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I smile sweetly and say, “No, I am not,” then push the door shut. I stand and wait, thinking he’ll open it, and when he doesn’t, I head to my closet. I know the exact dress I can wear. I bought it when I first arrived and haven’t had an occasion to wear it. I have hundreds of gowns back home, but there’s something I love about this one. Perhaps it’s the honey color. I pull it out and admire it once more before slipping it on and going to the bathroom to fix my hair and apply some light foundation and lipstick. I’m determined to give him the bare minimum.
Events like this, I’d always be fussed overfor hours. I had to have the perfect hair. The perfect makeup. The perfect presentation. Now, I feel comfortable throwing that to the wayside. Dawson will accept me how I am or not at all.
When I’m done, I check myself in the mirror. My lips are nude, and my silk dress perfectly drapes over my breasts and hips. I look over my shoulder, appreciating the low cut-out back. I can imagine Daphne exclaiming, “Fucking hot!” and clapping in approval. It brings a smile to my face.
I walk out and pull open the door to find him still waiting. “I’m ready. This better be worth it because I can’t decide how angry I should be at you yet.”
“Angry sex is the best sex, but we can play later,” he drawls.
“So you think,” I shoot back, stepping into the elevator with him. We stand in silence, the tension a living, breathing thing between us. I’m certain as he exhales, I inhale. We walk out of the lobby and to a waiting car with a driver holding the door open and ready for us. Dawson offers his hand as I step in, cautious of my honey-colored heels. The contrast in color is perfect against my tan skin. He enters on the other side of the car, sitting beside me.
He adjusts himself as the driver takes off. I watch him carefully, fighting all urges to mount him. It’s cruel that he should be so fucking beautiful.
“You don’t want to play later?” Dawson asks, turning to face me.
“Not at all. You needed help, so here I am. I expect you to return this favor one day. I am a Ricci, after all.”
He cocks a smile as he puts his hand on my knee. The heat radiates through my body, and my clit begins to pulse for him. Expectantly, demandingly, and almost blindly.
“Oh, so is that what we’re calling this? A favor?”
I pull my gaze away from his hand, thinking of all the things those fingers can do. “Is it not?”
“I return favors in other ways.”
“I’m sure Crue is a very happy man, then. A beautiful friendship the two of you have.”
He laughs at that, and I can’t help but smile and look away.
“You look awfully beautiful tonight, but do you want to know when you look better?”
I don’t indulge in asking him when, but he doesn’t care and answers his own question anyway. I’m trying to avoid his gaze because my body is a treacherous thing. Surely, I can last two minutes in a car with him before ripping my clothes off.
“When you’re coming. Fuck, it’s the hottest thing I have ever seen. When your eyes roll back into your head, your hands clutch together, and your body gets this perfect arch. I want to photograph it and put it up on my wall.” His expression is dripping with lust.
I try to let my hitched breath escape evenly.Fuck, I want his hand to glide farther up my leg.Iswallow, hard.
“Maybe one day I’ll let you. I mean, if the price is right,” I tell him.
“Will twenty million cover it?” he asks.
“I think by the time I’m done with you, you may very well be broke,” I joke.
“I’d happily go broke for you.”
I eye him, hating how I react to his words—almost hopeful they’re the truth. I know they are, but it’s because I want something more with Dawson. And I’m not sure if the man who is used to contracts and control can give that to me. To say he’d go broke for me is interesting. We are both people who come from money. Dirty money, earned money, old money.Of all the things that it can buy, love is not one of them.
I turn away. That thought and word coming up again.Love.
Is someone like Dawson even capable of it? Do I even truly comprehend what it is?
We sit in comfortable silence, his thumb tormenting me as it rolls back and forth over my knee. Every glide up, I wish it would go higher and higher.
The car slows down, and the scenery begins to change as we enter a wealthy area of suburbia.
“Where are we?” I ask.
“It’s one of my many houses,” he says as the car stops, and he lets himself out. Shortly after, he opens my door and offers his hand to help me out.
