Page 29 of His Dark Pact

His brusque tone immediately amplified her anxiety.

“We’ll meet over brunch to discuss my expectations of you today.”

Expectations?

“Oh.”

“In fact, I think, during the trial at least, we should meet for breakfast every morning to ensure we have a chance to check in.”

To check in?What was she, a hotel?

“Yes.” Avoiding eye contact, she fixed her attention on his crisp white shirt. She bet he had a wardrobe full of those, or given how many rooms with wardrobes the house had, maybe he had more than one. Maybe he had an entire wing of wardrobes. “What time should we meet for breakfast, sir?”

She was already tiring of using the preposterous title, although, yet again, she noticed her body’s primal reaction to the word. He demanded it, she assumed, to reinforce the hierarchy between them—that he was elevated from her as her employer—and initially, the concept did little but irritate her.

She noted, though, that once that frustration had faded, there was a lingering sense of intrigue and that faint tingling at the apex of her thighs. Secretly, she imagined what it would be like to bed a man like Kyle. She’d be willing to wager he liked to be in control there, too. Perhaps he would insist she still defer to him as ‘sir’ as she slid his shaft into her—

“Amy?”

She snapped to attention, aware she hadn’t been listening to anything he’d just said.

Shit!

“I’m sorry.” She prayed the ground would open up and swallow her, but inevitably, her feet remained rooted to his study’s floor. How could she have been so immersed in the idea of bedding the guy that she’d not heard him—especially aftershehad asked him a question?

“Need me to repeat that answer?” His sardonic tone suggested he was more amused than upset, but still, she berated her foolishness.

“Yes, please. I’m...” She hesitated, unclear how to explain herself without exacerbating the situation.

“Breakfast at seven o’clock every morning.” He said the words painfully slowly, the gleam in his gaze making her wonder if he didn’t have a fair idea of what had distracted her. Beneath her skirt, she pressed her thighs together at the idea he might. What would he think of her, standing there lusting after the man who’d thrown her a life raft?

“Got it.” She gulped, struggling to recall a more humiliating moment in her entire life. Even calling her ex-landlord to admit she couldn’t make the rent hadn’t been as awful as this.

“Fabulous.” He smiled. “I’m glad we could resolve that.”

She pulled in a breath, certain his response was intended to mock her delay.

“We’ll discuss the rest over brunch.”

“Yes, sir.” She didn’t dare meet his eyes, but she could imagine the knowing gleam dancing in them.

“Until then.” His hand rose, pausing a few inches from her face.

Aware of its proximity, she froze, unsure if she sought his touch or simply wanted to run from the room and not look back.

“You have a gorgeous complexion, Amy.”

Her eyes widened. That was an unexpected change of tack.

“May I touch you?” His hand hovered in front of her, awaiting her permission.

“Touch me?” She’d heard him correctly, hadn’t she? Apparently, he found her flaming embarrassment a source of temptation—that was odd enough—but she couldn’t reconcile why he’d seek to touch her.

“I know I took the liberty of doing so last night to direct your gaze, but now we’re here on day one, it only feels right that I ask your consent.”

“I...” She eyed his long fingers, amazed at how clean and well-manicured his nails were. Kyle was not like any man she’d known. “I guess so. Yes.”

She wanted him to, of course. Secretly, she longed for the idea, but confessing so on the first day of the bizarre contract was not something she was prepared to do. She might never be prepared to.

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