Down on Her Knees Page 6

  She plucked at her shirt and took a deep breath. If she kept touching her clothes, maybe it would help her remember that even though he was looking at her like she was naked, she wasn’t actually nude.

  Maybe.

  It’d be fine. The others would be here in five minutes tops and then it would all go back to normal.

  “Hey, Courtney.”

  Why did he insist on saying her name like that? Like he was even giving the syllables oral or something.

  “Nice shirt,” he said, his gaze skimming over her figure and leaving a trail of fire in its path.

  “Hey. Where is everybody?” She ignored his last comment and focused instead on hitching her purse up on her shoulder. With a deep breath, she willed herself to meet his stare. Mistake. If she didn’t feel naked before, she sure as hell did now. The worst part of it all was that she wasn’t sure whether she wanted to cross her arms over her chest or stretch them above her head so he could get the full view.

  “Cat just texted me. Didn’t she tell you? They’re not coming. Some kind of work thing came up.”

  Nerves made her throat go instantly dry, and she swallowed hard. Some kind of work thing, huh? Sounded really important. She made an internal note to murder Cat.

  “Interesting. Galen and Lacey can’t make it either.”

  They stared at each other in silence. What now? Surely this broke all the rules they’d set from the start. Her stomach twisted as she thought over her options. She could go in with him and eat enough funnel cake to get herself seriously ill so she could leave. Or, she could create a superhero alter ego and say that she was needed back at the lair ASAP to meet up with her sidekick, or the city was doomed.

  “Are you coming or what?” He was a yard away from her, his body twisted in a way that highlighted his incredible jawline and the way his jeans clung to his powerful thighs. God help her. Even in the horrendous carnival lighting, he looked like something out of a fitness magazine.

  Decisions, decisions. “I, uh—”

  He crossed the space between them in an instant, grasping her wrist before she had time to acknowledge the contact. “Look, it’s not like either of us planned this. What would we have done a month ago in this situation?”

  “Nothing, I guess. Hung out at the carnival, maybe.”

  He raised his dark brows and eyed her, and she pulled at her T-shirt with her free hand. The sheer electricity of his presence had her heart thumping in overtime. How was she supposed to handle an entire evening like this? Four scenes was one thing. Pure fantasy, never to cross over into reality. A date, intentional or not, was something else entirely.

  “Look, we had a deal. I don’t want to mess it up. Or something.” She mentally gave herself a high five for eloquence. She was nothing if not articulate.

  His lips quirked in a crooked smile, and he led her toward the entrance. “Let’s not put more on this than there has to be. It’s a night at the carnival between friends, not a proposal, okay?”

  Maybe it was his freakish height. Or the mind-melding power of his gaze. She couldn’t pinpoint why. All she knew was that she nodded her agreement before the rest of her body had time to weigh in on a decision. Within minutes, they were strolling through the grounds, marveling over the assortment of weird food carts.

  “Tempura-fried Twix bars with bacon bits?” He pointed to a stand where a small rotund man was passing out carton after carton of greasy goodness or grossness, depending upon a person’s preference. “We have to try that.”

  “I think I’ll pass, thanks.” She scrunched up her nose and he laughed, flashing his brilliantly white smile. God, there had to be one thing about him for her to focus on to get through the rest of the night. Couldn’t his nose have been crooked at least, or his shoulders not broad enough? Something, anything, to distract her from the fact that he looked like he’d fallen out of the sky in search of his hammer.

  “Suit yourself.” He shrugged and walked ahead, the back side of him reminding her that yes, he was perfect from that angle as well. Frustrating.

  She had to find something to distract herself. Something for them to do. Something for her to think about besides how warm his hand had felt around her wrist.

  “Hey, you wanna play a game?” She stopped short, looking around to take stock of where she was. There were rows of carnival games on either side of them—balloon darts, water guns, goldfish—all the classics. One of the attractions was sure to grab his attention.

  “Which prize do you want?” he asked, one of his signature cocky smiles already splitting his face.

  “What makes you so sure you can win?” She grinned in spite of herself. And why not? They were friends. Sort of. People had fun with their friends.

  The grin threatened to morph into semi-hysterical laughter for a second before she got hold of herself again.

  “I’m an expert at carnival games.”

  She rolled her eyes and gestured toward the goldfish. “I think I can win a fish by myself.”

  “And if you can’t? What do I get?”

  A familiar sense of terror and excitement spread through her, and she found herself backing away, her hands held up in surrender. “Oh no, I’ve already been to this rodeo. I’m not going there.”

