3

“Interesting.” He leans back in his chair, and I can feel him studying me. “Maybe you’re not a prude after all.”

“I never was. It was your imagination.”

“Vicious Surrender is a particularly dirty book, Erin. I had a lot of fun writing it. Now, that’s your favorite book of mine. In it, tell me your favorite scene.”

I quickly pour more coffee. “No way in hell.”

“Come on,” he says playfully. “You know you want to.”

I do, and I don’t. I’m so confused, my body loving the memories of those scenes and the way my mind inserted him and me into the roles. But telling him that is mortifying. Especially since the book in question is a little rougher and a little darker than his other books.

So, I take a deep breath and look at him. That was a mistake. Because Malik’s eyes are warm like chocolate, and I completely underestimated the power of them. How easy it would be to get sucked in. “The alley,” I say, “and everything afterward.”

That scene is pretty iconic in the romance world. It’s when the main character and female character finally have their frustrations out. They’re at a club so they go outside into an alley where it starts raining, and the hero can’t help himself. He pushes the heroine against the wall and finally kisses her. They surrender to what they’ve known that they want. And God, it’s hot.

Then they go back to the hero’s apartment for several chapters of kinky sex that’s raw and messy and perfect. And illustrates the book’s title perfectly.

I’ll never forget the first time that I read that book. It’s one of his earlier ones and I'd never heard about BDSM until that moment, reading by flashlight under my covers. I was as innocent as they come. The idea of being tied up was so foreign and alien to me, I was shocked.

Equally shocked how turned on that book made me.

I’ve been too chicken to try any of the things that the characters do in that book, but I didn’t lie. That book is my favorite, and I’ve read it many, many more times than the others. I keep going back to it.

My copy is so worn that I really should buy a new copy, but I’m sentimental.

“It’s one of my favorites too,” Malik says. His eyes are still so intense that I can’t breathe.

“Why haven’t you written anything else like that then?”

He shrugs. “My publisher prefers the lighter stuff mixed with hot sex. They claim that my brand isn’t edgy enough for those kinds of books. Vicious Surrender was early enough in my career that I could get away with it.”

That’s bullshit. “I know a lot of people who say that’s their favorite book of yours. Maybe your publisher needs to have a more open mind.”

Malik huffs a laugh. “If they had a more open mind, then you and I probably wouldn’t be sitting here.” He glances at the tray of coffee. “Pour me some, please.”

I do. The tray is so close to me already that it makes sense as a request. I don’t quite understand the immediate gratification that I get from pouring it, though. I place the cup in front of him and he catches my wrist before I pull away. “Thank you.”

Holy shit. I never knew what people meant when they said that a touch was electric. Now I do. I feel the slight grip of his fingers through my entire body.

I swallow. “Why are you suddenly being nice?”

“Am I?”

He doesn’t let me pull my hand back. “Well. Nicer.”

“I don’t know that I’m nice.” He lets my hand go and leans back. “They didn’t include the special creamer that I like. Go ask Michael’s secretary for some.”

I’m standing and heading for the door before I fully comprehend the movement, and I jump when Malik chuckles. “Well, now I know why you liked Vicious Surrender.”

“Why?” I turn to face him, half terrified, half desperate to know what he thinks of me.

Malik stands and comes to me. Up close, he’s tall. So much taller than I imagined when I envisioned us meeting—because I did. “You like obeying.” Flustered by his comment, I get hot across my skin. “I do not.”

“No?” He leans closer. “Then why did you practically leap to your feet to do what I asked?”

“Politeness.”

“In this meeting, you’ve already called me a fucking asshole and mocked my financial status. In Michael’s office you told me to get my head out of my ass. You, Erin Bailey, are not concerned about politeness.”

The low volume of his words and the mesmerizing softness of his tone have my body swaying toward him. I can imagine him saying far more wicked things in my ear. But right now, I need to prove him wrong. He can’t have this much of an upper hand on the first day.

“Courtesy, then.”

