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  If she wasn’t on such a tight deadline, she would have cried in gratitude. Maybe Ethan did know her, perhaps better than she knew herself. Knew her, understood her…and accepted her for it.

  She couldn’t wait to see him again. And thank him in person…in whatever manner he desired.

  * * *

  An hour later, her goal hadn’t changed. She just wondered if Ethan’s had.

  “Estas loco, Archer?” she muttered as she slid down the town car’s window and peered up…then up some more. The storm was still raging, and the rain sluiced down thirty floors’ worth of flawless mirrored windows like a modern age waterfall. At ground level, embedded into a sculpture of chrome and glass, was an emblem that swirled an archery bow into a big letter A. The Archer Systems logo.

  The door upon which she was leaning was pulled open. The hotel’s driver stood there, suspending an umbrella for her. As the guy’s gaze settled on her face, he frowned. “Is there a problem, Ms. Chestain?”

  Except for the fact that she’d been summoned to a sterile corporate monolith tucked behind two security gates, instead of a discreet dungeon somewhere in the bohemian belly of San Francisco? No “problem” at all.

  “I’m sorry, Brandon.” She attempted a smile. “You’re getting soaked because I can’t stop being nervous.”

  “It’s okay. Do you have everything you need?”

  “I think so.” She glanced inside her little red purse, which perfectly matched the shade of her dress, a simple but stunning D&G design with a fitted V neck and a flowing skirt. Yes, Ethan had picked the clutch for her as well. He’d even made sure to stock it with a mini tube of lube, which had done all sorts of things to her anticipation level about this “meeting.”

  Which now seemed like it was going to be a real meeting. She wondered if she’d needed to bring a pad and paper for taking minutes.

  Way to orchestrate a buzz kill, Sergeant.

  Brandon walked her to the vestibule of the building’s entrance and then buzzed for the receptionist to receive her. Ava tried to take a few calming breaths. A few moments later, a curvy redhead who wore a dress that looked authentically vintage gave her a dazzling smile as she opened the door. “Good morning. You must be Ms. Chestain. I’m Ashley. It’s so nice to meet you.”

  “It…is?” She couldn’t hide her puzzlement. She’d expected a more glacial greeting from the receptionist and the building. Instead, Ashley’s demeanor reflected the atmosphere of the lobby, understated yet warm.

  Ashley chuckled. “Of course. Please come in. Mr. Archer’s expecting you.” She flashed a conspiratorial grin. “Eagerly, I would also say—although you didn’t hear that from me.”

  “Of course not.”

  She didn’t get a chance to exchange more than that with the woman, since the elevator dinged as soon as they got to it. “This is the express to the penthouse,” the woman explained. Ava wished that news came as a surprise—or removed even one of the needles assaulting her nerves now. Instead, it added a thousand more.

  She didn’t feel any better once the doors opened at the end of the elevator’s bullet-fast climb.

  Another receptionist, a pixie with short black hair who also introduced herself as Ashley, was just as accommodating as Ashley the First as she led the way to a massive, industrial-style door inset with shards of polished glass. “Go on in,” she instructed. “He’s expecting you.”

  The words resounded in her head as she pushed open the door. Did everyone in the damn building know that Ethan was expecting her today? Even, as Lobby Ashley had asserted, “eagerly?”

  Ethan turned as soon as she walked in. He stood in front of a floor-to-ceiling window next to a sprawling desk that was topped by a stunning slab of gray and black marble. In front of the desk were three ergonomic chairs with gray leather that looked soft enough to sleep in. Eight high-backed versions of the chairs were positioned around a spacious conference table with laptop drop spaces and charging portals for every electronic device on the planet.

  All of it was nearly as beautiful as he was.

  The deep-blue business suit was clearly custom, probably Isaia or Ralph Lauren, and turned his tall, muscled frame into a jaw-dropping business silhouette. His flawless white shirt and cobalt silk tie made his tanned skin stand out, though the contrast was helped by the fact that he’d bypassed his morning shave, giving his jaw more definition with cliffs of scruff. Before she could stop it, her imagination took over, thinking about what those coarse hairs would feel like against her lips as she worked her way along the base of his face in eager nips and kisses…

  As her gaze rose to the rest of his face, her fantasy halted. Then shattered.

