Chapter Six
“What are you doing?” she asked.
He replaced the receiver on the phone and walked toward the bed. Except the man didn't really walk. More like claim the space around him. He was even more powerful naked, as if he belonged in the Garden of Eden and had never taken a bite of the apple.
“Getting us some dinner. I have plans and they require energy.”
Sloane stretched her sore muscles with a languid sensuality she never experienced. “I have a few games tomorrow. At least let me walk into the room with some dignity and not hobbled by too much sex.”
His laugh was low and promising. Goosebumps lifted on her arms. Halfway annoyed at her quick response to a man she met hours ago; Sloane rose from the bed and went to the bathroom for a robe.
“Don't.”
His voice lashed through the air. She stopped mid-flight. “Don't what?”
He closed the distance between them. “Don't put on a robe. I like you naked.”
Pleasure speared her belly. She'd always felt too skinny, worried about her small breasts and her lanky height. This man made her feel like a goddess. Still, she wasn't so far along that she enjoyed walking around naked. Sloane forced a laugh. “Thanks for the complement, but I feel more comfortable with a robe on.”
He smiled slowly. “I want to look at you while we eat and imagine what I'm going to do to you later. No robe.” A touch of uneasiness skated down her spine, along with the familiar sizzle. God, what was wrong with her? Why did he turn her on so much with his demands and orders? Sloane raised her chin up and gave him an icy glare.
“Sorry, but I like to eat with my clothes on.”
A discreet knock on the door halted the stare down. She made a hurried retreat, relieved at the interruption, and donned her luxury white spa robe, slipping her feet into matching slippers. She cursed under her breath when she found no ties—he'd made use of them, the bastard—but she wrapped it tight like a kimono and marched back out of the bathroom.
The silver table was set with white linen, sparkling china, and a bottle of chilled champagne. A solitary candle burned from the center, casting the room in romantic shadow. The scents of savory steak and herbs rose to her nostrils. Her stomach growled on cue as Rome lifted the silver dome and revealed buttery mashed potatoes, crisp green beans, and gravy. He handed her a flute of champagne alive with bubbles. Though she rarely drank, Sloane took a luxurious sip, noting the wonderful tones dancing in her mouth.
His gaze took in her appearance with obvious disapproval. Sloane readied for battle, intent on winning one round, but he waved his hand in dismissal and pulled out her chair. “I'm unhappy about your decision to disobey me, Sloane.” His voice cut smooth and hot like caramel, but the warning was evident. Unease slithered in her belly. “We'll have to address that later. First, I think we both need to eat.”
Since she had no intelligent comeback other than a curse, she glared at him from behind her bangs and dug in.
The meat was rare and melted in her mouth. She ate with gusto and focus, until her plate was clean.
“I see you eat like you have sex,” he said in an amused tone. “No holds barred. It's nice to see that famous control slip away.”
Her back stiffened. “My so-called famous control makes me an excellent gamer,” she said formally. “I'm sorry if that bothers you.”
Rome put down his fork and studied her. She refused to fidget and met his gaze head on, the stormy blue-gray of his eyes sucking her in like an undertow. “Your control doesn't bother me, Sloane,” he said. “It's part of who you are, and got you to the top. It also got you out of the slums and kept you alive.” His gaze ripped her polished surface to shreds, leaving her open and vulnerable. “Do you like being in control?”
“Of course.”
He nodded. “What about your past lovers?”
“What about them?”
“Did they ever try to take away your control?”
She shrugged and kept her face expressionless. “No.”
“Not one of them challenged you in the bedroom?”
Her temper flared and she snapped. “No, ok! Some tried but I threatened to cut off their balls, and they backed down. I can't help who I am, and I'm not less of a woman just because I like to call the shots. Who cares if I have a difficult time having an orgasm? It's not my fault.” In sheer horror, the words stumbled out of her mouth in a terrible rush of honesty she tried to battle back. His calm questions kept coming like steady gunfire.
“Have you had trouble reaching orgasm in the past?”
“Not with myself.”
Amusement flared briefly. “Have any past lovers tied you up?”
“No.”
“You seemed to have no trouble reaching climax tonight,” he pointed out.
She shrugged. “Like I said, it's been a while. I was probably backed up.”
His eyes lit with humor but he didn't argue. “Did you like what I did to you tonight?”
“No. I only obeyed because you won the bet.”
He laughed out loud and shook his head. “God, you're stubborn. Don't lie to me, Sloane. Not ever again, I warned you. Now answer the question.”
She opened her mouth to tell him to go to hell, then snapped it shut. He was right. She hated liars. Her voice came out sulky. “Yes.”
His approving smile filled her with happiness. “Thank you for telling me the truth.”
