She realized she was biting her fingernail and took it out of her mouth. “No. Why?”
Glowering, he pushed his chair back and stood, drawing her attention to the fly of his army green cargo pants. She blew out a breath, relieved that not only was he wearing pants, but also that they were zipped. After discovering women on their knees with him, she hadn’t known what to expect.
All six feet plus of him stomped around to the front of his desk, motioning at her with a wave of his large hand. “You’re still wearing your coat. I promise no one will steal your mink. I have video cameras set up all around the house. Nothing goes on without my knowledge.”
“You must not trust easily if you require so many cameras.”
He moved close, towering over her, his spicy scent doing something to her body she’d rather it not. Time had been kind to this man, who despite being close to forty, appeared ageless, his skin a smooth and creamy caramel. “The slave trainees live by my rules if they choose to stay in my home, but I’m not a fool. It’s always good to have backup. There are cameras everywhere except for the bathrooms and the slaves’ residence.” He held out his hand. “Now, since you’re not cold, allow me to take your coat. I promise it will stay safe.”
Her reluctance to remove her coat had nothing to do with her fear of theft. She simply wasn’t prepared to reveal her body to him yet. Cole continued to offer his hand, and she had a feeling she didn’t have an option of refusing if she wanted to stay.
Screw want. She needed to stay.
For Tasha.
And for her father.
Steeling herself for his rejection, she slowly unbuttoned her coat, starting at the top and working her way down, one by one until she ran out of buttons . . . and time. Pulling the flaps of her coat open, she exposed her sparsely clad body.
The kidnappers had instructed her to wear the clothes they’d provided. In the airport bathroom, she’d changed out of her conservative slacks and blouse into a black leather corset and a tiny scrap of lacy fabric that was supposed to pass for panties. Prior to an hour ago, she’d never worn either type of underclothes, having always bought comfortable full-size cotton underwear and sensible underwire bras.
The corset sucked in her stomach and cinched tight at her waist, making it more difficult to breathe. Not to mention her D-cup breasts practically spilled over the top.
As he took in the sight of her in the unflattering attire, Cole clenched his jaw, and his outstretched hand curled into a fist.
This is why she’d never given into the desire to truly expose herself to others. Why she’d limited herself to sunbathing naked by the pool and driving alone in her SUV with her skirt hiked up to her waist where she could feel exposed, even though no one could see her. Why she’d remained in the shadows at parties, bringing herself to climax by discreetly rubbing her forearms across her distended nipples and pressing her clitoris into a chair or the edge of a wall column. In addition to the fact that acting on several of her urges would be illegal, no one wanted to see her naked body.
Tears threatened, burning her eyes, but she blinked them back, refusing to admit defeat and wither away like a vine in winter. Instead she turned around and slipped the mink off her shoulders.
A warm breath caressed the shell of her ear. Antsy excitement swirled through her belly upon the realization that Cole had positioned himself right behind her, so close she felt the heat radiating from him. She swore she felt his nose in her hair, almost as though he was inhaling her scent. Her eyelids fluttered shut, and she stifled a moan when Cole’s fingertips lightly brushed the tops of her arms.
“Sit, Danielle,” he said, the harsh tone of the command knocking her back to reality.
He’d taken her coat while she’d continued to stand with her back to him like an idiot, lost in a fantasy where he wasn’t her enemy, and she wasn’t here under duress.
He set the mink on the back of a chair and perched himself on the edge of his desk. At least he no longer looked as though he wanted her out of his home. In fact, she couldn’t read his emotionless face at all.
The sudden change in his demeanor threw off her equilibrium, and she didn’t like it, preferring his blatant antagonism over the composed businessman in front of her. Throughout her life, she’d watched how women could manipulate men simply with a smile or a brush of a hand down a tuxedoed chest.
Unlike them, this man would prove difficult to manipulate. He’d burn as hot as lava then freeze as cold as an iceberg, burying any and all his secrets far beneath the surface. How far would she have to dig in order to expose them?
Realizing he was waiting for her to follow his order, she stifled the embarrassment of being in lingerie and toed across the carpet. She lowered herself into the padded chair and, as she’d been taught in training school, crossed her legs at the ankles like a lady.