Mr. Imperfect(16)

"N-nothing, wrong room," she stammered, and spun around.

Continuing his conversation, Christian grabbed her about the waist and  kicked the door shut. "I know it's the middle of the night, but I need  the deal done and you're my lawyer. Find a time zone that will make the  transaction possible."

Kezia started to wiggle free but the heat generated by her satin curves  sliding against Christian's resistant muscle did nothing but shiver her  nipples into relief. She stopped.

"No chance," he whispered in her ear. In a normal voice he said into the  phone, "Cathy, consider. Getting laid by your husband now or a dirty  weekend later at my expense … and yes, that includes child care. Call me  the minute you have news."

He dropped the phone into his pocket, wrapped his other arm around Kezia and growled, "Welcome to the pleasure dome."

That did it. Blushing with humiliation, she freed herself and reached for the door handle. "This was such a bad idea."

To her surprise he opened it for her. "You're wrong, it's a great idea,  one of the best you've ever had." With his hands on her shoulders he  propelled her down the corridor to her own room and turned on the light.  "We just need the right setting."

The sight of Muriel's sinfully decorated boudoir was the last straw. "Okay, joke's over, you can stop making fun of me."                       
       
           



       

"I'm making fun with you. Now, sit." She didn't move, so Christian swept her up into his arms.

Kezia yelped and clutched at him and he laughed as he dumped her on the  candy-striped sofa. She met his eyes at last, saw no mockery there, just  desire. And her heart hammered … Get out, get out, get out.

Christian pressed on her shoulders as she tried to stand. "Tonight  you're going to lighten up and I'm going to help you do it. Now dredge  up some fantasies and tell me what you want me to do."

"That's the most unromantic proposition I've ever heard!"

"Ah, so milady wants romance?" He left her side to hit the switch for  the chandelier and the room fell into darkness. Another click and the  bedside lamp-a cherub holding a flaming torch-spilled its glow across  the four-poster, making the glitter in the white faux fur cushions  sparkle like snow. The room and the man seemed much more dangerous. "I  really think-"

"Personally," Christian said, ignoring her interruption, "I don't think  you want romance. I think you're more turned on by control over a  dominant male." He stood by the bed with his arms folded, looking  arrogant and potently masculine. "Want to give it a try?"

Cocky bastard. On impulse, Kezia nodded. I'm not going to sleep with him  but I am going to play with him a little because he needs taking down a  peg or two.

Christian reached into his pocket and threw her the envelope. "I know  you, Kez, you're going to get cold feet. Every time you have a pang of  conscience I want you to hand me a bill."

"You don't know me anymore, Christian, you only think you do. And my  first order, sex slave, is to keep your opinions to yourself." It was  easier now that she wasn't taking it seriously.

His mouth quirked as he inclined his head. "Certainly, mistress. Your next request?"

Kezia searched for something … anything. "Take it off," she demanded,  throwing down a hundred dollar bill. Stripping him naked should deflate  his insufferable ego.

One black eyebrow lifted. "You'll have to be more specific."

"Your … " her courage failed her " … shoes."

"Live dangerously."

"Okay, take off your socks, as well."

Christian sat on the bed and did as he was bid. "Babe, you need some practice at this."

"Fine," she said, stung. "Take off all your clothes. Slowly."

He came closer and she clutched the envelope nervously. He was so much  bigger, closer. In silence, he held out his hand for the money, his eyes  insolent and hot. With a surge of exhilaration, she gave it to him. He  could look how he liked, but he still had to do as she said. The balance  of power hung in the air between them like an aphrodisiac.

His eyes never leaving hers, Christian undid the buttons on his shirt.  Slowly. Kezia watched as button by button the shirt fell open, revealing  first a strong brown collarbone, then the bulge of pectorals, their  nipples half hidden by the crisp white shirt, finally the corrugated  muscle of an iron-flat stomach.