  “Come on, what are you, chicken?” He was baiting her, and she’d be stupid to fall for it. And yet, his words dug at her. She lowered her hands and planted them on her hips, eyeing him.

  “I’m not chicken. I just have a code that precludes me from taking on two dares at once,” she lied.

  “We’ll make it super low stakes, then. How about if you don’t win a fish for yourself and I win one for you, then you have to ride the Ferris wheel with me.”

  Her fear of heights was legendary. She got scared when she jumped a little too high. And still…she’d promised herself that her time with Rafe would be pure fantasy. A break from reality. A way to stretch her wings, face her fears, and gain back some of the confidence she’d lost. No reason for her not to stick to that part of the plan, even if tonight hadn’t exactly been part of their arrangement.

  “You’ve got a deal.”

  She sidled up to the little red booth and dug her feet in like a pitcher on the mound. This was for more than a pet with a four-day life span. This was for honor. For glory. For women who were afraid of heights everywhere.

  She slapped her money on the counter and had half a mind to spit on the ground like a baseball pro. Instead, she tossed Rafe what she hoped was a saucy smirk and he had the courtesy to look entirely unimpressed. Whatever. The proof would be in the pudding.

  The carnie sat three ping-pong balls in front of her and she nodded to him in thanks.

  “Are you ready to see how a pro does it?” she asked.

  “Is someone going before you?” He laughed at his own joke and she wound up, pitching the ball clean over all of the goldfish bowls until it landed on the other side of the booth, on the grass, with a little plop. A kid around the age of five picked it up and tossed it back into the game, landing the ball directly in one of the bowls.

  “Mommy, look,” he said, “I did it.”

  His mother pulled him along, her lids already half-closed in exhaustion.

  “That counts,” Courtney said earnestly.

  “Like. Hell.”

  She abandoned her attempt at swaying Rafe and leveled a wide-eyed pout at the carnie in a bid for sympathy, but he only laughed and shook his head. Men. They always stuck together.

  “It’s fine. I was just warming up. Sometimes I’m too powerful for my own good.”

  She licked her forefinger to test the wind and then tossed the second ball. It landed squarely in the middle of the group of fish bowls, but it landed in none of them.

  “Do you want me to blow really hard and see if it moves?” he goaded.

  “Nope.” Now she was bound and determined. She ground her feet into the grass, practicing the arc of her throw a few times, mentally cuing up the theme from Rocky for inspiration. “It’s a
ll in the follow-through.”

  “I’ve heard that,” Rafe said on a probably fake yawn.

  “You’ll see.” She narrowed her eyes at him and flicked her wrist.

  In fact, she flicked her wrist so hard that the ball landed directly behind her in the grass.

  “Wow, you got me there. I did not see that one coming.”

  She scrambled for the ball, but he snatched it from her before her fingers made contact.

  “Let me show you how a real pro does it.”

  He assumed the position, and just as he was about to make his move, she shouted, “Wait! Behind the back. Double or nothing.”

  Ha. Let him try that. There was no way he’d—

  Plunk.

  She wasn’t sure whether the sound was from the ball connecting with the water in the fishbowl or if it was simply the sound of her heart dropping into her stomach. Without pausing to even eyeball the distance, he’d turned and sunk the ball in the nearest bowl, no questions asked. A perfect shot.

  “I thought I’d save you the humiliation of continuing.” He winked at her and took the goldfish from the carnie. “Now you just have to decide what to name him. Personally, I like Gil. Seems a good name for a fish.”

  “Were you always like this and I just never noticed?” she asked, sprinting to meet up with him in the line for tickets.

  “Charming? Witty?”

  Exactly. She’d seen him interact with the others in the group that way, with jokes and lighthearted banter, but between them, things always felt heavy and tense. This was the first time she’d been on the receiving end of this side of Rafe, and she was liking it far more than she should have. Not that she was about to tell him that.

  “Irritating.”

  “Yes.” He exchanged his money with the teller at the window and sauntered away, already making a beeline for the Ferris wheel. “But your insults won’t distract me. Come on, chicken.”

  She hung back for a moment to pull herself together. Deep, soothing breaths, she reminded herself. Instead of facing one fear tonight, she was going to face them all. At once.

  And the first of them was already standing in line for the ride, motioning for her to join him.

  Just. Freaking. Perfect.

  …

  From the moment the “wheel of death,” as Courtney had coined it, cranked into motion, it had been his prime objective to ensure she didn’t die by way of panic attack. With every inch the ride moved up into the air, she was edging closer to the handrail, obviously trying to hide the fact that she was gripping it so hard her knuckles had turned white. “Merde,” she muttered under her breath.

