Page 12 of Time Out

Hudson shrugs. “Nothing to talk about. I did what had to be done, and I’d do it again. Shit, Iwillif you ever even think of taking your clothes off in front of a roomful of shitfaced dicks again. Or anyone again besides me, for that matter.”

I laugh, covering my mouth while I swallow down a mouthful of French toast. He will do it again? So, he’s planning on keeping me around it seems.

Conflict twists inside of me.

Part of me says that’s a bad thing, that I should be ashamed of myself for sitting here instead of running for the door. But the way my belly flutters at the thought of waking up to this man every morning, to being treated well for once in my life, can’t be denied.

I glance around and through the open French doors toward the kitchen. It’s as big as my entire house. The black and tan stone counter tops gleam, accenting cabinets that reach to the tall ceiling and appliances that probably cost more than most people make in a year.

Or five.

“You’re used to getting everything you want, huh?”

He stares at me for a moment. “I do all right.”

“More than all right, I’d say. This place must be worth more than some entire cities. Did you inherit it?”

“No.”

“So, you’re not some trust fund baby, living on generational wealth?”

He doesn’t answer at once, and I wonder if I’m asking too much, too soon. But I’ve never been in this position before, talking to someone who clearly moves in a different world to my own.

“I’ve never had a trust fund,” he says. “My parents weren’t rich.”

“Self-made man? I can respect that.” I smile, but can’t shake the feeling that I’m in territory he’d rather not talk about. Which seems weird. “If I lived here, I’d have a hundred dogs. A thousand. Black labs, mostly.”

“That so? You’re a dog girl then?” he says, his tongue gliding back and forth between his teeth.

“You could say that. I like gaming, but I love dogs. And they love me. Or, I think they would. I’ve never actually had one.” He nods like he’s committing everything I say to memory. “So, what were you doing at a strip club?” I ask. “You a chubby chaser?”

“No.” The word sounds final. “My friend is the new owner. I was there to see him. Then I saw you.”

“And you decided to ruin my chance at winning the prize, and then took me for a ride to an undisclosed location without my consent?”

He nods. “Something like that. Wasn’t exactly planned.” He pauses, cocking his head toward the front of the house where an engine is rumbling, then stopping, then the muffled sound of a van door sliding and slamming shut. Then there are male voices and gruff laughter.

“Who’s here?” I ask, and his eyes return to mine, filled with some sort of fury, though at what I’m not sure. Then he runs his gaze over my body in a way that makes me tingle all over.

“Get inside. Get dressed.”

I smirk. “Are you embarrassed to be seen with me, Mister Billionaire?”

“No. I don’t want anyone else seeing you like that. That’s just for me.”

“Like what?” I ask as innocently as I can manage. I smooth my hand down the front of the oversized shirt covering me like a dress, letting it pull over my tits, nipples poking through. “Like this?”

I grin, taking hold of the hem and starting to lift, showing a little more thigh, wondering if I have the courage to give him a full show. I’m not wearing underwear, but it’s not like it’s anything he didn’t see last night, right?

When his face darkens, his silver eyes turning stormy under the morning sun, I hesitate.

He stomps my way, and I immediately drop the teasing, but it’s too late. He raises a hand, and for a second, I think he’s going to slap me, but deep down I know that wouldn’t happen. Deep down, I’ve already fallen for this man that kidnapped me, treated me like a whore and made me feel like a princess.

He extends his forefinger, pointing toward the house, his voice turning hard, his expression stony. “Inside. Do as I say. I’ll come find you later.”

I stare blankly, letting the shirt settle again.

“Are you mad?” I ask, his face twisted. I never asked for forgiveness from my real father, because he was never there for me in a way that deserved it.