Page 23 of Balthazar's Fire

Her eyes fluttered closed, as though she was considering his assertion.

“Do we have a deal?” he asked. “I won’t do anything unless you agree.”

“Yes, sir.” She leaned into him with a smile. “We have a deal.”

“Excellent.” Swooping with unnerving speed, he claimed her mouth before she could even contemplate what came next.

***

Cherie

Fireworks exploded in her mind, making it difficult to focus as his lips commanded her. Balthazar was a virtual stranger, a man who, until yesterday, she had never even set eyes on, and yet today, he was so much more than that. He was the man who’d stepped up to rescue her from the foreboding basement, a place where Oliver intended to do dreadful things to her. She tensed at the unwelcome memory, more grateful than ever for the security and distraction of Balthazar’s arms.

Cherie had meant what she told him. She knew that she needed to work through the things that had happened to her, but that would take time, and she refused to let the chemistry sparking between her and Balthazar become a casualty of Oliver’s cruelty. Balthazar had become her sanctuary, an oasis of quiet authority and protection in a world where she was unemployed with little savings to keep her afloat. Cherie didn’t know if any of the chemistry between them could last, but caught up in the rapture of his touch, she didn’t care. She craved the things Balthazar promised, knowing if anyone could deliver them, it was her dark-haired hero.

“Are you ready?” His brown eyes drilled into her as he drew away.

Ready? He made the whole thing sound so intense and enthralling. Perhaps, that was the point?

“Yes, sir.”

Rolling back her shoulders, she resolved to go through with whatever he requested, knowing that however uncomfortable those asks might seem at first, she did want to do this. Cherie had stood on the verge of power play with partners before, but never had she found a man so worthy of her surrender, and she refused to let the shroud Oliver had draped over her have control. If she relinquished, it would be to Balthazar.

“Good.” He stroked away the loose strands of hair, the gesture spiking her already elevated heart rate. “In a moment, I’m going to ask you to stand before me.” Motioning to the space between the couch and the roaring fire, he signaled where he meant and she glanced that way, registering the plush carpet.

“Eyes on me,” he ordered, and turning her head to look at him, she acknowledged how that one simple instruction was enough to pool arousal at the apex of her thighs.

She’d never known such a compelling man before. It wasn’t only that he was conventionally attractive with his long limbs and dark, brooding looks, it was something else, as well. Balthazar had an air of authority about him. She’d been aware of it right from the beginning. When he’d held the elevator at Oliver’s building and ensured he had her full attention before he spoke—that had been a man who’d taken charge, but who didn’t need to swear, shout, or be generally offensive to achieve power.

“You’re going to watch for my command,” he continued in the same smooth tone, “and when you see it, you’ll untie the robe and allow it to drop to the floor.”

She shivered at the conviction in his voice, realizing that he fully expected her obedience and understanding that she would do exactly as she was told. She’d never wanted to be naked in front of anyone the way she yearned for Balthazar’s gaze to devour her.

Fighting to control her labored breaths, she watched as he brought his hand in front of her eyes.

“Watch the tip of my little finger,” he instructed, his smile just visible in her peripheral vision as she complied. “Keep looking,” he encouraged, lifting his fingers a few inches so that she was compelled to raise her focus to follow it.

What’s happening to me?

The question floated in and out of her awareness as she kept her focus on his fingertip.

How is he making this one inane order so fucking scintillating?

“This is the command, Cherie.”

Balthazar’s voice had taken on an almost ethereal quality, still suave and persuasive, but with a hint of something she’d never heard before, something edgy that spoke of a power she didn’t understand. Staring at his digit, she watched his fingers curl and gesture toward him, as though he was beckoning her in his direction.

“Do you need to see it again?” he asked her.

“No, sir.” Her gaze darted to his face, her pulse racing as their eyes locked. “I saw it.”

“That’s because you were paying attention.” Lips curling, he threw her a wink that sent electricity racing through her body.

It was the damnedest thing, but her chin rose at his praise, the way a flower turned toward the sunshine. Balthazar had become the source of her sunlight, and she yearned for more of his compliments… needed them in a tangible way. Catching her breath, she reveled in the weight of his stare and as their eyes connected, a new thought occurred.

There isn’t a thing I won’t let him do.

Chapter Eight

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