Read At His Whim for Free Online

partners—the domination, the rough handling, the confident presumption.  With Chloe, though, the rules and the power structure hadn’t been set in advance.  Yes, she had obeyed.  Yes, she had come for me, so exquisitely exposed at the end.  But how much of that had been the shock of so unfamiliar an experience, the force of the moment sweeping her along despite herself?  I’d know soon enough, I guessed, seeing her reaction to me over dinner…or not seeing her at all.
    When Chloe finally appeared, bare-shouldered in a white strapless cocktail dress, weaving her way aimlessly through the dinner crowd, my reaction was an achy tightening of my gut rather than a sigh of relief.  She glanced at me, a tangible meeting of our gazes despite the distance and the dim mood lighting.  There wasn’t that awkward turn of her back I’d dreaded, but she also did not approach me.
    I folded my arms, mildly annoyed that Chloe didn’t come straight to me, and watched as she made her way toward the dance instructors instead.  Lithe, dark-skinned Tia greeted her, smiled and laughed as they chatted, then walked her through several basic moves while making small corrections to Chloe’s poses and postures.  Normally, I’d have enjoyed the sight as much as any man—two beautiful women dancing together, the subtle brush of one’s hands along the other’s body.  Instead, I just waited for Tia to stop blocking my view.
    Seeing Chloe finally making her way toward me, I considered—passingly—straightening up and putting on another debonair smile.  Hadn’t I just been brooding over the possibility of scaring away my quarry?  But it felt good to indulge my dark mood, and I maintained my nonplussed stance, ankles crossed and arms folded.  I wanted her to sense my disapproval, to feel off balance and anxious, for making me wait.
    I expected, if she actually finished her circuitous journey to me through the press of mulling bodies, that she’d present herself with a wary smile and a restrained greeting.  But Chloe stood before me for only a moment, dainty feet and high-heel strappy sandals together, hands clasped loosely in front of her, before breaking into an utterly charming grin.
    “Dance with me, Mr. Knight?”
    That I hadn’t seen coming.  Nor the change in her demeanor.  She was more clear-eyed, the slope of her shoulders more relaxed.  Even I wasn’t arrogant enough to attribute the shift to one good shagging.  Now I was more than up for finding out what was going through the head of my Miss Bloom.
    Without comment, I came up from my moody repose and caught her hand to lead her to the shadowy edge of the ill-defined dance floor.  Though considerably less flamboyant than a pair of real samba dancers would have been, we spun and stepped lightly through two whole songs—Chloe actually laughing—before I simply pulled her against me and swayed slowly with her as I peered at her pale, upturned face.  Her lips were parted so slightly, loose, willing.
    Against those lips, I muttered, “What are you doing here, Miss Bloom?  And don’t say dancing.  What are you doing on Ilha de Flor, on this cruise of yours?”
    She hesitated only a moment, before sighing against my mouth with a girlish smile.  “Forgetting,” she admitted.  “Trying to cut some baggage loose.”  A coy gleam lit her eyes.  “Finding out if I have a wild side.”
    “Do you?”
    “I’m standing here, aren’t I?  With you.  After…after what happened this afternoon.”  I finally caught a glimpse of shy Chloe, as she glanced away and let out a breathy, self-conscious giggle.
    I twirled her through several dance steps again, hard, fast, dizzying.  She rested almost flush against me when we slowed to a sway once more, and my hunger to dominate and possess her as I had earlier prickled up my spine and the back of my neck, rising with my growing hard-on.  Regret be damned, I supposed.
    “You do take direction well, Miss Bloom,” I