Page 164 of The Billionaire's Fake Wife
50
Summer
The alphahole’s voice crashes through the barrier. I freeze. My knuckles stretch white. He’s the one who invited me. He could sound a little more welcoming. A little less intimidating. To hell with that. I am going to teach him that he can’t mess with me. I’ve got this. I twist the door handle, and the double doors swing open. I step inside and pause.
"Well? You going to keep me waiting all day, woman?"
Anger thrums at my temples. I raise my head, and those indigo eyes lock with mine. All of the breath leaves me. The force of his dominance spears me with the precision of a heat-seeking missile, pinning me in place. The scent of him… bergamot and leather and woodsmoke. It fills the space, crawls into my cells, and I am instantly wet.
He frowns; his glare sweeps me from toe to head. He licks his lips and a whine bubbles up my throat.
He tilts his head and his jawline cuts through the air.
The rough chafe of those whiskers between my thighs, across my sensitive, swollen, throbbing pussy… I gulp. The image is sharp, larger than life, so real that I squeeze my thighs together.
"Close your mouth or you’ll catch a fly, and it’s not a sexy look, I promise you that."
I snap my teeth together. What a wanker! I’d forgotten he has this ability to turn me on and the next second dump freezing cold water on all of my heated desires. I walk forward and the door snicks shut behind me. The sound shivers up my spine and my knees knock together. I pause, hold onto the straps of my bag. Dig my fingers into the leather.
"How dare you?" he growls.
"What?" I stiffen.
Not a second in his presence and he is issuing orders and declarations. It's as if no time has passed between us, no incidents… Nothing except the death of my father, and his subsequent actions trying to show... What? That he is trying to put things right between us? As if that would ever be possible. "What are you talking about?"
He struts forward. I take a step back, but he’s already standing in front of me. He shoots out his hand, I cringe.
"Your hair." The muscles of his jaw flex. "You changed it."
"The color… Yeah."
"Why?"
"Why?" I shuffle my weight from foot to foot. "I needed a change, I guess." I jut out my chin. "It's what some of us do when everything else spirals out of control. Unlike alphaholes, who decide to go about destroying other people’s lives."
The skin across his cheeks stretches; he pales. The look in his eyes is bleak, so stricken, that I blink. It clears. The cerulean and blue roars forth. Nah, I was mistaken. He couldn’t have revealed himself so clearly there. No way.
"Going auburn suits you."
"It does?"
"Makes you ordinary enough that you can blend in with the rest."
Ouch.My shoulders stiffen. I thrust out my chin. "Nice to see you’ve been polishing up your manners."
"Nice to see that you’ve accepted my job offer."
"I haven’t."
He blinks. His features pale yet more.
Gotcha.
He drops his hands to his sides. "So why are you here?"
I reach for my bag, pull out the papers. My fingers tremble so hard that they flutter to the ground. The hell? I stare at the rectangle of white on the ground between us.
So does he.
