Intimate Knowledge Book 1 Part 2 (Detectives & Desires) Read online

  Get a grip, Gordon. You need to use this time to get some information, don’t let the sexual heat cloud your vision.

  We walk through the penthouse in silence and I force myself to focus on my surroundings rather than him. His presence so overpowered me on first meeting that I could think of almost nothing else for the past hours and only took in very few details of the opulent apartment. It has a quiet luxury. Long and wide, the open plan living room, dining room and kitchen are spread across the whole length of the substantial premises. Glass doors, from the floors to the exceptionally high ceiling, dominate the entire distance end to end, looking out to the deck and the magnificent view. We are surrounded by earthy natural tones and textures - leather, wood, ceramics, marble, granite. The Italian influence is apparent throughout.

  Varying types of seating in the same Italian leather as in his study are spread around the living room. There are armchairs, loungers and an L-shaped sofa. The far wall has cherry wood paneling and I suspect houses an entertainment hub. A marble, dual facing fireplace semi-separates the living room and dining room, leaving enough space to allow views and movement between all three sprawling rooms. The granite breakfast bar overlooks a streamlined ebony art deco dining set that I suspect may be an original Mackintosh. The flooring is cherry wood throughout apart from the light colored marble in the kitchen.

  The neutral tones of the floor and walls are relieved by the deep reds and blues of oriental rugs, colored sheepskins and various scattered cushions. Modern art and photography are subtly displayed on all the walls, including the large hallway and foyer. Three separate doors lead into the bathrooms and bedrooms and somewhere behind these, I know there must be a door leading out to his study. Like his study, the overall feel is masculine and comforting.

  We reach the hallway and he ushers me out to wait for the elevator. Once there I look down at the floor, feeling unaccountably shy now we are alone again. I almost jump when he speaks.

  “The gallery is quite a few blocks away. Are you alright with walking?”

  He says nothing, but his gaze strays to my heels and I use this opportunity to break out from under his spell and shift into my cover persona. This is the fun part of undercover work, putting on a show.

  “Sure, why not. Like I said, I’m not as fragile as I look.” I look him in the eye and imagine cracking gum as I give him my off hand response, kicking out my hip to lean against the wall, saucily.

  He crosses his arms, leans his shoulder against the wall on the other side of the elevator and looks me up and down. He starts with my heels moving up my entire body to fix me in the eye for a very long moment, before travelling down to pointedly focus on my exposed cleavage. His lips quirk up at the corners and he speaks with a slow drawl.

  “Right, if you say so. There are certainly parts of you that appear resilient.”

  I resist the urge to button up my shirt, while trying to shake the feeling that I have just been summarily stripped naked. When I enter the elevator ahead of him, he makes a show of placing his eyes unashamedly on my ass. His searing gaze is so powerful that I almost feel like it is his hands palming me, taking revenge for my taunting on his walkway. That urbane, European sophistication is definitely giving way to hot-blooded, Latin male.

  My heart is pounding as I almost expect him to make a move in the elevator and I am not sure I will be able to summon enough resistance. He is not so clichéd, however, and we reach the lobby without speaking. He surprises me by taking my hand in his as we exit the elevator. Halfway through the foyer he moves behind me in a flowing, graceful movement to switch hands and place his other hand on my hip, guiding me out onto the lightly crowded street. His touch at my hip is light, but his grasp on my hand is firm and I feel strangely charmed. I can’t remember the last time a man took my hand, the gesture making me feel very girlish with a strange sense of that fragility I claim not to possess.

  Once outside, he releases my hip, but retakes hold of my hand at his side as we walk down the street. My attempts to ease my hand away from him in order to establish a rougher edge to our interaction are met with a firmer hold. As we weave through the streets, he strokes my palm and the back of my hand with his thumb and forefinger in an erotic gesture. The mix of subtle domination and sensual tenderness in this capturing of me has more effect than if he had ground his hard body into me up against the elevator wall. I am used to dealing with full on sexual aggression from men and this subtle sexuality is unraveling me. I swallow and take deep breaths and start running my movie projector protection once again.

