Page 113 of The Billionaire's Secret
"You dare say that to my face?" His nostrils flare. Color sears his cheeks, and damn it, but my sex clenches instantly. Goosebumps flare on my skin and a shiver runs down my back. This...this is what I want. Saint—angry, blinded with jealousy, coming for me, taking me with no quarter. This language I understand. This passion is what we have in common and I am going to make the most of it.
"Why, worried you won’t measure up to Adam Rhodes?’
A vein pops at his temple. "You know how to push me over the edge, don’t you?"
"Maybe I should have asked one of your friends." I glance past him to where Damian is watching us. He raises the bouquet of flowers. I smile, shake my head, "Yeah, who better than a rock star god to take my virgin ass?"
"You cunt," he bares his teeth, and a little thrill shudders down my spine. This is it. I’ve done it now. I’ve broken through his control. What is he going to do next?
Saint doesn’t disappoint.
He bends his knees, peers into my eyes, "I think it’s time we consummated this marriage, don’t you?"
27
Saint
"Turn around and hug the post."
She tips up her head and glares at me.
I'd rushed her up here to my suite in the penthouse of the hotel, without bothering to say goodbye to my friends. If they thought I was in a hurry to get her alone in a room, well, that’s too bad. I don't give a fuck what kind of impression I left behind. All that matters is getting her to obey. To bend her to my will, to lean her over the bed and teach her a lesson. But first— "Do it," I growl from my position near the doorway.
She hesitates, twists her fingers. The emerald of her ring catches the light from above and sparkles.Fucking hell.I’d given her the ring that had belonged to my mother. The one she had given to me before she'd left me and my father.
I’d held onto it, the last reminder of the only parent who had loved me. Why had I given it to her? Why had I carried it around with me since I’d met her? Had I subconsciously known that the occasion would present itself, and had wanted to be prepared? No matter. It is done. No going back now. Not that it means anything, of course. An empty gesture. It had been the most convenient solution to send a message to the Mafia that this is serious. They’ll believe I’ve swallowed their bait. They’ll see me as a sitting patsy, ready to be reeled in by them. Really, it’s a way to lure them into reveal their next hand… Meanwhile I have more pressing matters. Namely, a wife who insists on baiting me, throwing her past in my face, daring me to do the one thing I swore I wouldn’t—fuck her like I mean it.
Do I want to go through with it? Am I so taken in by her that I’ll throw all caution to the wind and transform this into a real wedding night?
She draws herself up to her full height.
I jerk my chin in the direction of the massive four-poster bed. The best money can buy, of course. I had it flown in from Russia. It belonged to some fucking Czar or the other… The fuck I care? I’d seen it at Christie’s and wanted it. The only piece of furniture in the entire suite that I had chosen. All with an eye for my relaxation, of course. I smirk.
The pillars are made of solid oak and wide enough for the purpose I have in mind.
I hadn't meant to sleep with her tonight, but she had eviscerated my carefully calculated control, something she is surprisingly skilled at doing. Too bad. She'll have to cope with the fall-out. She is going to need all that gutsiness she's shown so far to get her through the night.
"Don’t keep me waiting," I snarl.
She pales, then marches across the room to the closest post.
"Lean in, Gigi. Wrap your arms around it."
She does.
I approach her and she stiffens.
I press my palm into the small of her back and her entire body trembles. I apply enough pressure for her breasts to flatten against the surface of the post.
"Stay there," I growl.
She stands motionless.
I step toward the walk-in closet, choose a couple of ties, then turn and stalk toward her.
"What are you doing?" She half turns.
"Don’t," I command.
