Deceive 2 (Book 2 of the Deceive series) (3 page)

He stares back at me for a moment too long and I can’t believe I am foolish enough to hint at our past when he is here, as my boss, taking an employee out for a first day lunch. If he wanted something more from me, he would have offered dinner…or desert.

“I remember,” he says in a tone I can’t quite decipher. “And call me Marcus.”

The waitress returns, asking if we’d like menus.

“I’m sure you have it memorized,” I tease him. “You tell me what’s good.”

A confident grin slides over his lips. With his eyes on me he says, “We’ll both have the grilled salmon with cucumber salad.”

“Sounds delicious,” I say when the waitress leaves. “I’m sure it doesn’t get old having a world class chef at your fingertips.”

His eyes slide from mine to the window. He’s lost in thought as he takes a drink of his wine, his gaze peering far out over Puget Sound. “I used to come here all the time as a kid. Somewhere around adolescence it stopped being cool to hang out at your dad’s hotel all the time.” He smiles with the glass against his lips. “I guess the food loses its desirability when you are forced to eat it every night, or at least the nights I was with my dad.” He sets the glass down, peering back at me. His undisguised sincerity is what first attracted me to him that night in the bar a couple of weeks ago. He wears his vulnerability in his eyes and somehow convinces me that I know him better than I really do. That’s both alarming and yet alluring at the same time.

“And now that you own it?” I press.

He chuckles. “Now where’s the time? I find myself eating late night room service over a pile of paperwork.”

My brow lifts. “In the penthouse? You live there?” The words come out of my mouth before I have time to stop them. “I guess I just assumed…”

He cocks his head to the side with a sly grin on his lips. “You assumed it was my playroom? Where I take all my one night stands?”

I blush and cast my eyes away. The bustling room has fallen oddly silent. I can see the patrons embroiled in conversations, their words buzzing around in one long song, but I hear none of it.

“Would you believe me if I said you’re the only woman I have brought to my suite?”

My eyes slide back to his. The intensity of his expression catches me off guard. “Does it matter?”

He smiles again, igniting a sense of Deja Vu from our night in the bar when we had the same exchange.

“Maybe not to you,” he says, playfully. He remembers, too. My lips fail me and I grin in return.

“Don’t you have a home?”

He sits back, more relaxed now, and takes a drink. “It just sold. I’m taking my time, eyeing the market and seeing what comes up.”

“Lucky you.”

His eyes cloud over and I wonder what it is that I could have said to make him react that way. Our food arrives breaking the spell between us. I take a bite, savoring the delectable salmon, the fresh silence between us making me tense. His phone buzzes beside his wine glass. He slips it into his pocket without looking at the ID.

I set down my fork and take a drink. “I spoke to Sandra Bloom this morning. She said she…”

“I’m not interested in talking business right now, Anna.”

My eyes narrow at the sharpness in his tone. “Then what is it that you would like to discuss, Mr. Knight?”

He shakes his head. “You’re doing it again.” He picks up his glass, bringing it to his lips. The movement is slow and meticulous and I can’t help but stare. “I want to talk about you.” He takes a drink, sets down his glass and leans his forearms on the tabletop. He looks at me as if he‘s blocked out everyone else in the room and I am all he sees. “I want to know you.”

I swallow hard, my mouth dry as I try to speak. “You know I worked at Embassy…”

“Don’t give me your resume,” he scolds.

I lick my lips, his eyes following the trail of my tongue. His mouth parts and he draws in a shallow breath.

“I’m your classic type A perfectionist. My mom used to say I fall somewhere between tight ass and OCD,” I begin. “She’s my best friend and has been since I was thirteen. I’m always cold, even in the summer time and I wear socks to bed. Which isn’t very sexy. I prefer tea to coffee, except I am a sucker every fall for a skinny pumpkin latte. I hate to exercise, but find that running is the only stress relief I have next to a bottle of wine. I have a younger sister who is flighty and irresponsible and I can’t have a five minute conversation with her without an argument erupting and yet, I envy her ability to be so carefree. My father is still working even though he was able to retire three years ago. I guess you can say that’s where I get my ethic.” I take a deep breath, replenishing the air it took to expel the CliffsNotes version of my life story. “Does that suffice Mr. Knight?”

