Except my past also told me that I was incapable of running from danger. “Well, isn’t it lucky that I’ve never been really good at doing what I should.”
This time I did move. I walked toward the stairs, taking off my tank as I did. I peered over my shoulder at him as I tossed it to the floor, smiling when I saw him fixed on me, crazy with desire. That eased me ever so slightly. I may have been walking into the fire, but there was a chance I wouldn’t be walking in alone.
CHAPTER 13
I dropped my skirt in the upstairs hallway and my bra at the door to Reeve’s room. Like the rest of the house, his private space was magnificent and modern. It expanded the entire width of the house and was broken up into two spaces with an entertainment area on one side and the sleeping area on the other. I went left, to the bedroom. The room was furnished with a king-size bed, chair, ottoman, bench, nightstand, and dresser, yet it was so large that it looked sparse. The clean lines and open space let the spectacular view of the canyons take center stage through the floor-to-ceiling windows that carried from the main floor to this one.
I pulled the ponytail holder from my hair and began twisting it into a bun as I walked to the glass. This area was on top of the living room and overlooked the same scene. Being higher up, though, the perspective was different. Grander. The emphasis wasn’t on the landscape of the yard but on the opposite canyon wall and the night sky beyond. Instead of the sparkle and glimmer of fabricated light, there was the faint bleed of stars through the LA smog and shades of dark that extended on and on.
This was a more accurate view of this world. This was what was under the outer layer of glamour – endless dark. I could sink back into it so easily, embrace it, live for it, hoping for that occasional burst of star shine. But I knew from experience that sometimes – often – the light didn’t ever get through.
And I was a girl who would let the dark swallow me up whole.
I couldn’t do that. Not this time. I couldn’t care if Reeve liked me or not. I’d fucked plenty of men that I hadn’t liked. Hell, things would have been easier if some of them hadn’t liked me as much as they did. I needed to look at his indifference as a gift. Needed to find my own apathy.
From now on, no attachment. Distance. Callousness. Minimum of pleasure. I’d fake my orgasms. My smiles would be superficial. I was an actress. This was just another role.
When he came into the room a few minutes later, I was sitting on the ottoman with my legs crossed, in only my panties and heels.
“I wasn’t wearing stockings,” I said. “This was the best I could do on short notice.”
He surveyed me as he tossed his jacket on the dresser. “I approve.” He stayed where he was and worked the knot of his tie, loosening it, his eyes never leaving me. “Take off nothing else. But get yourself ready.”
Shit, this was going to be hard. He was already shredding me to pieces with the way he was looking at me. With the way he’d taken command of the room the moment he walked in. With the way my every cell wanted to fall down at his feet and obey.
How the hell was I supposed to only pretend to submit when that was exactly what I wanted to do?
Disengage, that’s how. Self-denial. It couldn’t be any harder than dieting. I just had to gather my willpower and stay in control.
I pasted on a sexy smile. “I’m guessing teasing is allowed when you ask for it.”
He raised a curious eyebrow and began working the buttons on his shirt. Slowly.
“I’ll take that as a yes.” I spread my legs apart, hooking my ankles around either side of the ottoman. Then, making sure I had his attention – which I did – I licked the tip of my index finger and slipped it under the band of my panties.
His face remained stoic, but as his eyes slid down my body, they darkened and sparked. Was that even possible?
His shirt open now, he moved to undo first one cuff then the other. “Tell me what you want, Emily.”
“Besides everything I told you downstairs?” The strip routine was killing me. Thank God for the masking of my panties. It hid that I wasn’t actually rubbing my clit. There wasn’t any way I could watch him while touching myself and not explode.
He eyed me predatorily as he removed his shirt and set it on top of his jacket. “No. Here. Now. From me. What do you want?”
“You.”
“More specific.”
“Your cock.” I knew these lines. They were the ones every man wanted to hear. “I want your cock.”
He moved to his belt now, undoing the buckle with deliberate care. “Too vague. What do you want me to do to you? Tell me.”
Anxiety fluttered in my chest. “I want whatever you want.” But my voice sounded meek. Tentative.
Reeve pulled his belt from his pants and flicked it with frustration. “Stop pandering.”
I jumped at the snap of the belt, at the snap of his tone. I’d already dropped the façade of playing with myself. Now I dropped the sugar in my tone as well. “I’m not pandering. I’m trying to do what you want. You’re the director. Remember?”
He smiled tightly. “And right now your director wants you to tell him what you want. In detail.”
I stared, wide-eyed. Nothing was coming to mind except the truth, and saying that would make me too vulnerable. Too exposed. I needed another answer. Anything.
The silence dragged out too long.
“If you can’t say it, then this doesn’t need to happen.” He turned his back to me, walking away as he spoke. “The car key is on the counter. You can let yourself —”