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Oh my god.
She sprang up on the bed, and the first thing she touched was her mouth. Sometime during the night, when she had been sound asleep, Hunter had removed his belt from between her lips. She then shrieked as she remembered moaning as her lips started to tingle. She also remembered him brushing his thumb over the wetness of her mouth, then kissing her softly.
Shit.
Last night turned out to be an epic failure of the worst kind. Her plan to make him sign the new deal was quickly extinguished like a pesky fire when he turned the tables on her, and she in turn blamed it all on the nipple clamps.
It was as if she had gotten drunk, except on decadent food and behaved badly, and now this was her shameful hangover.
She wrapped the sheet loosely around her naked body and started to hunt for her phone. What she saw struck her dumb to infinity and back.
The entire room was filled with gift-wrapped boxes of every size. Flowers, including pink roses, lilies, and orchids, lined the other side of the room.
How had she slept soundly through it all?
Also, had he lost his mind?
She then remembered she had to list ways in which she wanted Hunter to seduce her for their contract. Take her out to dinner—well, he had given her his own private chef. And buy her gifts. She had just written down things that popped into her head, and when she meant gifts, she was actually referring to a small bunch of flowers and a box of chocolates.
But this was extraordinary. Also hadn’t he voided her clauses when he replaced it what he intended to do to her with his cock?
She peeked into some of the boxes, and she declared herself speechless and overly astonished. Not only had he purchased her jewelry from designers she knew were world-renowned, but they were also the most expensive-looking ensembles ever.
He bought her a prized stallion. A yacht. A jet. A villa in the south of France. All those gifts came in envelopes with deeds and certificates of ownership.
A horse, a boat, a plane, and a car.
What?
She couldn’t fathom what was happening right before her eyes.
Okay, he even bought her a tiara.
A freaking tiara.
She was probably surrounded by hundreds of millions of dollars right there in his room. Unable to stop herself, she picked up a small, round pink box and pulled off the lid. Nestled on a velvet cushion on the inside was a tiny jewel-encrusted butterfly brooch.
Her heart seemed to beat at a different rhythm when she held it in her hand. It was probably no less expensive than all the other jewelry, but there was something about the brooch that called to her. She placed it back into the box and twirled around the room again.
Astounded beyond reason, she finally found her phone and plonked herself down on the bed.
Marcy had sent her a zillion messages, which also brought home the reality of the situation for her. This was all pretend. His aim was to get into her pants. Her aim was to keep her pants on long enough so she could keep Everry Place from being demolished.
So why then did he use his belt as a gag on her if not to stop her from saying the word that would declare her the loser?
She quickly filled Marcy in on the dismal collapse of what she had thought was her breakthrough strategy last night. She really had been deluded into thinking she could overthrow Hunter McLeod with her wiles.
Marcy agreed that she was screwed, and her parting words to Kensley were to maybe glue her legs shut. She had to admit that the thought had crossed her mind.
She sighed deeply and threw her phone on the duvet. Her gaze skimmed Hunter's side of the bed. Did he ever sleep a full eight hours? And did she possibly throw her naked legs over him in her sleep? And why couldn’t she erase from her mind the image of him drawing her closer to his body every time she rolled a little too far away from him?
Nope.
She was going to blame last night's inebriation on dessert and put it behind her. All was still well. She still had her virginity. He still had just under thirty days to get it from her.
Who knows, maybe if she stuck out the month, he would eventually get bored with her and let her go. New strategy: do not engage, The Hunter.
Marcy visited her parents every first Saturday of the month, which meant Kensley had no other plans. But that didn’t mean she intended to just stay home and lounge around in a torn t-shirt, which is what she would have been doing if she were in her “own house.” That gave her the idea of spending the day in her apartment alone.
