Forbidden Heat (The Forbidden Series Book 2) Page 4

  “Good night.” He doesn’t return to his work right away, and I take some comfort in the way he watches me. Still, it’s hard to make myself open the door and go out, and harder to close it behind me.

  When I emerge from the hallway, Mr. Jameson is there. Without a word, he accompanies me up the stairs and to my room. At first I’m mildly irked; am I a child who can’t be trusted?

  Then the watchful way he moves registers on me. He’s not babysitting me; he’s guarding me. That sends a chill down my spine more than anything else that’s happened tonight.

  When we reach my room, I stop with my hand on the door and look at him. “Is everything … all right?”

  “Yes, Miss Morgan.”

  I can’t exactly call him a liar, but his behavior is not reassuring. While I’m racking my brain trying to think of a tactful way to push the subject, he adds, “Mr. Thorne simply wishes to take every precaution for the time being. The house and grounds are fully secure, and will remain so.”

  He says it with such calm certainty that my worry fades. “All right. Thank you.”

  “Good night, Miss Morgan.”

  “Good night.”

  The bedside lamp is on, the drapes already pulled. I know Mr. Jameson spoke truth. But I suddenly see phantoms everywhere. The closet, the bathroom, the space under the bed … I’m like a child terrified of monsters.

  Changing hastily into my sleepwear, I throw on a robe and peek out my door. There’s no one in sight, though there are still lights on downstairs, enough to see by. I dart down the hall and into Cameron’s suite.

  Here, I feel safe. Even the prospect of climbing into a bondage-equipped bed doesn’t daunt me. A quick examination of the nightstands suggests that Cam sleeps on the side nearest the door.

  Going around to the other side, I mount the platform and slide under the covers. I can smell Cameron on the sheets, the intoxicating, spicy scent of him that makes me think of deep piney woods and crackling fires.

  I draw him in, burying my face in his pillow and breathing deeply. Once, twice … and sleep rushes up to drag me down into its depths.

  8

  Attention

  When I wake, I’m momentarily disoriented, uncertain of where I am. My internal clock says hours have passed; it should be morning, but the room is pitch dark. Then that delicious woodsy smell hits me, and all my senses come online, bombarding me with messages.

  I’m in a bed, and a man’s heavy body is pressed against mine, my back to his front. A strong arm is wrapped around my waist. And something warm and hard is nestled in the cleft of my ass.

  The heat of him, his nearness, his scent, it’s all bombarding my body with tantalizing sensations. There’s a heaviness between my legs, an ache that makes me feel restless and needy. My legs shift before I can stop them, and I feel him wake.

  The bedside lights come on, the arm at my waist turns me onto my back, and I’m looking up at Cameron. He lowers his head, his dark eyes capturing mine. “What are you doing in my bed, Haley Morgan?”

  I’m certain that once I explain, he’ll understand. But an impish spirit makes me want to tease him. “I fell asleep.”

  He arches one dark brow. “I’ll rephrase. What were you doing in my bed when you fell asleep?”

  “It was an accident.” I’m trying not to smile.

  Cameron, however, does not look amused. He’s not angry, but he is serious. “You thought you’d accidentally tempt me into breaking my word?”

  Oh. “No,” I say hastily, all teasing gone. “It’s just, when Mr. Jameson walked me to my room, I got scared. I was seeing bogeymen everywhere. But I felt safe in here.”

  His face softens. My bossy man has a tender side, though I wouldn’t tell him that, not in so many words. “In that case …” He brings his mouth to my ear. “I can tell you that you are a very great temptation.”

  At once, the ache in my core intensifies. I want his hand, and then his cock, to move between my legs and invade me, claim me, satisfy the hunger that’s burning inside me with the force of a thousand fires.

  My nipples have gone hard, poking against the flimsy fabric of my nightie. I can almost feel him looking at them, drinking in the obvious evidence of my arousal. It only makes them stiffen more.

  “Perhaps,” he says in the same low, intimate tone, “I should punish you.”

