Free In His Service by Erika Masten Page B

snapped my head forward again. “Three months.”
    “Pardon?” That faded British accent of his came out thicker than I’d heard it so far. Was it because he was tired after our night on the beach? I knew I was, sore and spent and sated. Or maybe it was part of his seductive arsenal, knowing most American women went soft around the edges at the sound of that upscale London inflection. Again, I knew I did.
    “If I do this, I will…” I sounded angry, my words tight and clipped. Though understandable, given the betrayal and public embarrassment of the last month of my life, it wasn’t like me. I caught myself holding my shoulders high and stiff and made myself let them go. The sauna may have been Adrian’s idea, but I’d gone to him last night at dinner. I had been the one to decide I wanted more of that illicit rush, lust unadulterated by emotional ties, divorced from what I might have known about a lover’s life or his dreams or his tragedies. Adrian Knight was practically a blank slate to me, with one word scrawled across it— want . I couldn’t be mad at him for giving me what I’d asked for. And it was actually kind of a complement, wasn’t it, the fact that he wanted, too? Wanted more. Everything I…my body…could give.
    I started again. “I can only give you three months. That’s the longest leave of absence my firm will give me, assuming they agree.”
    Only silence answered me at first. When he finally spoke, his voice seemed farther away, across the room and guardedly low and deliberate. “I accept your terms, Miss Bloom, for now.”
    Back to Miss Bloom.An indication of displeasure? Or did he have the slightest hint how it affected me when he called me Chloe, when he sighed my name into my ear as he sank himself inside me? Maybe he understood and was wisely keeping that weapon on reserve. The thought of Adrian being so emotionally manipulative made my stomach sour and bob inside me, but I reminded myself that I was here to be manipulated, dominated, subjected to both mental and physical sensations beyond my control.
    “Take off your panties.”
    As detached as I tried to be, this instruction shot through my body like a drug in my veins. I felt a hot flush spread across my cheeks and a cold chill run up my back.
    So it began? That simply? So soon? I hadn’t called the office to arrange the leave. I hadn’t let any of my friends know I wouldn’t be back as scheduled. I wasn’t even sure what time it was, only that it was early morning and an hour earlier on the East Coast. Would anyone be in the office yet?
    Though my mind was a whirl of panic, which I struggled to temper with practical considerations, my body reacted of its own accord. My panties were the only thing I’d put on while down on the beach, before Adrian caught me off guard with his indecent proposal. Now, as I peeled them off and bent to untangle the white lace from my feet, I was acutely aware of Adrian’s gaze upon me. Oddly modest for the circumstances, I kept my knees pressed together, as though that would hide my bare sex from his view.
    “Turn around,” he breathed out, “and come to me.”
    I didn’t want to look at Adrian, but I couldn’t help it. And it ached just as badly as I knew it would. His tuxedo tie discarded on the polished wooden end table next to the sleek white leather chair where he sat, Adrian had left his shirt open, revealing a lean, developed chest and swimmer’s abs. As I walked toward the man, I cautioned myself not to fall to my knees in front of him and bury my face against that tanned torso, as much as I wanted to.
    His legs were spread wide, his feet planted solidly on the hard floor, one elbow supported by the arm of the chair and his chiseled face resting in the crook of one hand. Was it those moonlight-on-latte brown eyes of his, under that moody and expressive brow line, that made him almost too handsome to look at? Or his lips, full and bowed, stern but soft, and so subtly pink under his