Page 54 of The Billionaire's Beauty

I tell you, boy, of all the galling things she might have said to me in that moment, she hit the mother lode.

And I absolutely cannot get enough of her. Not that I plan to clue her in on that crucial fact or let her have the last word.

Besides. I can think of one area where I’m quite effective.

“I’m not in charge here?” I ease forward, letting my attention drift to her lips. The silly buttons marching down the front of her little sundress. The slit in the side. “You sure about that?”

She backs up with a flare of alarm.

Not alarm alarm.

Sensual alarm.

“Don’t look at me like that,” she says, color rising up her neck and flooding her cheeks as her voice turns husky and her breath hitches. And I can suddenly see the prominent beads of her nipples, plain as the nose on my face. “We’re in the middle of an argument because you don’t know how to treat people.”

“We were.” I grab her dress’s belt and pull her in, ignoring her startled gasp. “Now we’re figuring out who’s in charge of what.”

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