Page 35 of Just Not That Into Billionaires

With a smoldering gaze, he keeps on, moving on to the project of tracing the top of my the other boob, drawing a freezing and excruciatingly slow line of wickedness across my wildly heated skin.

I can barely think.

This is pure Wolf Benny and I don’t know what to say. Wolf Benny has me reeling.

“This,” he whispers.

And then the bottle is gone, and I’m secretly panting.

Still watching my eyes, he takes a long swig. A bit of foam stays behind on his upper lip. I’m focusing on it. I want to put my lips there and lick it off, maybe even suck it off. But then his tongue darts out and he licks it off himself, looking at me smugly.

“Uh…” I begin. “Well, I like the embroidered roses on the apron.”

He’s examining the beer bottle. He doesn’t seem to be even listening.

“The beautifully embroidered vines as well,” I say.

“My driver is going to drop you off at your place,” he says finally. “You’ll have the night to collect your things, and tomorrow you’re going to move into my penthouse.”

“Wait, what?” I do a highly theatrical double take. “Excuuuuuuse me?”

“I can’t exactly have my wife living across town in some piece-of-shit apartment building,” he says.

“I can’t stay at your place!”

“You can and will,” he says.

“I have six a.m. yoga and then class and rehearsals. We’re literally rehearsing seven hours a day. And I have Pilates afterwards.”

“The day after tomorrow, then,” he says.

“I have just as much stuff that day, too!” I protest.

He shrugs. “Alverson can drive you to those things.”

“Seriously,” I say. “After I did this amazing thing for you?”

“It’s a start.” He takes a swig and sets his beer in the cup holder.

“Are you trying to punish me or something?”

His gaze changes—just a bit—like something flaring deep inside of him, some emotion that I can’t read. “You’re working for me, Francine. I’m not in the habit of providing my employees with rationales or explanations. If you want your travel documents at the end of this term that you have agreed to, you will follow the rules as I set them.”

I can barely breathe. “Me living with you.”

“That’s right.”

“And what exactly do you have in mind here? Because if you think you’re gonna seduce me—”

“Sorry to disappoint you, but no. You’ll have your own bedroom,” he says. “And that’s non-negotiable, so don’t get any big ideas.”

“Oh my god, you thinkthat’swhere my mind went?”

“I mean it.” He puts on an uber-serious expression. “You are specifically to stay out of my bedroom. You are not to pester me or go near me unless I require your services for public appearances.”

“I’m not to pesteryou?”

“That’s right.”

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