  “Cameron,” I moan, and put my hand over the one cupping my breast, ready to drag it where I need it.

  He lets out a soft growl. “Have you forgotten who’s in charge here?”

  “Cam, please.” I wriggle, desperate, and he nips at my earlobe, making me gasp and roll against him.

  “Naughty girl,” he says softly, and then I’m on my back again and his mouth is sealed to mine in a long, deep, drugging kiss. And his hand, finally, is shifting down my body.

  Until a knock sounds at the door.

  He swears. “Don’t move,” he orders, and rolls away from me. I lie absolutely still, except for my head, which I turn to see him, and my eyes, which drink in the glorious sight of his naked backside as he pulls on a robe.

  When he opens the door, I hear the murmur of Mrs. Jameson’s voice. “Miss Morgan is here,” he tells her. “She was feeling frightened and came to talk to me.”

  I’m certain the housekeeper has not missed the fact that I’m apparently “talking” to Cameron while he’s barely dressed. But all she says, loud enough for me to hear this time, is, “Very good, sir. Breakfast will be ready shortly.”

  A subtle reminder to us not to start any hanky-panky? Or maybe I’m reading too much into it.

  Cam comes back to me and says, “Shortly means in about ten minutes, according to my watch.”

  “So … I should go.”

  “Ten minutes is definitely not enough for what I have in mind.” He helps me out of bed, pulls me into his arms, and kisses me, one hand smoothing over my hair and skimming down my back until it reaches my ass.

  He gives me a squeeze; I melt against him, and the kiss deepens, but only for a moment before Cameron breaks off, resting his forehead against mine. “You do tax my self-control, Miss Morgan.”

  “You obliterate mine, Mr. Thorne.”

  One more kiss, this one hard and fast and scorching, before he sets me away from him. “Go and get dressed before we scandalize the Jamesons.”

  I shoot him a look as I go to the door. “I’m not sure anything scandalizes them. They’re used to you, after all.”

  The look I get back says I’ll pay for that comment later.

  I can’t wait.

  At breakfast, Cam announces, “I’m going to have a small dinner party at the end of this month.”

  “Oh! Who’s coming?” Then it hits me that maybe he doesn’t want me there. He’s talked about us having an “arrangement,” but as far as I can tell that only includes punishments and sex.

  Not exactly the sort of person you introduce to your friends.

  “I can … go somewhere for the night,” I amend. “Or just stay in my room.”

  He scowls at me. “You most certainly will not. Do you think I’m ashamed of you? Hiding you?”

  I duck my head. The next moment, he’s got me out of my chair and in his lap. “I ought to spank you right here,” he mutters.

  When I shift, restless, Cam gets a gleam in his eye. “Aha. My Haley has a streak of exhibitionism.”

  My face goes hot. “I do not!”

  He whispers in my ear, “You, bare-assed, over my knee, while the Jamesons watch.”

  I tell myself it’s shock, not some kinky thrill, chasing down my spine. But there’s no denying the sudden warmth between my legs. “Stop that,” I tell him, but I can’t make it sound convincing.

  Leaning back far enough to see my face, he says, “Would it be more exciting if the watchers were strangers? Or people you knew?”

  I freak out at the odd, electric energy his words send coursing through my body. “Not. Talking. About this.”

  “All right. Conversation
tabled.” He’s practically smirking, far too pleased with his discovery, and I know I haven’t heard the last of it. “Back to our original topic. I’m not hiding you from anyone.”

  “Okay.” I don’t want to fight with him about this. “I’m sorry.”

  “We’ve had a very … irregular beginning, you and I. I’m sorry it’s left you feeling uncertain.”

  “It’s okay.” I’m feeling oddly bashful, ashamed of doubting him while he’s being so solicitous of my emotions.

  “No. I’ll do better. Right now, though, I have to get to work. But first …”

  He swings my legs around, and then I’m face down over his lap. “Cam,” I hiss. “Cam!”

