Her heart shuddered feverishly in her chest, and she prayed to God that she was this woman. She would be happy—no, she wasn’t happy, she was desperate—to tell Graves Buchanan, to show him, all the things he could do to her. With her.
She hoped he didn’t notice the strained note in her voice, but she was floundering, was having a hard time processing what he’d revealed about himself. Plus there was still that little wanton part inside her that didn’t care, one way or another. She just wanted this man so much, she would take him any way she could have him.
Any. Way. She could have him.
“So you dislike everything that makes sex actually personal? Is that it?” she whispered, barely refraining from adding, “That’s fine! Even that turns me on with you!”
He moved his shoulders in a noncommittal shrug, and suddenly, yes, she could see how his OCD and controlling persona would really not cherish losing his mind much.
She could see that it would not sit well with the genius behind one of the world’s most advanced intelligent systems corporation, to lose control, when he thrived on it. In fact, his very business was dedicated to granting its consumers and clients the most power, with the least effort. It was all about commanding…
But although understandable to some degree that Graves could detach himself from the emotional aspect of sex so admirably well, he would probably still believe a girl like Chloe should not settle for such a poor offer from a man such as impersonal sex and a one-night stand.
But then he had no clue how desperately she craved to yield to him. To him, only him. Not to Luke, not to anyone.
“Can I at least know what you enjoy, Graves?” she asked, her voice quivery.
She had to know.
Because her every cell still screamed for his touch, even if her hands would have to be tied and manacled to keep from touching him back. Every pore of her body screamed for Graves Buchanan. His touch, the heated looks in his eyes…
Silence.
“What pleasures you, when you have sex, Graves? What…turns you on?” she insisted, and her voice wavered with desire.
He stared outside, and she could see his right hand clenching and unclenching at his side. “The thought of you.” Then he spun around with a dark look, his mouth thin with a cynical twist to it. “Don’t pretend you don’t know it. Every time I see you your dresses get shorter and shorter and tighter and tighter and I swear to God you fucking do it to scramble my brain.”
She swallowed. A pulsing knot within her coiled and twisted as lust flooded her body. “If I wear things like these…I do it because I want you and I want you to want me. Graves…I don’t care if you don’t kiss me,” she pleaded, unsure whether she was lying or not, but at the moment, she just wanted to feel him inside of her. Inside her. She took a few steps in his direction, her womb rippling with need. “I’m not afraid of being handcuffed if you’re the one doing it. Please…”
“No, Chlo. No.” He came forward like a turbulent wind, his face raw and fierce, then he urged her to the door with increasing pressure on her arm. “Get home. Whatever it is you want, you’re not getting it from Preston tonight—and you won’t be getting it from me.”
“You may have remarkable self-control, but you can’t stop Luke forever,” she snapped, eyes flashing as she broke free and glared at him. “And I promise you, if it’s not Luke, then I’m finding someone who will take me to bed if it kills me.”
“Jesus! Why don’t you wait for the right fucking man, Chlo?” he thundered, gripping her by the shoulders and shaking her.
“Because I’m staring right at him and he won’t do shit!” she screamed, and hit his chest with one hand. “You don’t like being touched? Fine with me! I’ll just hit you!” She hit him with her other hand and, with startling speed, his hands whipped up to seize her wrists and yank them down to her sides.
“For the love of God, go home, Chloe!” he hissed, eyes troubled and desperate, his hands clenching around her wrists. “Before I call Daniel and tell him to come fetch you!”
“I’ll leave when you kiss me.”
They both froze.
For a moment they both stood there, shocked that she’d actually said that out loud.
Then Graves uttered a low, bemused, “What?”
Oh, my God. Had she just dared him to kiss her? Talk about rash. Stupid. Reckless. The guy just admitted this was one of his pet peeves. But she was so damned angry at him. And he’d been staring at her lips again with that strange, hungry look, and she ached ached ached to give her lips up to him and prove him wrong.
Graves stepped back in shock, dropping his hold on her. “What did you just say?” he asked, eyes flared wide.
Nervous butterflies whirled in her stomach, but Chloe sucked in a long, long breath and gathered her courage. “I said I’ll leave. When you kiss. Me. On the mouth.”
He stared at her as if dumbstruck, then scrutinized her mouth with a look that darkened with some wild emotion as well as annoyance.
“You don’t like to kiss? Well, I don’t want to leave!” she said haughtily, in her best heiress voice.
He kept staring at her mouth, his look suddenly morphing from annoyance into a ravenous golden-eyed wolf, and it made her lungs have to work overtime to get some air in.
Her voice was a cottony whisper. “I’m not buying you don’t like kissing, Graves. Maybe you just don’t like the girls you’re with too much. But I’m not one of them…”
He stared at her lips like now that she’d dared him to kiss her he couldn’t think of anything else, or look at anything else, but her lips. When he spoke, she could hardly make out what he said, his words were so terse. “Do I have your word you’re going to go home right after? No pit stops. No bullshit.”
Her nipples beaded when he took a step, and she realized he was going to actually bite the bait. Oh, God, what if he didn’t like kissing her, either? Oh, God, he was going to kiss her. Kiss her. Kiss her. Kiss her.
She nodded wildly. “You have my word.” She breathed, savoring his lips, beautiful lips, already tasting them in her mind. “But you have to make it a good one, not a stupid little peck…”
A silence stretched unbearably as he slowly, painfully slowly, backed her toward the door. Her pulse raced. She licked her lips. Her breasts pricked and a pool of liquid heat gushed between her legs. Her mind was screaming to please be kissed, please, please, kissed by Graves.