Page 30 of Reveal Me
What the fuck was I thinking?
Thank God, I’d had the sense to send the rest of the staff home, because the second she got on her knees, the ending was inevitable.
I dump the burnt lamb into the bin and pull out two fillet steaks from the fridge.
‘Mr Beckett?’ That majestic British accent floats from upstairs. ‘Could I have a towel, please?’
Oh shit. I meant to leave one up there, but I’m so fucking distracted I can’t seem to get anything right tonight. I’m supposed to be the dom. In control. Unfazed. But we both know deep down that no matter how much she submits to me, she will always hold the true power because of who she is. And she just so happens to be sexual and sultry and so damn fucking eager to learn about this life—the life I’ve hidden from every woman who ever wanted to know me outside of the club. No wonder I’m acting irrationally. It’s confronting. I need to get my shit together ASAP.
‘Coming,’ I call, tossing the steaks beside the cooker. She came for dinner, she’s going to get dinner if it kills me. I refuse to be found lacking—in any department.
I jog up the stairs, grab a thick, white fluffy towel from the press and hover outside the bathroom door for a second. Should I knock, given there’s a princess in my clawfoot bathtub? Or do I just enter, given she’s signed a contract to be my submissive? We haven’t even officially entered our agreement, and it’s already greyer than the Irish Sea on a bleak, bleary day.
I opt for the latter, given I’ve seen every royal inch of her—intimately—and place the towel on the edge of the porcelain bathtub.
‘Thank you, sir.’ Her head remains bowed, and she doesn’t even try to make eye contact.
‘Don’t call me that. Not here. In the club, if you want.’ I rake my fingers over my scalp. ‘Here it…does things to me it shouldn’t. Things I shouldn’t feel in the real world. Call me Sean.’
Her red lips twitch. The little witch. She knows exactly what it does to me, and she’s milking it for all it’s worth.
‘And look at me, will you? You came here for dinner. It’ll be ready in ten minutes.’ I stalk out of the room before I ruin another pair of suit pants.
Downstairs, I take a giant slug of wine, then get to work on the steaks, sealing them on a high heat before placing them in the oven. Thankfully, the potatoes aren’t spoiled. I drizzle oil over the vegetables and place them in with the meat.
‘Why did you invite me over for dinner?’ Layla enters the kitchen, dressed in the bodysuit and leather pants again. Her outfit wouldn’t look out of place in a trendy wine bar, but it looked better on my floor.
‘Honestly, I’ve been asking myself the same thing since you dropped to your knees for me.’ I snatch up the champagne bottle and fill up her glass. ‘Truth is, I wanted you out of my club, and you wouldn’t leave without arranging another meeting. This seemed like a safe place.’ How wrong I was. I suck in a breath and reach for my own glass of wine. ‘The contract was supposed to terrify you.’
She steps closer. ‘The only terrifying thing about it is the idea that you might not sign it.’
I glance at the thick wad of papers on the island, stride towards it, plucking a pen from a kitchen drawer on my way. Before I can overthink it, I scrawl my signature across the bottom and toss the pen down. ‘Happy now?’
‘Yes, si?—‘
‘Don’t even think about it, Princess.’ I hold my hand up, and she grins. ‘No activities outside the club. In fact, this is the last time we’ll see each other out of Reveal.’ I don’t add that it’s safer that way for both of us. ‘Make sure you’re not followed. If any one of your security detail so much as suspects you’re in a sex club, your family will come down on mine like a ton of bricks.’
‘Don’t worry. I’m good at sneaking around.’ She waggles her eyebrows.
‘I noticed,’ I mutter, shaking my head.
I hate that she’s put me in this position. But what I hate more is how much I’m going to enjoy being the man who gets to fuck her for three months. Who gets to educate her about my way of life. Who gets to test her limits and turn her on in ways that she can’t even imagine.
‘Sit.’ I motion to the island.
‘Are we not eating at the table, s—?’ she sniggers, actually sniggers.
‘I already ate at the table tonight.’
‘But I didn’t.’ Her gaze drops pointedly at my crotch.
‘And you won’t.’ Even though the thought of her pretty crimson lips around my cock is one to behold.
She pouts playfully, but her disappointment is obvious.
‘You came here for a discussion,’ I remind her.
‘I came here for your dick,sir.’
