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As soon as he’s gone, I find my phone in the living room, where our adventure started. His house is even more lavish and imposing than I realized last night, and I take a moment to commit everything to memory. The abstract oil paintings, the marble fireplace that is almost exactly the same color as the leather couches where he first took my virginity. I even pause to let my feet sink into the luxuriously thick rug as I check my bank account on my phone.
Breathing a sigh of relief to see the auction money is really there, I order a ride back into the city. Now I need to find something to wear. Easton’s walk-in closet is full of designer suits, a collection of watches I’m sure cost more than I could hope to make in a year, and handmade Italian shoes.
I stop ogling all his things and find a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt. The borrowed clothes swim on me, but I don’t want to take anything worth too much, just in case I never see him again. I tie the shirt in a knot and roll the waistband of the sweats, then head down the long driveway to the road, just as my ride arrives.
I take one last glance at the castle-like mansion, hold back tears, and get into the backseat. I give the driver the address of the rundown motel. It’s time to wake up and face reality. I’ll forever be grateful that I once had a wonderful boss who saved me from what might have been a terrible experience, but the dream is over now.
We quickly collect Gran’s things and move into a much nicer hotel in a safe neighborhood. She’s furious, wanting to know where I was all night and why I didn’t answer her calls. To avoid confessing, I apologize for worrying her and share that I got a new job that gave me an advance on my first paycheck.
“Tomorrow I’ll start looking for a proper apartment again,” I promise, then head out to get some of her favorite pastries.
As soon as I leave the elevator in the new hotel, I run straight into Easton, who is waiting in the lobby. I stop dead in my tracks, surreptitiously pinching myself because my life has become surreal in the last twenty-four hours. The sting on the inside of my elbow, along with his stern face, tells me I’m awake and he’s really standing there.
He doesn’t exactly look pissed, but he doesn’t seem happy either. He takes my elbow and leads me to his car that’s parked just outside, getting into the backseat and pulling me in beside him.
“How did you—”
He shakes his head, silencing me. “I have security cameras that caught the license plate of your getaway car. It only took a few quick calls to track you.” He leans close, his stern lips quirking up in a crooked smile. “What don’t you understand about being mine?”
He slides his hand behind my neck and pulls me in for a kiss that leaves me panting. I’m dying to let his magical touch brush away all my concerns, but reality looms over me like an angry bear. Looking at him is too hard and I turn away. He’s everything I want and also everything I want to be. Successful, independent, at the top of his field. My initial troubles might be solved by the huge number in my bank account, but my future, the way I envisioned it, is gone. I have to find a way to start from scratch.
“Sloane,” he says, more gently. He takes my chin so I have to look at him and his eyes search my face. Does he still feel sorry for the pathetic waif he rescued last night? “Tell me what’s wrong.”
Everything.But I can’t say that. It won’t be good enough for him. Inhaling, I take a shuddering breath and let it all out.
“I’m grateful for what you did,” I start. “I gave up all my romantic notions of losing my virginity to someone I love and my hopes of having my dream career—”
He drops his hand and interrupts me. “Sloane, that’s not—”
I interrupt him right back. “I know you’re not going to blackball me or do anything like that, but how many men in that club are in high-powered positions in this city? Eventually, I’ll end up running into one of them.” Turning away, I grab the door handle. “You got what you paid for, Easton. I’m sorry if you have buyer’s remorse now. I have a life I have to put back together for my grandma, and I can’t pretend anymore.”
Chapter 8
Easton
I listen to her rant, my heart twisting when I hear the tears she’s struggling to hold back. The sound worries me and I wonder what she thinks of our situation. Does she view me as some monster? I could keep her, make her see how I really feel. But as much as I need her to be mine, I need for her to be happy more.
This thing with Sloane isn’t just an obsession. If so, it would have ended after I had her. But now, my feelings are stronger than ever before, consuming me. It’s not just her body that has me infatuated. I’m impressed with her drive, her kindness, and the way I feel in her presence. There’s only Sloane. And she’s about to get out of my car and walk away from me.
Reaching out quickly, I grab her hand to stop her. “I have offices in Paris. You can have any job you want there. If anyone from the auction ever crosses your path and gives you trouble, I’ll destroy them.”
Her eyes widen. “Why would you do that for me? Just so I’ll sleep with you again?”
How can she be so oblivious to my feelings? Does she really think I only care about her body? I pull her close and she melts against me. Tangling my fingers in her hair, I tug her head back so that I can claim her lush mouth.
Her lips open eagerly and her soft sigh mingles with my hungry breaths. She drives me wild as her hands run up my chest to grip my shoulders so hard I can feel her fingernails through my jacket. She can’t fool herself when she’s in my arms, so I’ll just have to keep her here.
Sliding my hand from her hair down her arm raises a path of goosebumps and she shivers against me. I find the bottom of her shirt—my shirt—and pull at the tight knot, loosening it until I can slip my hand under her shirt and cup my palm around her breast. I tweak her nipple to a hard peak and smile against her mouth as she crawls onto my lap with a moan.
Now it’s me who’s making noises as she straddles me and grinds her pussy against my raging cock. Trailing kisses down her throat, I pause at the neckline of her shirt. Tear it off or take it off? She has the same idea, unbuttoning my shirt with trembling fingers.
A dark chuckle escapes my lips. “I don’t have to give you a single thing to make you want me as much as I want you,” I say.
Her fingers drop and she tries to pull away, but I keep a firm arm around her back.
“That’s true,” she says slowly, lifting her eyes to mine. “But…”
“No buts,” I say, kissing her until she’s weak against me. “And we’re not doing this in the car, either.”
