Page 58 of Tied Up in Riches

A sigh of relief leaves me. Fucking hell, she scared me. “Why not?” My tone isn’t accusatory. It’s curious.

“I don’t know. I’m in my head.”

“How so?” I don’t remove my fingers, but I slow their pace. In and out. Steady.

From this angle, I can see her eyes flutter closed again as she stays nuzzled to my chest. “It’s too much work. It takes too long. Your hand is tired. You’re annoyed.”

“None of those things are true.”

“I don’t know how to not believe them. There’s no way you’re not frustrated.”

“Why would I be frustrated?”

“Because you’re on a mission rigged to fail.” She’s whispering but her voice sounds louder in the dark.

I chuckle.

She tenses, and I hold my fingers in place, keeping her pinned to me with my palm in case she tries to move away. “Is this funny?”

“Nah. I’m just not worried about it. It’s not me. It’s you.”

She spins in my arms so quickly that my fingers slip out of her. “Excuse me?”

With the fingers that haven’t just been inside her, I tilt her chin so she’s looking at me. I want to kiss her so damn bad. “I’m not annoyed because I’m confident I can do this.”

“Of course you are.” She rolls her eyes, trying to take her head with them and out of my grasp. I hold tight enough to her face that she’s trapped. “You’re Marcus Cole. Successful businessman. You always get what you want.” She doesn’t say it, but somehow I’ve just been lumped into a category with her ex. The way she acts like she has me pegged without knowing I’m rich terrifies me for how she’ll feel once she finds out.

“What I want is to give you the best fucking orgasm of your life, Brooke Fields. So good you’ll be relaxed through the end of the trip, regardless of how long we’re here. Got it?”

“This isn’t part of your job description.”

I debate my words. “Maybe not. But I’m going to do it anyway. We just have to break down your block. It would help if I knew what it was.”

“I don’t want to talk about it.” She tugs at the hem of her dress until it’s in place.

Fuck. I felt like we made progress tonight. I had hoped that her letting me get physically close would move us toward a real relationship, but that doesn’t seem to be the case. Not wanting to push her away more, I ask, “Do you want to go back to the party? Hang out with your dad?”

“No. I’d rather go back to the room.”

“Alright, let’s go.” I let her lead the way, following behind her with enough room to give her space, racking my brain for all the ways I could have made that go differently.

When she’s done washing her face and changing, Brooke opens the bathroom door in a way that invites me inside. When I join her, she’s standing in front of the mirror in nothing but my T-shirt, with her toothbrush in her mouth. Fucking hell, seeing my clothes hang on her body does too much to me. I never want her to take it off just as much as I’m not so sure I can handle seeing it on her much longer.

She glances at me, holding my toothbrush toward me, all ready to go.

“Thank you.” I take it from her, brushing my teeth next to her, the only sound in the small space. It’s awkward and miserable. If my way of relaxing her isn’t working tonight, I’ll have to settle for her way.

We crawl into bed from either side, still without a word. She reaches for her bedside lamp and flicks it off. “You don’t have to go to bed. I know it’s early.”

“I’m a morning person.” It’s still earlier than I usually go to sleep, but I’m smart enough to know pulling my laptop out right now probably isn’t the best idea.

“Alright.” She’s definitely not alright.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“Talk about what?” Her words feel even further away than the three feet between us on the bed.

“Either how you’re doing after seeing Beau twice in one day. Or whatever else you want to get off your chest about me.”

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