Intimate Exposure (3 page)

Vicki had completely forgotten about the sweepstake. The email had popped into her inbox just before they’d left the office to come down to the gym, and she’d skimmed the brief message and instantly dismissed it. An insulting gimmick. Shanley was just trying to bribe his new workforce.

“Sorry, Lise, I’m just a bit preoccupied about a few things…and
not
that beast, before you say anything.”
Liar, liar.
“I’d completely forgotten about the sweepstake. It seems a bit of a silly idea to me. We’re not children to be pacified with prizes. It’s probably just some kind of PR sweetener before the redundancies start. I wish he’d just issue the bloody P45s and be done with it!”

Lisa’s jaw dropped, and Vicki regretted her own stroppiness. It was bad enough one man playing mind games with her, though, without their mysterious new employer doing it too. Yet another aggravating egomaniac screwing with her head, even though F. W. Shanley probably didn’t even know she existed. She was just an asset acquired along with everything else on the inventory at Wickham-Drake.

He’s probably far more interested in the building itself, or the total value of the office machinery on site, than he is in some faceless woman in lower middle management.

And yet, to be honest, hadn’t she also fantasized about Shanley himself as well as his creature Red Webster?

A man with so much worldly and financial power was a prime candidate to be a sexual dominant, that was undeniable. He was already the master of all he surveyed in so many arenas, so why not in the bedroom too? By all accounts he was a relatively young man, not some elderly fossil with high blood pressure or a dicky heart.

“But why would you get the sack, Vick? You’re a key employee. One of the most important people on our floor. And you’ve always been highly regarded by the powers that be. I wouldn’t worry if I were you.” Lisa’s perceptive eyes narrowed. “And anyway, never mind all that…I know you. It
is
Red Webster you’re brooding about, isn’t it? Now come on, you can tell Auntie Lisa every sordid little detail.”

Vicki opened her mouth to answer and point out there hadn’t been anything in the way of men in her life lately. But at that moment the door opened and—as if he’d been summoned from his natural home, the bubbling lava pits of Hades—Red Webster strolled into the room carrying a gym bag.

Fuck.

Lisa giggled, Red Webster laughed and Vicki wished that the ground really did open up on request. Either that or she could take back the mimed expletive. Her own personal devil had supernatural powers to go with his demon’s eyes, it seemed. He’d clearly lip-read what she’d said from yards away.

“You
do
fancy him, don’t you? Don’t try to deny it,” Lisa whispered, leaning closer.

Vicki attempted to get up speed on the bike again and completely ignore the tall figure who’d just stowed his belongings against the wall and was now snapping away with his infernal, ever-present camera. He was obviously combining work with pleasure, because he was dressed in a pair of loose sweatpants instead of his usual jeans, and a dark T-shirt clung closely to his solid, muscular chest. This was the first time Vicki had seen him without a sweater or a jacket on, and completely against her will, she was stunned and impressed.

He might be the spawn of the Lucifer but he had the body of a god.

And he was getting closer and still snap, snap, snapping away.

Vicki pedaled harder, even though she was in danger of hyperventilating at any moment. She was acutely aware of the skimpiness of her gym vest and running shorts, and the way they clung to her body even more now that she was sweating. Perhaps if she kept her speed right up, her body would be moving around so much that Red Webster wouldn’t be able to focus on her erogenous zones.

“Good afternoon, ladies. How’s it going?” her nemesis said amiably, camera poised. He was standing just feet away now. “Any chance I could take a few shots of you two working out?” He paused, and his handsome mouth curved wickedly in the frame of his beard. “Nothing salacious, I assure you. It’s just that our boss might get a better impression of these facilities if somebody’s using them.”

He cocked his curly head a little, and Vicki shuddered, chilled despite her overheated state. The tiny gesture was almost threatening somehow, like a raptor eyeing up prey. “We wouldn’t want him to decide they’re underused, would we?” her tormentor continued. “He might scrap the staff gym altogether and convert it into more offices.”

“Go right ahead, Mr. Webster,” she said as casually as she could. “It won’t bother me in the slightest.”