His eyes spark with heat. “Have you ever tried it?”

I blink. “Tried what?”

Malik’s hands are in his pockets, and if anyone looked in from outside right now, his stance would seem entirely casual. In this room? It’s anything but. The tension between us is tangible. A barely-there smirk appears on his lips and he whispers. “Surrendering.”

My heart kicks into high gear, and I fight my instinct to step back. I won’t show weakness. Not to him. “No.”

“I think you’d enjoy it.”

“You don’t know anything about me.”

A casual shrug. “I know that for the next three weeks you’re working for me. I know that you’re young and curious, and that your favorite book of mine is the one where the heroine finds herself tied up and fucked to screaming orgasms. Multiple times.”

“Good for her.” My mouth is dry. Is it hot in here?

Malik is studying me. “You’ve pictured it. Haven’t you.” It’s not a question. When I don’t answer, he takes a step that closes the distance between us so there’s now barely an inch between our bodies. “You’ve imagined what it would be like to have leather wrapped around your wrists and ankles and your limbs bound so that you could barely move. Knowing that he could fuck you anyway he likes.”

“Or,” he tilts his head, “was it the next day? When he chains her under the table and she eats nothing but his cum for breakfast?”

My whole body is on fire and I’m just as incapable of moving as if what he’s saying is true and I’m completely locked in chains. Slowly, I look at him. Wet my lips because they’re so dry. “I’d like to start work on the book tomorrow, Mr. Ellis, so please give me some information about the plot so I know where to start.”

He hesitates like he expected me to buckle to my knees. But I didn't. He smirks and retreats to his chair, acting cool as ice. “I’ll send you a copy of the outline, but that’s it. You won’t be working on this anywhere else but with me. I expect you to be at my apartment tomorrow by ten.”

“What?”

“That’s the way it is. Do you have any idea the length that some people will go to to get a Malik Ellis manuscript early? I’m not taking any chances. I have a spare laptop you can use. But that laptop doesn’t leave my home.”

I cross my arms, the trance that he wove over me fading. “So what? I’m just a prisoner in your house until I finish the book?”

“Feel free to sleep at your own place. Or, lord, do you live with your mother still?"

I narrow my eyes. "No. I don't."

"Don't look at me like that, Erin. I don’t know you, and in this case, I need to be safer than sorry. I won’t apologize for it.”

Though I don’t like it, I actually understand. More than once in the past few years, authors have had early manuscripts stolen and leaked. It ruined their sales. Given that Malik is already on the edge with his publisher, having that happen would be a disaster. “Fine. Where is it?”

He scribbles down the address on a piece of paper in the little pad sitting on the conference room table. “That’s the code that will unlock the elevator.”

“And how do you know I won’t just sell the address and let someone come steal the manuscript from you directly?”

“Because the security in my building is getting a picture of you,” he says, lifting his phone and snapping one quickly. “And anyone that’s not you won’t even get close enough to the elevator to use that code.”

“Smart.”

“If I’m not, I wouldn’t be able to stop the hordes of beautiful women trying to get in and make those fantasies come true.” He spread his hands like he couldn’t help it. I roll my eyes, but deep down I feel a weird flash of jealousy at the notion of women flocking to his bed.

He slides the pad of paper across the table to me. “Give me your email for the outline.”

I write it down, trying to steady the slight shake in my hands. I’m still a little shaken by the heat in his words and the fact that he’s gone from accusing me of being a gold-digging hack to acting like he wants to lay me out on this conference table and fuck me senseless.

He glances at the paper when I slide it back. “Perfect. You’ll get a copy of the outline by this evening.”

“Okay.”

We both hesitate. There’s not really anything left to say. Malik stands. “I guess I’ll see you tomorrow, Erin Bailey.” He’s smirking as he leaves.

I don’t move until he’s out of sight and then I sink into a chair, knees weak. Holy fuck. What even was that?

No matter what, the next three weeks certainly aren’t going to be easy.