“Blaspheme again, Mr. Chase, and you might lose a toe to my stiletto. Don’t use your words, use your body. Break out of the box and show me you can become Lord Steel.”
He led me through one more box sequence, then broke out into a turn, sweeping me in an elegant circle, resuming the one-two-three pattern of the waltz, but now he was moving us around the room.
It was deeply disconcerting to dance blindfolded. I started to stumble a few times, unsure where he was directing me next, leaving us moving in opposite directions. He managed to steady me and get us back into rhythm, but I could feel how much each misstep was impacting his confidence.
“Stop apologizing,” I murmured when the song came to an end and we waited for the next to begin.
“I didn’t say a word,” he said defensively.
“Not with your mouth, but I can feel you apologizing every time I stumble and asking permission every time you’re about to change it up. Stop asking andmake mefollow. Lord Steel isn’t polite.”
He continued that way for a few more beats and then suddenly I could feel a difference, a latent easy dominance that had been lurking just beneath the surface. His steps lengthened with the intensity of it, and I had to push outside of my comfort zone to keep up, something that would usually be inconsiderate from a dance partner, but that’s precisely what I wanted him to do.
Finally, something clicked between us and he settled into asserting himself, so I instinctively relaxed into submission. Because I trusted him to direct me and he trusted me to follow when he gave a wordless command, I wasn’t stumbling anymore.
We flowed through an exhilarating sequence of movements that ceased to be steps and simply became the push and pull of our bodies. It was what I’d been hoping to build to, but I was astonished by how quickly we’d gotten there.
Apparently, if we didn’t talk or look at each other, we stopped bickering and became a formidable team.
When the song was nearing its conclusion, he spun me around like he owned me, then dropped me into a terrifyingly low dip. To my surprise, I surrendered in his arms, letting him swing me down, trusting he wouldn’t let me fall. He held me there for long seconds, but when the song came to an end, he pulled out of the dip and stopped with our bodies pressed together. We were both out of breath.
“Lucas Steel is in there,” I said without stepping back, not ready to stop touching him. “You just needed permission to let him out to play. I hereby give you permission to be bad.”
He gently pulled the blindfold off, fingertips brushing my cheekbones, I reluctantly dropped my hands and took it, holding on to it like it might keep me from reaching for him again. It felt like I was in subspace, fuzzy and vulnerable, seeking the protective reassurance of my dominant. Which he wasn’t. He was a client.
He said, “For a few minutes there, nothing else existed but the feel of you and of being in control. It let me find a new place in my head for Lucas Steel. Consider me a converted believer in your teaching abilities. I’m in if you are.”
“That really depends…if you seriously prefer the movie, it’s a dealbreaker.”
He laughed. “No lies between us, right? I promise Colin is my Darcy forever and ever.”
I huffed a laugh, but said, “We’ve both got a lot on the line, so it has to go to plan. You can be taught. Can we pretend to like each other long enough to convince people we’re together?”
He tucked a loose piece of hair behind my ear, and for a moment, simply looked into my eyes.
I spent my entire life reading people, trying to understand them, but he was an absolute mystery to me. What did he see through those eyes? A sex worker to be hired and discarded? Just another woman who was attracted to him?
I couldn’t read him, but I saw the instant he made up his mind. He was going to kiss me, rules be damned. He started to lean closer, hesitating to silently ask permission.
And I knew just as clearly that I wasn’t going to stop him. Later, I could’ve tried to tell myself it all happened too fast, but the raw truth was that I wanted him so badly I didn’t care about the consequences.
I was the one who closed the infinitesimal gap to bring our lips together.
He kissed me gently at first, a tender brush of his lips against mine, followed by a deeper kiss, self-assured and sensual. He was even a smug bastard when he kissed.
I gently nipped his bottom lip with my teeth, pulling him closer as our tongues sought each other in a frenzy of lust that had been building the whole time we were dancing. He deftly pushed me backwards until I met the wall, then he weaved his fingers through mine, bringing both my hands above my head and pinning them there, making me arch into him. His lips slanted over mine, covering my breathless moan.
He broke the kiss and pulled back a little, leaving me panting and practically ready to beg him to keep going. I whimpered and leaned forward, but the rumble of his voice stopped me short.
“Do you break the rules with all of your clients, Elena?”
I looked up at him in surprise. His tone was light, but his eyes were searching, like he was trying to figure out what game I was playing. I wished I was in control enough to be playing a game.
I was mortified. In five years, I had literally never broken the rules with a single client, but to voice that denial would only sound defensive.
Jesus Christ, I’d kissed a fucking client. And it was no controlled lip lock for the sake of the cameras. I could hear that pathetic whimpering sound I’d made echoing in my mind. Did he think I was willing to bend the rules because he was Alex Chase? WhywasI willing to bend the rules? My cheeks were burning and I shook my head in frustration with myself.
He misunderstood the gesture and said, “I don’t care if that’s a lie, I want to believe it…”
