“Yours?” I repeated.
“Completely,” he said. “With everything that entails. To pleasure. To punish. To tend. I won’t hurt you and I won’t scare you. But I will use you,” he added, as he slipped his hand between my legs and slid two fingers inside me. “For my pleasure and for yours.”
I squeezed my legs around his hand, my body clenching tight, drawing him in farther.
“Agree, and you can dance at Destiny. Say no, and you walk away tonight.”
“I’m at a disadvantage here. I’m naked. Your fingers are inside me.”
“You’re the one who took off your clothes, Sloane. That was your move, remember? I’m only playing the game. And now it’s checkmate.”
He thrust deeper inside me, and as he did, he leaned forward to lightly bite my breast. I gasped in surprise, but also in pleasure.
“I know you like risk,” he said, and there was seduction in his voice. “You like excitement. And, my darling detective, you like the way I make you feel.”
I licked my lips. After what I’d done with him, I could hardly argue.
“You came freely to my room. You stripped when I told you to. You stood naked in a window while I touched you.” His voice, low and hot, swirled around me, teasing and tempting. “And tonight, you took off your clothes in front of other men, but you thought of me.”
I’d been holding his gaze, hot and hard and defiant. But at that last, I looked away. God help me, he was right. Even now, I was having to fight the way he made me feel, the way he heated me up, so that every cell in my body burned for his touch.
But the truth was, I didn’t want to fight it. I liked the way he looked at me. Liked the fact that my nipples got hard when his gaze dipped to my breasts. Liked the fact that the tone of his voice could make my body weak with longing. I’d known lust before; I’d known attraction. But until Tyler, I’d never experienced this wild burning, this desperate, uncontrolled passion that left me hot and needy and alive.
I felt a bit like Pavlov’s dog—one look from him, and my body was primed. One touch, and I all but exploded.
It was unfamiliar and a little unnerving. But I liked it. Christ, how I liked it.
“If I told you to go back to that chair right now, you’d do it.” He spoke matter-of-factly, but I saw the challenge—and the mischief—flash in his eyes. “You’d sit in that chair and spread your legs. And if I asked you to touch yourself—to stroke and tease while I got hard watching your body grow wet and slick, so desperate to sink myself inside you that I couldn’t stand it anymore—if I told you to do that, I think you would.”
My mouth went dry, my body limp.
“Tell me the truth, Sloane. Would you do that for me?”
“Yes,” I whispered, because I already knew he would see a lie.
“Then take the deal.”
“You told me you don’t date the girls who work at the club.”
“I break all kinds of rules, Detective. But not in this case.”
I looked at him, confused. “What do you mean?”
“I’m not going to date you. I’m going to fuck you.”
A shiver ran through me, one I didn’t even bother to hide. “What exactly do you have in mind for me?” I asked.
“If I told you, it wouldn’t be as fun.”
I licked my lips. “Before, you talked about pleasure and passion and even a little fear.”
“I remember.”
“Did you mean it? Or were you trying to shake me because you knew I was a cop?”
“But you are a cop. You must know all about the impact of adrenaline. Of fear. How it heightens sensation, even the sensation of pleasure.”
“I don’t want to be tied up—”
“No,” he said, and the word was infinitely gentle. “I won’t. But I will take you to that edge, Sloane. And if you are willing, I’ll take you over.”
Our eyes locked. I’m not sure how long I stayed lost in the clear blue of his eyes. Then he spoke, softly but firmly. “That’s it. That’s the arrangement. Take it—and make me a very happy man.”
“Arrangement?” I repeated. “That sounds so polite and proper.”
“Are you suggesting I’m neither polite nor proper?”
“Not at all,” I said, then grabbed his collar and pulled my lips to his. “I’m saying flat out that I hope you’re not.” I kissed him hard, then leaned back. “When I agree to something, Mr. Sharp, I go all in.”
His brow quirked up. “I’m very pleased to hear it.”
He stood, then gave me his hand and helped me up. Slowly, he closed the jacket that I still wore, carefully fastening each button. Then he went to his desk and picked up his phone. “Greg, bring me Ms. Watson’s shoes. I imagine they’re still by Stage Four.”
Chapter Sixteen
Tyler went into the hall to meet Greg and, I presumed, to fetch the rest of my clothes as well.
But when he stepped back into the room, all he had were the shoes. “Let’s go,” he said. “Put these on and button that up.”
“Um, I kind of need my clothes.”
He leaned against the closed door. “No. You really don’t.”
I stood and buttoned the jacket, my eyes narrowed. “You’re really going to make me cross through The Drake in this?”
“One, you agreed to the terms.”
“I didn’t realize it applied to wardrobe,” I grumped, making him laugh.
“And two, we’re not heading to The Drake.” A touch of mischief lit his face. “Not yet.”
“Oh.” Fingers of dread—and, yes, of excitement and anticipation—curled through me. “Should I even ask?”
“You can,” he said. “But I won’t tell.”
He moved back to his desk and picked up the phone again. “One more thing, Greg,” he said into the handset as he tossed a ring of keys onto his desk. “Tell Cole the keys to the Ducati are in my office. I need to take the Buick tonight.”
He hung up and looked at me. “I’d lent him the car,” he said. “But I think you’ll be more comfortable in it than on the back of my bike.”
“I wouldn’t mind the bike,” I said, then glanced down at my outfit—or lack thereof. “But I’d need my clothes back.”
“We’ll have to put that on our overall to-do list.” As he looked at me, I saw the flicker of something hot on his face. Then he circled the desk and moved in front of me. I stood just a bit straighter, my body once again primed for his touch, going soft and ready simply from his proximity.