Page 11 of Save Me the Trouble
“That’s twice in two days, Miss Johnson,” I rumbled, losing my own cool at her proximity. She felt so soft and smelled like sugar.Fuck…I couldn’t remember the last time I’d been so damn distracted by a woman. “Are you sure you’re ready?”
Her nostrils flared, and she stepped out of my hold, making her way to the chair she’d set up next to her camera.
“We couldn’t do this at my desk?” I said as I flicked open the button of my suit jacket and sat, doing my best to adjust my stiff cock without her noticing.
She shot me a glare as she fiddled with the camera buttons. “Do you want your future wife to think you’re looking for a prospective business arrangement or a real marriage?”
I started to open my mouth, but she cut me off.
“Don’t answer that.”
“So, first you demand my time to answer all of your questions, and now you’re telling me you don’t want answers?” I taunted, enjoying immensely the deepening color in her cheeks almost as much as the proverbial smoke coming from her ears.
“I do want answers, but only to the following questions,” she declared, smoothing her skirt and rolling her shoulders back.
I leaned back, feigning nonchalance. “Fire away.”
“First, I want you to introduce yourself to the camera. Not Killian Crown, CEO, but just Killian. That will be your warm-up.”
“I don’t need a warm-up.” I tugged at my cuffs, and she gave me a look that said she didn’t believe me.
“Then it will be my warm-up,” she said with a tight smile, poising her finger over the camera and then hitting record.
I held her eyes for long enough to make her start to worry and then turned my attention to the camera.
“Hello. My name is Killian Crown.”
She hardly hit the button before declaring, “No. Too stiff.”
“That was fine?—”
“You look like you have a stick up your ass.”
I gritted my teeth. “No, I don’t?—”
“Take off your jacket.”
I lifted a brow. “If that was what you wanted, you could’ve just asked nicely,” I taunted and stood, enjoying the frown that tugged on her full lips as I shrugged out of my jacket and laid it over the far arm of the couch.
“Okay, let’s try that again,” she said once I was seated, waiting for my nod to hit the button.
“Hello. I’m Killian Crown.”
“No,” she blurted out, not even pushing the button off this time before ruining the take. “You still look like you have a stick up your ass, and you kind of sound like it, too.”
I growled. “Well, then maybe that’s who I am. Maybe I do have a stick up my ass, and maybe I like it.” My mouth snapped shut.Not exactly what I was going for, but I couldn’t take it back now.
Her jaw went slack, and I felt a measure of victory until she came back at me with, “If that’s the case, I’m happy to include that information when we get to the question aboutsexual preferences, but I prefer to not have to explain that in the introduction.”
We had a two-second stare-down before I caved. “How would you like me to look and sound?”
“Relaxed. Natural. Not like you’re introducing the man about to take over the world.”
“I don’t”—my jaw flexed—“relax.”
Her lips firmed. “Today, you do.” She stood abruptly and came over to me. “Up,” she ordered.
As soon as I stood, she reached for my tie. “What are you doing?” I demanded, grabbing her wrists.
