Page 85 of The Billionaire's Baby
"What does it look like?"
I look up from the doorway where I’ve slipped on my jacket.
"Looks to me like you are leaving?"
"So are you."
She rubs one bare foot over the other, and of course, my gaze is instantly drawn to the length of her legs. The T-shirt she wears—myT-shirt, reaches the tops of her knees. She folds her fingers together in front of her, then tips up her chin. "We’re leaving?" she asks.
I jerk my chin toward the window where sunshine streams in.
"I’ve been up since dawn making sure the yacht is ready to sail.
"Oh." She swallows, then folds her arms in front of her. "So that’s it, then?"
"That’s it." I nod.
"You said you’d come back to bed last night." She squeezes her eyes closed. "No, wait. What am I saying? Forget I said it… I mean…" She rakes her fingers through her hair, messing it up some more.
My fingers tingle and I want to move toward her and smooth down the errant strands. Instead, I stay where I am. "I did come to bed. You were asleep by then, and when I woke up this morning, you were still sleeping."
"Right," she swallows, "give me a few minutes to jump into the shower." She turns to leave, then winces, and glances down at her ankle.
I take a step forward. "You okay?"
"Yes, of course." She heads off to the bedroom.
I call after her, "I’m sorry."
She pauses, then turns to face me, "For what?"
"For allowing you to leave the house yesterday. If I hadn’t, you wouldn’t have run through the rain or fallen over the side and—"
"Hold on… You allowed me to leave the house?Youallowedme?"
I narrow my gaze. "I should have stopped you."
"You didn’t make me do anything," she snarls. "I ran out because it was the only way I had a chance of outrunning you."
"That’s what I mean, I shouldn’t have let you out of the house."
I take a step forward and so does she.
"I should have tied you to the bed when I had the chance and fucked you until you couldn’t walk again."
Her chest rises and falls; her pupils dilate. "Think again, buster." She hobbles over to me, then stabs a finger in my chest, "You can’t make me do anything I don’t want to do. You are not the master of me, asshole."
"Don’t tempt me to prove otherwise."
"What are you going to do? Use your stupid ego, and over-the-top possessiveness to put me in my place?"
"That might be a start." I don’t stop the sneer that curls my lips. "Better still, I might throw you down on the floor right here and bury my cock inside you all over again."
"So why don’t you do it?"
She digs her finger into my chest and I snarl, "Don’t tempt me."
"I am challenging you to do it, you asshole."
