Chapter Four

Maya took a taxi to the apartment on Flower de Boliva and used the key Roarke had given her to open the glass doors and access the elevator. She took it to the fourteenth floor, where she stepped out into the luxurious hallway. Her sandals sank into the deep carpet, which completely cushioned the sound of each step.

At precisely two-thirty, she let herself into the apartment. She tried to quell her nervous stomach as it protested her presence there. Her eyes widened at the bare living room and kitchen. There were no furnishings—not even pictures on the wall or a phone. The only items in the kitchen were a fridge, stove, and dishwasher. The white tile sparkled, and the scent of lemon cleaner still hung in the air.

Her legs shook as she walked down the hallway. Was he here yet? “Hello?”

“In here, Maya. The last room on your left.”

The sound of his voice made her grimace as she made her way down the bare hallway. Two of the four doors stood cracked open, and each room was bare. A closed door separated her from him in the other room. She knocked on the black wood and felt ridiculously like she waited for someone important to admit her.

“Come in.”

She took a deep breath, and then twisted the doorknob and entered the bedroom. This room had only a recliner positioned near the foot of the massive bed. He sat with his feet up on the footrest. A glass of amber liquid rested in the cup holder built into the elegant black recliner. A box lay on the bed.

“Welcome.”

She frowned at him, refusing to answer. She didn’t care how petulant her behavior seemed. It didn’t hurt to remind him she didn’t want to be here.

He waved her closer, and her reluctant feet obeyed. When she stood within touching distance, he handed her a sheet of paper. “What’s this?” She stared at the crisp, white paper and tried to make sense of the black letters.

“My health report.”

She dropped the envelope she held onto his lap before she looked at his page. Maya had no idea how to interpret it, but assumed he wouldn’t have shared it with her if it revealed anything negative.

He opened the envelope and scanned the pages. “Excellent. You’re on the Pill, I see.”

“Yes.”

Roarke took a drink from his glass. He fidgeted with the envelope, and then sat up so abruptly the footrest folded in with a snap. “Would you like iced tea? It’s all I have on hand.” He winked at her. “I know tea isn’t the stiff drink you probably think you need to get through this.”

She shook her head and crossed her arms over her chest. She ignored his banter as she studied him. Was it her imagination, or did he seem lost? Maya dared to hope he had changed his mind. “What now?”

“Take off your clothes.”

Her eyes widened. “Already?”

He shrugged.

She compressed her lips into a straight line. “Fine. Where’s the bathroom?”

“Out here.”

Maya shook her head.

He grinned up at her. “I only want to see what you’re wearing under those shorts and that prim little shirt you have buttoned all the way to your neck.”

With a glower, Maya unbuckled the belt on her khaki shorts and pulled it off. She maintained her glare when she dropped it on the floor. She tried to blank all thoughts from her mind as she fumbled with the zipper and button and pushed down the shorts. She shuddered when his eyes caressed the length of her leg from the hip to her toes in the rope sandals.

“Very nice.” He sported a visible erection, and his eyes gleamed with appreciation. “The shirt too.”

Maya bit her lip as her trembling hands fumbled with the first few buttons. She saw his lips part as the shirt gaped open at her breasts. She struggled to prevent the flush as it blossomed on her cheeks. She finished unbuttoning the shirt and let it fall to the floor. I have nothing to be embarrassed about. He’s the one who should be ashamed. Her pep talk didn’t ward off an attack of self-consciousness as he eyed her critically.

Roarke shook his head and clicked his tongue. “Chain store bra and panties, Maya? It’s a crime to cover your luscious curves with plain white cotton.”

She tossed her head back and resisted the urge to cover her breasts when his eyes lingered. “Why does it matter what I wear under my clothes? No one sees it.”

“Bobby does.”

She lifted a shoulder. “He doesn’t care.”

“Well, I do.” He pointed to the box. “That is for you.”

“No, thank you.”

He smiled. “It’s not a choice, Maya.”

She frowned at him as she marched to the bed and ripped the box open. She faltered at the sight of the white teddy. Although she worked the makeup counter, Maya had picked up enough during her tenure with Macy’s to know the material was real silk and probably very expensive. She was careful to ensure it didn’t snag on the box as she lifted it out and laid it across the bed. “You want me to wear this?”

He nodded.

“But…” Maya couldn’t think of a reason not to, and even the skimpy covering it would provide was preferable to complete nudity. “Where’s the bathroom?”

Roarke quirked a brow, but clearly decided to indulge her. “Through that door.” He pointed to the door by the closet.

Maya scooped up the teddy and swept through the black door that contrasted so dramatically with the silver walls. The bathroom was as unfurnished as the rest of the condo, without so much as even a bathmat. Two fluffy towels sat on the counter, but they were the only personal touches she could see.