He shrugged his shoulders and the shirt fell to the floor. His muscled  arms and chest were the color of old gold in the lamplight, nipples like  copper. Kezia realized she was staring and blushed as she defiantly  raised her eyes to his.

He was smiling at her; his pupils dilated, his irises bleached to  night-washed gray. The dim light cast shadows under his strong  cheekbones, the light behind him an aureole around his body. And Kezia  began to ache, a woman's ache at breast and groin.

His large hands moved to the front of his pants, one snap to unfasten,  then down went the zipper. Slowly. Underneath, the briefs were sleek and  black against his arousal. Easing off the trousers, Christian slid them  down his long, solidly muscled thighs and kicked them aside. Then he  stood there under her scrutiny.

And Kezia forgot she was toying with him, forgot she wasn't going to sleep with him, forgot she didn't love him anymore.

He held out his hand for more money and, like Sleeping Beauty, she woke  to reality. Kezia stumbled to her feet and the envelope fell from her  lap, spilling onto the floor. "I'm sorry," she blurted, "but I have too  many hang-ups to do this." And you're one of them.

She almost ran for the door, but Christian caught her and pulled her back against his near-naked body.

"Please. Don't leave," he said huskily, and she thought with sudden  clarity, I'm damned. But she had to know, had to, so she turned in his  hold and lifted her mouth, blindly as a woman dying of thirst seeks  water. Their lips met.                       
       
           



       

Then Christian's hands came up to cup Kezia's face and they opened their mouths to each other and drank.

The kiss became more savage, more passionate. Her arms came up around  his neck and he crushed her to him as they punished each other for the  intervening years, the loss and the longing. At last they broke apart,  breathing hard.

"So," said Christian, "the gloves are off at last." He looked aroused  and fierce and vengeful, and Kezia reached for him again because she  felt exactly the same way.

He laughed, his gaze dark on hers, and this time their kiss was about  tasting and teasing, about showing the other what they'd been missing.  Kezia realized Christian had picked up far more tricks in the  intervening years than she had. The knowledge made her self-conscious  and strangely sad.

"What?" He lifted his mouth from hers.

"You've learned a lot." She wanted to be honest. "I'm not sure how I feel about that."

"Meanwhile I'm trying to pretend you haven't," he told her. "Because I know damn well how I feel about it."

Kezia laughed. She'd forgotten that intimacy with Christian Kelly was  like this, frank with humor as well as lust. Reassured, she kissed him  again.

And somewhere in the slow, languorous heat of that third kiss, the past  lost its power and nothing mattered except that they were here. Now.

Christian entwined his fingers in her hair and pushed it back to kiss  her throat, her collarbone. He pulled down the thin straps of her  nightdress so that it fell to her waist, and at the look in his eyes,  she ached for his mouth on her breasts.

He made her wait, stroking her shoulders, her arms, the skin above her  breasts, marveling with his touch at every silken swell and curve of her  upper body until Kezia felt like the most desirable woman in the world.  She felt his tongue's caress on a nipple and groaned, wanting more, so  much more.

Christian stepped back, his eyes languorous with passion, the message in  them unmistakable. He gathered the scattered money, sat Kezia  unceremoniously on the end of the bed and handed the notes to her.  Nothing needed to be said.

"Come closer," she said in a low voice. "Kneel down so I can touch you."  She put some money to one side and with a hand that shook slightly,  rediscovered the strong curves of his face, the glossy texture of his  hair and brows. Her fingers tracked the line of his throat.

She flattened her palm against his warm, broad chest and let it rest,  sharing the rhythm of his breathing, before sliding it around his back  and down to the swell of his buttocks. And her hand didn't shake  anymore. Another bill on the pile.

Slowly, Kezia removed his briefs, freeing him to her sight, to her  touch, freeing herself from her last inhibitions. She would suffer, but  she didn't care. Christian closed his eyes under her caresses and she  didn't have to hide her love as she moved to rub her bare breasts  against his chest. If she had to suffer, then so would he. The pile of  notes grew higher.