  No answer. His hand comes down, but he’s not really spanking me, just gently patting my ass so it doesn’t make any sound. A simulated spanking, if you will. But every time his hand touches me, I get a jolt right through my core, arrowing straight to my clit.

  When he sits me up again, I can’t even imagine what the mix of emotions on my face must look like. “A little experiment,” he says mildly, helping me stand and rising himself. “Something for you to think about.”

  “We can’t — you don’t — I mean, not really—”

  “There are ways of … accommodating that.” His thumb brushes my lower lip, and my knees go weak. “I want your pleasure, Haley. In every way possible.”

  On that note, he strolls out. I lower myself shakily into my chair and watch him go, then stare blankly at the wall, my mind a whirl, until Mrs. Jameson asks if I’m all right and do I want any more food.

  “No, thank you,” I say absently, and wander out. I’ve spent the last week exploring the house and the grounds, reading lots of books in the library (separate from the collection in the study), and mooning over Cameron. I’m seized with a sudden, compelling desire for action.

  When he comes back down the stairs a few minutes later, ready to leave, I’m waiting for him. “Cam?”

  “Yes, Haley?”

  “I need to be useful.” His brow knits. “I can’t ask to help with the chores around here,” I go on, “or the staff will be horrified. I could do your filing, maybe, or dust the books in your study, or something. Anything.”

  He studies me, in that way he has, and I blurt out what the last few minutes have impressed on me. “I’ve been selfish. I spent the whole week practically moping, just thinking about myself and what I wanted. If I’m going to be here longer than a few days, I need to contribute somehow.”

  “I think you’re being a little hard on yourself. Did you have any advance warning that you were coming here?” Cameron says.

  “No; I found out the same day. It was very sudden.”

  “So you were yanked away from everything and everyone you knew, and sent to stay with strangers in a household with a different set of rules than you’re used to. I think a period of adjustment would be not only expected, but necessary.”

  I open my mouth, then close it again. The impulse to kick myself fades. “That does sound reasonable.”

  “Because it is.”

  Ready to tease again, I squint at him. “Is one of the rules ‘Cameron is always right’?”

  He hooks an arm around my waist and hauls me against him. My body responds immediately, pressing closer, my arms winding around his neck. And then he kisses me, right there where the Jamesons or anyone could see us.

  When he finally lifts his head, my lips are swollen, my blood thick, the pulse between my legs throbbing. “I am right more often than not,” he says, only partly teasing. “And one of the reasons for that is a rule I have for myself: pay attention.”

  9

  Falling

  “Attention,” Haley repeats. She looks a little drunk. I want to pick her up, put her against the wall, and fuck her brains out right here and now.

  “It yields a great many benefits,” I tell her. Like the way I’m cataloging every tiny response she makes to me. Building a database of information sounds boring -- but the more I know, the better I can pleasure her.

  She’s giving me that look, the one that says her body is primed and ready for me. “I pay attention to you.”

  “I know you do.” I slide my hands down to squeeze her ass, and she gives that sexy little moan. “Right now, I wish I was paying attention to you on your knees in front of me, with my cock in your mouth.”

  Her pupils dilate and I curse the fuckwits who tried to nab her. If not for them, I’d take the day off and carry her upstairs to bed.

  “I wish you were too,” she tells me. “I’d really like to pay attention to your cock.” It jerks in response.

  I was going to give it a day or two before I took Haley to bed, to let things around here settle down; but waiting for the perfect time to do something can delay it indefinitely. Suddenly, holding back even a moment longer feels like too much. “Tonight.”

  “Tonight,” she breathes. “I can’t wait.”

  Neither can I. I’m tempted to work from home, but if I stay in the house I won’t be able to resist her. “I’ll see you for dinner.”

  Haley gives me a sultry, mischievous smile. “Don’t be late. I’m going to have a real appetite worked up.”

  At that, I have to pull her close for one final kiss. She tastes like mint and honey, and I lose myself in her, drinking in her sweetness with a hunger that’s never satisfied, but only grows deeper.