In an attempt to delay the inevitable, Maya opened the medicine cabinet to snoop, but didn’t find even one bottle or tube. She closed the mirror and sat on the toilet. She shivered. It wasn’t really cold, but she was nervous. Forced to stand in front of Roarke in her underwear, she had been unnerved, but the teddy was so much more intimate, which made it even worse.

She firmed her lips before she unhooked the bra and slipped it off. The panties followed, and she laid both on the counter. Knowing the sooner she got dressed, the sooner the afternoon would end, Maya stepped into the teddy and pulled it up. She frowned at herself in the mirror.

The legs were French cut, with a narrow crotch made from sheer lace. A lace panel revealed a diamond of her midriff, the shadow of her pubic region, and a hint of cleavage where her breasts pushed together at the bottom of the cups. The neckline plunged to meet the top of the diamond, and two spaghetti straps held it up on her shoulders. She turned around to look at the back and realized it was completely sheer except for a band of lace that fell below her shoulder blades.

She stared at herself in the mirror and wondered how she could walk out there dressed in that. His eyes would eat her up. How could she maintain a facade of indifference when her defenses—and body—were stripped bare?

Her head whipped around when he tapped on the door. “What?”

“Are you coming out?”

“In a minute.” She tried to keep the edge of panic from her voice.

“Don’t make me come get you. A tryst in the bathroom isn’t on the agenda. Today, anyway.” His laugh sounded more like the purr of a large, predatory cat than a sound of amusement.

She heard him walking away from the door and breathed a sigh of relief, but knew her reprieve was short-lived. Maya bent over and flipped her hair forward as she fluffed out the heavy strands. She stood up and arranged the locks to hide her breasts where the pink areoles were clearly visible through the thin silk.

With another deep breath, Maya opened the bathroom door and plunged into the room. Momentum carried her within three feet of the bed, before she froze like a deer in headlights. His hungry expression caused shivers to race down her spine.

Roarke struggled to control his breathing as he stared at her. A grin teased the corners of his lips when he saw how carefully she had positioned her hair to cover her breasts. “Stunning, but I think the sandals clash.”

Color flooded her cheeks, and Maya kicked off the brown rope sandals. She stood near him while her arms dangled at her side. “Now what?”

“Let’s talk.”

“Talk?”

He nodded and waved at the bed. “You sit there.”

She wasn’t thrilled at the idea of being on the bed, but it was a better alternative than sharing the only chair with him. Maya perched on the edge of the bed, crossed her legs, and folded her arms across her chest, even though modesty was a lost cause.

Roarke racked his brain as he tried to remember the questions he had written down and memorized. “How many lovers have you had?” He cringed when he blurted out the question. He had planned to ease into questions like that.

She glared at him, but didn’t refuse to answer. “Just Bobby.”

He groaned under his breath and suddenly felt like the most depraved man in the world. “Why?”

“Because I love him.”

“No. I mean, why just Bobby?”

Maya blinked. “We’ve been together since I was seventeen and he was eighteen.”

“How old are you now?”

“Twenty-one.”

So young. Had he ever been that young or innocent? The eleven years between them might as well be eleven thousand. “You’ve never wanted to be with anyone else?”

She shook her head.

“How do you know you love him if he’s the only guy you’ve ever had?”

Maya frowned. “Can we not discuss this? I’ll do whatever you want sexually…” She closed her eyes to summon the strength to continue. “…within reason, but I want to keep you—this—separate from the rest of my life. Otherwise, I’ll go crazy.”

He shrugged. There would be time for them to get acquainted later. “Fine. Do you like sex, Maya?”

She gasped at the question, but couldn’t refuse to answer. It fell within the parameters she herself had set. She wondered how honest she should be.

“Do you love it, or do you tolerate it?”

“It’s okay.”

Roarke choked on the sip of tea in his mouth. She moved so gracefully, with an overt sensuality that inspired certain expectations. That was not the answer he had expected to hear. “Just okay?”

She shrugged. What was she supposed to say? None of her female friends enjoyed sex much either. They sometimes giggled over what a fuss their partners made about the act.

“Have you ever had an orgasm with Bobby?”

Maya blushed. “Yeah, of course.” Twice, back in the days when they had first gotten together. Since then, things had fizzled.

Roarke saw the blush on her face and the longing in her eyes. “I see. How did he do it?”

She cleared her throat. “I don’t want to talk about this.”

“Just tell me, Maya.” He winked at her. “While we’re talking, I’m not touching.”

Her face grew even fierier. “He…” She cleared her throat again. “His tongue,” she settled for saying. She knew she couldn’t bluntly say one of the harsher terms and had always found the technical term to be even more awkward.

“Do you touch yourself, Maya?”

The way he kept saying her name caused tingles to course through her body. She frowned at her own response, disgusted that the sexy, growling tone could affect her at all. What was wrong with her?

Roarke almost laughed as she dropped her gaze from his. From her body language, he knew she did, and that she had been taught it was wrong. “There’s nothing wrong with it. It’s your body. Why shouldn’t you know every creamy inch, curve, indent, and sensitive spot?”

