When she hadn’t made it home at the allotted time and hadn’t called to say why she was late, he’d felt… He put down his fork and rubbed the center of his chest.

Fuck that. He wanted her. He’d paid for her. He was going to have her.

She needed to be put firmly in her place. He’d punish her for wasting his time. He would have been more productive today if he hadn’t been worrying about her. And for that she would pay.

***

Allie grabbed her wine and drank half the glass. Was he really going to ask her to blow him after dessert? Could she go through with it? She’d told herself a million times that’s why she was here in the first place, but the anticipation was making her crazy.

As she picked at her food, Trevor seemed deep in thought, and whatever he was thinking about didn’t make him happy. He scowled, his fingers white where he gripped the fork. Then suddenly, he laid it down on the side of his plate and rubbed his chest.

Placing her hand on his arm, Allie leaned toward him. “Are you all right? Are you having chest pains?” She was worried about him. Not that he deserved it.

He blinked a few times before glancing at her. Immediately, the scowl was replaced by his taunting smile. He stared into her eyes before gazing down at her hand. “Actually, I was thinking about you crawling under the table and taking me in your throat while I ate my cheesecake.”

Allie snatched her hand back and smiled sweetly. “Just let me know when you’re ready.” Like hell. She had no intention of doing any such thing and would probably poke him with her fork if she thought he was seriously suggesting it. However, it was her fault for stupidly bringing it up in the first place. So, maybe no fork poking. Maybe.

“I think I’m ready now, Miss Campbell. Neither one of us seems to be interested in our food tonight. Let’s retire to the drawing room, shall we?”

She gazed into his hard, gray eyes. Her heart began to pound. This was it, time to put out and shut up.

He stood and moved behind her, pulling her chair back before taking her hand. Leading her out of the dining room and up the stairs, through one hallway and then another, they reached a large room at the back of the house. This room seemed more to Trevor’s taste—long leather couches, book-lined shelves, and tall windows that looked out onto the lighted garden. She wandered around, nervously touching things here and there—the inlaid cigar box on a side table, the globe in a brass base, the bust of some Greek or Roman man with half a nose. The room was dimly lit by one large table lamp in the corner.

Trevor moved to the wet bar by the windows. The lighting left him in the shadows, making his cheekbones more pronounced, giving him a wicked, almost sinister look.

Allie took a deep breath and willed her heart to slow down. He wasn’t going to hurt her. They’d made a deal. “So, what’s the safe word?” Again, she’d blurted it out. She could usually control herself, but around Trevor, she couldn’t keep her mouth shut.

He glanced up as he poured a bit of brandy into a snifter. “Would you like one? The brandy, I mean, not the safe word.”

She nodded and dropped down on one of the sofas. He handed her a glass before sitting across from her.

Swirling the brandy, he studied her. “Afraid I’ll bring out a whip and handcuffs?”

Allie took a sip of her drink, feeling the fire of it burn the back of her throat. “How would I know? No pain though, that was our deal.”

“Right.” He nodded slowly. “So what would be an appropriate safe word, do you imagine?”

Allie shrugged. He made her feel silly for even bringing it up.

“How about ‘ouch’? Will that do, Miss Campbell?” He raised a brow and took a sip from his glass.

“How about ‘stop what you’re doing or I’ll cut your balls off, you bastard’?”

Narrowing his eyes, he pretended to consider it. “Seems a bit wordy.”

She fought a smile. “All right, how about”—her gaze darted around the room and landed on the globe—“Uruguay?”

Grinning, he silently toasted her with his glass. “Uruguay it is. So if I cause you any pain—”

“Or discomfort.”

He nodded, his eyes never leaving hers. “Or discomfort.”

“Or if I feel the slightest bit uneasy.”

His lips thinned. “Now you’re reaching, Miss Campbell.”

“It was worth a shot.”

“To Uruguay.”

She toasted back and took a sip, dropping her eyes to the faded red-and-blue Oriental rug beneath her feet. She couldn’t remember feeling this nervous, not even the first time she had sex. Prom night—Andy Watson. Of course, she had half a bottle of strawberry wine in her to take the edge off her nerves. She took another sip of brandy. Definitely better than strawberry wine.

“Where did you go just now, Miss Campbell?” His voice, sharp and clipped at dinner, was now soft and seductive. Was this how he would sound during sex? She imagined him using that persuasive tone to murmur in her ear, to coax her to come. It would definitely work.

Allie raised her eyes and drank him in—the straight blade of his nose, the intelligent eyes, the hollows beneath his strong cheekbones. So handsome. He was commanding and controlled and at ease with himself. Everything she wasn’t. Everything she wanted to be.

“I’m right here. With you.” And she meant it. She was still nervous, but she was aroused too.

“I’m glad.” They stared at each other until Trevor’s eyes drifted over her, slowly moving from her face all the way down to the tips of her new designer shoes. She felt that look against her skin, like a caress. “By the way, I do like the dress. What are you wearing under it?”

“I believe your people call them knickers.” Allie glanced away, feeling self-conscious, then took a deep breath and looked back. She took another sip of brandy, her hands shaking slightly, her pulse racing.

“Show me.” His voice sounded deeper than usual.

She licked her lips and her nipples got hard. Dazed, she realized he could do that with just his voice, make her breasts ache for his touch.

“Please.” It was the way he said it that got to her. Humble and demanding at the same time.

She placed her glass on the round table and slowly rose to her feet. Her knees were wobbly and her heart pounded. But when he looked at her that way, like he wanted to devour her, she got excited. She wanted him to look at her, to touch her the way he had in the bathtub.

She was surprised at her own reaction. Allie’d never thought much of sex, but she had never met a man as sexual and blunt as Trevor either. She knew it was wrong—this whole situation was wrong—but seeing his beautiful face and imagining what he could do with those strong hands made her damp.

Shutting out all her doubts, all her problems, she focused on this moment. She wanted Trevor for herself, for how he made her feel—like she was the most desirable woman he’d ever seen.

With trembling fingers, she unzipped her dress, letting it pool at her feet. She stood before him in a navy demi bra and matching thong. Her hard nipples probably showed through the transparent lace. The panties were a wisp of silk between her legs.

Trevor’s gaze lingered on her breasts. “Come here.” Setting down his glass, he held out his hand.

She placed her fingers in the center of his palm and took three steps forward until she stood between his long legs. Glancing up at her, he ran his hands along her outer thighs. His gentle touch made her stomach flutter. Then he leaned forward and placed a chaste kiss on the triangle of her thong.

Allie gasped, leaned her head back, and tried to catch her breath. Why that was so erotic, she couldn’t say, but that small kiss made her knees weak.

When he looked up at her again, his cheeks were ruddy. She could feel the heat coming off him in waves. He smelled crisp and woodsy and manly, and she took a deep breath, wanting more.