Sapphire Read online

  Even as the hot water poured over her, she realized she was prepping for her date. Her hands froze in her shampoo-frothy hair.

  Then, with deliberate precision, she finished scrubbing, taking care to massage her scalp, stimulating her follicles as her hairdresser recommended. That was for herself. It wasn’t all about prepping for him.

  If she was honest with herself, tonight was for her. For M. Just one night.

  Taylor prepared herself the way she liked best. If the box revealed different instructions, so be it. If she was delivering herself as a sacrificial lamb, then she’d be her own priestess too. She smoothed on rose-petal lotion, layering with perfume. She blew her hair dry and did her makeup carefully, perhaps a bit smudgier than for work. On impulse, she pulled out the Geisha Red lipstick she’d bought last holiday season and never worn. The column of scarlet spiraled smooth and untouched into that perfect point.

  Damn right she put it on.

  Kirliss had no idea what he was in for. She smirked at her reflection.

  Seven-fifteen. She had a bit of time, but not a hell of a lot. She pulled on her fuzzy pink robe and padded out to the bed, where the brown box waited for her, innocuous as ever. She tapped her short, perfectly manicured nails on the tape. The heavy scent of roses wafted in from the other room.

  Not going to chicken out, are you?

  With a disgusted tsk, Taylor ripped off the tape and flipped open the flaps of the box. On top lay a plain manila envelope. She opened it and scanned the papers inside. Medical tests and records dated two weeks previous. All clear. Something she hadn’t thought about. More evidence she wasn’t in her right mind. She tossed the packet onto her bedside table.

  The next layer was crimson tissue paper, which spilled open to reveal the contents. And no, there was no note inside. None was necessary.

  One by one, Taylor removed the pieces of clothing. The dress, a bare swath of sapphire-blue silk. Subtle that. The G-string of matching barely there lace. Thigh-high stockings of smoky blue, made of real silk, if she didn’t miss her guess. Glass-blue stiletto heels and a pair of drop earrings, sapphires pinned by diamonds.

  The man didn’t miss a fucking detail.

  With a sigh, Taylor shrugged out of the robe and laid it neatly on the bed. She dressed in Kirliss’s suggested outfit with a sense of ritual. And yes, sensual arousal. Her sex heated and dampened. What she put on would soon come off.

  No surprise, it all fit perfectly. The dress swept her body like a scarf, tied behind her neck, leaving her back bare and dipping low between her bare breasts. The silk draped her hips in a wrap style, the asymmetrical hem riding high on one thigh, showing a hint of darker lace at the top of the stocking. Taylor surveyed herself in the full-length mirror. The heels made her legs look wickedly long. The flashing earrings matched her eyes, and her auburn hair tumbled in muted contrast down her naked back.

  No tacky French maid outfit for sure. If nothing else, the man had class.

  The dress was also notable for how easily it could be removed.

  At seven-fifty, Taylor waited in the art deco lobby of her building, discreetly wrapped in her black leather trench coat. She’d put a few things into her jeweled clutch—keys, cell phone, ID, some cash, American Express card and lipstick. Everything a girl needed to extract herself from any situation

  “You look gorgeous this evening, Ms. Hamilton.” The doorman tipped his cap. “I believe your driver is waiting for you.”

  Taylor passed the man Kirliss’s business card. “This is where I’ll be tonight, should there be any sort of emergency.” The doorman nodded at the tacit safety measure, tucking the card into his log book.

  The driver murmured a quiet good evening and held the door of the sleek silver car for her. Taylor slid in, her coat hesitating on the leather of the seats, parting to flash her stocking-clad thighs. She glanced in alarm at the driver, but he steadfastly stared in another direction.

  She wondered how often he delivered women to Kirliss.

  The car door shut with a quiet snap. She could still get out while he walked around to the driver’s side. She caught a deep breath, her nipples pressing turgid against the sleek material and the harder chafe of her coat. Her eyes fell on a flute of champagne set into a shelf in front of the seat. Another rose rested beside it.

  A cream-colored note attached to it said Relax.

