Page 32 of First Touch

God, now I wished I had.

But I shrugged, pretending to not care. Pretending that the hum of attraction around us was normal. “Maybe. I still prefer personal invitations.”

“You’re awfully confident. Some might go so far as to say egotistical.”

I laughed. “That’s fitting coming from you.”

“With me, it’s not ego.” There wasn’t a trace of humor in his delivery. “I simply know what I’m worth.”

“And I know what I’m worth, Mr. Sallis.”

He appeared amused. “Okay. I’ll bite. What are you worth?”

“More than generic gifts and dictated notes.” This speech was not impromptu. If I expected to gain anything about Amber from Reeve, this was an important part of the plan. I had to be more significant than a passing curiosity. I had to tie him to me. And to get that guarantee, I’d have to push him as much as I dared.

It helped that I actually believed what I said. “I’m worth more than the flyby in the night that I know you’re counting on. I don’t do pump and dumps. I also don’t do romance.”

He crossed his arms and leaned his shoulder against the wall. “What is it exactly that you do then, Emily?”

I steeled myself. I’d made similar arrangements so many times. It had been so much easier when I was younger. When I didn’t care. When I was with Amber. “Value for value,” she’d say. “Nothing short of total needs met.”

My life was different now – I met my own needs. But the first part was still reasonable. “I do the exchange system, Reeve. I give you something you value in exchange for something I value.”

He pushed off from the wall and divided the space between us in half with one step. “Emily, when I fuck, it’s of value to both parties. No exchange needed.”

A rush of arousal burst through me so fast that I felt dizzy. Now, I was silently begging, ready to skip the negotiations. Now, now, now.

He held his place.

My nerves pulsed with frustration, buzzing like a fly at a window that could see the outdoors – that could be there if only it could break through the glass.

If he wouldn’t reach for me…

I wanted so badly to pounce, to feel my lips on his, to ease the ache between my legs. But besides having learned my lesson in Palm Springs, this game was always best played from the stance of indifference. I couldn’t show him how desperately I wanted him. I’d let him call the shots. I’d let him initiate the moves. I’d let him make the offers. I’d wait.

I didn’t have to be happy about it, though.

I picked up the glass of water from the counter and turned to the sink to pour it out. “I’m sure you like to think that you’re God’s gift to women, Reeve. But that’s not how it works with me. I need to be taken care of. Otherwise I can be perfectly happy with my vibrator, thank you very much.”

He was on me in half a second. Less, even. He spun me around, gripping me at the elbows. He searched my eyes, always searching. Always studying.

“I can’t figure you out, Emily.” His words were tight yet even. “I don’t know if I like you or if I just want to fuck you.”

He pressed me into the point where the counters met and one of his hands moved to palm the back of my head. Then – now – while he held me forcibly in place, he crushed his mouth against mine.

At first, I tried to reciprocate. As he nipped at my bottom lip, I attempted to suck on his upper. As his tongue thrust inside my mouth, I moved mine along his teeth. But everything I did felt awkward and out of rhythm, and eventually I stopped trying. I gave in. I surrendered.

And that’s when the kiss became earth-shattering.

He took me where he wanted me to go, showing my lips how to move with the slightest turn of his head, coaxing my tongue with the silky licks of his own. It was a kiss that took – took my desire, took my passion, took my will. It was selfish and singularly choreographed for Reeve and Reeve alone.

But as he took, he also gave. The way he held me still, the way he set the tempo and chose the dance, the way he pressed and pushed and sucked and stroked so that I wouldn’t have to decide any of it, so that I could simply be present and cared for – those were gifts that he gave without hesitation or restraint.

He presented me with a freedom that I’d once had and taken for granted. And, damn, how I’d missed it. So even though this kiss was for him, about him, I took and took and took.

My lips felt bruised and swollen by the time he pulled away. I was dizzy and disoriented. I wanted him to keep kissing me. I wanted him to slip a hand down my shorts and bury it in my cunt. Then I wanted him to follow with his cock.

But his kiss had returned me to a role I knew well. A role I enjoyed more than any other. A role of submission.