Stephanie Evanovich - The Sweet Spot

She immediately did as he bid, trying to bring the sheet with her, feeling both suddenly modest and now like she needed some sort of protection. He had to know the door didn’t have a lock. He pulled the sheet away from her now-sweaty grip, placing it back on the table.

“What are you going to do?” she asked, trying desperately to keep from trembling.

“Arm, please,” he requested, ignoring her question. She held out her arm and he slipped the sleeve of her robe on. He gently brought the rest of the garment around her, helping her into it, his concentration fully on the menial chore.

Then he pulled the sash from the loops on each side of the robe from one side until it was free and in his hands. He brought his eyes back up to hers.

“Hands together, in front of you,” he commanded, no longer courteous or accommodating.

Amanda automatically joined her hands together. Chase took the sash and began to wrap it around her wrists. After wrapping it around them twice, he brought the ends together and held them in one hand, giving a little tug on them. He finally smiled.

“How you feeling about your plan now?” His voice was pure liquid devilry. Satisfied her wrists were secure, he released them. Then he walked back over to the door.

“I’d feel better if I knew what you were going to do,” she confessed after hearing the click. The door had a lock after all.

“I’ll bet you would.” He chuckled, resuming his grasp and gently lifting the ends of the sash until her arms were suspended just over her head. He took a step closer to her, without actually making contact. “As soon as I heard that guy’s voice, I knew what you were about, although I couldn’t believe it. You can take pride in getting the reaction you were looking for. Well played. I wanted to rip this entire room apart. And I think you should thank your lucky stars I don’t have access to my pants, because I was seriously considering how great it would feel to take my belt off, but for now yours will have to do.”

She failed at holding back the gasp this time and blinked up at him, no longer nervous but now increasingly excited. He was actually talking weapons; she had really ticked him off. A spa full of people was now the furthest thing from her mind; her thoughts were now all Chase Walker. She tried to lean in to him, her hands still over her head and he easily evaded her, maintaining full control by her wrists. He brought his mouth near her ear, again careful not to make contact, and whispered, “But then again, making me angry was your purpose for the whole exercise, wasn’t it?”

She couldn’t answer; she was focused on his warm gentle baritone, measured and rhythmic. She knew this voice. It was the one that made her crazy and usually ended in her rapture.

“Which leaves me with a real problem,” he continued in her ear. “You’ve requested a very private punishment in a rather public setting. And because you control me, I have to give you what you want. And don’t worry, angel, you may still get your wish.” He then added, “Although I make no promises as to when.”

What was that? Her pulse quickened again and she pulled her head away from his, trying to focus on him with wide eyes. Did he just say he wasn’t going to spank her?

He laughed a little, wrapping another length of the sash around his knuckles, pulling her closer to him, still without touching her. “I forgot to mention, topping from the bottom usually backfires.”

He waited for her to settle back down before whispering, “By the time I’m done with you, you’re going to be begging me to violate you ten ways till Sunday.”

Then he waited for the chill to pass through her before adding, “But until then, I’m not going to touch you. After all, your folks are members here.”

He took a healthy lock of her hair and twirled it around his fingers, careful not to pull. “I love your hair. I’m taken by all of you, but your hair is second to only one other part of you. And although I consider even the tips of your toes mine, there are some parts that are more exclusive than others. Do you know what body part tops that list?”

Chase stepped back from her, lifted her arms a bit higher above her head, and his free hand dipped into her robe, softly grazing the underside of her breast with his fingers. He gently flicked his fingertip against an already taut nipple and he heard her breath catch deep in her throat.

“Okay,” he said, low and husky, his hand moving to her other breast, lightly tracing a circle around it. “I may have lied about the touching, but you’re still going to learn a little lesson about control. Come on, take a guess. What body part will you never ever share with another man again?”

Amanda had to lean back against the massage table. Between his hot breath against her ear, his hand committing a torture of the most feathery kind, and her arms still above her head, she was dizzy enough to actually faint. If it caught him by surprise, she could dislocate a shoulder when she became deadweight. That sort of embarrassment wasn’t out of the question, as her history would dictate.

