Owning Violet (The Fowler Sisters #1)(37)
“Same with me.” He grabs hold of my elbow and leads me into his office, closing and locking the door behind us. The click of the lock is loud in the silence and my gaze roams over the interior of the room, noticing that the red tie is sitting in its box on top of his desk.
“Do you really like it?” I ask when I turn to him, adding when I see his confused frown, “The tie?”
The slow smile that crosses his handsome face makes my insides tremble. “Oh yes, very much.” He takes a step closer to me, reaching out to drift his fingers down the length of my arm. “Almost as much as this dress you’re wearing.”
The dress is simple, in a subtle black-and-white patterned fabric that fits me well but isn’t too terribly sexy. I feel confident in it, though. Another suit of armor for me to wear. “Th-thank you,” I whisper, overwhelmed by the sensations his fingers on my skin pull from me. He entangles his fingers with mine and jerks me to him, our bodies colliding, fitting against each other when he slips his other arm around my waist.
“Don’t be nervous,” he whispers just before he dips his head and presses his warm, damp lips to the side of my neck. I tilt my head back and close my eyes, resting my hands blindly on the solid wall of his chest. “We’ll take this slow. An appetizer, remember?”
I want to laugh at our silly choice of words. I want to moan when his lips blaze a trail across my skin. My fingers curl into the fabric of his shirt as I anchor myself to him. He slips his hand down my back until he’s gripping my butt and he hauls me into him. I can already feel him, big and thick. He’s hard. Hard for me.
I can’t believe I can make a man like him react like this. That he wants me. Me. Most of the women who work at Fleur find him to be a mystery they can’t figure out. But hopefully he’ll let me in.
“What do you want, Violet?” he asks when he lifts his head, his hazy blue eyes meeting mine. I part my lips, ready to say I have no idea, but he takes advantage, kissing me before I can say a word.
And what a kiss it is. Again there’s no gentleness, no sweet exploration. He plunders my mouth with his tongue, twisting it around mine in a rhythm I can only imagine he would use while he thrusts inside my body. I can do nothing but respond, my eager hands roaming all over his chest, clutching his shoulders as I move into him. As if I want to become a part of him.
“Well?” he asks seconds, minutes later. His breathing is harsh, his shirt a wrinkled mess from my seeking hands. I keep this up and I’ll ruin all of his clothes. “What do you want from me?”
I stare up at him, at a loss for words. How can I express to him exactly what I want when I hardly know myself? I’m scared to say it. Embarrassed, too. I’ve never spoken freely about sex. That’s more Lily’s style. Which is silly because I’m a grown woman with needs and wants, just like everyone else. I’ve been with other men. I’ve had orgasms, plenty of them. Brought on by myself, by a vibrator, by a man. Mostly brought on by myself …
“Do you want me to touch you?” He presses his lips to my forehead, his hand still gripping my backside. “Do you want me to make you come?” he whispers against my skin.
Oh God. Everything inside me goes hot and loose and I nod, keeping my eyes tightly closed. “Yes,” I say shakily.
He moves away from me, and the loss of his heat, his strength, makes my eyes pop open. “Strip,” he commands, his tone firm.
I gape at him. “What?”
“Take off your clothes, Violet.” He smiles, his gaze roving over me, hungry and unfettered. “At least the dress. For now.”
No man has ever demanded that I strip in front of him. Usually they undress me. Or it’s a hurried frenzy of pulling off clothes in bed, in the dark, whatever, eager to get naked quick.
So this feels … odd. As if I’m putting myself on display for him.
Which I am.
I’m wearing a wrap dress—a purposeful decision since I knew what was going to happen today—and I reach for the knot at my waist and slowly pull it free. The fabric gapes with the movement and I undo the tie completely so that the dress falls open, revealing slivers of my skin. My breasts, my belly, my legs.
Ryder never takes his gaze away from me. He leans against the edge of his desk, his arms crossed in front of his chest again, his head bent to the side. Observing me like he’s studying a science project.
I shrug the dress off my shoulders and it falls into a heap at my feet. I not only chose the dress for today, but also my lingerie. He’d asked for something sexy and I hope I delivered.
Pray that I delivered.
His gaze lights up as it skims over me and rests on my chest. “Nice bra.”
I glance down. My breasts strain against the thin fabric, cream silk trimmed with black lace, my nipples hard and poking against the lace. The panties match, cut in a bikini style that covers more than reveals. I feel sexy every time I wear the set, which isn’t often. I bought them on a whim while out shopping with my sisters. Lily convinced Rose and me to buy something frilly and indulgent. Not for the men in our lives, Lily had said, giving me a pointed look because I was the only one who had a serious boyfriend. But for us.
I wore the set a few times. Once when I had a particularly difficult meeting and I’d needed to feel confident in my femininity when facing a bunch of old men who don’t necessarily understand the cosmetics industry. Another time I wore it for a date with Zachary. He hadn’t even noticed, hadn’t even complimented my choice in lingerie. Did we even have sex that night?