  He paused and turned to face her. “You speak French?”

  Her cheeks stayed pasty and she didn’t look his way. “No. I mean, not really. I like languages so I try to learn them in my spare time.”

  “All of them?” he asked incredulously.

  “Ideally. But I’m gunning for at least seven over the next twenty-five years.”

  He resisted the urge to smile at that nugget of information because, in spite of his attempts to distract her, she was still focused entirely on the safety bar in front of them.

  “Have you seriously never ridden the Ferris wheel before?”

  “Listen, maybe you go skeet shooting, and, I don’t know, BASE jumping all the time, but not all of us are risk takers like that.” She forced a laugh that ended up sounding a lot more like a whimper.

  He realized very quickly that the time for jokes had passed. She was really scared. He wanted to kick himself for dragging her onto the ride. “Hey, look at me. You’re going to be fine.” He reached out and tucked his fingers beneath her chin, pulling her attention toward him. For a moment, she still focused intently on the ground, but in the next, their gazes met. He had half an urge to pull his hand back, almost singed by the electricity that sizzled between them in that instant, but he resisted.

  Instead, he cupped her jaw, catching a few strands of her hair in his caress. “You’re okay,” he murmured.

  She nodded and slid away from the railing, leaning into his touch. Their knees brushed in the tin-can-size seats, and then he was gliding his hand around her neck, stroking her nape, stock-still as she moved closer to touch her soft mouth to his. She groaned, pressing more heavily into him, curling her arms around his neck.

  God, she smelled good. Sweet, like peaches. He slipped his tongue between her lips, tasting her. She responded instantly, crushing her breasts against him, kissing him back with everything she had. What had started out as a gesture meant to comfort turned on a dime, and he growled low in his throat, need pulsing through him in waves.

  When the ride suddenly cranked to a halt, it was far too soon. He was still in a daze when he realized they were at the bottom and it was their turn to exit. Courtney bolted so quick that he was amazed she didn’t leave a trail of dust behind her. He eased his way out, carrying her goldfish in front of him, strategically using poor Gil to camouflage his erection.

  When he finally saw her standing in the crowd, she would barely meet his gaze. Instead, she tugged on her T-shirt, staring intently at the ground.

  He’d really fucked this up bad. She may have been the one to kiss him, but he’d made her a deal. Four scenes. No strings. It wasn’t just for her sake. It was for both of them. The reason they made so much sense on paper was because they had great sexual chemistry, but no interest in falling in love. Her, not now. Him, not ever again.

  The thought strengthened his resolve and he approached her cautiously. Lovers three more times, and friends from here on out. That was the plan.

  “Hey, you lived,” he said, striving to recapture the earlier light mood of the evening.

  She gave him half a smile, her lashes still shading her eyes from his view. “It would seem that way.”

  “You look disappointed. The only solution to that is the tempura-fried candy bar, I think.”

  “Yeah, that should do me in for sure.”

  “That or if you tried one of the dart games. With your aim, you might impale yourself.”

  She let out a genuine laugh, and he coaxed her into one more stroll around the grounds. After sampling more food than they should have, including chocolate-covered bacon, they stumbled out into the parking lot, stomachs filled to bursting. With every step they took, the lights grew dimmer behind them, and by the time he’d reached the row where they’d both parked, it was mostly dark.

  He paused in front of her car, and they both started talking at the same time. He stopped, and waited for her to continue.

  “Hey, I know it was—” She cleared her throat and shook out her hair behind her. “Kind of weird at first, but I want you to know that I had a really good time tonight. I’m, um, I’m glad I didn’t bail after the Ferris wheel.”

  “Yeah, it was a lot of fun.” They stood in silence for a moment, surveying each other. Finally he broke the tension. “Look, that was no big deal. The kiss. Chalk it up to fear and adrenaline, okay?”

  “For sure.” She nodded so vigorously that he was sure her head would hurt the next day. “Sounds good.” She darted to the driver’s-side door of her car, only to come scurrying back before he’d taken a single step.

  “I forgot Gil.” She held out her hand for the fish.

  “Right, right.” He nodded and handed it over. She met his gaze for another heart-pounding minute before getting into her car and cranking the engine.

