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I frowned in confusion. “Uh… okay. Seems like the opposite of what you wanted me to do ear—”
“Did I ask your opinion?” he asked, his voice quiet but razor sharp.
I swallowed, drowning in his fathomless eyes. “No.” I handed him my coat and turned toward the dining room.
Amos leaned away from the pillar and swatted my ass. “Once around the dining room perimeter, but don’t stay too long. I’ll be counting.”
“Counting what?” I asked, clacking across the spacious foyer that reminded me of a museum.
Amos just gave me a simmering look with his hands in his tux pants pockets as he watched me cross into the dining room. I shivered. Turning my attention to the packed dining room decorated with vases of wheat stalk things and glittering leaves, I let my hand trail along deep orange tablecloths, and stared in wonder at the beautiful gowns and glittering jewels on the laughing guests at the fundraiser.
I didn’t know a single one of them, so no one stopped me to talk, but plenty of eyes followed me. I cupped my elbows, feeling more and more as I walked around the room that I’d been an absolute moron. This whole thing was massively uncomfortable. Of course people were staring—I looked like the bawdy entertainment.
I turned and found Amos leaning against the door, his eyes bouncing from me to the guests with quiet observation. What was he doing? When I finally reached him, he held out my coat wordlessly, and I shrugged it on, cocking my head in silent question. “Let’s go,” he said softly, his gaze still on some of the occupants, and then he turned to leave with my hand in his.
What the hell?
Amos held an umbrella over my head, and magically, our black luxury sedan was there waiting for us, so I slid into it, grateful that there was a partition between us and the driver because I already wanted to jump Amos and find out what his idea of a dark sexy time looked like. He’d been holding out on me since we started dating. He played fun games, of course. He was still Amos. But I knew he’d been holding back, and I honestly couldn’t stand the thought that he’d been with other women more experienced than I was. I could be kinky. Probably.
Amos got in the car after me, and after the driver took off, I turned to him with a sly smile. “So?” I prompted.
“Eight,” Amos said, shrugging out of his tux jacket.
“Eight?”
“That’s your number,” he continued, not looking at me. He unclasped the cufflinks around his white button-down sleeves.
I made a comical thinking face. “Hm.”
Amos rolled up his sleeves. “That’s how many men fucked you with their eyes while you walked around that room.”
I opened my mouth, but no words came out. “Uh… “
“So, eight is your number:” He turned his coal black eyes to me. “Get over my lap.”
My eyes went round. “Oh my God.”
He sat back, stretching his legs out as the car stopped at a stoplight. “You know your safe word.”
I unbuckled my seatbelt, shucked off my coat, and darting uncertain glances his way, I put myself on all fours, bridging over his legs. I twisted to look up at him, and my curls fell heavily to one side. Amos pushed me down so I fell to his lap, and I covered my mouth with my hand, smothering a grin.
Dr. Amos Brady was about to spank my ass.
Amos tugged my tight dress up my thighs until he exposed the red thong I wore underneath, and cold autumn air hit my cheeks. “I’m tempted to double your eight,” Amos muttered, smoothing a hand over the globes and causing me to sigh with pleasure.
I was pretty sure no matter what he did, he wasn’t going to reallyhurtme, so I gave him a saucy look over my shoulder. “Whatever tickles your funny bone, Brady.”
Smack.
I gasped as the sharp sting of Amos’ slap against my ass sent a shockwave of pain over the middle of both cheeks. I reared up, gripping the leather seat. “What thefuck?”
“Count it,” Amos said, his voice dark.
I rotated a shocked look up at him. “Thathurt, Brady.”
His gaze narrowed slightly. “I know.”
Oh shit.I swallowed hard, suddenly extremely unsure of what I’d gotten myself into, here. “Uh, one?” I squeaked.