  It’s a long while later when the sound of a throat being cleared intrudes. “Excuse me, sir,” Robert Jameson says. “There’s an urgent phone call for you.”

  Haley looks dazed; I’m not sure she can stand up by herself. “Thank you, Robert. I’ll be there in a moment.” He nods and withdraws.

  “Are you sure you have to go to work today?” Her throaty whisper melts my will. My security teams are on high alert; no one’s getting onto my property again until this situation is resolved. Things are safe enough for now.

  I can take her upstairs and satisfy us both, then sort out this business with her father. “Let me see what this phone call is about,” I tell her. When I release her, cautiously, she sways. Scooping her up, I carry her into a nearby sitting room.

  Depositing her gently on a loveseat, I say, “I’ll be right back.”

  “Okay.” She gives me a luminous smile.

  As I head for my office, I hope to hell whatever this call is doesn’t screw up my day.

  “Come on, Cam,” Peter Morgan says over our secure line. “What else could I have done? I couldn’t tell all those clients I’d lost their money. It would have ruined me.”

  “So instead, you laundered money for the mob. I don’t care how desperate you were, Peter; how could that possibly have seemed like a good idea?”

  He sighs. “Desperation warps your brain, Cameron. Getting out from under that pressure feels like the only thing that matters.”

  “Public disgrace is a walk in the park compared to the kind of pressure you’re under now,” I point out mercilessly. “How much are they into you for?”

  “Fifty million. It let me cover the losses for my clients,” he says, as though that makes it okay. “It was better than running a shell game with the accounting.”

  Humans have an amazing ability to rationalize even their most foolish behavior. “But now you can’t pay the mob back.”

  “They won’t take payments. They’re demanding the entire amount, plus interest.”

  “Why didn’t you come to me instead? I could have helped.”

  “Me, go to my onetime protege, hat in hand? What would you have thought of me?”

  “Better than I do now,” I shoot back. “For fuck’s sake, Peter. You’ve endangered your daughter’s life to save your goddamn pride!”

  His voice sounds perilously close to a whine. “I didn’t know it would turn out this way!”

  “It’s the fucking mob, Peter. This is how they operate. You should have known.”

  There’s a long silence before he says, “They want a share of the business. I said no. That�
��s when they mentioned Haley.”

  Rage blinds me. Smart of these mobsters, to hire outside help for abducting Haley instead of trying to do it themselves. If they’d gotten a little luckier, if their target had been someone a little less prepared, they might have succeeded.

  The image of Haley held captive by vicious criminals turns my blood cold. Shoving those thoughts aside, I focus on the now. “We’re going to get you out of this, Peter.”

  “I don’t deserve your help, Cam.” His voice cracks. “I know that.”

  “No, you don’t.” I’m not about to coddle his feelings. “But Haley doesn’t deserve to lose her father just because he’s an idiot.”

  He snorts out a half-laugh. “You always did have a knack for brutal honesty.”

  “You are going to do exactly as I say. In every particular. Do you understand me?”

  “Yes. Thank you, Cameron.”

  “Don’t thank me. Thank your daughter. If you hadn’t sent her to me, they’d be writing your epitaph.”

  There’s another pause before he says, with a hint of paternal authority in his voice, “Are you falling for my girl, Cam?”

  “Let’s save that conversation for another time.” I can’t look Haley in the eye and tell her I let her father die, not without trying to help him. But as far as I’m concerned, Peter’s forfeited his rights to have any say about her life.

  I’m the one standing between Haley and this mess her father’s gotten himself into. And I’m the one who’s going to keep protecting her. If I do manage to save Peter from his own stupidity, I still won’t send her back to him. He can’t be trusted anymore.

  The implications of that sentiment are more than I’m prepared to grapple with right now. One thing at a time. First, I need to outmaneuver the mob.

  Once Peter’s safe, I’ll deal with my feelings for his daughter.

  10