He caught me by the arms, his touch cold and impersonal, and righted me against a glass wall.
“Why are you doing this?” I whispered.
He stared me down serenely. He oozed power, this unabashed male roughness that made me swallow a whimper.
“You cannot be all good, and I cannot be all bad. We have to meet somewhere in the middle for people to buy this marriage,” he said, ignoring my question.
“But youareall bad!” I protested, balling my fists to pound his chest. It was as solid as stone beneath the rich fabric.
The notebook slipped from between my arms between us.
“That’s not true. I amverygood with giving women earth-shattering orgasms. References are available upon request.”
He smirked, his face still dangerously close to mine. What lay behind his eyes made my pulse quicken. Possessiveness mixed with something else. Desperation maybe.
His marble cheekbones were flushed, his nostrils narrow. For a brief moment, I thought he’d lean down and kiss me. I’d let him too.
Because even though I hated him, even though Iloathedthe idea of his very existence, I was curious to know what it felt like.
To be kissed by a man who owned the entire world, who had infinite power, no limits, no restraints, no conscience.
My lips parted. I could feel his breath against my own. I would find a way to get him back tomorrow. To punish him for what he was doing to me. But right now, in this minute, I wanted him like air. Like oxygen.
“One step at a time.” He captured my chin between his thumb and finger, tilting my head up. His mouth curled in sardonic amusement. “If I kiss you now, you won’t writhe in your bed tonight, wondering what it feels like. What I taste like. How much pressure I use with my tongue. How many sensitive spots I can find on your body.”
I snatched my face away, looking sideways to avoid him.
He read me like an open book.
What else did he know?
“Speaking of your bed,” he continued, “it is currently being transferred to the guest room down the hall from me. I’vearranged for your belongings to be sent to my penthouse. A moving company is making its way with them from Brooklyn as we speak.”
I’d stayed in my dodgy Brooklyn flat after graduating from uni. I never thought to find somewhere more permanent in the States.
I’d desperately wanted to move back to England, to the memories of Dad and Elliott, and now that dream seemed further away than ever.
“Actually.” He snapped his fingers. “I had them throw away most of your junk. Hope you don’t mind. Didn’t peg you for a hoarder, Miss Bennett.”
There was no point in protesting. In arguing. In fighting back.
He’d fulfilled his part of the bargain. Now it was my turn.
I waited for him to leave the conference room before pulling out my phone and googling vocal cords.
He was right.
They did look like a vagina.
Gia: SOS.
Cal: When and where?
Gia: Casablancas. An hour.
Dylan: Rain check. Grav is at my mom’s, and Rhy and I finally have time for evening sex. You’ll have to shake the very fabric of time and space to remove my thighs from his ears.
Gia: I SAID SOS.