“Can we…? Ask me something else.”

He lifted a shoulder. “As soon as you answer the question. Do you?”

She kept her gaze averted as she jerked her head up and down once.

“Are you good at it?”

Maya’s hazel eyes clashed with his. “What?”

“Can you make yourself come?”

Exasperated, she asked, “Do you think I’d keep doing it if I couldn’t?”

Her answer caught him by surprise, and Roarke laughed aloud. Her disgruntled expression only added to his amusement. He forced the grin from his face, because he knew his next words would piss her off.

“Show me.”

Maya jumped to her feet. “What’s wrong with you?”

“I want to see how you touch yourself, so I’ll know how to touch you when it’s my turn.”

“Why would you care?”

She was honestly puzzled, and Roarke felt the first stirrings of anger for her inconsiderate lover. “I want you to get as much from this as I plan to.”

She couldn’t hold back a snort. “Right.”

He shook his head, but didn’t press the topic. “One of us will be touching you today, Maya. It’s your choice.”

Hot color invaded her cheeks. How was she supposed to choose? It almost seemed easier to let him do it and get it over with than to do something so personal in front of him. However, the thought of his hands on her made her muscles clench. She balled her hands into fists and felt the short nails carve half-moons in her palms. “I’ll do it.”

Roarke watched and tried to remain impassive as she propped pillows against the headboard and lay down. His breath caught in his throat when she parted her legs, and he caught a glimpse of the fine, red-gold curls at the juncture of her thighs. The breath exploded from him in a sharp gasp as she pushed the material aside to slip a finger into her folds.

As he watched, entranced, she began to massage the nubbin shyly peeking out from its hiding place. His eyes flicked to her face, and he saw she was too embarrassed to be aroused. With amusement, he watched her manipulate herself for half a minute before she assumed a twisted expression, shuddered a couple of times, and relaxed.

“Can I go now?”

He laughed. “That performance might fool Bobby, but it won’t work on me. We aren’t leaving until you come—for real this time, please.”

She scowled at him.

“Are you even wet yet?” By the mutinous set of her lips, Roarke knew she planned not to answer. “Shall I find out for myself?” He knew if he touched her, he wouldn’t be able to stop, and that wasn’t part of today’s plan. He had no interest in forcing her. He wanted to seduce every one of the lovely Maya’s senses until she was as desperate for him as he was for her.

With renewed determination, Maya pushed her head back into the pillows, resolved to ignore his presence. She closed her eyes and focused on the sensations that coursed through her body as she caressed her clit. Random erotic images flew through her mind as she got wet. She brought a second finger into play to spread the moisture around and explore her deeper regions.

Maya arched her hips off the bed as she touched herself with an expertise born of practice. She grew wetter as her fingers increased their tempo and brought her closer to the brink.

Roarke wiped at the sweat beaded on his forehead as his amazed eyes soaked up every second of her solo show. His manhood throbbed with each beat of his heart, simpatico with each thrust of her hips. He longed to offer his assistance, but knew any reminder of his presence would shatter her passionate haze, and the temporary illusion that they were both here of their own free will. He couldn’t bite back a moan as she completely encased two of her fingers, and her body started to shake. A cry broke from her, and he knew this was no performance.

She blinked when he moaned, suddenly reminded of his presence. She had almost forgotten he was in the room with her. Even the renewed awareness of his presence couldn’t stem the tide of her orgasm as it washed over her. She shook with fulfillment, while tears leaked from her eyes. For a long moment after the last spasm had passed, she lay on the bed and struggled to regain her breath and composure.

Finally, she lifted her head to find his intent gaze fastened on her. She had expected him to leer, or maybe stroke himself from his front-row seat. Instead, he wore a tender expression. She was too tired to analyze it, or play any more games for the day. “I’m leaving now. If you don’t like it, do your worst.”

Roarke glanced at his watch, amazed that an hour had passed. “You’re free to go—until Tuesday.”

“Don’t remind me,” she muttered as she rolled from the bed. She kept her eyes off him as she grabbed her clothes from the floor and rushed into the bathroom. She stripped the teddy off and kicked it across the floor so she could dress in her own clothes. All the while, she attempted to ignore the uncomfortable dampness in her panties. She would shower at home.

On her way out of the bathroom, Maya saw her reflection and froze. She looked embarrassed, but there was also a glow to her cheeks, and a sated look in her eyes. Her entire body felt relaxed, but she frowned when she realized she was still aroused. With a wordless cry, she denied what she saw in the mirror. She wrenched the door open and ran from the apartment without a word spoken to Roarke. She couldn’t outrun the truth though.

As she flagged a taxi and dropped into the back seat, Maya shied away from admitting that part of her—a very small part—had reveled in having an audience. No. She had not enjoyed the role of sexual plaything thrust upon her. She had hated every minute of it. Only the dampness between her thighs countered her vehement denials of pleasure.