he completely took her over, whisking her to his
bedroom where he chained her up and fucked her like it was the last night of
their lives. She shivered with the memory of it.
In the bed, Damien muttered something and reached out for
her. She could help but notice he reached out with the same hand that had been
stroking his cock. Sasha froze for an instant, overcome by the sudden urge to
lick that hand, to crawl back into the bed and into his lap. She wanted him to
take her again. Instead, she leapt away, slipping from the bed to find her
clothes. She grabbed them up, quickly pulled on her bra and panties, her dress,
gripping her heels in her trembling hands.
"Don't go." Damien's voice rumbled from the
bed. "Stay here with me. Finish what we started." He touched his cock
again.
Sasha turned to look at him. Sleep rumpled, he was
impossibly sexy. Blue eyes half-closed, his muscled body bathed in the golden
morning light, his erection thick and proud as it nudged his belly. He was
absolute temptation in the flesh.
Would it be so bad if she went back into his arms? He was
warm and hard, and in those moments before she'd truly known where she was,
Sasha had felt safe with him. But safety was an illusion. She knew that better
than anyone. If Damien Taylor wanted, he could fire her. He could tell the
other jockeys that she had slept within him, in one moment ruining the
professional reputation she'd built for herself over the past four years. The
Derby win would mean nothing. Her pulse thundered in her ears as panic swamped
her.
You idiot!
She stared at Damien again who lay in the bed watching
her, his eyes still clouded from sleep. He repeated his invitation for her to
stay, this time sitting up in the bed, shoved a hand roughly through his hair.
“Last night was good for both of us,” he said in a voice
still gritty from sleep. “Spend the morning with me. I’ll make you breakfast
and introduce you to my horses.” A smile touched the corner of his mouth.
At the mention of horses, Sasha flinched. Thinking once
again about the shaky position of her career as a jockey with Taylor Stables or
anywhere else if word ever came about her spending the night in Damien Taylor’s
bed.
"I'm sorry," she said. "I shouldn't have
done this. Coming here with you last night was a mistake." Sasha shook her
head, sending her loose hair flying around her face and shoulders. "This
can't happen again."
Damien’s eyes narrowed. “Sasha—”
Before he could say anything else, she quickly turned and
left, dashing from the bedroom and down the stairs. She almost ran into a woman
in a maid's uniform, stopping her headlong dash at the last minute to avoid
knocking her down.
"Excuse me!" She ran for the exit by instinct,
not quite sure where it was.
"Miss! Miss!"
She heard the voice but ignored it as she walked quickly
toward what she assumed was the front door. A man in a black and white uniform
appeared in the front hallway, blocking her toward the door. She gave him a narrow-eyed
glance, kept walking, determined to push past him if he tried to stop her.
"Mr. Taylor advised me to give these to you,
miss." He held up a set of keys. Her keys. "He had your car brought
back from the party last. It's waiting in the driveway in the driveway for
you."
Sasha stammered her thanks, grateful that she wouldn't
have to waste money on getting a cab. She ran from the house and found her car
waiting for her in the wide circular driveway. She threw her heels in the
passenger seat, jumped behind the wheel, and started the car with fingers that
still trembled.
Stupid. Stupid. Stupid!
How could she have been so incredibly stupid? Getting
drunk and sleeping with her boss was the worse things she could have possibly
done to herself and her career. The other jockeys would laugh at her, would
scorn her for being so weak, if they ever found out what happened between her
and