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Her eyes rounded. “I just assumed you didn’t want sex in all that time.”
“I didn’t want the baggage. The reminder. I missed the orgasms. But it’s not a matter of a cold shower or taking care of things on my own, not now. Not when all I can think of is what’s missing.” The words were broken, scraped his throat raw on the way out. “The way you feel, the way you smell. The way you touch me. You have ruined things for me.”
“Oh, gee, well, thanks.”
“I want you. Now.” Need. It was so much more than want. It was need.
“I…” For a moment, just a moment, she looked like she might say no, and he couldn’t bear it. He was shaking inside, with need, with…he didn’t even know what.
“On our original terms,” he said. “I give the orders, and you say yes.”
Control would help. Control was what he needed. A way to make this all make sense. A way to make it something he recognized. Something he could deal with.
Julia looked into Ferro’s eyes, black, haunted, endless. A man who was wounded, hunted. She could see it. Feel the desperation. He was demanding control because it was the only thing holding him together.
Because it was the only way he could handle things between them.
“Yes,” she said. An agreement she shouldn’t make, but one she needed just as badly as he did.
“Take your top off,” he said.
“Here?” she asked, looking out the windows at the beach. It was a private beach, but even so.
“Modesty from the woman who went stargazing on my roof naked?”
Yes, but that had been different. A moment of connection and sweetness rather than this…intensity that was arcing between them.
“This was not a request, Julia, it was an order. Take off your top, or I am going to leave.”
She caught an even more revealing glimpse then. Of his frayed control. Of the reason behind the orders. And it hit her then that for all his dominant manner, Ferro wasn’t the one in control of this moment. She grabbed the hem of her sweater and pulled it up over her head.
He looked at her breasts, covered by a black bra, and smiled. This wasn’t a light, charming smile. This one was dark. Wicked. Perfect.
“Now your pants.”
She obeyed this time without needing prompting, pushing her sweatpants down her legs and kicking them to the side, the game, the intensity, arousing her past the point of reason.
“Now,” he said, “I want you to go upstairs. Walk ahead of me. Don’t turn around.”
She sucked in a breath and turned away from him, walked toward the curved staircase. She felt completely on display. The stairs were open all the way up to the second floor, making the most of the view. But now, she had the feeling she was the view.
She felt powerful, and vulnerable, weak and strong, at the same time. But then, being with Ferro had that effect on her. With him she felt more secure than she ever had, and more terrified of where her life was heading than she ever had. Happier with what she had, more afraid of the potential loss.
Loss was the only place this could end.
She swallowed hard and kept walking, the marble floor cold beneath her feet, and Ferro’s steps hard and purposeful behind her.
She opened her bedroom door and paused, waiting for her next order, her heart pounding in her ears.
“Get on the bed,” he said. “Look straight ahead.”
She walked to the bed and got on it, as instructed.
“Go to the center, on your knees.”
She obeyed again, her hands trembling as she did. She heard his footsteps behind her, felt the mattress depress as he got on the bed.
She felt the hot press of his mouth in the center of her shoulder blades and she shivered, pleasure streaking through her like a lightning bolt. She started to turn.
“No,” he said. “Look ahead.”
She took a breath and tried to keep her gaze focused on the curtains in front of her.
“Do these open by remote?”
She nodded.
“Where?” he asked.
“Over there.” She indicated a button by the nightstand, and Ferro pressed it. The curtains parted to reveal the ocean, the moon glimmering on the surface of the waves.
“There,” he said, “now you have a view to keep you occupied.”