It was a blatant lie, but to cover the fact that she was suddenly blushing in a way that had nothing to do with exercise, she leapt off the bike and moved over to the bench press machine. Lisa followed, and as Vicki took her place on the padded bench, her friend moved to her side to spot for her.

As Vicki began to press the weights, she studiously made sure there was no chance of looking in Red Webster’s direction.

“And he fancies you,” Lisa murmured, clinging to her theme with evident glee. “He really, really fancies you.”

“Well, that’s a shame because he’s not my type,” Vicki panted, struggling with a level of weight that usually didn’t bother her at all.

“Don’t be an idiot. He’s gorgeous. I love that slightly disheveled, bearded, arty look. It only makes him seem more of a man.” Lisa leaned closer. “I wouldn’t mind winning
him
in the sweepstake to do with what I want. Maybe he
is
the prize, and Shanley’s sent him among us as a treat for the female employees?”

Oh, Lise, you’re so wrong. It would be
him
doing whatever
he
wanted with you.

Vicki let the weights settle back slowly into place, stunned by her own thoughts.

Red Webster made her hackles rise every time he hove into view, even though she didn’t really know why. She’d dealt with sexy, teasing, flirtatious men before. Hell, she even liked them. But something about this one was troubling, like a tickle of disorientating electricity. It had to be down to more than just a minor antipathy. It
was
more. It was an instinctive knowledge, at the deepest level, that he would make a superb master. She pictured him with her e-reader in his long elegant hands and knew that he also understood everything about
The Story of O
and BDSM in general…from personal experience.

“Well, I think he’s arrogant, a dilettante, and deliberately annoying. And I shall be glad when he takes himself off back to wherever he came from. We’ve enough to worry about at the moment without him loitering around, following our every move.” Unable to stop herself, she glanced his way, a sudden, shocking thought occurring to her. “For all we know the report could be a blind and he’s simply Shanley’s personal spy.”

Red Webster was already snapping away, but to give him credit, he was sticking to long shots of her and Lisa. Nothing too up close and personal. For a moment, she almost respected him. The man did have some finesse, she’d somehow known that. But the mellowing was dissipated again when he lowered his camera and smiled that slow, infernal smile of his, his gaze gliding over her body.

Fuck you! I’ve had enough.

But right on the point of calling a halt to her workout and stomping out of the gym, Vicki balked.

That would playing right into Red Webster’s hands. It would let him know how much he aroused her and the way her own flip-flopping reaction to him befuddled her.

But he knew that already. That was the problem. She was quite certain that somewhere behind those peculiar brilliant eyes of his lay sure knowledge. He was fully aware how much he got to her and how much she sometimes wished he’d just disappear off the face of the earth. And at the same time he sensed the deep, true part of her that longed to submit her will to his.

And even more than that.

She wanted him to punish her.

She pictured herself tied to the polished wooden wall bars in this very gym, while Red Webster beat her on the bottom with a whip. She could almost feel the sting and bite of it on her flesh, and the way her writhing body moved involuntarily in order to invite his further attentions, both painful and pleasurable.

A finger snap suddenly brought her back to reality. She sat up, carefully avoiding looking across the room, and found that Lisa was clutching her sports bag.

“I’ve got to dash now, girlfriend. I just realized I’ve got a meeting in about fifteen minutes. I’ll catch you later.” Her eyes flicked across the room. “But at least you’ve still got a workout buddy to spot for you.” She flashed a quick wink at Vicki and walked swiftly across the gym, only pausing to nod meaningfully towards Red Webster as she left.

The tall, dark man had abandoned his camera now and was clearly about to work out himself. Vicki couldn’t keep herself from watching him—covertly—as he slid off his spectacles and set them aside in his bag. As he rubbed his eyes, she felt a sense of relief. Excellent. He probably couldn’t see her clearly now without his glasses.

But a second later, her hopes faltered. One more glance across the room told her that whatever those trendy metal frames held, it wasn’t a lens to correct distance vision.

He was still staring at her. Intently. And smiling.

Oh hell.

