Page 56 of The Billionaire's Beauty

The only sign that I’ve hit a nerve is the telltale pulsing of a muscle in his jaw.

“So now you’re a shrink?”

“No. But I don’t have to be a shrink to recognize a scared bully when I see one, do I?” I say. “And you’re putting a lot of effort into not finishing our conversation.”

He goes still, creating a pause long enough for me to wonder if I’ve gone too far by invoking the SB term.

But I don’t regret it. I don’t regret it at all.

Until he exacts his revenge.

In one smooth movement, he hooks an arm around my torso, trapping both my arms at my sides in the process, hefts me off my feet and swings me around. Toward the bedroom.

“What are you doing?” I shout, rising frustration making me shrill as I kick my legs and squirm in a useless attempt to escape. It’s hard to claim the upper hand in an argument when you’re being slung around like a sack of potatoes, but I give it everything I’ve got. Unfortunately, his unyielding arm is like one of Harry Houdini’s straitjackets. “You can’t just use sex to shut me up.”

“Sure I can.”

“Stop, Griffin—”

“Not a chance. You want to toss around words like bully and beast? Let’s see how big a beast I can be.”

I catch a glimpse of Jeremy, who’s drowsily stretched out on his bed with his head resting on his crossed paws.

“Don’t just sit there, you dumb dog!” I yell. “Do something! Bite his ankles! Help Mommy!”

Jeremy yawns, unfurling his long pink tongue. That’s the last thing I see before Griffin turns into my bathroom, kicks the door shut, sets me on my feet and clicks on the light.

I turn quickly, spitting nails at being manhandled in my own apartment and ready to smack him.

He never gives me the chance.

He’s all over me, taking my head in his hands and tilting it way back to give him complete access to my mouth. He takes shameless advantage, laying a kiss on me that’s so hard, deep and hot that it’s a wonder my entire body doesn’t spontaneously combust. And that’s all it takes. Oh, sure, I talk a good game about not wanting him to control me. I can act like the standard bearer for empowered women all day long. But way down deep, in the dark places where it really counts, the thing I really want is to be sexually dominated by a partner who knows what he’s doing with his mouth, hands and dick.

Exactly like this.

Honestly, it’s a massive relief to surrender. To wrap my arms around his neck and arch into him so that my aching breasts can find the relief they crave against his hard chest. To hook a leg around his waist to urge him closer. To palm his flexing ass and grind against him as all the blood in my body pools between my thighs. To hiss a helpless yes when he finally lets me up for air.

He plants his hands on my hips and lifts me up. Plunks me onto the counter. Wastes no time reaching under my skirt, giving me a hard and determined stare the entire time. Rips my lace bikinis off my body with a loud tear and tosses them to the floor.

“You like this?” he says, unsmiling, as he undoes his belt and jerks his zipper down, revealing the bulge hidden by his gray boxer briefs. “Making me crazy?”

I can’t help but laugh. That’s the stupidest question God ever allowed anyone to ask.

“What do you think?”

Wrong thing to say.

“I’ll tell you what I think.” His husky voice acquires a hard edge as his attention dips to my cleavage. “I think you crossed that line between us when I was doing the right thing and minding my own business. I never would have touched you. But now here we are, and you keep spouting bullshit about wanting to get to know me better and wanting a real relationship. But you don’t want to know the real me. You won’t like it.”

Does he expect me to back down? To run for cover? He’d better think again.

“Try me.”

“Why do we have to get into this?” He sweeps his arms wide. “It should be obvious to you what I’m good for. You want me to spell it out for you? I’m good for as many orgasms as you can handle. Actually, I’m great at that.”

“True. Anything else?”

“I’m possessive. No one else touches you. Nonnegotiable.”

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