  He waited until she pulled out before walking slowly to his own car. What the hell had gotten into him? He’d let the simple fun of the night and the pleasant company addle his senses and make him act like a high school quarterback with a crush on the head cheerleader. The sooner he put a stop to that shit, the better, before he really botched it all up. He’d promised Courtney an introduction to BDSM and the chance to explore her sexuality with him, and he was going to deliver. But that and his friendship were all he had to give. He needed to make sure that neither of them forgot that.

  Now he needed
to regain the ground he’d lost ASAP and make sure there was no confusion lingering for either one of them. Time to get back to basics.

  Chapter Seven

  Time to make her move. With the Mission: Impossible theme song playing in her head, Courtney glanced up and down the long hospital corridor before scurrying to the bank of elevators. Keeping a watchful eye, she thumped the down button repeatedly, a silent prayer on auto-loop in her head. When the arrow lit green, she blew out the breath she’d been holding.

  Almost home free.

  After the way things had ended between her and Rafe, she’d considered calling out from work that morning. She’d spent half the night tossing and turning. It was only the thought of sitting at home with way too much time to think about this thing with him that made her bite the bullet and don her scrubs. By the time it was over ten endless hours later, she was regretting that decision heartily.

  Work had been brutal. Three stabbings—those always increased in the summer as heat made people stabby— and a three-car pileup on the interstate that had been a veritable blood bath. One person had died on the scene but the team of ER doctors had managed to keep the fatalities to the one. That was a blessing.

  What hadn’t been a blessing was when her asshole supervisor Barry had asked her to stay two hours past her shift to straighten out paperwork that wasn’t even hers. The guy had been at the hospital for all of three months and had been a holy terror, screaming at the nurses and taking advantage of them all by piling on double shifts with total disregard to their home lives. It was getting to be a major issue. One that was starting to make Courtney hate a job she used to love and had her sneaking around like a thief in the night in hopes of avoiding him in case he found yet another reason for her to stay longer.

  By the time she slogged her way up the winding path to her front door, she could think of nothing besides sipping on a sizable glass of cheap wine snuggled beneath her down comforter with the air-conditioner blasting in her face while she read a sexy novel.

  Paradise.

  Her weary muscles protested as she trudged up the stairs, tugging off her scrubs as she went. When she reached her bedroom and flicked on the light, weariness fled to make way for an almost dizzying wave of excitement.

  On her bed sat a large rectangular box. Pristine white with a red envelope resting on the lid, but otherwise unadorned. It was stupid, really, but the breath caught in her throat just looking at it, so beautiful in its simplicity, so civilized and elegant, which was such a contrast to what was likely inside.

  This was it. Scene number two.

  Part of her was a tiny bit disappointed. When they’d sussed out the details of their arrangement and she’d agreed to give him her house key, he’d given her two scarves. One red and one green. If she preferred he not use the key on a given day, she was to tie the red one on her balcony. If she was open to him letting himself in for a scene, she should use the green one. She’d gone with red the first few nights out of nervousness, but when she hadn’t heard from him, she’d gone green and had left it that way ever since. Many a night was spent tossing and turning, fantasizing about waking up with his magical mouth on her.

  But the disappointment faded fast as she inched toward her bed, excitement building with every step. She refused to credit her now-shaking legs to bone-deep relief that there was going to be a scene two at all after the way they’d ended. She was sure she’d blown it when she kissed him, but now here he was. A strange sensation settled over her. Happiness that he wanted more time with her was mixed with fear that every minute she spent with him, she was skating closer and closer to trouble.

  He’d been hard to resist when he was one-dimensional—controlled dom Rafe, who held the power to make her tremble in his fingertips. Now that she’d gotten to sample the other side of him? The funny, sweet guy who’d held her when she was afraid on the Ferris wheel and won her a pet goldfish? He was lethal.

  But even as fear and doubt clouded her mind, she never considered walking away and leaving the box unopened. She had three more nights with him, and short of an apocalypse, she wasn’t giving them up for anything or anyone. She’d push on and deal with the fallout when it was over.

  Her fingers shook with a combination of nerves and anticipation as she picked up the envelope. With a steadying breath, she tore it open with a singular swipe of her thumb. The paper was typed on high-end card stock that was like silk under her fingertips. She read the lines once, willing the thudding of her heart to slow, then again, trying to process all of his instructions.

  Courtney—

  Meet me at the Feldmoore Hotel on Edgemont Street at 7 p.m. Ask the concierge for a key to Mr. Welter’s room at the front desk.

  You are to wear nothing except the contents of this box, and your hair should be up.

  When you enter the room, go straight to the safe on the west wall and open it. The code is 41-42-69.

  Do not be late.

  Rafe