Vicki clenched her teeth, then willed herself to relax. Should she gather up her own kit and just give him a cursory nod and leave? Or should she stay and tough it out and finish her routine? She was as good as done, but she really needed to cool down and stretch. And if she scuttled away now, her personal devil would take it as a tick in his column, score one to him in their unspoken joust of wills.

Turning the go-stay option over, Vicki risked another quick look his way and found that mercifully he wasn’t watching her anymore. He seemed lost in his warm-up, completely unaware of her.

Oh hell, I should have gone…I should have just gone.

Red Webster had an amazing body, and it was even more impressive in workout clothes than it appeared in his usual uniform of jeans, dark sweater and leather jacket. He was big, in every sense of the word. Immensely tall, well over six feet, and broad and beautifully set up in proportion. His chest was massive and deep, and his arms and legs powerful and nicely muscled. He wasn’t a steroid-pumped bodybuilder, but everything about him exuded a supreme strength combined with agility and control.

Control.

That word again. Red Webster was the embodiment of it, and every time she thought of it, and him, it made her quiver. And as if he’d heard it too, Red Webster paused in a long, smooth stretch and glanced her way again. His gaze tracked from her to her gym bag, and, as if he’d read her every intention, he abandoned his routine and strode over.

“You’re not thinking of leaving yet, are you?”

Mischief lights danced in his eyes like sparks, and she had the distinct impression that he could see her just as well without his glasses as with them.

“Yes, I am. I’ve done what I came here to do.”

“You haven’t done a cooldown yet. You need to stretch and get loose and relaxed just as much after a workout as before it.” He looked her up and down as if assessing every last inch of her and not just the state of her muscles. “You wouldn’t want to get a muscle cramp in the middle of one of your high-powered meetings, would you?”

Damn you.

The words were silent and wrought as much by shock as anything. That exact thing had actually happened to her once, when she’d rushed from the gym without cooling down properly. It was almost as if Red Webster had been there and seen her, later, fighting the agony of cramp in her calf muscle.

“I
was
planning to stretch out a bit, actually, Mr. Webster…before you interrupted me.”

Oh, why in God’s name am I acting like a brat? I’m playing right into his hands.

Right where you
want
to be
, her own inner demon pointed out almost immediately.

Time seemed to stretch out too, and she couldn’t move. Just as if she were already afflicted with one gigantic muscle cramp that had immobilized her entire body.

“I’ll help you.” He picked up his glasses and popped them back on again. “I’m good at this sort of thing.” His mouth curved as he strolled towards her, making him look suddenly utterly sensual. “I’ve done a lot of physical training in my time.”

Oh dear Lord, I’ll just bet you have done
, that true interior voice responded with feeling.
And nothing to do with working out with weights.

She experienced a moment of fight-or-flight reflex, knowing that if she lingered she was committing to far more than a few stretches. But still she stayed where she was. If she went now,
she would regret it. She would miss something. Something her mind wasn’t yet ready to articulate, but her body knew.

She had to prove she wasn’t afraid of him too, or more accurately that she was afraid, but she was game to take him on despite the fear.

“Okay, then.”
C’est la vie.

He made her sit on the mat, and hunkered down there with her. Then he proceeded to put her body through a series of the simplest but most astonishing manipulations, pulling on her limbs, exerting equal and opposing forces. His touch was measured, balanced and totally authoritative, and despite her jumbled feelings, her muscles responded and began to relax and loosen in a way that was so delicious it was almost orgasmic.

“Roll over. Lie facedown,” he instructed at length. “I’ll give you a massage to get the last kinks out. There’s still a little bit of you that’s fighting me.”

Despite the protests that rose to her lips, she obeyed him. It was impossible not to. She was hypnotized by the touch of his hands, the glinting fire in his eyes and the sheer overpowering force of his personality.

If she’d thought his stretching regime was bliss, his massage skills quickly pushed her even nearer to paradise.

He worked her with the same understated competence, the massage vigorous but exquisite, alternating between going deep with his thumbs and loosening knots, and moving quickly up and down her back and shoulders with a brisk, percussive chopping action.