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But what was she doing here? If I remembered right, the girl was a pain slut. She wasn't a part of the scene, part of the lifestyle. She just wanted a good time every now and again, and was usually available for what Cole St. Martin considered a good time. On demand.
She wouldn't have been at the party, would she?
Once again I had to ask myself why I cared.
The answer walked into the suite an hour later. St. Martin stopped and leaned against the door jamb. The door had been locked from the outside before he showed up, the same as it always was.
"Are you back?"
I looked at him, trying not to let anything give me away. He only wore the tux pants now, no jacket, no affected bow tie. His hair was messy, as if maybe he'd been running his hands through it. Did that mean the party had ended earlier and it had taken him some time to come to me?
I was happy with the idea of Cole St. Martin being knocked off his usual even keel.
"I told you I'm not back."
The smirk made the most of his mouth. There was something about the shape of it, the Loki-like smile that always made him look not only like he was smirking but like he knew something so much more than I did.
"Then what are you doing in here?"
That was hardly a question to damn me. "The door was locked. Your minion brought me."
"Careful," he said lightly. "The minion has more power than you do in this –" He hesitated and for a minute I thought he was going to say relationship and didn't know if I objected more to the word or to her having a part in it. "Hierarchy."
I considered that. "I thought I was automatically on the bottom."
He licked his lips. "In every way."
I ignored that. "Then how is it a hierarchy?"
He didn't bother with the question. "Because you're on the bottom and I'm on top. Take the robe off."
I could have. I'd only put it on because I was cold. Under it I wore my running clothes. "No."
He continued to smile but his eyes changed. "Take off the robe. We need to talk."
"I can talk in the robe."
He crossed the room like a storm moving across the sky. I actually put a hand up against him, as if it would do any good. He batted it away and pulled me to my feet.
"Why does everything have to be a fight with you? You came to me. Take the robe off. We need to renegotiate."
His mouth was so close to mine I could have kissed him. His breath smelled of cilantro or something green and leafy. Up close his eyes were super dark, intent on mine. There was no softness in them.
I didn't find myself wanting softness. I could have had control inside a normal life. That would have been marrying Mark.
I could have had something possibly kinky but on an even playing field with James. Or maybe James would turn out to be totally vanilla. It didn't matter. James had been briefly interesting but this was the difference between a boy and a man.
I wanted the man. But I wanted him on my terms.
He was taunting me. Letting me think he'd kiss me. If I reached up to him, he'd pull away. He'd want something in return. Or he'd drive me to my knees and leave me there, still wanting.
Or – or a million other responses he could have. My eyes searching his, I went up on tiptoes, my mouth so close to his I actually brushed his lips with mine before I settled back down on both feet, looking up at him.
"We do need to talk," I said.
There was anger, but there was also laughter in his eyes. "Kneel," he said, and paced away from me. .
"No." It was automatic now.
