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“No.” She supposed that since she hadn’t seen or knelt for him in nearly a year, he no longer wanted her to call him Master. That was just fine. That slash of pain didn’t mean a damn thing.
To avoid staring at him, she eyed his personal space. The expanse of a two-story wall of windows was unbroken by a drape or blind. Then again, why bother? Who could peek in on them this high up?
“Nice shoes.” He glanced down at her dressiest T-strap black heels. “What three garments did you choose to wear with them?”
His high-handed attitude made her feel like a piece of merchandise. Gia tried to keep a grip on her temper. Was he punishing her for the last year or was she seeing the real Jason Denning now that he had no reason to woo her?
“Hello to you, too. My day was hectic. How about yours?”
“It dragged by while I counted the hours until I could fuck you.” He pulled his phone from his pocket and glanced at it. “I’m much happier now that my wait is over. And I don’t want to hear the attitude again. I’ve done nothing you haven’t agreed to, so don’t act as if I’ve insulted you.”
Technically, he was right, and that rubbed Gia completely wrong. “Should I just drop all my clothes here, get to the floor, and spread my legs? Or will I make it up to the bedroom before you’re all over me?”
Jason froze. “Do you need to reconsider your decision? The door is right behind you if you’d rather divorce now and forfeit the money.”
So cold. Where was the firm but caring Dom she’d fallen for? If she was smart, she’d take him up on this reprieve and leave. But she couldn’t afford to. Besides, it wouldn’t be the right thing to do. She’d hurt him, so now he meant to hurt her in return. An eye for an eye.
“No. I’m staying until the twenty-fourth.”
For a silent moment, he let her feel the weight of his anger. “Then act like it or we’ll start talking about consequences.”
Gia knew she shouldn’t mouth off to him again, but she had to ask him one thing. “Would your parents be proud of you right now?”
He shifted his weight and seemed to ponder her question. The conclusion he reached apparently amused him. “My father would. He was an absolute bastard who ate other people for breakfast. My mother would expect it. In fact, just a few days ago she suggested that I take you in hand and be firmer in my expectations. I didn’t listen to her much growing up, but I think she might be onto something.”
His answer horrified her, mostly because he appeared dead serious. Nor did he seem to think his behavior was appalling. Oh god… She wasn’t just in over her head; he’d no doubt drown her before the night was through.
Jason had not only bought her body until their anniversary, he’d bought her soul. She’d sold it to him almost without a fight.
Gia closed her eyes in shame. “I’m wearing a sweater, a bra, and jeans.”
“Panties?” he murmured in her ear as he set her suitcase down and circled her like a shark. She heard the rustle of him around her, felt his body heat across her skin.
“No.”
“I’m very pleased. Take everything off.”
Tensing, she scowled and tried to find her fortitude. Would it be even harder when she had to spread her legs for him and allow him inside her, knowing he merely wanted revenge? Or would he, like before, overwhelm her with pleasure until she panted and begged? She didn’t know which would hurt more.
Slipping out of her shoes, she stepped onto the textured wood. It was solid, comforting, kind of like the floor in her dad’s den. Gia focused on that as she peeled her sweater over her head and dropped it to the ground. She tried not to think about what she was doing when she reached behind her and unhooked her bra. Not that the lace covered much, but as she removed what little protection it afforded, cold hit her nipples. They beaded. She refused to believe it had anything to do with Jason’s blistering stare.
Slowly, he reached out and touched her. Gia started with a little gasp. His ghost of a smile haunted her when he ran his knuckles up the curve of her waist, to the swell of her breast, brushing over the sensitive bead. Against her will, a jolt of desire shivered through her system. Her breath hitched.
“Pretty. Soft,” he whispered. “Now lose the jeans so I can see your pussy.”
Gia dragged in a shuddering breath. Why did she resent him and want him so much at the same time? What mystical control did he have over her body? Or did she simply respond because she’d always loved him?
Her fingers shook as she unsnapped her pants. The zipper fell with a subdued hiss. Then she fitted her hands on the waistband and pushed them down her hips. A year ago, they’d been tight. Since then, they’d gotten so big, they fell to her knees with the tiniest shove. She stepped out of them, leaving them piled on the wood beside her sweater.
Gia stood totally bare in front of him, eyes squeezed tightly shut.
Jason took her chin in his grip. “You don’t get to escape me by closing your eyes and pretending I’m someone else.”
Lashes fluttering, she lifted her lids. “That’s not… I wasn’t thinking of another man.”
“So this is the sacrificial martyr routine. Perfect,” he snapped. “Nothing makes a man feel more wanted than cringing.”
Gia clenched her fists. “For the next eighteen days, you can tell me where to be, what to wear, where to sleep, how to kneel, and the way you want me to spread my legs. You do not get to tell me how to feel.”