“I’ve taken the control, all of it. It’s okay, baby, I’ve got you,” he whispered before lightly biting down on her earlobe. His fingertips brushed faintly between her breasts and down over her navel. She pulled against the restraints on her wrists and spread her legs slightly apart in anticipation and he stopped.

“You may have traumatized a completely competent massage therapist out of his career. At the very least, you took ten years off his life. He looked pretty shaken up. You should feel bad about that.” His fingertips danced a little bit lower.

“I do, Chase, I do. I feel like crying,” she whispered, breathlessly exhaling the admission. All she had to do was tell him to stop and he would. She wasn’t worried about his stopping; she was terrified he wouldn’t keep going. His thick fingers made little spirals down and back up her thigh as they continued on their quest. When he passed lightly over her sex, it produced an all-consuming throb and she tried to trap his hand there by closing her legs. And he almost allowed it, but then denied her, returning to their quiz.

“That would be a logical guess and totally up there, but that one goes without saying. Try again.”

He continued slowly swirling his fingertips around her thigh before coming to rest possessively on her behind. He gave it a little squeeze followed by a gentle pat.

“I think we reached the end of the riddle.” She sighed softly.

“Ever heard the phrase ‘You won’t be able to sit for week’?” He asked offhandedly, squeezing again. “I almost want to put that one to the test.”

And then he leaned into her. He was full and hard and it pressed into her stomach. He may have teased her to the point of distraction, but there was no denying she had succeeded in arousing him as well, and he wanted her to know it. With her arms still suspended above her head, tight within the sash and his grip, she blinked up at him.

“I certainly deserve it. I’ve been a very bad girl,” Amanda said seductively. He let out a rush of air and his sex pulsated against her.

“And you’re so good at it,” he ground out, releasing her arms, which fell neatly over his head and around his neck as he lifted her. His mouth covered hers just in time to stifle her ecstasy-filled cry when he buried his erection inside her.

“FEEL LIKE TAKING a ride? There’s something I want to show you,” Chase asked Amanda rhetorically one afternoon after he picked her up at her apartment. The enjoyment in their road trips never waned. Moments alone midseason were precious and few. He didn’t say anything more and they drove away from the city and headed northwest. They talked of the usual, how they’d spent the day, the chores they’d done. Amanda asked no questions and made no guesses as to their destination and Chase didn’t give any clues, which had become their standard practice. Surprising each other was a contest, and not always about high stakes. Less than an hour later, they were off the highway and onto picturesque streets. At the intersection of what appeared to be a dirt road, Amanda saw a very familiar black Ford Expedition with tinted windows. Chase gave a haphazard wave in its direction and turned onto the unpaved trail, giving little thought to the damage the uneven terrain might cause to his hundred-and-fifty-thousand-dollar driving machine.

What has he found now? Amanda smiled to herself, wondering if they were going to spend a half hour marveling at some rock with a plaque near it that said George Washington rested a foot there. Chase loved history, the American Revolution in particular, and New Jersey was lousy with it. She had accompanied him to countless state parks and monuments, but he sometimes also went off the beaten path to lesser-known bridges and barns and battlefields. And it never ceased to amaze her how he could turn from a grown man to an enthusiastic juvenile whenever he encountered them. He took pictures of them with his phone; sometimes video. She recalled one of the rare times he’d pimped out his celebrity status after driving to a site that was now a private home. But the house had been meticulously preserved and was just too authentic for him to pass up. He had pulled in front of it, grabbed a signed baseball out of his trunk, and knocked on the door. And because he was Chase Walker, the proud if not surprised owners had spent nearly two hours giving them a tour. He listened and pondered aloud with the middle-aged couple over iced tea in a pristine garden what it must have been like to have been there, the trials and tribulations of the country’s forefathers forging a nation. She had determined Chase really did have an old soul.