Playing His Game Part 6

Thoughts of Bobby dispelled her mental fog, and she firmed her mouth as she turned to face Roarke. His eyes darkened as he looked at her. His expression made Mya shift restlessly. "What's with the dress?"

"You can't do ballroom dancing without a dress like that."

Mya frowned at him. "Ballroom dancing?"

He nodded as he walked toward her. When he stood a few inches from her, he said, "Turn around."

Her expression was suspicious. "Why?"

Roarke grinned at her. "So I can zip you up."

"Oh." She had been expecting something else. Mya turned around and stumbled a bit on the unaccustomed height of the heels. His hands steadied her for a moment before one hand slid the zipper down. A shiver danced up her spine as his warm fingers pulled the zipper up to the top and locked it in place. For a brief second, his hands lingered on her shoulders, then dropped away. Mya turned around, surprised to find her face within inches of his chest.

She stepped back and turned to the door, followed closely by Roarke. She left the bedroom and walked into the living room. Mya stood in the center of the room, wondering what would happen next.

Roarke walked into the kitchen and bent down to a cupboard. When he stood up, he held a portable stereo, which he set on the counter. He pressed a b.u.t.ton and slow music wafted from the speakers.

He walked into the living room and stopped a few inches away from her. "You really are beautiful," he whispered. With a deep breath, Roarke put his arms around her and took one of her hands in his. He rested the other one on her back. "Lay your head on my chest."

Reluctantly, Mya did as he instructed and put her free hand on his shoulder. There was something so intimate about being this close to him. She felt exposed. Even more so than she had on Tuesday, when he had seen her in that teddy as she touched herself. That day, he hadn't laid a hand on her, but now his body was pressed against hers. She could feel his rapid heartbeat against her cheek, and it echoed through her ear. He smelled of peppermint and a spicy cologne. A curiously pleasant combination that was uniquely him.

He resisted the urge to pull her so tightly against him that they couldn't dance. If his feet didn't move continuously, Roarke knew his hands would start to explore, and she wasn't ready for that. He ached for her, but held off. He buried his face in her hair and breathed in her scent. He tried to tell himself to be content with her in his arms, despite the layers of clothes between them. He lowered his head to the bend where her neck and shoulder met and inhaled.

Mya's eyes widened when he moved to her neck. She froze as she waited for him to nip her, but all he did was breathe against her skin. Her stomach clenched, and her nipples hardened further, much to her embarra.s.sment. As his facial hair tickled her neck, and his breath whispered across her skin, Mya's head tilted of its own volition to allow him better access.

Unable to resist, Roarke pressed a gentle kiss to the sensitive spot. His mouth curved upwards as she moved her head. A small sign of acceptance, but enough to nurture his hope.

She shivered when his lips touched her. Mya's eyes closed, and she snuggled a bit closer. A dull ache started in the pit of her stomach and soon spread downwards. She sighed when he kissed her again.

His hands tangled in her hair, and he pulled the barrette out to let the ma.s.s fall free around her shoulders. He took a handful of the red-gold hair and rubbed it against his cheek. Roarke was relieved when the music suddenly stopped. He was shaky and knew he was almost out of control. He stepped away from her so fast she swayed at the abrupt withdrawal of his support.

Mya bit back a protest as his arms fell away from her. She lifted her heavy lids to look up at him with confusion. "What-?"

He smiled down at her and touched her cheek. "The CD ended."

She glanced at her watch. How had thirty minutes pa.s.sed without her knowledge? She cleared her throat. "Yes. I was counting down the minutes." They both knew it was a lie, and Mya raised her chin. Her eyes dared him to challenge the statement.

He bit back a laugh. "You can leave now."

"Already?" She turned bright red when the question slipped out of her mouth. What was she thinking? She should be relieved that their meeting had ended so soon and without anything unpleasant first. She shouldn't feel even a hint of disappointment. Mya was seized by the urgent need to escape before he could respond to her question. She hurried around him, but froze when his hand fell on her shoulder. She turned back to him with a frown of censure. "You said I could go."

Roarke smiled at her, pleased to note the flush of desire on her cheeks-or was it embarra.s.sment? Either way, it indicated a reaction to him. Rather than answer, his hand moved to the zipper and lowered it for her. When he let go, she rushed past him to the bedroom. Her flight spoke of a desire to escape. If he judged from her response to his touch, she sought escape from her own reaction more so than him. A satisfied smile curved his mouth. He didn't want to endure another night of frustration, but it was a small price to pay to leave her in the same condition.

