Page 7 of Marked

Chapter 4

Riley

I realize my mistake before he says a word.

Too demanding.

Too self-assertive.

I should know better. I know him and I know what he likes because I like it, too. He doesn’t care for women who are demure and subservient from the get-go. There’s no challenge in that and it would bore the shit out of him. But he also doesn’t like brats or an attitude that borders on domineering. I could see that in his eyes before, and I see it even more now.

I demanded pleasure. I told him he owed me. That’s not the right way to get his attention, and if I want to get anywhere with this, I’ll have to be more careful. I have to think on my feet, adjusting to the situation as it presents itself instead of clumsily going for the first idea that pops up inside my head. I’ll have to be smarter than him and yank his chain as well as—or better than—he knows how to pull mine.

Yet, he’s still here. Not only that, he has edged closer to the bed, signaling interest. Lust and irritation are blending in a fiery dance on his face as he studies me, his hands buried in his pants pockets, his head slightly tilted to the side in an observing mode.

“I owe you?” he repeats my words.

The words rush from my mouth. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it like that. Of course, you don’t owe me. That was a stupid thing to say.”

The reply comes on instinct, but it does the trick. His expression softens immediately, but it is still far from benevolent.

“Then what did you mean?” he follows up, giving me a chance to rectify my mistake.

It’s a chance I don’t intend to miss.

“It’s just that... you know, I depend on you,” I whisper seductively, exaggerating a bit by consciously batting my eyelashes and letting my eyes flit around the room, avoiding eye contact. He wants me demure and shy, and I’m sure he’ll probe for more once he gets a taste of that side of me.

Sweet, naughty, little Miss Riley.

“I still remember the first time we met,” I begin, still speaking in a low voice. “I was so awestruck by you, so intimidated and... drawn. But I never thought you’d even notice me. No one ever does, especially at work. Maybe that’s why I did what I did. Maybe that’s why I took a risk I’d never taken before.”

“And what risk was that?”

He comes closer but remains standing next to the bed, his bulk towering over me. It’s impossible to ignore the effect his presence has on me, and while it makes things easier, it also annoys me. Because yes, I’m asking him for pleasure, and yes, I know he can give it to me—but this is not about that. It shouldn’t be. I can’t lose myself in his hands, no matter how good it feels.

I need to stay in control.

“Well, hooking up with a client,” I elaborate, catching his dark eyes when I look up for just a split second. “At work. In my boss’s office. I’ve never done anything like that, and I never thought I’d be the kind of girl to do such things.”

“Such things,” he mocks. “Enjoying yourself, you mean?”

“Enjoying myself without regard to consequences,” I correct. “I mean, I did lose my job because of it.”

“And was that so tragic?”

His question surprises me, and my first impulse is to lecture him about ‘real life’ and ‘real people’s problems’, about having to pay rent, buying food, about needing a regular income because I’m not sitting on a bank account filled with millions in savings as he probably is.

That would have been a typical Riley response, but I can’t give him one of those right now. And that is probably for the best because it forces me to follow a different stream of thoughts in regard to losing my job and having to stay at my sister’s place.

“No, losing my job actually wasn’t all bad,” I admit. “I wasn’t getting anywhere at that firm, and I never really felt at home over there. I missed the East Coast, my sister...”

He lets a few moments of silence pass between us before he speaks.

“You wouldn’t have done it otherwise,” he claims. “You wouldn’t have risked your job if it meant that much to you. You knew what could happen, and you were willing to take that chance.”

“I guess so.”

I’m unsure where he’s going with this, and I don’t like it. I need to be the one in control, yet he took over the reins with just a few sentences, a few questions, each of them heavy with meaning, leading somewhere.

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