  Chapter Six

  I keep a firm hold of Raisa’s hand as we move through the streets towards the gallery. Traversing a gamut of emotions since we left the apartment from shy, to smartass, to vulnerable, she is now back to using that distancing technique she has down pat. It is really starting to piss me off the way she can go to it any time she wants. She gets this faraway look and I instantly feel a barrier. She is not immune to my touch, however, and I can tell my stroking on her hand affected her enough to make her sink into her technique. She tried to escape, but no way was I letting go. I like holding her hand, despite her distance. It feels soft and warm in mine and gives the lie to her claim that she is not that fragile. Not only is her hand physically delicate, but I can tell that the innocent intimacy of holding her hand has unbalanced her. Good. I need to keep her unbalanced if I am going to break through her defenses.

  When we reach the gallery Raisa notices the closed sign. She frowns and states the obvious. “It’s closed.” She peers through the glass door. “I didn’t realize it closed in the afternoons.”

  I press the buzzer and wait for the owner to let us in. “It doesn’t usually. I asked the owner for a private viewing. I thought you could concentrate better without other people.” I lean closer and lower my voice. “And I wanted to enjoy it alone with you.”

  She bites her lip and swallows, but offers me no response. The gallery owner lets us in and greets us. “Mr. Gold, Ms. Gordon, lovely to see you both.”

  I nod. “Thank you for the private viewing at such short notice. Ms. Gordon needs to see it to get some ideas for a design for the unveiling. She is one of my grandmother’s pledges. They are in charge of the decoration and presentation.”

  “My pleasure. Please go in. If you need any help don’t hesitate to ask.”

  “Thanks.” Raisa smiles at him. “We have met before, of course.”

  He smiles back at her. “Yes. We are used to seeing you here, Ms. Gordon.

  “Raisa, please.”

  “Very well, Raisa. Please enjoy the exhibit.” He beams at her, delighted by her warm smile and approach. I feel unreasonably jealous that she so easily graces him with a charm she is denying me.

  He hands us brochures and Raisa uses the action to break our hold and walk towards the exhibit. I allow this, but follow her and place my hand at her nape, easing under her hair. The braid feels heavy and silky and I am reminded of my desire to draw her by it to my bedroom. Promising myself that luxury soon, I start a slow sensual caress with my thumb. She stops and stands still at my touch. I can hear her breathing grow ragged as she makes a show of looking at the brochure. My pulse pounds knowing that she is aroused to disorientation by my touch. I bend to speak close to her ear, my breath fanning her hair.

  “Where would you like to start, cara?” I put my other hand on her brochure and rotate it so it is right side up. I do it to make the point that I see her confusion, letting her know that I am aware of her attempts to hide her response to me. She stiffens. Too late, I realize I have pushed my luck. She lifts her head and her eyes are alight with temper. Temper, I suspect, that is directed at her as much me. She moves away from my caress and hold at her nape. Throwing me a barely, concealed glare, she walks towards the start of the exhibit, tossing over her shoulder.

  “At the beginning, where else?”

  Her temper is such a marked difference from the last time I saw her here that it is an even bigger turn on. Images
of angry sex with her harden my already stiff erection. I quell the urge to put that braid to use after all and follow her towards the exhibit. She starts to soften as soon as we reach the artworks. They are a range of paintings, sculptures and photographs. She seems transfixed at first as she wanders between them and I know I have slipped from her immediate consciousness. I am transported back to when I first saw her, the profound emotions the sight of her arouse, hooking me as poignantly now as they did then. I want to move behind her, put my arms around her and pull her back against me in a possessive, sheltering embrace. The longing is so strong I can almost taste her, almost feel the heat of her. The urge to protect her steals over me, blocking out all other thoughts. Desire for her totally overpowers me when she stands in front of her painting of choice.

  The one I now own.

  I watch her possessively, vowing to own her just as surely.