His smile was chased away by an image of a naked Waller, eager to hold Mya in his arms. Unlike Roarke, she had someone who waited for her at home. Someone who would ease her frustrations. He almost abandoned his plan and stormed into the bedroom. Only the realization that he would lose all chance with her caused his feet to turn in the direction of the door.

Mya had just hung the dress in the closet when she heard the front door slam. She walked over to the bedroom door and peered out. >From this angle, there was no sign of Roarke. She went back to the bed, scooped up her purse, and left the room. There was no sign of Roarke as she walked through the condo. The only proof of their presence was the stereo on the counter and her barrette on the floor. She bent down to retrieve it on her way out.

As she locked the door behind her, Mya wondered why Roarke had left in such a hurry. He hadn't said a word before he rushed out. Had she done something that upset or offended him? Her mouth twisted. She hoped she had so he would let her out of this ridiculous game. She ignored the little voice in the back of her head that said otherwise, ruthlessly squashing it as she hailed a taxi to take her home. Back to Bobby, where she belonged.

Chapter Eight.

Roarke's Summons Mya didn't sleep well Tuesday night. Bobby had sulked the entire evening and didn't speak to her once. She was relieved to find him gone when she woke up later than usual on Wednesday. That made her feel guilty, but she was too consumed with a headache to worry about how she felt. She rolled from the bed and padded into the bathroom. After swallowing two Advils, she went into the kitchen to pour a cup of coffee.

She hissed with annoyance when she saw Bobby had shut off the warmer, despite the half of a pot that remained in the carafe. She dumped out the contents and started a fresh pot. While she waited for it to brew, she went to the answering machine when she noticed the light flashed.

When Mya pressed play, she groaned. Her boss' voice was as brisk as usual, although her message was a surprise. "We won't need you today, Mya. I double-scheduled, and you have seniority, so you get the free day. With pay, of course."

She frowned and deleted the message. It wasn't like Chelsea to give anyone a day off. The next message offered an explanation.

"Mya, it's Roarke. I wanted to see you today. I can't wait until Friday. I handled your boss, so don't offer that excuse."

d.a.m.n, his voice was as s.e.xy on the tape as it was in real life. She glared down at the machine and wished she could retort.

He continued. "You should have a delivery around ten-thirty. Be at my office by noon, wearing only what's in the box."

She stuck her tongue out when the machine beeped, indicating the end of the message. He couldn't see her response, but it made her feel better.

Mya was distracted by the doorbell, and her gaze automatically flew to the clock. 10:34. Her visitor could only be the delivery Roarke had spoken of.

She didn't bother to change from the silk pajamas when she answered the door. A pet.i.te UPS driver stood on her step, holding a small box. "Yes?"

"Are you Mya Lang...uh..."

"That's me." Mya signed the electronic box before she took the package. Once she had closed the door, she took the box into the bedroom and unwrapped it. She frowned when she lifted out the contents. It looked like a raincoat, with a zipper down the front, but was made from some lightweight tiger-printed material. The model on the tag was shown wearing it as a dress, with a scarf around her head, and blocky heels.

"He wants me to wear this?" She shook her head and held it against her. It was indecent. The material was so sheer it must be transparent.

She wanted to lift the phone and tell him to f.u.c.k off, but she restrained herself. Mya groaned, knowing she had agreed to play his stupid game, which made her at his beck and call. She left the sc.r.a.p of cloth on the bed and went to shower.

When she returned to the bedroom, she slipped on a bra and panties before lifting the dress and unzipping it. She pulled it on and was surprised at how soft the fabric was. She zipped it up the front and looked in the mirror. It wasn't transparent, as she had thought. The interior fabric was woven together to keep some secrets of the wearer.

She felt uncomfortable in the dress as she walked out of the apartment and went downstairs. Mya flagged a taxi, carefully watching the driver's expression for any indication that he could see through the dress. He seemed uninterested in anything at all, except her destination.

Once she had settled in the backseat, Mya found herself wondering what Roarke had planned for today. The unscheduled meeting irked her, but she thought Roarke was probably testing her obedience.

By the time the driver dropped her at the studio, Mya was fuming. She checked in with security with barely a word, afraid to let her tongue fly. The same man who had escorted her to the first meeting with Roarke led her up the stairs. He knocked and held the door open for her. He nodded as she walked inside, then closed the door behind her.

