Page 12 of Wicked Praise

CHAPTER FOUR

Without a doubt, Blakeknew if he parted Bella’s thighs—which he would never do in a situation like this—okay that was a lie, he might—she would go off like a rocket.

Not taking his eyes off her, he lifted his glass of water to his lips and sipped.

She was yet to answer his question, and he loved how uncomfortable she was as he studied his prey for the evening.

It was clear she was attracted to him and not an overly confident woman. Though she was trying to betray that she was. It hinted that she had some fire in her.

I can work with that.

But the dance in exposing a submissive was a careful one. They could bolt if you pushed them past their limits. If he was right about what made Bella Montgomery squirm, or even squirt, then he wanted to be the one doing it.

Tonight, at least.

“Just dinner,” Bella finally answered. “Oh, and...” She reached around for her purse, brushing her skin against his fingers. She stiffened and as she turned back, their eyes locked once more.

Jesus,his cock was hard as stone now.

“Here,” Bella said, shoving a handful of scrunched-up hundred-dollar bills into his chest. “You left this behind.”

Taylor started laughing.

Blake hadn’t told him he met Bella earlier in the day. They hadn’t had time, but he’d also wanted to see how she reacted when she arrived.

She hadn’t disappointed.

“No need to pay the guy. Trust me, he can get a date for free.” Taylor took a gulp of his wine.

Bella’s face turned red. Gripping her hand, which was pressed against his abs, Blake peeled the money out of her fingers as he rubbed his thumb along her skin.

“No, it’s not like tha—” she started to explain.

“I dropped it,” Blake said, straightening the money and folding it. “However, I did break your glasses, so I want you to keep it.”

Bella shook her head as he held it out to her.

“Maybe she’d prefer a second date.” Rhonda teased, and Blake nearly laughed at the horrified look on Bella’s face.

“Rhonda!” Bella cried, her face beet red now. “I’m sorry. Please ignore my friend. And keep the money. I have another pair at home.”

She did?

Who worked at a museum and could afford two pairs of Prada glasses and, he assumed by her frameless face, contacts. He’d seen the designer brand after they crushed under his feet.

“Take his money. He’s a Dufort.” Taylor winked.

Blake cringed. Not from shame. Everyone in his family was wealthy.

Seriously wealthy.

There were more than a handful of billionaires around the family dinner table in their households. Many of them self-made—heck, even his younger brother, Jacob, was on his way to breaking eight figures.

Blake was proud of what he’d accomplished with creating InkWell, even as he was heading full speed toward being the first in the Dufort family to fail.

That is, if he couldn’t find a way around K-Books’ new competing model K-Scribe. And let’s face it, they were a mammoth company, part of a bigger global conglomerate, so he was probably hitting his head against a brick wall.

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