  Lobby Ashley had overstretched with her assessment. He was “eagerly” expecting her? There was nothing “eager” about the smooth smirk that came and went across his lips. And the unflinching concentration in his deep-blue gaze? It wasn’t eagerness by the longest shot in the book. Even the angle of his head was defined by serene command.

  Once more, her senses downed a shot of pure arousal—with an anxiety chaser. Did this trip to the clouds mean she was about to experience paradise or judgment day?

  “Hi there. Welcome to Archer Systems.” His tone was as composed as his stance.

  “Thank you,” she murmured. After trying a couple more steps, she stopped. He’d selected a stunning pair of Jimmy Choos for her, but the things weren’t great about supporting knees of jelly.

  “You look incredible.”

  She didn’t know how to respond to that. He said it as if he could’ve been standing there with a spreadsheet in hand, commenting on random numbers. “Thank you,” she repeated, feeling ridiculous. After trying to recover with a shrug, she blurted, “Now that we’ve got that out of the way—”

  “Did you wear everything I laid out for you?”

  His emphasis on everything left her no doubt about his meaning this time—and had her battling another wave of frustration. The only items left to discuss about her ensemble were the black thigh-high fishnet stockings accompanied by a red and black garter belt. The logical completion pieces for the lingerie, panties and a bra, had both been missing. Despite the burning temptation to level a zinger at him for that, she pulled in a steady breath and replied, “Of course…Sir.”

  “Let me see.”

  The spreadsheet voice again. His CEO pose continued too. Keeping her eyes locked on his chest but letting him see her exasperated grimace, she set down her purse and shirked her coat. His utter stillness betrayed how intently he watched each of her moves, causing her sex to pulse and her breasts to tauten. Her stiff nipples pushed at the dress’s soft fabric, more than proclaiming her lack of a bra. So much for having to elaborate on that one.

  “Beautiful,” he commented. “What about the rest?”

  She let him see her squirm. “I followed your directions, Ethan. I—”

  “Then let me see.” He broadened his posture and cleared his throat. “Lift your skirt, Ava, and let me see.”

  Spreadsheet voice was gone. Dominant voice had replaced it. Which, of course, made every cell in her pussy wetter and hotter as soon as she pulled up her skirt to let him confirm her obedience. “Satisfied?” she snapped.

  “Quite. Thank you.”

  As she let the fabric fall, her cheeks flamed with heat. Unable to contain her vexation anymore, she slammed her hands to her hips and glared straight at his face. “What the hell is going on, Ethan? Why are we here? And why are you acting like…that?” Because I’m caught between being completely creeped out and completely turned-on right now, and I’ll crawl out of my skin if a decision isn’t made soon.

  He came closer by two measured steps. A shrug actually slid across his shoulders. “I just figured one good wall deserved another.”

  She turned her gaze down again. Shook her head. He didn’t elucidate on it because he didn’t have to. They both knew what he meant. “You went through all this trouble, put me through all this trouble, to talk about my walls
?”

  “I yanked us both out of our comfort zones.” He pounded out every word with the confidence of Thor throwing his hammer. “You can’t tear down walls without shaking up the foundations.”

  She gulped. He’d hurled the hammer, broken up the concrete, and it all landed in the center of her chest. “Okay, listen. I didn’t intentionally keep you out last night. It was—”

  “I know what it was. And for last night, it was okay. Emotional survival isn’t a crime. But this is a new day. And all of this”—he swept a hand to indicate the scope of the room—“might be a lot of my days, in a few years. I won’t be humping a ruck, hurling out of planes, and sneaking up on the bad guys forever, sunshine. One day, my way of giving back to the world might be from this office. You’re going to have to be okay with that.” He moved close enough to touch her now, and he did. With his hand tugging up on her chin, he uttered, “We’re here to get to the bottom of things and make it okay.”

