finger directly on her clit and began to flick it back and forth quickly.
When Val saw what she was doing, he gripped his cock, his strokes picking up the pace until he was pumping fast and hard. Their panting filled the room and she bit down on her bottom lip. The sight of him—hot, hard, and completely human as he put on a show for her—caused her heart to swell and tears to well in her eyes. He was beautiful.
Thighs spread as wide as could be, her skirt was pushed up around her hips and Val’s eyes were locked on her fast-moving fingertip. Her breaths shortened, her belly tightened, and the room shifted as pleasure crashed through her in waves.
She cried out and welcomed the hot splash of Val’s come on her bare skin as he threw back his head, his own guttural shout mixing with hers.
When she opened her eyes again, Val stood in front of her, watching her. Her chest tightened and she slid from the desktop and repaired her clothes. “That was number one. I wanted you to see all of me so you have something to visualize when you make your decision.”
Straightening her spine, she stepped closer to him and cupped a hand over his cheek. The muscle in his jaw flexed beneath her touch and she tilted her head, locking eyes with him.
“The last fantasy on my list is you. All of you, with me, in more than just a string of sexcapades. I’m not going to say I love you, because I’m not sure I do. What I am sure of is that I feel more for you than I ever thought possible, and I’m not settling for less than everything you have to give.” She kissed him softly, then spoke firmly. “Trust me, or let me go.”
She stepped back, picked up her backpack, and gave him one last lingering look. He watched her, his eyes burning with unvoiced emotions, but said nothing.
Swallowing hard past the lump in her throat, she headed for the door. “You know where to find me.”
39
Y
ou sure you don’t want her?”
Val tried to control his despair as he met Karl’s gaze. “You know better than that,” he growled. “Of course I don’t want to give her up, but it’s her or the club, and I’ve made the choice.”
It wasn’t the only choice he had to make, either.
Karl climbed onto Val’s Harley, his baby, and started it up. Over the low rumble of the engine, Karl spoke clearly. “I know you love the bike, man, and the club means everything to you, but that long face is pitiful. If you want my opinion, you should chase down Samair and stake a claim. She’s a good woman, and we both know those aren’t easy to find.”
Karl gave a small wave then took off. Val looked down at the check in his hand, made out to him from a lawyer buddy of Karl’s who was willing to pay top dollar for the vintage 1955 bike. He hated to let go of her, but the check was just what he needed to make the final loan payment.
A look at his watch confirmed he had no time to waste. With a sigh he slid behind the wheel of his Camaro and headed for the bank.
Making the choice to sell the bike was easy compared to the one he still had to make.
Samair’s ultimatum the day before had left his head spinning. His first instinct had been to let her walk away, but he knew that was pride. Ultimatums were ugly things and he hadn’t liked it one bit. But he did understand it.
She was right. He’d given her every fantasy she’d mentioned; he’d given her pleasure, passion, and even playfulness. But he hadn’t given her the trust that was needed to have a real relationship.
It wasn’t easy, and not just because of Vera, either. He’d learned the hard way to only trust himself. Karl had pounded his way into Val’s confidence, but it had taken time. He’d known Samair less than a month.
Yet the thought of never seeing her again made his stomach ache.
He pulled into the bank’s parking lot and shut off his car. Risqué was something that was completely his, and after today, no one could take it away. It was a goal that he’d been working toward all his life.
So why was the victory so hollow?
40
S
amair waited for the rumbling thunder of a Harley coming down her street, but it never came. She tried sketching, she tried sewing, she even tried going over the orders from the show one more time, but she couldn’t distract her mind from what she so desperately wanted to hear.
She hadn’t expected him the night before. He had a club to run, and he probably needed time to consider what she’d said. But she’d been awake and tense since early morning, and she was going to crack soon.
It was time to accept that Valentine Ward had truly only been interested in a good time with her. The emotions, the connection between them . . . it had all been in her mind. Tears welled and streaked down her cheeks and she finally gave in to the urge to cry.
No sooner had she thrown herself on the bed and buried her head in the pillow than the door buzzer rang. She almost ignored it, but a nagging in the back of her mind made her drag her ass from bed to answer the summons.
“Who is it?”
“Me.”
Her heart kicked in her chest and her hand shook as she pressed the release to let him into the building. He was there.
She unlocked the door and made a quick dash into the bathroom. No way was she going to see him looking like hell. She splashed cold water over her face, ran a brush through her hair, and put some clear gloss on her lips.
It took less than three minutes and was the best she could do. When she opened the bathroom door, Val was standing in the middle of the small studio apartment. He had his leather jacket on, his hair down, and an unreadable expression on his face.
“Hi,” she said.
His eyes softened, but he didn’t say anything.
She went toward him, determined to stick to her guns, but unsure of exactly what to say. Oh, hell, she hated tiptoeing around. It just wasn’t her style.
She dropped onto the love seat and patted the cushion next to her. “Why don’t you have a seat and stay a while. Tell me your life story,” she said with a laugh.
Val’s eyes widened, then his lips twitched and he sat down. “I don’t know, that might take too long. How about I just hit some recent highlights—the ones that might convince you to take a chance on me?”
She struggled to breathe for a moment, then she nodded and smiled. “I’d like that.”
Val met her gaze and spoke quietly. “I grew up pretty rough. My parents died when I was so young that I don’t remember them; all I remember are the many, many foster homes I lived in. Most of them were good, but crowded. Some of them were hell. But the one thing they all had in common was that they were temporary. I always knew I’d have to move on, and things would change again.”
He looked at her, gauging her reaction, and she smiled. She wanted to know this. She wanted to know everything. “Go on,” she urged.
“When I was sixteen I skipped out on the system so I could look after myself. I worked odd jobs for money, but mostly I hustled pool. I was good at it, and I could live off what I made.” He shrugged. “I spent so much time in bars that it was the only place I felt at home. Somehow, owning my own place became the dream. I worked hard, saved money, and when I hit thirty I had enough for a down payment on an empty warehouse. It took two more years of hustling and bartering, blood and sweat to turn that warehouse into Risqué, but I did it.”
He paused, shaking his head as memories danced in his chocolate eyes. Samair remained quiet, scared that if she spoke and reminded him she was there, he’d stop.
“It didn’t take long for the club to gather a regular crowd, and what I didn’t know about running a nightclub, I learned fast. Sex and cheap drinks bring in the customers. Over the next year I kept improving the club, cleaning it up, making the drinks more expensive, bringing in cage dancers. I wanted it to be sexy but not sleazy, so it would draw a better crowd. And it did. When I met Vera, she was everything I thought I wanted. She was beautiful, sexy, sophisticated . . . and she wanted me.” He met her gaze then. “At least, I thought she wanted me.”