Page 53 of Wicked Heat

I nod, relieved by his promise not to fuck me. And, to my horror and shame, a little bit disappointed, too.

“As for more specific terms,” he continues, “you will not deny me any desire, any whim, any prurient pastime.” He looks me up and down, and in that moment, I’m certain that he can see through my clothes and the pillow I’m clutching. That he knows my nipples are hard and that I’m wet with desire.

What I don’t know is if he can hear my blood pounding and my panic rising. I want to tell him. To beg him to back off because this is a deal that can’t work for me. I may think it can. I may even want it to. But I know better—if he makes me agree to this, it will break me.

But I don’t say that at all. Instead, I lift my chin, determined to not show weakness. “Why?”

“I could say it’s because I want you, and that would be true. But it’s also because I want you to feel powerful.” He stands up straight, then motions for me to come toward him. I hesitate before putting aside the pillow and crawling over the mattress to kneel in front of him. As soon as I do, he cups one breast through my shirt. The material of my bra is thin, and my nipple is hard against it. His fingers find the spot and tease me in time with his words. “And because I want to own you,” he continues, as threads of electricity zing through my body.

As if he knows about those fiery strands, he traces his fingertip down, lower and lower until he’s cupping me over my tailored slacks. “Look at me,” he demands, and I realize I’ve closed my eyes, lost in the gap between longing and fear.

I do what he says, and find myself gazing at his face, and the desire I see there is so palpable I feel it reverberate throughout my body.

“I want to pleasure you,” he says, moving his fingers in a slow, deliberate circle, the sensations he’s generating making it suddenly hard to breathe. “Mostly, I want to be the man who makes you beg. And I want to be the man who gets you over that wall of fear you’ve built up inside you.”

These last words bring me back to myself, and I scoot backward, clamping my thighs together. “You really are an arrogant son of a bitch.”

His slow grin is cocky as shit and wildly sexy. “That’s what people say.”

I grab up the pillow and hug it again, hating the fact that his touch is so damned arousing. That my body is still tingling. And that even though all I want to do is slap his face, if he were to pull me to him right then, I think I would come in his arms.

I almost beg for him to do exactly that, just to see if I really could go there.

But I say nothing. I’ll hold tight to the fantasy. But the possibility of a new reality is far too terrifying.

I draw a breath, reminding myself that despite the way my cells are dancing, he is being an absolute shit. “You’re really going to use sex as collateral?”

He simply shrugs, looking as innocent as a schoolboy. Which, frankly, pisses me off.

“I thought I knew you. And now you’re using the fact that me and An⁠—”

His brow furrows. “You and what?”

“That you’re a little prick,” I snap, furious at myself for being careless almost mentioning Anne. “A little man. A fucking wolf in sheep’s clothing and I should never have let myself trust you. Not even a little.”

A see a shadow on his face and feel a kick of guilt that I quickly shove down.

“Have you considered that I’m afraid to lose you, and this is the only way I know how to keep you?”

I cross my arms over my chest as I look at him, not at all sure where he’s going with this. “Lose me? When did you ever have me?”

He nods slowly, looking cocky as hell. “Good point. Maybe you’re right. Maybe I’m just a son-of-a-bitch who wants to see you squirm.” He pauses, his eyes never leaving my face. “Doesn’t matter, does it? Because you need me.”

I lift my chin. “I’ll find the money some other way.”

“Good. I hope you do. My dad would give it to you in a heartbeat.” He tilts his head and makes a show of looking me up and down. “Why haven’t you asked him?”

“Maybe I will.” I don’t mention that I don’t have the number for the satellite phone. Ash does, and if that’s my only excuse, I know he’d give it to me.

He indicates the door. “You know your way around. Go give him a call while I pack.”

“Fuck you,” I snap, then slide off the bed. I want to race out of there, but I move slowly, as if I don’t have a care in the world. Then I ease out of the guest house and hurry to the door that leads from the patio to the first-floor entrance hall.

Thankfully, the key code hasn’t changed since my last time babysitting, and I’m inside in no time.

I’m not entirely sure why I’m here other than to be contrary. There is no way I’m asking Damien for three million dollars. Aria and I have already gone there, dismissed that.

Which means Ash remains my only shot, and the only reason I have for being in the house is to show him that I’m not a pushover.