  Ava tried to pull back, at least a little. The potency of his gaze was too much now, going too deep, and recognizing too much of the territory in her soul that it observed. “Fine,” she retorted. “It’s all okay, and I’m okay with it. It’s not even happening yet, so can’t we just move on?”

  “No.” His fingers tightened around the tip of her chin. “We can’t.”

  “Damn it—”

  “Look at me, Ava.” He shocked her by suddenly releasing her. Just as vehemently, he shot away and spread his arms. “Look. At. Me!” His breath pushed in and out of his chest in harsh surges. After a second, he shook his head. “Yeah. Just what I thought. You glare at this suit and tie the same way you once did my uniform and dog tags. Pulling out your preset labels about the image, along with the mental walls to stick them on, just like you did in LA back in June.”

  “Then stop me.” It was half-snarled retaliation, half-shouted plea. She jammed her arms down to her sides. “Stop me like you did then. Make me tear off the labels and rip them up. Make me see.” She raised one of her fists, her muscles trembling from resisting the urge to pummel him with it. “You summoned me here, dressed in the clothes you specified, to this building, to this room you completely control. It doesn’t get any better than this, Archer. You want to shake up my foundations? Make my walls fall?” She put those two words into mocking air quotes. “Then do it. Sir.”

  Wind rushed the window, a wild contrast to the unnerving silence that he returned to her rant. She’d pushed something in the man, though. The midnight shadows that crept into his gaze, along with the tight line that was now his mouth, told her as much.

  She supposed she should have been scared, but that shit was hard to scrape up when fury still reigned in her blood. Did he think he’d get her to open up about everything just by dictating her wardrobe, pulling the big, bad CEO card, and teasing about the pleasure she’d get if she was a good girl? She was a long way from twelve years old. Sitting in the principal’s office didn’t make her tremble anymore. If he wanted her attention, he was going to have to—

  Take control.

  Exactly like he did now.

  Oh cielos, how he did…

  One even step forward. A subtle tilt to his head. A new squaring of his shoulders. Innocuous little moves, yet within a handful of seconds, they lent the outward enforcement of a powerful aura that now flowed off him like smoke from a rocket on countdown. His entire face smoldered with that same smoke. His stance widened with its latent power. And he lifted one of his hands with its elegant command, curling one finger at her in wordless bidding.

  Like that finger was a damn sheep hook, Ava was helpless in his thrall. By the time she stepped within arm’s distance of him again, the mush in her knees had spread upward. Her thighs ached, her sex clenched, her pussy trickled anew. Like a magnet that recognized its polar pull, every inch of her body identified its need for his…every corner of her soul acknowledged its match to his.

  “Take off the dress.”

  She didn’t argue. She barely hesitated. Her resistance and anger slipped away as easily as the dress, left behind in the crimson puddle at her feet. She dropped her head, taking quiet delight in the low, approving rumble from his chest. The only sound she gave in return was a high sigh as Ethan brushed his knuckles across both her breasts, coaxing their tips to stand up higher for him. Yes. Yes…

  “Say it,” he growled, as if his mind had a window into hers. “You want me to do it? You want me to topple your walls, Ava? Then tell me—and make it count.”

  Ruthless man. Incredible Master.

  He knew how to bring her heart and spirit home, beneath his rule, willingly merging her will with his. “Yes.” Desperation turned it more into a gasp than a word. “Sí. Mi maestro. Sí.”

  She raised her head a little, wanting him to kiss her. Dios, needing the command of his mouth on hers. Ethan pressed closer, letting her nude flesh feel how close he was, filling her senses with his scent, a masculine mix of rain and pepper and arousal. She let her lips part a little, her balance swaying as she anticipated the heady invasion of his tongue on hers.

  It didn’t come.

  He swiped one of his thumbs across her mouth instead. The stroke was a rough precursor to the push he gave the digit all the way in, making her moan from the salty taste of his skin. Ethan’s graveled growl harmonized with her as he pumped his flesh in and then back out, a primal emulation of what she hoped he planned on doing to other parts of her body…with other parts of his.

