Page 9 of The Billionairess
9
She was pleasantly surprisedat the plush office that he led her into. She wasn’t sure what she had been expecting, but it definitely hadn’t been the luxurious accommodations that she found. Rather than sitting at his large desk with her across from him, he sat on the dark leather sofa. She sat on the other end of it and nervously fidgeted with the decorative charm on her ridiculously expensivehandbag.
He helped ease the tension by speaking first. “So, you got my message about daith piercings as an alternative treatment formigraines.”
It was more of a statement than a question, but she nodded her head in confirmation. “And I assume you’ve done your research on it?” This time he was clearly expecting ananswer.
She responded with another nod, but added, “I have.” Wanting to fill the void of silence that ensued, she began chattering. “I know it’s not a miracle cure, but if there’s any chance that it will help with my debilitating headaches, it’s worth a shot. When I get a full-blown migraine, it completely shuts me down. I can’t miss work whenever one decides to strike. There are too many people depending onme.”
He tilted his head and then seemed to look at her with fresh eyes. “It’s lovely that you look at it that way. Before I met you, I would have assumed you would be worried about the loss of money more than any harm it would do anyoneelse.”
His blatant honesty stunned her, but she appreciated it. “Lots of people think I’m all about the money,” she smiled sadly before going on, “but that’s the one thing I don’t have to worry about. I have plenty ofthat.”
“I suppose you do,” he finally answered. “It’s refreshing to find out that it’s not your top priority, though.” Shifting gears, he went through some paperwork with her and had her sign a waiver before saying, “It sounds like you are well-prepared. I’ll have Bones get set up to do your piercings.” He stood as if toleave.
She wasn’t sure who Bones was, but she was certain she didn’t want him or her poking any holes in her head. Even though she’d only known Hunter a short time, he was the kind of person that evoked her trust. If anyone would be poking a needle through her ear cartilage, she wanted it to be him. “Wait,” she squeaked as he headed for his office door. “Can’t you doit?”
“I haven’t done any piercings for a long time,” he admitted. “Besides you’ll be in good hands with Bones. He’s one of the best,” he assured her before turning again as if toleave.
“But I want you,” her voice was barely above a whisper. He must have heard because he stopped, with his back to her on his way to the door. When his head snapped up and his torso tensed, she knew the flirty double entendre of her words had sunkin.
Turning to face her, he gave her a long, intense look. She lifted her chin, not backing down a bit from his scrutiny. Finally, his lips turned up a bit and he responded, “Then you can haveme.”
She could feel her cheeks burning with heat. It was a new sensation to her. She was used to being the confident owner of any situation. Blushing over a flirtatious comment was not her style, but it felt strangelydelightful.
The silence hung heavy in the air for a bit as they gazed at each other. Hunter came to his senses first. “I’ll go get the piercing kit,” he informed her, and he was gone. She let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding and tilted back her head to stare at the beautiful embossed silver tin ceiling tiles. Despite how lovely the ceiling was, she couldn’t focus on anything other than listening for Hunter’s returning footsteps. She was anxious to return to their flirtatiousexchange.
When Hunter arrived with a tray of sterilized instruments, she began to feel a bit panicky. She had assumed it would be a simple needle, but the array of tools he was arranging made it look like he was getting ready to perform majorsurgery.
He indicated for her to come sit on the large, maneuverable chair beside the table where he had set up the tray holding his torture instruments. Her stomach felt a little queasy, but she didn’t want to back out now. She squeezed her hands into fists so tight that her perfectly manicured nails dug into her palms, but she complied with hisrequest.
When he eased the chair back so that she was again staring at the intricately detailed ceiling, she tried to swallow around the burning ball of bitter grapefruit that seemed to have lodged itself in herthroat.
“Nervous?” he asked her, looking down at her with perceptiveeyes.
She couldn’t do anything more than nod. She didn’t trust her voice to work properly. The fear was coursing through her veins like ice water. She had only known the immense pleasure of Hunter’s touch. She wasn’t looking forward to having him on the other side of a large needle fromher.
Wondering if she was making a huge mistake, she took a few deep breaths in a feeble attempt to calm down. Her eyes rolled around as she tried to look anywhere but at the scary instruments Hunter had brought in to use onher.
“Which side of your head do you most often get your migraines on?” he asked her. “We’ll start with that one, in case you chicken out and don’t want to go through with the otherside.”
His gentle ribbing effectively brought out her stubborn side. “I won’t chicken out,” she told him fervently, even as she tightly closed her eyes and silently vowed to keep thatpromise.
Taking pity on her, he took her clenched hand in his own. Gently unfolding her fingers, he began massaging her hand with his thumb. He found pressure points that she didn’t even realize she had as he worked the tension out of her through her palm. When he focused his attention on each of her fingers, her mouth nearly fell open with the pleasure ofit.
When he finished, her hand fell limply to her side––all signs of tension having been released. She was delighted when he reached across for her other hand and began giving it the same luxurious treatment. By the time he was done, she felt as smooth and fluid as moltenlava.
In one smooth move, he presented her with a soft stuffed animal, whispered in her ear that it would only hurt for a second, and crunched the needle through the cartilage in the middle of her ear. She startled more with surprise than pain, and then cringed as she heard the magnified sound of the thread pulling through her skin to secure the tasteful silver loop through the new holes in herear.
“That wasn’t so bad, was it?” he asked as he used cotton to clean herear.
She assumed he was wiping up blood with it, but tried not to think about it too much. “No,” she answered him, “It wasn’t bad at all.” She inspected the stuffed toy he had handed her. It was a small dog of some sort. “Do you keep this on hand for big wimps, like me, who need to be comforted during their procedures?” She asked, turning to grin athim.
“I work such long hours that it wouldn’t be right to have a real dog, even though I’d love to have one, so I keep Bubba here instead.” He answered before grinning down at her and adding, “And, yes, he helps with the weeniestoo.”
She chuckled despite herself. She understood his feelings about the dog. She had always been in the same predicament––wanting the unconditional love of a dog, but working far too many hours to give one a good home. Mr. Whiskers was the perfect pet for her. He only wanted the briefest bit of attention before he went back to his normally sulky felineself.
She felt completely charmed by this enigma of a guy. She’d never met anyone who happened to be a tattoo artist, masseur, and giant softy all rolled into one man before. It was rather endearing andintriguing.
