“Breathe, damn it. Don’t you dare pass out on me. Pull it together. You’ve stood up to your asshole ex, meandDrake and didn’t back down despite your repeated claims that we could snap you like a twig, so don’t go soft on me now, for fuck’s sake. You have far too much pride to walk into Drake’s office like this.”
Then he broke off, shaking his head.
“Forget that. You have too much pride for me to have tocarryyou into Drake’s office, which is precisely what’s going to happen if you don’t snap out of it and calm down.”
His voice was whiplike and had the same effect as if someone had cracked one over her skin. Suddenly heat bloomed in her cold cheeks and her throat relaxed, air rushing into and filling her lungs.
She was weak with relief and fast approaching her wall after being carried this far by fear-induced adrenaline. Her knees wobbled andthreatened to buckle, but she shoved off Maddox’s attempts to steady her, opting instead to distance herself from him and prop herself up against the far side of the elevator.
How freaking long did it take for the damn thing to rise what couldn’t be more than a few floors? But then her meltdown and Maddox’s sharp reprimand had lasted mere seconds, though it felt like an eternity.
She was feeling so claustrophobic and humiliated by her ridiculous display of cowardice that she sighed in relief when the elevator halted and the doors swooshed open. And then she realized that she would now be facing a man far more scary and intimidating than Maddox, and after what little Maddox had divulged about his boss, Evangeline knew that Drake would not be pleased to have been kept waiting for over nine hours now.
Maddox had herded her from her position in the back of the elevator, but when she reached the threshold of Drake’s office, she halted abruptly and tried to take a step back, only to collide with Maddox’s massive chest. It took every ounce of pride and discipline she possessed not to groan out loud or do something even more humiliating like burst into tears or have another epic meltdown and pass out at Maddox’s feet.
She took a steadying breath and then steeled herself, her spine going rigid. Her chin thrust upward in defiance and she searched angrily for Drake’s location, determined not to be cowed when their gazes eventually found each other.
She reached back instinctively, before she could stop herself, seeking the reassurance of Maddox’s body with her hand and found... air. Damn it! The man was a veritable escape artist. This was the second time he’d “escorted” her up to Drake’s lair and then disappeared into thin air. She hadn’t even registered the elevator doors closing. And now she was trapped with a man Maddox had flat-out told her did not like to be kept waiting and expected absolute compliance with his every order.
Well, hell. She closed her eyes, giving up on the idea of boldlyseeking out Drake—wherever he was lurking—and refusing to back down from his stare.
•••
“You’re late,” Drake said, allowing his displeasure to sound in his statement.
But even as he issued the admonishment, he took in her appearance and the fact that she was obviously exhausted and dead on her feet. She could barely remain upright in those ridiculous heels and looked like she’d take a header at any second.
He knew well why she hadn’t been at her apartment at seven as he’d instructed. She’d gone to work in a damn pub and been on her feet for hours in shoes that amounted to an accident waiting to happen. She was pale, and fatigue was etched in every facet of her face.
With a muttered curse, he stalked to her, gently took her arm and then promptly guided her to the couch. He planted both hands on her shoulders and pushed her downward so she had no choice but to sit.
“Lie back and relax,” he said tersely.
Then he went to one bended knee and removed her shoes, swearing again when he saw how swollen her feet were. She looked utterly bewildered, her eyes wide as though this were the last thing she’d expected. But then he hadn’t exactly done much to convince her he wasn’t a heartless, cold bastard, some kind of monster who’d pounce on her at the first opportunity.
Without a word, he began to massage one foot, taking care not to hurt her or cause her discomfort.
She emitted a soft moan and for a moment, her eyes closed and she sagged, some of the tension evaporating from her body. He worked on the first foot, covering every inch and paying special attention to her tender arches. Then he turned his focus to the other, giving it equal care.
He watched her intently, absorbing every reaction and the sheerpleasure reflected on her face. She was so fucking responsive. Absolutely honest, no faking. She was genuine to her toes and so damn beautiful his balls ached.
Last night had given him a hard-on he’d carried the entire night, making sleep impossible because every time he closed his eyes, he tasted her, smelled her, could hear her soft cries of ecstasy, and he replayed having her spread out before him on his desk like a goddess being offered up as the most priceless of treasures. Certainly nothing money could buy and nothing a man with his power could produce on command, and that was something rare and precious indeed. Something worth a thing he wasn’t used to demonstrating. Patience.
It had taken every ounce of his restraint not to tear his pants down and plunge so deeply into her that she would feel him to her soul. He still wondered why he hadn’t. Only the nagging warning in the back of his mind telling him he had to tread carefully with her and not push her too hard, too fast, had kept him from slaking his hunger without regard for whether he scared the holy hell out of her. She’d been freaked out enough by him going down on her. It was equally obvious that her only lover—her dickhead ex—hadn’t given her anything. He’d just taken. Her ex had let go of something most men would kill for, but Drake didn’t spare an ounce of pity for the idiot. His loss was Drake’s gain, and he intended to move in, take over and make damn sure that from now on she was in his bed, under his command. And by God, she’d never go without anything in his power to provide her.
He let his hands slide leisurely from her foot and she murmured a light sound of protest.
“Why the hell are you working yourself to death in that shithole bar every night?” he asked bluntly.
She made a huffing noise and glared at him.
“You could at least continue the fabulous foot massage if you’re going to interrogate me,” she said in a disgruntled voice.
He nearly laughed before he caught himself. He didn’t laugh often, and when he did, it wasn’t usually out of amusement. People tended to get nervous when he laughed. Nor did he smile. But he was amused by her show of bravado. She was intimidated, and uncertainty was evident in her body language, but she was damned if she was going to show it. Good. The last thing he wanted was a meek doormat. Yes, he demanded obedience and submission, but that didn’t equate to his woman being a mindless robot, programmed to do his bidding with no thoughts or opinions of her own. He liked her fire. And her pride. He liked that most of all because it was a trait he was intimately familiar with and respected.
He closed his palms around the other foot and resumed his gentle ministrations.
“You going to answer my question now?” he asked in a deceptively mild tone.