  Easy for him to say. But she sipped the champagne as the driver got in and pulled into traffic. There. She was officially out of control of the situation. She hoped Kirliss was happy.

  They drove a ways outside the city, heading toward the ocean. When they pulled up at a cliffside mansion, Taylor colored herself unsurprised.

  The driver opened the door for her and extended a gloved hand to help her out. Mindful of the dress, Taylor kept her knees together, managing a graceful exit. The driver reached into the car and handed her the rose, then gestured that she should walk up the steps.

  The door opened and Kirliss, an unmistakable silhouette, stood in the blazing doorway. She ascended the marble stairs, stepping slowly because of the high heels, but also to ease the clenching in her gut. What the hell was she doing, delivering herself into this man’s hands? Especially when she knew what he was capable of. Wet heat pulsed between her thighs in reminder.

  Kirliss smiled, that lethal, predatory flash of teeth. He took her hand and kissed the back of it. “I thought you changed your mind.”

  “I still might.”

  His thumb passed over her frantic pulse and he shook his head. “I don’t think so. Not now. Not you.”

  He pulled her inside with smooth power and shut the massive door behind her. She fiddled with the rose, testing a fingertip against a sharp thorn. He watched her, one elegant eyebrow raised in question. She set the rose down on a mirrored shelf.

  “May I take your coat?” he inquired, ever the gracious host, but with heat glinting in those golden eyes.

  Taylor tugged at the belt and tried not to hesitate as she opened the coat and surrendered it to him. He took it and held out a hand for her clutch.

  “You won’t be needing that,” he said when her fingers tightened on it. “Unless you have a diaphragm inside?”

  “No, I’m on the pill.”

  A wicked grin flashed across his face. “That’s my efficient Taylor.”

  “I don’t have—I didn’t bring any medical records.”

  “You had a physical just a month ago. We scheduled around it. A woman like you takes care of herself. I trust that you’re healthy.” He grinned. “Besides, I know you haven’t been seeing anyone.”

  “Yes, I had a word with Steve about privacy.”

  Kirliss held out a hand. “You’re still holding on to the purse.”

  With a sigh, Taylor handed that over too, feeling as if she’d given up her last tie to the real world, to escape and safety. He took her coat and purse into another room. One that was some distance away, given that it took him a few minutes to return. She heard the soft tapping of his shoes and watched him come toward her, that feline smile on his lips while his eyes swept her from head to toe.

  “Am I a prisoner, then?” she asked in a light tone, though she could hear the tremor under it.

  “Yes.” Kirliss held out a hand and she laid hers in it. He raised it over her head, encouraging her to spin under his perusal. “You look beyond beautiful and you officially have no control, Taylor. How does it feel?”

  He tucked her hand at the small of her back and used the leverage to press her up against him. Her thinly clad nipples brushed his chest and his eyes blazed disconcertingly close. He waited for her answer.

  “I don’t know,” she breathed.

  He chuckled. “I love your honesty.”

  Kirliss pressed her tighter against him. Even in the high heels, she stood just a bit shorter. She held her breath as his lips swept across hers, whiskey smoke and hot male. His other hand ran through her hair and down her naked back. Before the kiss really began, it was over.r />
  She stopped the sound of protest that might have escaped her.

  Kirliss released her wrist and stepped back. “Turn around and place your palms against the door.”

  “What?” The tingle of shock heated her blood.

  “Refusing to obey? Already?” He raised an eyebrow and tapped a finger against the leather belt he wore. It was one of the dress kind, some sort of black reptile pattern, with a jeweled buckle of obsidian.

  Her eyes flew back up to his, breath tight in her throat. “You wouldn’t.”

  “Is there something about the rules that’s unclear? You’re one of the sharpest negotiators out there, Taylor—don’t play dumb. Either cry off or do as you’re told.”

  Taylor turned and placed her palms against the glossy wood of the door.

  “Higher.”

  She slid her hands higher, feeling oddly exposed with his gaze like heat on her skin. A shudder ran through her, and she pressed her fingertips into the wood to hold herself there. His hand brushed her hair from her back, draping it forward over her shoulder.