His dazed expression slowly morphs into a sly grin. “Not exactly, Ms. Caldwell,” he says coyly. “What about the man that hurt you?”

My eyes widen at the mention of Brandon. “Why would you assume a man has hurt me?”

“Are you denying it?”

I want to deny it. But I can’t. My lips won’t even allow me to form the words. What is it about Marcus Knight that makes me want to confess all my secrets?

“My boyfriend of four years,” I say cautiously. “He left me nine months ago.” He watches me steadily, without the pity I expected. I take a sip of wine. He’s enthralled, as though every word I speak has genuine merit and that keeps me talking. “For another woman. She’s a trainer at his gym.” I shake my head and give a pathetic laugh.

“He was threatened by you,” he states.

My lips curl into a cunning grin. “I can’t quite imagine what is so threating about me.”

“Don’t you?” he asks, dumbfounded. “A woman as bright as you must know the control you hold over a man. He was threatened by your keen intelligence and power.”

“What makes you so sure?”

He leans forward, the salmon forgotten. I’m hungry, but I have an appetite for something different than the meal on my plate.

His expression is one of confidence, like he knows a secret about me that I don’t. I hear his phone buzz again. He makes no motion to answer it. “This woman—is she as accomplished as you?”

My lips tighten into a firm line. There are many words I can think of to describe the little tramp who uses the muscles in her thighs more often than the one in her brain. Accomplished is
not
one of the words I would choose.

“That’s what I thought.” He smiles. “There are men who feel weak when they’re with a woman who outwits them. Their pride can only handle it for so long until they begin searching for a woman who will boost their ego.”

I cock a brow. “And you, Mr. Knight? Are you threatened by a powerful woman?”

“No, Ms. Caldwell, in fact, quite the contrary,” he says, his eyes locked on mine. His leg brushes mine softly under the table and that simple touch sends an electric jolt between my thighs. “Your sharp tongue and impeccable intellect is one of the reasons I can’t stop thinking about you.”

I uncross my legs and cross them again, caressing my smooth skin against the sleek material of his pant leg. He looks down as though he is willing his eyes to see through the white tablecloth.

“For a man who can’t stop thinking about me, you sure have exceptional resistance,” I say, so low my voice is almost a whisper. “I haven’t heard from you since the day you left me in the elevator two weeks ago.”

His gaze floats back up to me and lingers there, his eyes studying my face before he shakes his head lightly and gives a faint smile. “I told you, Anna. If you wanted anything more between us, you will have to initiate it.”

I sip my wine and look around at the diners preoccupied by their own meals and conversations. Hidden here in the corner, it’s almost as though we are alone. Almost.

Discretely, I slip my foot out of my high heel and place it onto his thigh. I wait to see if he will stop me before slithering the tip of my toe closer to his groin. His eyes widen and his lips part just as I touch the firmness of his cock.

“Is that the initiative you were looking for?” I slide my foot up his growing shaft and he moves forward in his chair, his legs falling open, his hardness pressing into the ball of my foot.

“You don’t play fair, Ms. Caldwell,” he growls. His fingers grip the side of the table as my foot slowly glides up and down his length.

“Who’s playing, Mr. Knight?” In slow circular motions, I massage his groin. He lifts his hips ever so slightly from his seat, driving his shaft hard against me. I can see how bad he wants to fuck me, to pull me onto this table and spread my legs and take me in front of the other diners. He doesn’t realize how close I am to letting him.

He releases a sharp breath just as we are interrupted by a woman walking quickly to our table.

“Mr. Knight,” she says and she sounds as breathless as I am.

He shifts in his seat and my foot drops to the ground. The woman is one of the front desk receptionists and she appears panic stricken. “Ms. Caldwell, I’m so sorry to interrupt,” she says, then looks back at Marcus, shifting her weight uncomfortably. “I’ve been trying to reach you.”

“What is it, Claire?” Marcus’ voice is hoarse and he clears his throat as he speaks. I smile because I know I am the reason for his nervousness. Maybe I do like having power over a man…

Claire looks at me once more then leans forward, speaking quietly to Marcus. I see his expression melt into agitation before her lips have finished moving. She straightens, apologizes again and asks what she should do.

