Page 65 of Red

She turned back, not sure what she expected from him anymore.

“Take off your dress.”

Chapter 23

Melinda’s eyes widened and shot straight to Erik’s belt buckle. He’d already begun unlatching it.

“I haven’t done anything wrong,” she protested in a hushed voice.

“You’re disobeying me right now,” he pointed out while stripping the leather strap from the loops of his slacks. It had been a long night of pleasantries and business talks when all he wanted was to get home with Melinda and have a repeat performance of the afternoon.

He would never get enough of her and decided he wouldn’t even try to deny himself. He wanted her, and he would have her, take her, own her.

“Someone could walk in,” she said, taking half a step back.

He nodded. “Yes, they could.” No one was home, but she probably didn’t know that. And who was he to take away the little thrill of danger from her.

“We could go upstairs,” she said, still hesitating.

“We could, but I don’t want to.” He shook his head, looping the belt in his hand and tucking the buckle into his palm. “It would be a shame to ruin that dress, but I will.”

She studied him for a weighted moment, probably trying to read him. If anyone could, it would be her. It seemed his brothers had lost touch with him and there wasn’t anyone else who could know him like she did. He was trying to get inside her, to know her, but while he’d been doing that, she’d wiggled her way right into him.

“Okay.” She reached behind her neck to unclasp the zipper and worked her way out of the dress, letting it fall into a heap at her feet.

“No bra?” he asked with a raised brow.

“No.” She shook her head. “My back…” A blush brightened her face.

“Let me see.” He twirled his finger, and she obeyed. Most of the marks from their earlier session had faded from bright-red welts to soft-pink lines, but one still looked angry.

He walked to her and touched the mark lightly. “Does it hurt?”

“Only when you touch it,” she admitted.

“Are you sorry I did it?”

“No.” Her answer came quick and hard, making him grin.

“Turn around,” he ordered.

When she faced him again, he tilted her chin up with his fist holding his belt. Her lips parted, and a short breath escaped just before he mashed his mouth to hers. She made a sound, small and sweet, and he swallowed it, intensifying the kiss. She was his, only his, and forever his.

She started to pull away, but he held her fast, pressing his hands to her hips and keeping her where he wanted her. She brought her hands up to his face, cupping his cheeks and meeting his energy.

She took over the kiss. What he had meant to be a claim on her had been turned around. Her kiss was starved, and she was taking what she wanted from him. Her fingers slid down his cheeks, touching his jaw, giving herself over to him.

He wasn’t taking her; she was giving herself to him.

When he broke the kiss, he pressed his forehead against hers, taking in her shaky breath, the tremble of her arms when he touched her.

“You weren’t supposed to be so perfect.” He dropped the belt to the floor, forgetting whatever preamble he had planned and walked her backward until she was pushed against the wall.

He claimed her mouth again, crushing his lips against hers. He grasped her shoulders, only losing his grip when she groaned. The welts. He pulled away, but she grabbed his jacket with both hands.

“No. Don’t.” She shoved his jacket from his shoulders, and he let her. He gave over and let her strip him down. His suit lay in a crumpled heap on the floor by the time she was finished. He’d lost two buttons on his shirt.

“This damn hair.” He worked the pins out and tossed them to the floor, tugging his fingers through her red locks. She winced when he got caught in a knot, and he grinned. “That’s what you get for not leaving it down in the first place.”

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