Page 56 of Arranged Silverfox

“Right," she says stiffly. “If I owned a business, you’d look like a pansy, is that it? You wouldn’t dare be emasculated by your wife?” she shot back. Her voice was venomous. I reached out to touch her knee, and she shied away.

“It’s not like that,” I whispered. For the first time, Becca looked defeated, and it tore at me. It’s not that Becca owning a business would look bad, but people were bound to talk. Especially once we started having kids. I wouldn’t want people to disparage Becca’s reputation. The old guard of Boston would be appalled if a woman like Becca chose her business over her children. Plus, what would happen to the business once she had kids? I wouldn’t want to saddle Becca with the burden of running a business and raising a family. She’d burn out.

“It’s just—” I paused. “I don’t want you to get in over your head. What would happen to the business once you had kids? It’d be impossible to manage, even with nannies. I don’t want to set you up for failure. Starting a business is a headache, but so is getting rid of one.” I said.

Becca nodded, still refusing to make eye contact.

“What makes you think I would fail?” she asked.

“No, I didn’t mean I—”

Becca scoffed at my sputtering. She leveled me with a cool gaze. “You’re just as bad as them, you know,” Becca said.

“Who?” I asked though I already knew the answer.

“Our parents. You can try and pretend that you’re better than them. But right now, you sound just like my mother,” she hissed. It was an absolutely damning blow. Becca and I talked endlessly about how we wanted to be different from our parents. I desperately tried to reassure myself that I wasn’t like them. It wasn’t that I thought Becca was incapable of running a business. I didn’t want to crush her beneath the combined social, familial, and economic pressures. That would be enough to drive anyone mad.

“We can talk about logistics later. Maybe we can find something for you. But for now, I want to know that we’re on the same page,” I said.

She took another bite of her bagel. "Absolutely."

“Who knows, maybe we can set you up with a bakery, and you can become the cookie queen of Boston,” I quipped.

Becca laughed so hard she almost choked on her bagel.

“Wouldn’t that be … something,” she said between giggles.

“You never know! I barely graduated college, and now I’m a mogul. Someone as smart as you could totally crush … the cookie industry?” I guessed.

Becca rolled her eyes. “You mean commercial baking?” she supplied.

“That sounds much better,” I said.

I smiled and leaned back. "You know, I have a private space in the back of the jet." I placed my hand on her smooth thigh.

Her pale-yellow dress fit her figure perfectly. The lightweight fabric of the dress melded to her body like a second skin. It hit her mid-thigh, and the spaghetti straps crossed prettily over her delicate shoulders, accentuating her slender neck.

Whenever Becca was around, I could barely think straight. Her beauty was a dizzying force. Long dark lashes framed her big blue eyes. She had a heart-shaped face and pouty pink lips. Her smile lit up a room. Not to mention she had a wicked sense of humor. She was the perfect woman. I had no idea how I got so lucky.

She laid a hand on top of mine. One touch from her sent my blood flowing south quickly enough it made me light-headed. I gritted my teeth against the lust building inside me.

"What about the staff?" she glanced around the cabin. "Won't they hear? Or wonder where you are?"

"No on both accounts. They know that if the door is closed, not to disturb me unless it’s an emergency."

In truth, I'm sure they’ll be able to hear us, but my staff was famously discreet. No one on my team would gossip, even if they heard something.

A slew of emotions flashed across her heart-shaped face: desire, worry, uncertainty, and back to desire. I pulled her into my arms and tugged at the hair at the nape of her neck.

"You're so fucking beautiful," I whispered. She softened to my touch.

I kissed the delicate curves of her neck. Her hands slid up my chest. I felt the wild thrum of her pulse beneath my lips. She grabbed a fistful of my shirt. I needed to taste her. My mouth moved up her neck and over her lips.

I tasted the excitement on her lips and felt my own quickening. I buried my hands in her hair, deepening our kiss with a hunger that couldn't be filled. She whimpered softly in my mouth as our tongues rushed together, and I felt a surge of electricity course through me.

My hands moved to her waist, and I felt the heat radiating from her core.

She broke the kiss, gasping for air.

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