“No, Claire, you did the right thing by alerting me.” Marcus stands, adjusting his coat in front of him, and instinctually I follow. He reaches out a hand, stopping just before grazing my arm. “You should stay, you’ve barely eaten your lunch. I’ll check in with you this afternoon, Ms. Caldwell.”

It’s in that moment that I remember he is my boss—and asking what is the matter would be highly inappropriate, even though my foot was just fondling his cock. I nod and thank him for lunch and then sit to finish my wine, watching as he follows Claire back to the elevator.

I spend the rest of my first day immersed in emails, meetings, and getting to know the staff. I do everything I can to keep my thoughts of Marcus Knight at bay. But my success only lasts for so long, then he comes creeping back into my mind. And now it’s late, past what should be my normal quitting time. I’ve been at the hotel for over twelve hours. I’m hungry, exhausted and overwhelmed by the amount of work that still needs to be done. I decide to head up to the restaurant for a quick dinner while I go over the information Sandra Bloom has sent about the web page design. I step into the elevator and slip out of my shoes before the doors even close. Behind closed eyes I sigh, leaning down to rub the soreness from my feet.

“I’ve been thinking about those toes all day.”

I gasp, my eyes flying open and Marcus is grinning down at me. Instantly, I stand up straight, just as a couple enters the elevator and presses the eleventh floor. Quickly, I slip my foot back into my shoe.

“Don’t,” Marcus commands. I glance at the couple, but they are too engrossed in each other to notice us behind them. When I look at Marcus, I see challenge in his eyes and gratefully accept it, not wanting to squeeze my swollen toes back in those damn tight heels. I kick my shoes to the side, instantly feeling small barefooted as Marcus towers over me.

“Working late, Ms. Caldwell?”

I tilt my head up and in a flash, all resilience is gone. What is it about this man that makes me confident, powerful and yet weak with desire all at the same time? I want him naked and I want to press his body up against the wall and climb on top of him; wrapping my legs around his waist, all the while reminding myself he’s my
boss.

“I just can’t help it, Mr. Knight,” I say innocently. “When I see a job that needs doing, I don’t stop till it’s done.”

His eyes are ablaze with molten desire. Shaking his head, he takes a step closer to me. “Your determination for a job well done is one of the things I admire most about you, Ms. Caldwell.”

“I told you not to underestimate me,” I murmur.

“Not for a second,” he whispers.

I look up at the numbers on the control panel as we glide past the floors. Eight….nine…the woman in front of us giggles and leans into her male companion just as the elevator passes the tenth floor. I quiver at the anticipation of being alone with Marcus. I suck my bottom lip between my teeth, turning my attention back to the man standing so close to me I can taste the breaths he’s exhaling. His gaze drops to my mouth just as the elevator dings, welcoming us to the eleventh floor. Marcus draws in a lungful of air as the door opens and the couple stumbles their way out.

He’s my boss
. And I know being intimate with him could put my job at risk, or even worse, my reputation. But when I’m near him—when he looks at me with those ravenous eyes like he’s already undressed me—I somehow convince myself to take the chance.

We are alone in the elevator, although the door hasn’t yet closed. His eyes don’t leave mine and he steps even closer, losing the space between us. His hard chest presses against my breasts and my erect nipples. He places his hands against the wall on either side of my head. It’s the same stance he took the day he brushed his lips against mine and told me if I wanted more I would have to be the one to make it happen.

“I need you to fuck me,” I command.

A slow, lustful smile lifts his perfect mouth. “Oh, that’s already been decided, Ms. Caldwell, when you fondled my cock at lunch.”

With one hand outstretched, he swipes his key and presses the button to the penthouse. The door acknowledges his request and begins to close. Time slows to an agonizing pace as I wait for the privacy of this enclosed space. The second the door shuts his hands grip the sides of my face, lifting my lips to meet his with greedy lust. A whimpering moan escapes my throat as I wrap my arms around his back, welcoming the taste of him I’ve been craving. His tongue dives into my mouth, pressing against my own in heady haste. He can’t get enough of me.

“Anna,” he whispers and it feels so good to hear him speak my real name, not the alias I used the last time we were entangled in each other.