  Standing close behind her, my emotions take over and my voice drops to a low toned timbre. “This exhibit touches you, this painting in particular. You open up and spill out around it. I saw you here that night at the opening.” I pause letting the information sink in, allowing her to consider the image of me watching her with her emotions exposed. “Watching you…you were entranced.”

  She looks straight ahead, her eyes not leaving the painting. She is so still I know I am reaching her, touching her, caressing her with my own exposed emotions thick and tight in my voice. “You entranced me, Raisa. I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you…stop fantasizing… stop wanting...”

  I resist the raging urge to touch her, to heat her body with my own. I want her to take this in logically, not physically. “When I saw you in my kitchen this morning, for a moment, I actually believed the strength of my desire conjured you up.” My voice ends in a muffled growl as I relive the power of that moment.

  She turns then and steps back from me creating a distance between us. I see a fleeting echo of matching passion in her wide eyes before she favors me with her enigmatic, faraway look. When she speaks, her voice takes on an aggressive note that pushes me to arm’s length, but I can detect a trembling, heated tone at odds with her words.

  “Look, I’m very flattered, Mr. Gold. I apologize if I have given you the wrong impression this morning, but I am one of your grandmother’s pledges. Her rules are very clear on fraternization. I am not one of your Boston rich, society girls. Your father’s scholarship means a lot to me.”

  She has chosen her words well. They are meant to remind me of my position of power and responsibility over her as the Mr. Gold in the Gold Legacy Scholarship. She is hoping to inspire a sense of duty and perhaps some shame over my ‘improper’ advances. I cross my arms giving her the distance she seems to need without backing off. My muffled growl of before now becomes full fledged.

  “Nice try, Raisa. Not a bad strategy. It might even work if I actually gave a flying fuck about any of what you just said. I am quite capable of handling my grandmother and her archaic rules. And my father’s scholarship originates from tainted, blood money. You are better off without it. I have more than enough uncontaminated wealth to take care of you and any of your needs, scholarship or otherwise.

  My words jolt her out of her affected pose, unnerving her. Her eyes blink and she rolls the brochure in her hands, mangling it. I push my advantage, leaning in to tell her. “Oh and lose the Mr. Gold. It’s Leo. Get used to saying it. To the feel of it on your tongue. You will be moaning it and screaming it when I am thrusting deep inside you.” I take a step closer and she does not back off. I look her straight in the eye. She draws in her breath, but she does not flinch and looks straight back, while I inform her quietly. “I intend to fuck you so deep and fill you so completely, it will feel like I’m still throbbing inside you all the next day and my name will be pounding just as deep and full inside your head.”

  We stare at each other, our breathing indicative of our heightened emotions. Her body shows some signs of the effect of my words, but her face is unreadable. Despite my excitement, my instincts start to hone in. She has too much control, too much finesse for a twenty-eight year old law student who works part-time as an admin clerk. My eyes and thoughts narrow. Any other woman I know would be blatantly aroused by now. My graphic and blunt seduction tactics have always worked in the past. Women like to be sexually shocked, especially the women I mix with. I make up for it with plenty of tender romance later.

  Raisa Gordon is clearly nothing like any of the women I have known.

  She straightens, throws back her shoulders, favors me with another enigmatic look and says, flat voiced. “Thanks for the warning.” After a pause, she pointedly adds. “Leo.”

  Hell. She is a cool one. I start to grow excited at the challenge. Conquering her could be the ultimate turn on. There will be no swift seduction here. I move back, giving us both space to regroup.

  Chapter Seven

  I hold our stare across the acceptable distance he has maintained throughout his blunt declaration. It hardly matters. The heat generated by our connection eradicates the space between us. Just as the subtle sexuality of capturing my hand destabilized me, his correct physical remoteness intensifies the power of his words. Satisfied with my sardonic come back, I maintain my bland expression, but my body and inner turmoil threaten to betray me big time. I need to get away from his blatant magnetism. Breaking the stare with a blink, I make my escape by using every woman’s natural refuge. With a muttered excuse, I head to the john. Walking slowly at first, I practically break into a run once I am out of his sight.

  It’s Leo. Get used to saying it. To the feel of it on your tongue.

