Page 17 of The Billionaire's Buy-In

“I love you so much, Abbie. Hell, I’ve been obsessed with you for months. I was prepared, Iamprepared,” I correct myself, my voice breaking with huskiness and need, “to do whatever it takes to make you mine forever.”

Bewilderedly, she looks at me, trying to comprehend what I’m saying. She wants to be angry with me, but her body also desires me because she craves the control and passion I can provide.

“You know who and what I am, Abbie. I’m ruthless when it comes to getting what I want and if resorting to blackmail or fixing our bet meant I got to spend at least one night with you, sweetheart, that’s what was happening. Fuck my reputation.”

By the play of emotions on her face, I know she’s in turmoil. Deciding to help her with her struggle, I pull her against me once more, claiming her mouth.

No more gentle kisses. I own her. Hungrily, I devour her, my lips demanding a response from hers. Slowly, I feel her reciprocate, her tongue matching mine in need and intensity. She needs me as badly as I need her. If I can get her body to acknowledge what we both want, her mind will get on board as well.

My mouth leaves hers to sear a path down her neck, wishing she was naked right now, allowing me access to taste her breasts, to leave my mark on her soft, pale skin.

As my hands start to lift her shirt, so I can touch her warm flesh, she wrenches away, putting distance between us. She holds up her hands as if protecting herself from whatever she thinks I’m going to do to her.

The only thing I want to do to her right now is pin her to my desk and fuck her until she doesn’t know her own name, or until she forgives me and promises to never leave me, whichever comes first.

Her golden eyes glisten as she swallows, trying to control herself. She presses a hand to her mouth, shaking her head.

“Abbie?” I once again reach out for her, devastated she would shrink from my touch. “What do I have to do to prove how much you mean to me?” An icy fear twists my heart. What if she doesn’t want to make this work? I can’t imagine a life without Abbie now that I’ve had her.

The hurt in her eyes says it all. “You manipulated me this entire week. None of it was real.” She closes her eyes in exhaustion. “How can I be with someone I can’t trust? Someone who wants to control me, own me? Believe it or not, you can't control everything or everyone to get your way, Chord,” she places a hand over her chest, “and you definitely can’t control my heart. Not gonna happen. You have to earn it.” With that, she turns on her heel, striding out the door, and leaving me speechless.

Of all the goddamn times for my mind to go blank. Stunned, I watch her walk away.

“Let her go, boss.” A voice cuts the silence. Ryker is standing outside the door, and I wonder how much he’s heard “She’ll figure it out. Give her time.”

My hands fists at my side, feeling the urge to hit someone or something in my frustration.

“But what if she doesn’t figure it out, Ryker?” I grind the words out between my teeth. I’m not a man accustomed to waiting around for things to happen. I make things happen.

More importantly, how long am I expected to wait?

Chapter 12

Abbie

It’sbeentheweekfrom hell.

Of all the men in the world, in the city of New Orleans, why did I have to fall in love with the most stubborn, controlling, and infuriating of them all?

Has he called? No.

Has he texted? No.

A message through our mutual friends? Also, a big, fat no.

The ball is in his court, right?

I’ve gone from one conflicting emotion to another as my thoughts fight a bitter battle. I’m heartbroken he hasn’t chased me; I’m pissed he cheated on our bet; and I’m also in a constant state of arousal. Lying in bed every night, I think of all the dirty, dirty things Chord did to my body, not to mention his filthy mouth. My mind burns with indecision and my pussy aches at the memories.

So, basically, I’m sad, mad, and horny and it’s all his fault. Asshole.

Nini suspects something’s up because I haven’t been acting like my normal loud, bitchy self. Instead, I’m quiet and sulky. Same with Grace, who hasn’t stopped texting. I fully expect her pregnant ass to show up here any day demanding answers, but I can’t go there yet. It’s too raw.

“What’s wrong with you, you crazy bitch?”I ask myself in the bathroom mirror as I attempt to muster up the motivation to start my day. The girl in the mirror looks miserable and sad.

This isn’t me. I’ve been through some shit in my twenty years, and I’ve never once just sat around wallowing in self-pity.

The burning question is do I want Chord in my life? The man has manipulated and has tried to dominate my life since I met him, but he also bared his soul to me and his reasons for everything he did. I’m not sure if that makes it okay, but I do feel like I want to work on whatever this crazy thing is between us. Peering closer in the mirror, searching for the answers, something clicks in my brain.

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