Mya's eyes fell on Roarke, with his feet propped up on the desk. She glared at him. "How dare you rearrange my work schedule? I don't appreciate being summoned like a peasant to the king." Roarke swung his legs off the desk and laughed. "I know, but I had to make sure you would come if I sent for you."

She walked forward and threw herself in the chair. She crossed her arms. "Do I have a choice?"

Roarke lifted a brow. "Yes."

Mya shifted. The choice she had was no choice at all. She sighed. "So, what do you want?"

"You're going to dance for me."

She rolled her eyes. "More dancing?"

A peculiar grin curved across his face. "Solo, this time." He slid his seat sideways and turned on a CD

player. A heavy, pulsing beat issued from the speakers.She shook her head. "I don't dance."Roarke patted his lap. "Don't make me ask again."Mya glared at him when she stood up. "You never ask."He shrugged and leaned back. "Ever done a lap dance?"Her eyes widened. "Of course not."He laughed. "That's about to change."Mya walked behind the desk and hesitated. "I don't know where to begin.""With the music. Feel the rhythm and pick it up. Move your hips." His voice got progressively huskier.

"Sit on my lap."

She bit her lip and tried to focus on the music. The beat was actually rather simple, and she swayed her hips to the music in no time. She deliberately kept her eyes off Roarke's face and concentrated on the

ceiling. Mya sashayed toward him before she swung her leg over his chair. She paused and waited for the courage to touch him.

She looked down from the ceiling and saw his hands were clenched around the arms of his chair. Sweat

beaded his forehead, and he had a hard-on already. She hadn't even touched him yet.

Mya slowly lowered herself onto his lap. His erection pressed against her thigh. She flushed when she felt herself get moist.

"Don't forget to move with the music," Roarke bit out through clenched teeth.

She wiggled tentatively and felt him jerk in response. Mya grasped the back of the chair with her hands

on either side of his head and rotated her hips in a circle. He groaned, and she pressed herself against him to grind her softness against his hard shaft. Wetness flooded her, but she was too into her performance to be ashamed.

"Take off the dress."

Mya obeyed his command without question. Her hands shook as she unzipped the dress, but she got the zipper down. She tossed the garment over her shoulder and returned her hands to the back of his chair. Her b.r.e.a.s.t.s were inches from his face, and she sat on his lap and wriggled around. Mya frowned when she realized Roarke didn't wear an expression of bliss or even frustration. He looked irritated. "What?"

Roarke shook his head. "You didn't listen."

She lifted a brow. "I'm sorry?"

Roarke touched the strap of her bra, careful not to come into contact with her flesh. "I told you to wear

just the dress."Mya's eyes widened. "You meant without underwear?" Her mouth opened and closed. "That's indecent."He grinned. "I prefer naughty." Roarke sighed. "And you were naughty for not listening." He reached for a pair of scissors from his pen organizer.

Mya's eyes widened when she saw the sharp shears. "Wh-what are you going to do?"

He ignored the question and slid the blade under one of her straps. He cut through it with one clean slice,

then did the same to the other one. He felt her stiffen when he slid the blade between her b.r.e.a.s.t.s. "I won't

hurt you," he grunted.

Roarke made short cuts through the white material. The bra was thin and cheap, and easily surrendered to the sharp edges of the scissors. When he cut through the band of the bra, he peeled it from her, still not touching her b.r.e.a.s.t.s.

Mya instinctively covered her b.r.e.a.s.t.s. "You're crazy."

He laughed. "Maybe, but only for you. Now, move your arms and climb on the desk."

She bit back a refusal and dropped her arms. Mya tried to pretend he wasn't watching her every move

when she lifted herself from his lap onto the desk. "Ouch." She fumbled under her bottom and removed apen. Her shoes fell to the floor with two m.u.f.fled thunks.

Roarke took it and put it in the pen organizer. "Turn more on your left side."

Mya shifted so she lay almost on her left side. She braced her hands behind her on the desk and put her feet on the arms of the chair.

Roarke swallowed when he was confronted with an un.o.bstructed view of the crotch of her panties. They were thin cotton and almost transparent because of the moisture between her legs. He reached out to caress her puffy lips, but held himself back. "I think you like dancing for me." He forced an easy grin, which became more natural when he saw her embarra.s.sed expression.

He took pity on her and turned his attention to the waistband of the panties on her hip. He slid the scissors inside and cut through the material. His hand lingered on her hip for just a second, before he forced himself to peel the material from her body. "Other side."

She looked p.i.s.sed as she rolled onto her other side and silently endured his removal of the other side of her panties.

"Lean back and spread your legs."