  How could he manage to make the simple practice of saying his name seem so shatteringly erotic? I feel weak as I surrender to the chemistry I managed to resist in the gallery. Turning on the tap, I run cold water over my wrists. My pulse and breathing gradually achieve normality as I lay my forehead against the mirror. I give myself a long, hard, appraising look. My cheeks are flushed, my breasts are moving in little heaves, my eyes are aglow. Even worse, what the mirror fails to reveal are my clenched pelvis and wet pussy.

  This cannot keep up, Raisa girl. You need some serious intervention here. Yeah, intervention. Exactly! I look around. The room is deserted. Although I know we are the only visitors to the gallery this afternoon, the taboo nature of my intention makes me check the cubicles just to be sure. I settle myself in the small seating area. The chair I choose faces a mirror that reflects the door so I will know if I am in danger of interruption in the midst of my guilty pleasure.

  It shouldn’t take too long. His image has always managed to bring me off in a matter of minutes. Now I am familiar with the real thing it should be even faster. I usually have my vibrator to help the process, but with my state of high arousal since this morning, along with his slick brand of mind fuckery out there in the gallery, I reckon my hands will do just fine. Unzipping and slipping my fingers down into my jeans, I swipe along my panties. They are soaked. I gasp as my fingers brush against my wet, engorged clit. Sweet Jesus, I am so primed.

  Lying back, I sink into the luxury of remembering the magnificent view of him this morning. His tanned, oiled torso. The rippling muscles, tight abs and pecs. His shirt stretching across his shoulders as he gulped down that beer with a primal growl. I press on my clit, rotating my hips. He had to have been rock hard when he saw me. I imagine him grinding that hardness cruelly against me and I arch into him. I remember the look on his face that told me how much he wanted me. I follow that through in my mind coupling it with the heat of his declaration at the exhibit. He picks me up and carries me off, throwing me on his bed.

  My imagining breaks down a bit here, as I have no picture in my mind for his bedroom. I switch the scene to his study as he thrusts me down to sink into the leather of his two-seater. I can almost smell the leather and feel his hard cock grind against my clit. Oh God, yes, yes. That’s good, so good. I thrust my hand down into my panties, applying deep, long fast strokes to my labi
a and clit. I turn to my side picturing him behind me on the chair spooned against my body, his hand down my panties, stroking firm and fast, his long fingers pinching, pressing and circling. His voice and tongue are hot in my ear.

  My name, cara…you will be moaning it and screaming it when I am thrusting deep inside you.

  “Leo.” It is wrung out of me along with the shattering orgasm. “Leo.” I gasp it and collapse, my breath coming in heaves. Oh my God, that was fucking kickass. I lie back against the chair with my eyes closed and let the spasms leave me and do their sweet work. At least now, I won’t be so sexually wound up around him. Or such a wimp around his disarming charisma.

  As the afterglow sweeps over me, unbidden sensations steal in. I feel his arms supporting me, stopping me from falling, his voice in my ear. “Careful, Raisa, it’s a very, long way down.” The heat of his body behind me, the support of his arms. “You’re safe, cara. Relax. I have you.”

  I shiver at the memory and then it merges into desire. His arms hold me close in the afterglow, his rich voice thick with intimacy. ….the feel of my name on your tongue.

  His long fingers capture my cheek and chin as he turns my head up to meet his lips and kiss me possessively.

  Only it is no longer in my head. NO. No. Noo!

  My eyes fly open and I look across to the mirror, my heart pounding at his touch, his startling materialization standing behind me shocking me out of my daydream. Fuck! Where did he come from? Immersed in my pleasure he must have entered without my hearing.

  Please, please do not let it be that he came in when I was coming. Please let it be that he only saw the very end of my self-help scenario. Please do not let him have witnessed my pathetic girly abandon to orgasmic delight over him.

  The heat in his eyes doesn’t leave me much hope and I decide attack is the surest form of defense. I sit up, zip my jeans and pull away from his touch sending him an accusing look in the mirror. No way can I turn to face him.