Chapter 6 #2
I step over the threshold and stop just inside the doorway.
I’m frozen when I see him sitting at his desk, resting both his forearms in front of him, his hands clasped and putting an expensive pair of platinum and diamond cufflinks on display.
His shirt is unbuttoned slightly, giving me a glimpse of a hard, sculpted chest. Rough and rugged, but handsome and sexy as hell.
“Come in and close the door, Miss. Jamesson.” He smiles at me as he speaks, but it’s not the warm, inviting smile I’m used to.
I close the door carefully and stand right where I am. I’m no longer excited to see him; he has put me on edge and the look he is giving me is unreadable.
“Good evening,” I say, smiling sweetly. I refuse to show him that I’m nervous.
“Good evening, Nat-a-lie.” He says my name long and slow as drawing the letters out, testing how they sound. His head is tilted slightly to the side, his eyes are narrowed, and his stare is intense.
My throat feels a little tight and I try to swallow the big lump that is forming. My stomach is clenching at the way he’s studying my reaction to him, so I raise my chin a little and draw back my shoulders, trying to hide the nervousness that he’s making me feel.
He swirls the last of his drink around his glass.
The ice cubes clink, accentuating the silence in the room as he makes me wait for an answer.
He drains the last of his drink and places his tumbler carefully on his desk then stands, pushing his chair back with his legs.
He walks toward me, his gaze fixed and his movements slow and deliberate.
He has an inquisitive look and it’s making me feel like I need to be ready to bolt.
He stops just inches in front of me and I instinctively back into the hardwood door.
I place a palm flat on the door behind me, sliding it back and forth to try and find the handle.
“Hmm …” he groans, musing his next words.
He’s not touching me, but we’re close enough that I can smell his intoxicating aftershave and the scotch on his breath.
He raises his hand and strokes my cheek bone with the back of his fingers, inspecting the break in my skin.
“Miss. Jamesson …” He pauses and tilts his head the other way, focusing my attention on his rich-hazel eyes, the dim light making them look dark and mysterious.
“You’re a very intriguing lady, do you know that?
” He lets the question linger for a second before continuing “Tell me, who are you this evening, Natalie?” He lets out a small laugh and places his hands on the door, either side of my shoulders, and lowers his head to whisper in my ear.
“Are you trying to con me? Is that what this is?” he questions. “I know about you … Arianna.”
His close proximity causes my body to react, but his words cause me to stiffen. I feel the strength of his voice on his breath as it travels along my skin, leaving goosebumps in its wake.
Shit, he knows. How does he know? How much does he know? Lottie wouldn’t have… If he knows, who else does?
“Are you playing me?” he asks.
“No!” I shake my head vigorously, trying to convince him.
I put my hands up to his solid chest to push him away, but he’s too fast for me.
He grabs my wrists, pinning them above my head and holding me against the door with his body.
My breaths are hard and fast as I struggle against his grasp.
His lips are just millimeters from mine, and all my instincts are telling me to run, but my body wants more.
I twist my arms to test his grip. He’s stronger, and his fingers tighten around my wrists.
“Don’t try to run from me, Ari.” It’s a warning and the husky tone of his voice sends a shiver down through my body and settles between my legs, resulting in an ache there I’ve never experienced before. My lips part to let the heavy breaths escape and I can feel my heart beating out of my chest.
“Let me out,” I demand through gritted teeth. I’m torn by the conflicting feelings that are being propelled through my body at lightning speed.
Fear.
Desire.
The feeling of a double edged sword.
“No,” he replies sharply. I look at him in surprise, then his voice softens and he returns to the man I’ve become familiar with. “If I thought for one minute that you actually wanted to leave, I’d let you go.”
He releases a low groan before he kisses me hard and fast. It is unexpected and his kiss is unforgiving as he explores every part of my mouth with his tongue which is still cold from the ice in his drink.
He steals the air from my body, but somehow gives me so much more than he takes.
I feel something shift. Something gives way.
My resolve? Maybe. My sanity? Quite possibly.
But there’s a chance that it could be something deeper and far more superior to that. I’m intoxicated with his presence and his persisting lust.
He loosens his grip on my wrists slightly, I presume to test if I’m going to run, but I don’t, I can’t. The thought that he knows who I am terrifies me, but my body is on fire and I want him more than I’ve ever wanted anyone or anything.
