We ended the call but when Dallas walks in a minute later, I'm still mulling over that word--and the situation.
Can it be true? Could the media bullshit surrounding Dallas and me really destroy my most lucrative and high-profile deal?
And how the hell had I not even considered that this might happen?
"Jane? What's wrong?"
I actually laugh, because how am I supposed to pick the best answer to that question? Bill, work, Colin. Honestly, the list is pretty much endless.
I settle on just shaking my head. "Joel called. Just bullshit with the screenplay."
Dallas studies me, but says nothing. Instead, he takes my hands and pulls me close. I sigh deeply and snuggle against him, wanting to just get lost here in his arms. "Baby, you're dead on your feet."
I tilt my head back and offer a weak smile. "I am," I admit, then rise up on to my tiptoes to brush a kiss over his lips. Because though I'm tired, sleep isn't what I want or need. "Please, Dallas. Bring me back to life."
"I can do that," he says, then releases me as he takes a step backward. "Take off your clothes."
The shift from gentle to commanding surprises me, but also excites me, and the no-nonsense authority in his voice makes my pulse pick up tempo.
"Jane." His voice is stern. "Now."
I feel the impact of his words between my thighs. A wild heat builds inside me, and I'm eager to simply surrender and let Dallas take charge. I'm wearing jeans and a silk tank top under a Prada blazer. I take the jacket off first, and toss it carelessly aside. My arms are bare now, and the air against my skin is almost as erotic as the way Dallas is now looking at me.
"Jeans next," he says, and I comply, slowly unbuttoning the fly and then wriggling my hips to slide off the denim. I'm wearing a thong, and I take it down with the jeans. Since I kicked off my flats as I entered the apartment, my feet are bare, and I step out of my clothes and take a step toward Dallas.
I'm half-naked now, wearing only my tank and satin bra. I lick my lips as I take one more step in his direction.
"Stop," he demands. "Now spread your legs and close your eyes."
I do as he says, feeling vulnerable, exposed, and wildly turned on.
For a moment, there is silence. I hear only my own breath and the faint hum of the air conditioner. I imagine him watching me. My nipples erect under the thin tank. My pussy wet and throbbing for him. I'm already desperate for him, and he hasn't even touched me.
I wait as long as I can stand, and when he still says nothing--when the urge to slide my fingers between my legs and satisfy this building ache becomes overwhelming--I whisper, "Dallas?"
"Shhh," he says, his voice coming from behind me. I feel him take the hem of my tank, and I lift my arms as he pulls it over my head, then tosses it aside.
"Dallas..."
"No talking," he says as he frees me from my bra. "No moving. No anything. Not unless I tell you to do it."
"Okay," I murmur, then jump when his palm lands hard on my ass, the sweet sting so surprising and arousing that tremors of electricity shoot through my body to gather at my core, a precursor to a full-on orgasm that will surely bring me to my knees.
"Did I ask you to answer?"
I almost respond aloud just so that he'll spank me again, but instead I shake my head.
"Good girl," he says, his voice coming from in front of me. "Now spread your legs. That's it," he says when I comply, and I hear his soft, slow intake of breath before he says roughly, "Christ, that's hot. Your nipples hard. Your areolae dark, just waiting to be sucked. And your pussy--baby, I like that you wax for me. Do you want me to touch you? Do you want me to slide my hand over your cunt and feel how wet and slick you are?"
"Yes." I can barely get the word out, I'm so turned on.
"But I am touching you," he says, and now his voice is soft. He's moved silently toward me and is whispering into my ear, the soft caress of his breath like a kiss. "My hands are cupping your breasts and my thumbs are teasing over your nipples. They're so hard, and I flick them lightly with my fingernails."
I startle as he says that, and I swear I actually feel his touch. I open my mouth to cry out his name, but then remember the rules and press my lips together.
He chuckles. "So obedient," he says, and as he speaks, he strokes a soft finger from my core to my clit, and I tremble, my pussy clenching in a futile effort to draw him in, to have him fill me.
"Your reward for being so good," he says. "Do you want me to touch you there more?"