  “I like that you left your hair down,” he said, his voice soft.

  “I thought you might prefer it.”

  “I do.” He trailed light fingertips over her shoulder blades. “Though I’m surprised you thought to please me.”

  “I was surprised you didn’t tell me to leave it down.”

  “I knew I could always take it down myself once I had you tied up as I liked.”

  Taylor closed her eyes against the image, his clever fingers stroking her bare skin, down along her spine to her hip bones.

  “Spread your legs,” he whispered in her ear, “and turn your cheek to the door. Lean your weight forward, forearms flat. From now on, you may only say three things—your real first name, your safe word and ‘yes, please, Mr. Kirliss.’”

  Trembling, wondering if this would be it, if he’d take her against the front door and send her home again before she ever left the foyer, Taylor obeyed. She hoped it wouldn’t be over that soon. She edged her sharp heels apart as Kirliss stepped back again. Her breath came rough as she imagined the picture she made, spread against the dark wood.

  “What does the M stand for?” Kirliss asked.

  If she could have, Taylor would have laughed. Instead she mutely shook her head. She felt his lips, surprisingly hot, press a kiss to the small of her back. Such a small touch, to send sensations zinging through her nerves. Her breasts tightened, making the nipples tingle. With her legs spread, the panties snugged into her wet cleft, the lace stimulating her swollen tissues. She let her breath out quietly over her lips, so no unseemly moan would escape. It would give him even more power if he knew how incredibly aroused he’d already made her.

  “Cross your wrists behind your back. No, keep your cheek against the door.”

  It took her a moment to gain her equilibrium and manage it. Leaning her temple into the door, she put her hands behind her back.

  “You might have to arch your shoulder blades together a bit. Cross your wrists completely.”

  She could follow his method here, how he coaxed her into being complicit. He wanted her to not just give up control, but to hand it to him.

  “Hesitating?” he asked in that throaty murmur.

  Damn him.

  Taylor arched her shoulder blades, feeling the stretch, and crossed her wrists. Her thighs trembling, she felt the rope bind her hands together. She opened her mouth to protest, then remembered her limited vocabulary. The rope sank into her flesh, soft but tight. The word swirled around in her head—sapphire—shimmering and unspeakable. A fine tremor ran through her.

  Kirliss placed warm hands on her bare shoulders and drew her upright. He smoothed his fingers down her bound arms and back up over her shoulders to trace her collarbone. Brushing aside a few strands of hair from the bared side of her neck, he pressed his lips just below her ear. She shuddered, restraining her moan. His tongue licked a hot sweep up the line of her throat. Teeth sank lightly into the taut muscle.

  Her breath hissed out. Primal need surged. She was pinned by her mate’s teeth, spread for him, a deep part of her wanting to submit utterly.

  As he wanted.

  Taylor yanked herself away, stumbling into an upright position and turning to face him.

  Kirliss raised an eyebrow. “Something to say?”

  Well, shit. She eyed him. Dressed all in black, with that small smile on his lips and his eyes burning into her, he was a lethal combination of amused, aroused and dangerous.

  Pressing her lips together, she shook her head in a slow side-to-side and smiled back. He wouldn’t get her to back down that easily.

  “You realize you broke the rules with that bit of resistance? I see that you do.” Kirliss stroked the black leather belt.

  She tried to tear her gaze from it. How would it feel?

  “Something to look forward to, for later. By the way, you can moan and scream all you like.”

  Taylor raised her eyebrows and tossed her hair back over her shoulder.

  Kirliss reached out to fix it, smoothing the strands away from her forehead with a light, admiring touch. He trailed sensitive fingers over her cheekbone. “You will melt under my hands, Taylor. I look forward to hearing your screams of pleasure.”

  He dropped his hand to her breast, naked under the blue silk. She leaned into the touch before she could stop herself, and he chuckled.

  “In the meantime—” he took her elbow, as if she was any guest, “—let me show you the library.”

