Allowing his own grin to emerge, Tony asked, “Maybe we should go back into the water to cool off again?”
“That sounds nice,” she agreed, as she willingly placed her small hand in his, and followed him back into the pool.
By the time they’d returned to Claire’s suite and showered, Tony remembered his gift. The sight of her walking toward her side of the bed, wrapped in only a black silk robe almost pushed the conversation from his thoughts; however, he was interested in her reaction. He recognized that the best weapon in his arsenal that had worked to keep her compliant was her seclusion. Even with the vast expanse of his estate, she had limited personal interaction. Tony wasn’t sure if she had truly accepted her fate, or if she were just so lonely that she would settle for his presence. Either way, it was obvious that Claire craved interaction. Whenever he presented the opportunity, she could talk for hours. Sometimes she spoke about her family or her previous life, but mostly it was about books or movies or nothing at all. During those times, it was as if a day’s or a week’s worth of conversation had been backlogged and suddenly released. He didn’t mind. Actually, Tony learned a lot about Claire Nichols during those times.
As Claire was about to untie her robe, Tony pulled back the covers and patted the bed at his side. On most nights, Claire would lie down and silently wait for him to come to her. Her eyes darted to his, searching for the reason for his invitation. He smiled in response.
When she secured the silk, sat on the bed, and turned toward him, he purposely lowered his brow and shook his head. “No, Claire, the robe needs to go.” With as many times as he’d seen her nude, it amazed him that she still held an air of modesty. He liked to push her to the edge of her comfort zone. Oh, who was he kidding? He liked to take her out of that zone. Watching her silent battle of wills, as she fought with what he told her to do and what she wanted or felt was proper, was addicting. He could do it all day.
After removing the robe, she worked her way across the expanse of the large mattress. He reached out and brushed a damp lock of hair from her face. Even without makeup, her eyes were stunning. They spoke to him in ways her lips would not. He knew her question before she asked; nevertheless, he waited for her to speak. “Why do you want me over here?” He enjoyed her directness. God knew, his request could be anything.
“I wanted to talk.”
Her eyes lit as if someone had hit a switch. “Really?”
He smiled as he motioned for her to sit next to him. With her tucked against his shoulder, he allowed his fingertips to caress the softness of her shoulder.
Finally, she asked, “What do you want to talk about?”
“Your behavior.” Her muscles went rigid. Tony lowered his tenor and commanded, “Claire, look at me.” Her eyes slowly moved to his. Grinning at her obvious trepidation, he reassured. “Your behavior has been very good, and I believe you deserve a reward.”
“Tony, I—”
“I’m specifically referencing the University of Iowa’s Children’s Hospital event.”
Claire exhaled, her tension dissipated, and her body molded against the pillow. Tony marveled at how her warm, small frame fit perfectly under the crook of his arm. As she spoke, the sound of relief filled her voice. It seemed that as of late, she’d learned to control her words, especially when she was apprehensive or concerned; however, when she was comfortable, she spoke more freely. Surprisingly, he found that equally as rewarding. After all, with whom else did she have to talk? It was another of her needs that only he could fill. She rambled on. “I was so afraid. I was afraid that he’d get me to say something or misinterpret something that I said. I didn’t want to interrupt you, but I didn’t know what else to do. I—”
Shifting, she stopped talking and he felt the sensation of her warmth as their skin united. Nearing his lips toward hers, he reassured, “That was perfect.” Softness filled the emerald shining back at him. Though his tone was soft, a certain part of his body was becoming painfully hard. “I have rules, Claire. Sometimes I need to be assured of your dedication to your job. To do that, I’ve presented you with tests, and there will be more in the future. Sometimes you’ll pass those tests; sometimes you won’t. What happens if you don’t?”
“There will be consequences.”
He grinned. “And what happens if you pass?”
Her expression brightened. “There will be consequences—good ones.”
“Very good.” His fingertips slowly traced an invisible track from her ear, down her neck, over her shoulder, down the curve of her breast, to her stomach, and back up the other side. With each pass, the track dipped lower and lower. A hint of sultriness entered his authoritative tone. “When we’re out in public, your behavior is a reflection of me. How do I feel about public failure?”
Her hips lifted toward his touch, yet she obediently responded. “You … don’t like it.”
“I don’t.” He nibbled her neck. “If that would happen, I’d be disappointed.” He reached for her chin. “Claire, do you want to disappoint me?”
“No …” Her legs opened, accommodating, allowing, and inviting his actions.
Tony couldn’t continue this conversation much longer. “Open your eyes.” She obeyed. “You should know, that reporter wasn’t a planned test.” She nodded. “But if it had been, you would have passed. That’s why I believe you’ve earned the right to have more responsibilities and independence.” He had her full attention. “On your table is a wallet. Inside that wallet you’ll find your driver’s license and a credit card. They’re for you to use when I’m not around.”