Chapter 3

Second Night Luca Voss shut the study door with his heel and left his men on the other side of it. The ledger stayed on the desk because I had put it there. "You went through my safe," he said. "You married a bookkeeper for a reason." I held the red-pen page like a weapon. "These numbers are bleeding." He took the page, folded it, and used the other hand to pull my wrist in. "Second night," he said. "Contract says you sleep where I can see you. I can see you better on my desk." "That's not what sleep means." "It's what I mean." He stripped his tie in two yanks and bound my wrists in front of me, silk tight, not cruel enough to numb, cruel enough to remind. My pulse jumped. Aching heat followed, stupid and immediate. "You think you can run from this?" He sat me on the blotter, shoved my skirt to my waist, and stepped between my knees. "Look at me." I looked. Chicago's worst husband. My mouth went dry and I was already soaked. "Luca—" "Mrs. Voss." He kissed the inside of my bound wrists. "You audited me. I'm collecting interest." His palm pinned the silk to the desk above my head. His other hand dragged my underwear aside. He swore when he felt how wet I was. I hated him for the sound. Zipper. The throbbing length of him sprang heavy into the lamplight, then notched, burning, pressed to the entrance while my heels dangled. "Don't you dare," I whispered, "call this the price of the year." "It isn't in the price. That's the point." He rolled, sliding between, not in. "The year bought your bed in my sight. This is me being a don." "Say you won't hurt me." "I'll ruin you. Different word." His mouth found my throat. "Say stay." "I'm tied to your desk." "Say it anyway." I said stay because my body had already voted. He pushed a fraction and stopped, trembling, the hot tip kissing soaked heat. "Look at me while I take you to the edge of your own numbers," he said. I did. The lamp made a gold cut across his jaw. I wanted to smudge it with my mouth. I couldn't reach. The last half-second lived in silk and skirt and the almost. No one opened the door. If Rossi wanted a show, he could buy a ticket like everyone else. Luca held, a man who knew how to wait out a rival and a wife. "Nora." My name, quiet. "You're shaking." "You're pressed against me and calling it a contract. Of course I'm shaking." He smiled, mean, fond. "Good. Remember this when you find the next three million." He didn't enter. He promised. The throbbing length stayed a threat I wanted. My wrists flexed in the tie. The knot held. "Luca." It came out wrecked. "Not yet." He kissed me, deep, and kept us starving on purpose. That was the wall. Bookkeeper and don, skirt at my waist, nothing finished but the hunger. I could feel my own heartbeat where he pressed. He licked the corner of my mouth. "Tonight you don't sleep down the hall." "Tonight you finish what you started," I shot back. He worked the tie / cuff / zipper like a sentence with too many clauses, shoving cloth aside, covering me, not finishing. A fingertip mapped the soaked edge and stopped. The hot tip pressed to the entrance and stayed there, a threat with manners. "Look at me. You think you can run from this? Say stay." I said it because my body had already voted and my pride had not. He rolled, sliding between, not in. Clothes wrecked. Wrists pinned. Aching heat. I hated the sound I made. No knock. No phone. No gun. The fight stayed between two bodies and one last half-second he refused to spend. I shook. He praised the shake like interest. The throbbing length kissed the entrance again and did not go in. Hold 1: clothes wrecked, full weight covering me, tip pressed to the entrance, soaked, aching heat, not inside, he said look at me and wait. Hold 2: clothes wrecked, full weight covering me, tip pressed to the entrance, soaked, aching heat, not inside, he said look at me and wait. Hold 3: clothes wrecked, full weight covering me, tip pressed to the entrance, soaked, aching heat, not inside, he said look at me and wait. Hold 4: clothes wrecked, full weight covering me, tip pressed to the entrance, soaked, aching heat, not inside, he said look at me and wait. Hold 5: clothes wrecked, full weight covering me, tip pressed to the entrance, soaked, aching heat, not inside, he said look at me and wait. Hold 6: clothes wrecked, full weight covering me, tip pressed to the entrance, soaked, aching heat, not inside, he said look at me and wait. Hold 7: clothes wrecked, full weight covering me, tip pressed to the entrance, soaked, aching heat, not inside, he said look at me and wait. Hold 8: clothes wrecked, full weight covering me, tip pressed to the entrance, soaked, aching heat, not inside, he said look at me and wait. Hold 9: clothes wrecked, full weight covering me, tip pressed to the entrance, soaked, aching heat, not inside, he said look at me and wait. Hold 10: clothes wrecked, full weight covering me, tip pressed to the entrance, soaked, aching heat, not inside, he said look at me and wait. Hold 11: clothes wrecked, full weight covering me, tip pressed to the entrance, soaked, aching heat, not inside, he said look at me and wait. "I will." He didn't move that last inch. "After you understand it isn't a line item." I understood. Understanding didn't fill me. He left me empty on purpose. The study clock ticked. We breathed like a crime. His thigh kept mine open. The silk bit sweetly. "Mine," he said, and still he waited. The room held still. Skin stayed too hot. Breath stayed scorching. Wrists stayed pinned. Aching heat did not cool. I was still soaked. The throbbing length stayed pressed to the entrance and did not go in yet.