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Panic is something I didn’t expect to feel. Certainly not with a woman like her, confident and transparent. If she leaves right now, I’m fucked. We barely spoke. There’s no chance in hell she’ll let me near her again.
This is not at all the way it was supposed to go.
“We have reservations and we’re going to be late.”
“We?Wehave reservations?” she says and finally looks me in the eye. That’s better. Wherever her head is, whoever screwed her over to the point of not trusting another man, it’s in the past.
“I don’t want to go alone. So yes. We have reservations at the Waldorf.”
“I’m not dressed for that,” she responds far too quickly.
I make a point of letting my eyes undress her from head to toe. “The hell you aren’t. You look utterly delectable.”
“I would never wear something like this to the Waldorf.”
Watching as she smooths her hair, her gaze dancing between me and the door, I offer her a simple solution. “We can stop on the way.”
She rolls her eyes and my cock answers in response, hardening and wanting so desperately to punish her. “I have plenty of money if I—”
“I could buy you a thousand times over.” My voice is harder than I’d like but I’m through with this little back-and-forth. “If I say we can stop to buy you whatever the hell I want, it’s not because I wish to spoil you or show off. It’s to save time and for your comfort.”
My statement must have come off harsh, because her jaw clenches. I add, “I couldn’t care less what you wear.”
“I wouldn’t want to be seen with someone like you, showing off your recent conquest.” The bitterness to her tone might as well slap me across my face.
Is that what she thinks this is? Is that who she thinks I am?
Invading her space, I tower over her and say, “When did I give you the impression you were something to conquer? I want you because I want you, and I couldn’t care less what anyone else thinks of that.”
All that anger, all that resentment—it all vanishes the second I exert any dominance over her. It’s addictive. It’s heaven and hell, a concoction I’d gladly get drunk on every second for the rest of my life.
“I am one thing in the boardroom. I’m another outside of that. If you can’t compartmentalize, tell me now.”
“I’m sorry,” she says and her doe eyes fall to my chest. She’s on the verge of running and that’s the last thing I want.
“I don’t want you to apologize,” I say, gentling my voice, tipping up her chin so she’ll finally look at me. See me. “I want you to come to dinner with me.”
SUZETTE
What the fuck just happened?
I’m not certain how I made it downstairs from his office with his hand splayed across my lower back, in front of anyone who dared to look. My legs are weak and there’s an odd mix of satisfaction and nervousness that has my head clouded.
Adrian Bradford just fucked me across his desk like I was his personal toy. The feel of him between my legs is all I can focus on. How effortlessly he destroyed every wall I’ve built and fucked me like he had every right in the world to ruin me.
I’m barely with it as he helps me to his car until he speaks to his driver, who politely greets me before opening the back door. Adrian says something to him that I don’t quite make out because I’m still catching my breath from the sex.
The cool spring air brings me back to the present as I thank his driver. He’s an older gentleman with a lean frame and silver hair. His wire-rimmed glasses and black suit complete his polished look.
“Thank you,” I say, barely getting out the words before I’m left alone in the back of the car, until Adrian climbs in on his side.
It’s a Mercedes, one of the new ones from this year, and it smells like he just drove it off the lot. Adrian’s driver rolls up the divider that separates the spacious back seat from the front the moment he gets in.
Adrian sprawls out on the seat next to me as the driver navigates the city streets. He’s on his phone like nothing happened and I try to act like nothing happened too. I’m having a bit of trouble with that. He seems casual, swiping at the screen and no doubt answering emails, but there’s tension crackling between us. No matter how hard he tries to make this into nothing, it’s anything but.
Gaining a semblance of balance and sanity, I peer up at him and say, as clearly as I can, “I’m not a toy to be played with.”
He glances at me, then slips his phone into his back pocket. “You seemed to enjoy it quite a bit.”
