AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Who?” I ask innocently.
He shifts his hand to palm my ass. “Don’t play coy.”
Fine. Biting my lip, I mull over the risk-reward analysis. Come clean—that our conversation lasted all of five minutes before he came barreling in—or… Fudge the truth a little. After all, Dahlia’s advice seems rather poignant at the moment. If this is all some twisted game, I refuse to let Graeme Bellamy think he can just push me around the board at his leisure.
Meeting his gaze, I run my fingers along his chest, settling near his unfairly-beautiful navel. “What do you think happened?” I toss back, keeping my voice as level as possible.
The truth is, I’m curious. Did he stew in irritation all night, wondering if a few words from another handsome man had been enough to “woo” me, as he put it?
His eyes narrow, and I can’t get a read on what exactly he might be feeling. “Because a woman as dutiful as you claim to be wouldn’t violate her new agreement so soon. Would she?”
Despite everything, I still laugh. “I’m sure Michael could pay for my company if you fire me.” I intend to sound playfully wistful.
From the dangerous sound rumbling from his chest next, he, however, thinks I’m serious.
“Your relationship progressed that much over dinner, did it?”
I hold my breath.Damn him.He makes a harmless conversation sound so much worse. Perhaps because our current conversation is transpiring with us both naked.
“And if it did?” I try to sound nonchalant. Judging from his snarl, I succeed. “What’s between us is merely a business arrangement, remember?”
Again, I’ve said the wrong thing. He removes his hand from its erogenous position, only to cup my inner thigh instead.
“I’ve had firsthand experience with where your business arrangements lead,” he explains, his voice gruff. “I hope Michael didn’t achieve the same level of success.”
Double damn him.
“And if he did?” I counter with a shrug. “You don’t own me. I’m merely ‘on retainer.’ Remember?” As I mimic his tone, I almost snicker.
The joke doesn’t land. His expression takes on a stern quality that instantly sets me on guard. His eyes darken to that stormy, alarming shade of blue they touch on right before he starts throwing things. In the office, at least. Here in the arena of his bedroom, he seems prone to another impulsive form of action.
Touching me. I barely feel his fingers at first, ghosting along the flesh of my thigh again. Higher. Then, with mind-melting accuracy, they barely brush my outer folds, and I lurch, nearly pitching sideways.
“I think you weren’t lying, Evelyn,” he murmurs as I right myself, his voice barely audible. “I can tell that no one, especially not a bumbling buffoon, has been inside you recently.”
“Thank you for that assessment,” I choke out, arching my hips to escape his reach. It’s a halfhearted attempt, and he takes advantage of my hesitation by withdrawing his touch to a barely-there caress.
Damn him. I hesitate, right on the tips of his fingers. Before I can move, his other hand comes from nowhere to cup my hip without applying force. The warmth seeping from his palm lulls me into a false sense of security, and I relax at the exact moment he invades me with the tip of a thick finger.
“You’re welcome,” he replies, though I barely hear him above my startled gasp. “In fact, I would like to offer a remedy to your predicament, if you’d like.”
Mayday, Evie, a cautious voice in my head warns. We’re on dangerous ground—again. I can’t risk another lapse in judgment where Graeme Bellamy is concerned.
Again.
Before I can formulate a reply, he bucks his hips, forcing my gaze downward, directly into his.
“Me,” he grates. “Would you be amicable to that resolution?”
The greedy, whorish part of me, newly awakened by his touch, whines a clear affirmative. Thankfully, the logical Evelyn is still very much in charge.
“You’re going to be late,” I gasp out, glancing at the clock. “I’m sure your first meeting is scheduled for nine, and—”
He extends that probing finger, and my entire body clenches in response. I’m reminded that the bastard is good with his hands. Too damn good.
“You are my first meeting of the day,” he replies, his tone serious. “I refuse to leave until we come to a viable agreement. Any professional relationship must follow that rule.”
Damn.
