life.”
“It’s not very exciting.”
“You 're the most exciting woman I've come across in a long time.” The way he looked at her when he said it, the way his gaze was locked on hers, almost made her believe him. Then he reached over and brushed the back of her hand with his fingertips. “Tell me.” A quiet order, but one she wasn't about to ignore. “I'm a graphic designer. I design Web sites, logos, whatever the client wants.”
“Do you enjoy your work?”
“I'm my own boss, in control of my pace. The business is doing well, so I don't have to stress about money. And I get to do something I love. I get to create. I love it.” “That's a rare thing, to love what you do.”
“And what do you do, aside from abusing young girls in the Ring?” He grinned crookedly. “I do that for fun. I make my living in the Financial District. Corporate gig. I actually like it. Numbers turn me on.”
“You are kinky.”
He laughed. “You don't even know the half of it. But you will.” God, how could he make her blood run hot, her sex clench, with a simple comment? She had to pull herself together in this public place, before she did something stupid, like slide to her knees at his feet and beg him to touch her, to make her come again.
God.
She took a sip of her coffee, letting the heat of it clear her throat. “Tell me something else, Shaye. Tell me about your family, about growing up. Tell me about your parents.” He shook his head, was silent for a moment. Then he said quietly, “My mother's gone, died when I was six.”
“God, I'm sorry. And your father?”
“I don't talk to him much. He's kind of an asshole.” He went quiet again, and a range of emotions flashed quickly across his features before he got them under control. His face relaxed. “I'd rather hear about you. What was growing up like for you?”
“It sucked, to tell you the truth. My dad left us a long time ago, when I was almost ten. And Mom just... never recovered. She's always been a mess, really. We moved a lot. Always in California, but we must have lived in twelve different cities by the time I got out of high school. I was always the adult in the relationship, had to make sure the bills got paid, that there was food in the house. There wasn't always money in the checking account for rent, which is why we moved so much, I guess. Mom found another husband to take care of her when I was nineteen, so I got away, put myself through college.” “Shit, Devin.”
She shook her head. “No, don't feel sorry for me. It made me who I am, made me strong.”
He said quietly, “That explains a lot about why you're so controlled.
About why yielding to me is so necessary for you.” She hated that he could read her so easily, but she loved that about him at the same time. Frightening and comforting simultaneously. Yes, she did need to yield to him. Whether she liked the idea or not. She could feel her body melting even now, just thinking about that need. She dropped her gaze to the table.
“No, Devin. Look at me. It's okay.”
He raised her chin in his hand, that slow burn running over her skin at his touch. His gaze was dark, penetrating, as though he could see right inside her.
“I want to go, Shaye,” she whispered, knowing he understood exactly what she meant. He slid his hand down, took her hand in his, and that current of
hot electricity ran through her veins. He felt it, too. She could tell
by the way his eyes glittered, by the way he held her gaze. Finally,
he smiled, that dazzling flash of strong white teeth. Her pulse was absolutely racing. “Then we'll go. We'll go to Sanctuary. Next Saturday night. Be ready, Devin, for the night of your life.”
It had been the longest week of his life. He'd gone
to work, done his job, come home and talked to Devin on the phone. But he hadn't seen her. He knew—hell, was afraid—that if he saw her he'd tear her clothes off and fuck her senseless, and still wouldn't be able to get the need for her out of
“It’s not very exciting.”
“You 're the most exciting woman I've come across in a long time.” The way he looked at her when he said it, the way his gaze was locked on hers, almost made her believe him. Then he reached over and brushed the back of her hand with his fingertips. “Tell me.” A quiet order, but one she wasn't about to ignore. “I'm a graphic designer. I design Web sites, logos, whatever the client wants.”
“Do you enjoy your work?”
“I'm my own boss, in control of my pace. The business is doing well, so I don't have to stress about money. And I get to do something I love. I get to create. I love it.” “That's a rare thing, to love what you do.”
“And what do you do, aside from abusing young girls in the Ring?” He grinned crookedly. “I do that for fun. I make my living in the Financial District. Corporate gig. I actually like it. Numbers turn me on.”
“You are kinky.”
He laughed. “You don't even know the half of it. But you will.” God, how could he make her blood run hot, her sex clench, with a simple comment? She had to pull herself together in this public place, before she did something stupid, like slide to her knees at his feet and beg him to touch her, to make her come again.
God.
She took a sip of her coffee, letting the heat of it clear her throat. “Tell me something else, Shaye. Tell me about your family, about growing up. Tell me about your parents.” He shook his head, was silent for a moment. Then he said quietly, “My mother's gone, died when I was six.”
“God, I'm sorry. And your father?”
“I don't talk to him much. He's kind of an asshole.” He went quiet again, and a range of emotions flashed quickly across his features before he got them under control. His face relaxed. “I'd rather hear about you. What was growing up like for you?”
“It sucked, to tell you the truth. My dad left us a long time ago, when I was almost ten. And Mom just... never recovered. She's always been a mess, really. We moved a lot. Always in California, but we must have lived in twelve different cities by the time I got out of high school. I was always the adult in the relationship, had to make sure the bills got paid, that there was food in the house. There wasn't always money in the checking account for rent, which is why we moved so much, I guess. Mom found another husband to take care of her when I was nineteen, so I got away, put myself through college.” “Shit, Devin.”
She shook her head. “No, don't feel sorry for me. It made me who I am, made me strong.”
He said quietly, “That explains a lot about why you're so controlled.
About why yielding to me is so necessary for you.” She hated that he could read her so easily, but she loved that about him at the same time. Frightening and comforting simultaneously. Yes, she did need to yield to him. Whether she liked the idea or not. She could feel her body melting even now, just thinking about that need. She dropped her gaze to the table.
“No, Devin. Look at me. It's okay.”
He raised her chin in his hand, that slow burn running over her skin at his touch. His gaze was dark, penetrating, as though he could see right inside her.
“I want to go, Shaye,” she whispered, knowing he understood exactly what she meant. He slid his hand down, took her hand in his, and that current of
hot electricity ran through her veins. He felt it, too. She could tell
by the way his eyes glittered, by the way he held her gaze. Finally,
he smiled, that dazzling flash of strong white teeth. Her pulse was absolutely racing. “Then we'll go. We'll go to Sanctuary. Next Saturday night. Be ready, Devin, for the night of your life.”
It had been the longest week of his life. He'd gone
to work, done his job, come home and talked to Devin on the phone. But he hadn't seen her. He knew—hell, was afraid—that if he saw her he'd tear her clothes off and fuck her senseless, and still wouldn't be able to get the need for her out of
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