  He led her down the hallway. At the end of it, the house opened up into a vast expanse of glass that looked out over the nighttime ocean. They turned, though, into a masculine study. The room was lined with bookshelves and studded here and there with comfortable leather furniture. A cheerful fire leaped behind a stained-glass screen and lit the room too dimly for her to read any of the book titles. He escorted her to the middle of the room, where a thick oriental rug in deep jewel tones absorbed the spikes of her heels. He left her there and went to a cart with crystal decanters.

  “Would you like a drink? Wine, whiskey, more champagne, perhaps?”

  She did, but she didn’t want to say so.

  “Afraid to make such a small concession? You’ve called me nothing but Mr. Kirliss.” He held the bottle of Dom tantalizingly over a graceful flute.

  Taylor sighed. No backing out now. She’d agreed to these rules. “Yes, please, Mr. Kirliss.”

  “Sweet words, indeed.”

  He paced over to her, his smile sly. He clearly saw that she wondered how this would work, with her hands bound. He slid a warm hand under her hair, to cup the back of her head, tilting it back so her throat lengthened and her breasts rose tight against the dress. He held the fine edge of the champagne flute against her bottom lip and dribbled a bit into her open mouth. The crisp fizz of it flowed in, bright and startling through her sensual haze. She swallowed, feeling his scrutiny.

  “More?”

  She caught his intent golden gaze. “Yes, please, Mr. Kirliss.”

  Something dark flashed across his face. Oh yes, her hands might be tied, but she had some power here. He tipped more of the champagne into her waiting mouth. Delicious. She held his eyes and licked her lips. Slow, seductive.

  With a low sound, Kirliss tossed the flute away and seized her. His lips came down hard on hers, plundering, devastating. Taylor felt devoured by him, held up by the whipcord of his arms. Unable to deny him, she fell into the kiss.

  “Witch,” Kirliss murmured when he finally pulled away. “Don’t think I don’t know what you’re doing here. Time to take this another step, I believe.”

  Making sure she was steady on her feet, which she barely was, Kirliss left her there again. A hum whirred over her head, a ring on a chain lowering from the ceiling until it dangled inches above her head.

  Doesn’t every library have one?

  Taylor started from her contemplation of the device when Kirliss released her bound hands. S
he took the opportunity to stretch her shoulders and rub the skin on her wrists.

  “Sore?”

  She shook her head.

  “You will be.” He flashed her an abrupt grin. “Reach above your head, please, and grasp the ring.”

  Not moving her eyes from his, Taylor reached up and caught hold of it. Winding the rope around her wrists, Kirliss bound her to the ring. The feel of it tightening on her skin, confining her, set the blood pounding in her temples. She felt her control crumbling and concentrated on keeping her breath deep and even, her eyes straight ahead. Did he know what this was doing to her?

  The way he leaned in brought his strong throat to hover inches in front of her lips. Tanned, with a few sprinkled black hairs at the hollow of his neck, his Adam’s apple prominent, it lured her. He smelled of salt and something musky. Taylor found herself wanting to lick his skin, maybe take a little nip of him.

  “Better not without permission,” he warned in a soft voice. He checked the tightness of the bindings, then slipped his hands down to lightly flick her nipples. She gasped and tried to pull back. “Did you forget? I touch you however I like. You gave that up to me.”

  In the warm firelight, his eyes glowed, intense, holding her gaze captive. He rolled her nipples between his fingers, sending a hot arcing sensation through her. She bit her lip to stop her groan of longing.

  Kirliss smiled, released her throbbing nipples, and brushed her lower lip with his thumb. “You do realize that the more you strain to keep control, the greater the explosion will be when you lose it.”

  He went behind her again, where he had to be operating some kind of switch on the wall. The ring rose again, drawing her hands with it, a slow stretch that pulled her body taut. He stopped it when her heels left the ground, then lowered it slightly. Warm light glowed around her from recessed lights set into the ceiling. They dialed up slightly brighter, spotlighting her where they intersected.

  The star of the show.

  “Not pulling too much?” He ran his hands over her stretched arms, testing the slack and caressing the lines of her toned muscles.