She sipped her champagne and realized he'd gotten under her skin like Frank Sinatra's famous song. How had one lousy night begun to change the person she believed herself to be? His next words yanked the proverbial rug right from under her.
“Now, I want you to take off that robe so I can look at you.”
She blinked. “I said I'm more comfortable with it on.”
“Take it off.”
Temper flared. She tossed her head like a stallion. “Hell, no. Get over it.”
He nodded, almost pleased with her decision. “That's what I thought. Not adhering to the exact terms of the bet will force me to punish you.”
Her eyes widened in shock. “Excuse me? Do you think this is the middle ages, buddy? What are you going to do—spank me?”
His lips twitched. “Actually, yes. That's exactly what I'm going to do.”
A strange mixture of lustful anticipation at his dominance and pure horror mingled within her. A beat passed. Two. Then she realized he was serious and she needed to move. Quickly.
She jumped out of the seat and bolted toward the bathroom. He caught her in two seconds flat and tumbled her to the thick Merlot carpet. Sloane fought like a wildcat, with claws and feet, but he managed to rip off her robe with one quick tug. As if handling a china doll, he stripped her and pulled her over his thighs while his hands held her in place. With her ass in the air and bands of steel pinning her to the rug, she felt completely vulnerable. Panic flared.
“Let me go, you bastard!”
He chuckled, obviously enjoying her predicament. “I asked you nicely but you insist on fighting me. A little pain can sometimes elicit the greatest pleasure, Sloane. Especially with strong women who don't let themselves go.”
“Fuck you.”
He began stroking her naked flesh, rubbing, massaging, until a warm glow and arousal flooded her body. Fighting her reaction, she tried to wriggle but it was impossible to move. “Remember your safe word, kitten.”
Then his hand came down hard on her bare ass.
The breath whooshed out of her lungs and her tender flesh stung under the slap. She cried out. He'd done it. He'd actually spanked her. She was going to kill him, tear him to pieces, sue his ass and FANTA-C for setting her up with a madman and—
Suddenly, that same hand returned to massage her stinging flesh and slipped downward. Oh, God, what was he doing? She stiffened, but that finger never hesitated. He glided over her swollen labia and pushed one finger inside her pussy. Her arousal soaked his finger on entrance, and he laughed low as he used her moisture to coat her clit and coax it to a throbbing nub. How was she so wet?
“Very nice,” he murmured in approval. “You, my gorgeous one, need a little push. The men you slept with were total assholes and completely unworthy of you.”
His hand came down again, harder than the last one. This time she bit back her cry, but felt the treacherous response of her body, practically begging him to sink into her heat and take her hard. Again, his hand slid between her thighs to play. While her ass burned other parts of her burst into flames. Her nipples stabbed into the thick carpet, the cool air on her naked skin was like a gentle kiss, and Rome slipped another finger in, moving in a slow pace that completely tortured her.
“Strong women need a reason to let go. Only one with a will like yours could survive, but you took your body along for the ride. In order for you to feel completely free, you need someone to take away your ability to control.”
Another slap. Then another. She bit her lip and the stringent barriers she kept around her body and heart and mind wobbled, tilted, then fell.
He thrust four fingers into her, rubbing her clit, while his other hand came down hard for one final slap.
Sloane came hard, bucking over his legs as she let herself go under the demands of another. The orgasm washed over her without mercy, and she rode it, sobbing his name. She heard the rip of a package, and then he flipped her over, spread her legs, and plunged deep.
He filled every crevice of her aching, pulsing body. Sloane shook her head and pushed at his shoulders, her last orgasm too intense to even want another. His low laugh raked across her ears as he pinned her wrists against her head.
“More. I want more.”
“I can't. Roman, I can't.”
His gaze seared with blue fire, forcing her to surrender it all. “You can, kitten, and you will. Give it all to me, I can take it. I want it.”
He moved. Thrust after thrust, he threw her higher into the unknown. He claimed her with his mouth, tongue, cock, and fingers. Her sensitized clit burned and throbbed under the steady pressure, but he never relented, cranking up the excruciating tension. The wet slap of bodies echoed in her ears, and her walls held tight and milked him hard, until the second orgasm grabbed her and tossed her over. She flew and he was with her the whole time, his solid muscled length anchoring her to earth and to safety.
He tucked her against him, and the tears came. It was an ugly cry, ripped from her very soul, a place she rarely touched. Sloane tried to crawl like an animal needing isolation, but Rome refused, cradling her against his hard body and rocking her back and forth. He whispered comforting words, words that praised, words that leaked through the broken holes inside and healed her. Finally, her tears spent, she stayed in his arms for a long while, wondering what he had done to her.