  “Come here,” he finally directed. He left his thumb in her mouth while clasping the back of her head with his other hand and pulled her back to the conference table. The treatment was feral and brutal, a collar and leash short of yanking her like a naughty pet—and she loved every moment of it.

  Ruthless man. Incredible Master.

  Only Ethan could do this for her. He knew when she needed things harsh, as well as the perfect limits to which he could push without going over. Sometimes she wondered if the man possessed a secret mental drone that he sent into her mind on recon missions when she was sleeping, taking pictures of all her secret sexual fantasies. If that was the case, then she officially gave him clearance for more flights.

  There was a chair at the head of the conference table, styled in the same fashion as the others only bigger and statelier. It might as well have had Commander etched into its leather back, since that was blatantly its purpose.

  He let her go in order to pull the chair out and settle into it, his legs braced apart, both hands sprawled around the armrest ends. He was a warrior of Wall Street crossed with a starship captain, making her more achingly aware of how she stood before him, naked except for her fishnets and wanting him in about five hundred ways. Craving to do things for him…if he’d only let her…

  “Kneel.”

  Starting with that.

  She lowered as gracefully as she could until she was on both knees before him. When he widened his thighs, she looked up, grateful to see a whirlwind in his eyes that urged her closer. Mierda. With the midnight intent of his gaze, the tension working beneath the scruff along his jaw, and the thick hair falling over his forehead, he was pure carnality poured into human form. She couldn’t stop staring, and she was glad he let her.

  He kept her gaze bound to his as he lowered his hands to the fly of his pants. The clink of his belt and the grind of the zipper made physical imprints on her senses, making her shiver as violently as if he’d reached down and stroked her trembling clit. She didn’t even try to hide her gasping reaction. As if she’d want to. The moment she sighed, it unleashed more signs of desire on his face, twining the ribbons of connection tighter between them, inciting one pleading word to her lips.

  “More.”

  Ethan’s face hardened in all the most perfect ways. As he scythed into her with the power of his gaze, he sliced out a hand into her hair and around her nape. He pulled hard, guiding her down, undaunted in his command—

  Giving her exactly what she needed.

  As the be
autiful bulge in his underwear grew beneath her gaze, he growled one more perfect order. “Take it.”

  Ruthless man. Incredible Master.

  All hers. Hot. Hard. Delicious.

  Chapter Four

  He’d gone to heaven.

  Ethan pushed out a weak laugh. That had to be the most shallow, stupid, guy kind of thing to think. But he’d be hard-pressed to remember—yeah, he really was going there—any other moment in his life when he yearned to stop the clock for a very long time.

  She’d always been so fucking good to him with her mouth, but now…it was like Ava had never tasted him before today. With every thrust of her mouth on his cock, she pulled and sucked and licked with serious care, as if trying to memorize every inch of his penis via her throat. He felt adored, even worshipped. He was warmed in ways that went beyond biology. There was music beyond her sweet little hums, vibrating through the sensitive mushroom at his tip until he had to clench his thighs to hold his climax back. And he swore there was magic in her fingertips as she tunneled beneath his pants and clutched his hips, gripping for purchase as he controlled her pace with his hold on her ponytail.

  Control. Wasn’t that the ironic word of the day? He was fast losing his, falling spellbound to this woman, who awed him with her sincere need to please, with how her desire seemed to mount in proportion to his.

  On a tight grunt, he finally pulled her back. Ava moaned in protest, but he secured her head tighter. “Eyes up here,” he directed—though when she complied, exposing him to the depths of her gaze, he almost regretted the instruction. Her indigo irises belonged on a she-cat, radiating nothing but raw animal need. “Damn,” he grated. “You’re really hungry for this, aren’t you, sunshine?”

  Like the feline she so potently evoked, she gave him a little nod. “Oh yes, Sir.”

  He arched one brow at her in a deliberate taunt. “Even though we’re in the penthouse office, and I’m in this suit, and the kitchen will probably be bringing us lobster tails for lunch?”