Page 9 of The Billionaire's Secret
He shakes his head, "It accentuates the dark circles under your eyes."
"Fuck you very much." I hold out the jacket to him.
He chuckles, then jerks his chin. I follow his gaze to the coat hanger by the window on his side.
It’s either maneuver around him or over him to reach it.
"Do it."
What a complete bastard.
To hell with it, I am not going to allow him to intimidate me. I half crawl over him, reach for the hook at the far side, miss, then swear aloud.
His chuckle floats from over me, his scent surrounds me, and the corded muscles of his thighs graze against my stomach. I shiver, reach up for it again. Success. I hang the damn thing up, then retreat to my side of the seat.
"You get much sleep?" His voice dips, takes on that gravelly tenor that sends a fresh surge of heat down my spine. Hell, this crazy reaction to his proximity? Clearly, I hadn't imagined it from our first meeting.
"What do you think?" I glance out through the tinted windows as the car eases onto the main road. "Where are we going?" I ask.
"Where do you think?" I hear the amusement in his voice.
A fresh burst of anger flares to life in my chest. I turn on him, "Stop this, whatever it is."
"You started it." He folds one leg over his other knee, and my gaze is drawn to the beat-up cowboy boots.
"Is that the same pair you had on the other day?"
He stiffens, then circles his ankle with his thick fingers. "Curious about me? Want to get to know me better, hmm?"
"Of course, not."
I turn away, glance at the bumper-to-bumper traffic. Who knew there was a graveyard in the middle of the city tucked away behind all those trees? That's London for you. Full of surprises. You are never too far from a park, or as it turns out in this case, a resting place reserved for the very rich.
"I am taking you to your hotel." Saint's gravelly voice chafes over my skin. I'm instantly wet... Okay, wetter. Oh, my god! If anyone can seduce with words, it is this man.
"This is my car," I turn to him, "so it stands to reason that I am the one taking you—"
His smile widens
I snap my mouth shut. "That's not what I meant."
"Oh?" He tilts his head. "I beg to differ, but let me be absolutely clear, you won’t be taking me anywhere. I’ll be taking you. And I promise you, I will take you, and when I do, it will never be a meeting of equals, for..." He leans in close, "I hold the power. Never forget that."
I stare into those cold blue eyes.—the blackness that crawls in their depths, that pulls at me, calls to me, that resonates with that most intimate part of me, the one that I've never acknowledged, that wants to be taken without mercy. How dare he find out about my innermost needs when I had never acknowledged them myself? Only when my palm connects with his face, do I realize what I've done.
I gasp. My fingers tingle. I take in the reddening fingerprints on his cheek.
"I... I'm sorry," I whisper.
He peels back his lips, his teeth flashing white against his tanned skin. "Oh, you will be."
He swoops down. I cringe away, but he's too fast. He buries his fingers in my hair, tugs me forward. I strain against his hold. He applies pressure—not bruising, not punishing, but just enough for me to lean into him. The black scarf slips from around my neck.
He lowers his gaze to where the tops of my breasts are exposed from above the low-cut neckline.
His jaw tics.
"What belongs to you, but is used by others?"
