Page 77 of Beautiful Betrayal

“And a criminal attorney, in case you forgot. Sometimes getting back to the basics reminds us about who we really are and want to be.”

“You are a brilliant man with the world at his fingertips. This is beneath you.”

“No. Helping someone who needs help will never be beneath me, and if it were, you know my father would turn over in his grave. But if this is about your independence—”

“No. Not at all. I would like to have you help me with the case prep, but if the press know you’re a part of this, the news will explode. And if we lose, you’ll look bad.”

“Then let’s not lose.”

“I’m handling my case,” I say, “but I have a proposition for you.”

His perfect eyes twinkle with mischief. “You have my undivided attention.”

I always do, I think. No matter what deal or project is consuming him, Grayson always makes me feel like he’s one hundred percent present. “You wanted me to consider working more closely with you and the corporate side of Bennett so that we can travel and work together.”

“And?”

“And what if I handle this case and then step back from a formal caseload? You’ve already approved me hiring Kevin, my old boss at Ri’s firm. Now that Ri is gone, we legally brought over my business. Kevin can take over the rest of my caseload, or whoever you feel is appropriate. I’d love to look at the charity operation. You’re not as active in charitable activity as you should be. I can have an impact. I know I can. I want to contribute.”

“What happened to needing your own career and identity?”

“I don’t know why this can’t be that, too. And as far as needing to completely free myself of your coattails, I think we’ve been there, done that. I’m done feeling like I have something to prove because you’re more experienced and filthy rich. And I don’t care if people think I slept my way to the top anymore. I think my insecurity over those things allowed Ri to break us up. I won’t make that mistake again.”

His hands come down on my arms, his lashes lowering, expression tightening before he opens his eyes and fixes me in a tormented stare. “‘I won’t let you,” he promises, his voice roughened by emotions, raw torment radiating off this brilliant, talented,good manbecause of me.

“Grayson—”

I never finish that sentence. He picks me up, throws me over his shoulder, and starts walking.

Chapter forty-nine

Mia

Once we’re in the bedroom, Grayson sets me down at the foot of the bed, and his hand slides under my hair, his palm hot on my neck. “Next time you run,” he promises, his voice vibrating with emotion, “I swear to God, woman, you won’t run fast enough. Next time, I will catch you and I will bring you home and tie you to our bed.” His hand sweeps down my spine and my sex clenches, nipples puckering, this game of dominance he plays one I know well. It’s about control, about those times in his life when the pressure of being Grayson Bennett pushes his buttons. In this case, whenI’vepushed his buttons.

“Then what would you do to me?” I challenge, sounding breathless, feeling breathless. “Because if you’re going to tie me up, you can’t just leave me there unattended.”

His lips curve, his beautiful lips that can be both gentle and oh so punishing. “We both know I wouldn’t leave you there.”Oh yes, we do,I think, my only thought before his lips come down on my lips, a dark demand in the slide of his tongue that follows. I know this side of Grayson, and I know right now is not all that, unlike earlier this morning. This is all about burning fast,wicked, hot demand. He owns me right now, and I don’t fight that need in him. I think—I think it’s what I need, too.

He proceeds to strip us both naked, turn me over, and slide a finger along my sex, testing my readiness before he gives my backside a smack. I arch into the touch, and he drives into me. He fucks me then—rough, dirty, and an edge of urgency in every thrust of his hips that ends with us on our backs, staring at the ceiling, panting out breaths. At the same moment, we turn to face each other and my fingers curl on his jaw. “You’re still angry.”

“Not at you, baby.” He kisses me, then pushes off the bed, bringing me a towel, and then grabs his pants, clearly avoiding this conversation.

I sit up, but I make no attempt to dress. My clothes are the least of my worries right now. I scoot to the edge of the bed and study him, only slightly distracted by his perfect abs. “Grayson,” I say softly. He pulls his T-shirt over his head, his green eyes meeting mine for a piercing second before he answers my unspoken question.

“I’m fine, Mia.” He sits down next to me and pulls on his boots.

“‘Fine’ is a word women define as ‘not fine.’ You know that, right?”

He stands and takes me with him.

“I’m fine,” he repeats. “I promise. It’s you that I’m worried about.”

“I’m fine.”

“So fine is okay if it’s you, but not if it’s me?”

“I really am fine.”

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