He clamps both of my wrists in one of his big strong hands, running his other hand down the side of my face. His eyes don’t leave mine as he drags his rough thumb over my bottom lip, and my body reacts involuntarily. I nip the pad of his thumb and he hisses in a breath through his teeth.
He leans into my neck. “Why are you hiding, Arianna?” he whispers before tugging on my earlobe with his teeth.
He takes his hand from my cheek, dragging his fingers along my jaw and down my neck leaving a trail of heat on my skin. He grabs my breast roughly and I gasp with the forceful contact. My nipples are pronounced through the thin fabric of my blouse and he pinches one, hard.
I cry out, arching my back toward him.
“You’re avoiding my question.” His hand doesn’t stop kneading and pinching, his breath on my ear causing all the hairs on my neck to stand on end as he grinds his pelvis into me. Fuck, I’m not the only one affected here.
“I … I’m not hiding …” My words come out with ragged breaths.
“Don’t run,” he says before releasing my hands slowly, and I instinctively move to tangle my fingers in his thick dark hair.
Both his hands move to my ass, squeezing and pulling me closer as he kisses me with a fierce tenderness I can’t explain.
I vaguely register him flicking the lock on the door as he walks us backwards, never breaking contact.
He turns me as we reach his desk, and I hear paperwork flutter to the floor and glass smash as he sends everything flying before lying me down on the cold, hard surface, his body pressed tightly against mine.
I have a desperate need to touch him, to taste him, to feel every inch of this man.
I slide my hands in the waistband of his trousers and pull out his shirt.
I let my hands roam freely over his torso, realizing I’ve wanted to do this since the very first time I saw him at the elevator.
He runs his hands down the length of my body and pushes them back up again, skimming my thighs and taking my skirt with them, exposing my lace underwear. “Stunning,” he says before bringing his mouth to mine.
Tasting …
Feeling …
Testing …
Our teeth crash together as the desire grows, and we both know it’s impossible to stop this now. “Arianna,” he says breathlessly. His chest is heaving and there are little beads of sweat gathering on his brow.
“Yes …” I can barely form the word. I haven’t answered to my real name for a very long time, but it feels natural coming from him.
“Tell me you want this …”
It’s a command, but I don’t feel threatened. I want this as much as he does. I nod my answer.
“Tell me, Ari. I won’t touch you until you tell me.”
“Yes, yes I want you …”
I hear a rumble in his chest before he slides his fingers into the corners of my panties and rips them off in one swift move.
I gasp at the feeling of being exposed so suddenly, but I don’t think I’ve ever been so turned on.
I don’t usually like the feeling of losing control, but within the last five minutes Denham King has almost stripped me bare, more than just physically.
He leans over and kisses me hard, making his way down my body with his hand and slipping his finger between my legs. Finding just the right spot, he works in circles, a relentless rhythm that brings me to the edge of release, then lets me back down again.
My head spins and I want more of him, I need more of him.
I make quick work of his belt and slide my hand into his trousers.
There are no boxers or briefs in my way and my hand makes contact with him instantly.
He pushes into my hand as I free him and he groans as I slide up and down his thick length.
“Arianna, that feels ama—”
He is cut off mid-sentence by a rapid knock on the door and I push myself up onto my elbows. I know it’s locked, but it’s broken the spell that I was under and reality is screaming toward me at a hundred miles an hour.
Denham jumps up. “NOT NOW!”
“Sir, you might want to come out here for a minute.” It’s the doorman, and he sounds nervous.
“Just fucking deal with it, Jack.”
“Sir, I would but—”
“Shit, fuck!” Denham snaps. “This had better be fucking good, Jack.” He straightens and buttons up his trousers. His hair has that ‘just screwed’ look and his face is flushed. He holds my jaw firmly with his big hand and makes me meet his stare.
“Don’t. Go. Anywhere.”
I nod and he kisses me softly before striding to the door and turning to look at me. “I mean it, Arianna. Don’t move. I’ll be back in just a minute. Just let me sort this shit out.”
He runs a hand through his disheveled hair and swings open the door with the menacing stance of an angry bear. He is certainly not a man to be messed with. I hear yelling from down the hall before the door is slammed closed again.
I look around at the papers, shattered glass and my ripped lace panties discarded on the floor. I don’t know what just happened here, but I do know that I have to get out of here.
Does he seriously think I’m going to stay here like some whore waiting for him to come back and fuck me?
This is too much.
He is too much.
So I do what I do best. I run.