Close To The Edge. Zara Cox
processed my actions.
Being pint-size had its advantages. It made crawling on top of the table a piece of cake.
I relished Caleb’s unguarded intake of breath as I leaned forward and shoved my face in his. With a couple of inches separating us, I caught every fleck of surprise in his eyes as he watched me.
“You really think you’re in control here?” I murmured softly.
A slow, assured smile widened his sexy mouth. “I know it,” he rasped.
“I see.” I scooted another inch closer, glided my tongue over my bottom lip. His demeanor changed. His ravenous gaze dropped to my mouth and his next breath wasn’t quite so steady. “You didn’t ask me how I found you to handle my problem, Mr. Steele.”
His eyes grew wary. Good. “Maggie handles background stuff.”
I nodded. “Hmm. She did ask me the right questions. But I’m afraid I told a little white lie. I don’t personally know the client I named as my reference. I found him, and your whole client list, some other way.”
A muscle ticked in his jaw. “You hacked me.”
I allowed myself a little smile. “No, I skimmed you. But you know what I could’ve done if I wanted to?”
His eyes narrowed. “What?”
“Uncovered every...single...detail about you.”
Silence throbbed. The muscle jumped faster. “What’s to stop me from bending you over this table right now, giving you the spanking you richly deserve before I dump you in Palo Alto and walk away?” he breathed through gritted teeth.
The erotic image of his palm turning my ass pink threatened to wipe off my smile. I ignored the balloon of heat dampening my panties and traced my fingers over his jaw, suppressing a gasp at how warm and vibrant he felt.
His sharply exhaled breath washed over my face.
“Because I took a little peek at your active cases. I wanted to make sure I’d be your number one priority. Your most exciting case finished two weeks ago. You’re a man of action, and you’re bored, Mr. Steele. Right now mine is the juiciest case to drop into your lap.”
My thumb skated dangerously close to his lips. He bared his teeth, and another image flashed into my mind—how those perfect whites would feel grazing my clit.
“I could always take the vacation I’ve been promising myself for a while now,” he rasped.
“You won’t. Because I also saw the way you looked at me when I walked into the room tonight. The way you’re looking at me right now.”
My fingers drifted down his solid neck to his collarbone, then over his hard chest to rest on his belt. Without breaking eye contact, I closed the gap between us and brushed my lips, whisper-light, over his, reveling in the instant clutch of lust that darkened his eyes.
“I know you’re rock-hard for me, that you’ve imagined a dozen different positions in which to fuck me.”
I drew back and pried my gaze from his to the fists clenched with white-knuckled control on the table on either side of my body. “But you won’t touch me, not until you catch my stalker. Because you don’t mix business with pleasure. I know that about you, too.”
My hand dropped to its final destination, gliding over the stiff, mouthwateringly impressive bulge behind his fly from root to tip. A strangled growl left his throat.
“So, you think you’re in charge, Mr. Steele? Dream the fuck on.”
Caleb
JESUS FUCKING CHRIST.
I stared at her, torn straight down the middle between fury and pleading. Between shoving her ass out of my plane and begging her to stroke my cock again. Harder. Between admitting that yes, she and her case intrigued me, and the urge to say to hell with it.
Back in her seat, she stared at me, a saucy smile lifting her delicious mouth. A smile I promised to wipe clean the first opportunity I got.
Shit.
Women with mouths like hers shouldn’t be allowed to swear unless there was immediate, no-holds-barred fucking involved. Because between that, the almost-kiss and tortuous stroking of my dick, I was now guaranteed to walk around with a hard-on strong enough to shatter glass.
Even my fury at her invading my privacy wasn’t enough to calm the fire raging in my crotch. The knowledge burned, though, along with a need to know what else she found when she went... What did she call it? Skimming?
Did she know about my mother’s suicide? About the desperate but ultimately fruitless measures I’d used to try to save her? About that one session with the child psychologist after my meltdown? Thankfully, the nightmares that had dogged me since her death weren’t on record anywhere.
Still...she’d crossed the line.
Why?
“That was a dangerous little play you staged there, Lily. Is control really that important to you?”
The answer blazed in her eyes before she lowered them. “Isn’t it to everybody?” she fired back.
Okay. Control, or giving it up, was an issue for her. I tucked away that piece of info.
But despite her spine of steel, I didn’t need to look hard to spot her apprehension. Plus, she was on edge. Clients in that state tended to knee-jerk the hell out of situations.
I took a breath as the plane taxied to the hangar. “You went to a lot of trouble to hire me. Don’t fuck it up by digging into my life again. Trust me, I’ll know. And I won’t give you a pass next time. In return, I’ll loop you in as much as I can. Deal?”
She stared at me, the fire raging in her eyes for another second before she offered a curt nod. “Deal.”
I rose from my seat, uncaring that my erection still throbbed stiff and eager in my pants.
She’d stoked the fire. She deserved to burn a little. And from the pink staining her cheeks as her beautiful eyes dropped to my crotch, she was burning all right. Still twisting with fury and lust, I leaned down and whispered, “As for your assessment about how many ways I want to fuck you, try a few dozen times north of your calculation. And, guess what?”
Defiant eyes met mine. “What?”
“I know you want me, too, so I guess I won’t be the only one suffering, huh?”
She didn’t answer, not that I was expecting one.
We both retreated into our thoughts as we exited the plane.
The ride Maggie had organized was a sturdy SUV with darkened windows, which I appreciated. Sadly, there were a million ways for stalkers to spy on their victim these days, and a million ways for victims to respond if they felt powerless.
The thought triggered a question that helped to drag my attention off Lily’s small but perfect body and thoughts of what I wanted to do to her. “Do you own a gun?” I asked after stashing our bag and hopping into the driver’s seat.
Her eyes widened as she shut her door. “A gun? Why would I own a gun?”
“Don’t look so surprised. You’d be shocked by how many people exercise their right to carry a firearm. I don’t want to be surprised down the road.” I rolled my shoulder as unwelcome thoughts of Kirsten, my ex, and phantom pain from my bullet wound registered.
Lily caught the movement, questions filling her eyes as she replied, “No, I don’t own a gun. And I don’t intend to arm myself, regardless of this situation.”
“Good.”
She kept quiet,