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“If you want to talk about it, I’m an excellent listener.”
After swallowing, she was in control again. “Thank you.” She left it at that. Watching her mother’s pain had taught Hope to avoid dependence on a man. Keeping her fractured soul buried was still the best way to accomplish that. “Shall we?”
He let her go, and she turned the knob, then locked the door behind them when they were in the hallway.
“I’m happy to drive us,” he said when they reached the elevator.
Being in an enclosed space with him? No escape? Breathing him in? “I thought we’d take separate cars.”
“It will be easier if we’re in one. Then we can make plans for whose house we will go to.”
Once again, she reminded him, “I haven’t said yes.”
“And you haven’t said no.”
The elevator doors slid open, and he ushered her inside.
“So tell me, Ms. Malloy—” He turned to her, backed her into the corner, then pinned her arms above her head, her purse dangling from her fingers. She gasped as he dragged her skirt hem up her thighs and burrowed his fingers beneath her panties to find her damp pussy. He stroked her clit, hard, just this side of brutal. “Am I a sadist?”
She gasped, and Rafe smiled in sweet victory.
Maybe he wasn’t a sadist in the strictest sense of the word. Until now, he would have denied that he was. Yet nothing ignited him like the soft sounds of her gasps and her sweet little whimpers. Her cries were the icing on top. “Could you come for me right now?” He pinched her clit.
“God, Rafe…” Her words were a whimper. Her golden-hazel eyes were wide as she looked to him for guidance and permission. “Yes. Yes. I could.”
Her pretty little pleas would echo in his ears for the rest of the night. He slid his finger inside her cunt.
“I…” Like the best kind of horny and helpless sub, she ground her pelvis against his hand.
He found her G-spot, pressed it, played with her clit even harder, waited for her breaths to turn to gasps. Then he pulled away his hand.
She sagged forward, and he caught her. “You can’t mean to leave me like this.”
“Yes. I can.” He removed his hand from beneath her skirt, helped her to stand, then smoothed back her hair as the elevator swooshed to a stop.
“You are a sadist.” She strode ahead of him across the lobby. He let her, enjoying the crisp click of her high-heeled shoes on the marble and the sight of her stiff spine as she took steps as long as her tight-fitting skirt allowed.
At the glass door, she paused.
“I’ve changed my mind about orgasm denial.”
“Pity. I enjoy what it does to you. All that tension. Frustration. Even the anger.” He reached around her to grab hold of the oversize handle. “My car is parked at the curb.”
She shivered.
He schooled his features, so he didn’t grin. Houston’s ever-present spring humidity draped them like a wet woolen sweater. “Looks like rain.” And he wouldn’t mind if she got drenched.
Not responding, she strode through the exit.
Using his remote control, he unlocked his SUV, then opened the passenger door. He offered his hand to assist her, but she didn’t accept. Instead, she slid in and clutched her bag in front of her as if it were a lifeline.
“Perhaps you’d like to hike up your skirt and masturbate without coming while I drive to the restaurant?”
Her mouth formed an adorable O.
“No?” he asked. “You’d prefer not to? Then I suggest you be grateful for the orgasms I give you rather than express your displeasure when I withhold them.” He closed her inside the vehicle.
When he slid behind the wheel, she was still looking straight ahead.
Since it was so late in the evening, the drive to the seafood restaurant on Westheimer took less than fifteen minutes.
The valet took the car, and Myrna, the owner herself, greeted them. When she learned that it was Hope’s first visit to the Bluewater Bistro, Myrna signaled for an employee to bring over a rose, then guided them to a quiet corner at the back of the dining room. Rather than a table, they’d been given a booth, so he could slide in close to his still-pouting matchmaker.
