Page 8 of Scarlet Secrets

“I like a working girl who puts stamina first.” I’m pushing the line, walking the edge so close I’m in danger of toppling off. And the way her blush deepens is a delight. She knows exactly what I mean.

“I’m not sure these little salty morsels give stamina,” she says, crossing her legs and letting me see that smooth expanse of leg.

Our eyes clash as I look up.

Her blush is pure rose.

“Depends.”

I top off my glass. I’m being reckless, but I’m not looking forward to the weekend I need the fucking tux for. It arrived on time, fresh from being made for me. Alina doesn’t give a shit if I show up in a bespoke tux or if I’m in jeans. But I do.

My little sister is my one weakness; she’s my heart. But fuck the rest of them, hard.

Pity this tasty thing isn’t a hooker or high-class escort because I’d fuck her in a heartbeat and dress her up like a slut to take to Alina’s eighteenth birthday bash my father’s going all out for.

I’m already his biggest disappointment and I fucking hate that it eats at me, but shit, would I love to bring the blonde with me.

“On what?” she asks.

And my dick starts to get hard again. She was naked and glorious in my tub, after all.

“On how adventurous you are.”

“I’m—oh.” She catches on. Then her lips turn up in a smile. “I’m not sure you could afford me.”

I take the champagne and sit next to her, filling up her glass. “Do you see my suite? I can afford you.”

“This?” She shrugs. “A pittance. This is like the gutter to me.”

“Ouch.” She’s fucking funny, too.

She leans in. “I’m very, very expensive.”

“You might be worth it.”

“I—”

“Eat some more,” I say, cutting her off. It’s an order wrapped in soft silk, and I don’t miss the slight dilation of her pupils as she registers it in some part of her psyche. But she helps herself to more.

I want to push. I like to push. But the truth is, while I’d love to leap over that edge, I like having her here more.

I’m not a man who gives in to false modesty. The effect I have on women is… not legendary, but panties drop for me. Women will do what they can to get at me—my cock, my money, and my power. And I’m not above using any of those to get what I desire.

But this one… she’s a different game and I think I could sit here and just flirt, keeping it on the right side of decency. Just.

“I really am sorry for the mix-up,” she says, blushing again, and a slow burn of annoyance starts. “I should have paid more attention when entering your room and I just wanted to relax and take that bath and… I used your hot towel. That’s why the maid service came in so late, isn’t it? They knew you were coming.”

I take her face in one hand, turning it, making her face me. And I try like hell not to think about the soft warm silk of her skin or the fact if I slipped my hand down, I’d have my fingers on the hot beat of her pulse.

“This is your problem, how exactly?” I ask, keeping my voice even.

“I should have looked.” She drops her eyes to the blini inone hand and she turns all pinched, like she’s done something wrong, and the annoyance flares close to anger.

“Not. Your. Fault.” Her eyes dart to me. “Let me ask you something. Who made you so apologetic, gave you that nugget of down-on-yourself and it’s all your fault?”

The blush that rises is enough to let me know it was a man and I entertain some light fantasy murder.

“I’m—”

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