The Billionaire's Command
Page 17

I wasn’t sure if I was more afraid, or more turned on.
It was definitely some combination of the two.
And then, finally, I looked up and met his eyes, and what I saw there set the ground shaking beneath my feet.
He was wild, and awake. Alive in a way that most of the people I encountered on a day-to-day basis definitely weren’t.
And he wanted me.
“I’m supposed to work a party,” I said. “At 6:00. So I really don’t have time for this. Sorry.”
“I already spoke with Germaine,” he said. “Your previous assignation is no longer a concern.”
Assignation, really? Who talked like that? Assholes who had too much money and more education than was good for anyone. “You mean my party,” I said. “I don’t accept assignations.”
His mouth quirked to one side. “Very well. If you insist on using your common vernacular, I suppose I’m willing to sink to that level. You’ll be working my party, now. There are two attendees. I’ll let you guess who they are.”
“You,” I said. “And me.”
“What a clever girl,” he said, in that dry way he had, meaning that I wasn’t so clever after all.
“All right,” I said. I straightened my spine and drew back my shoulders. “You got it. I’m yours for the evening. I hope you’re going to pay me this time, though.”
“Maybe if you don’t run off quite so fast,” he said.
I blushed and looked away. He had a point. I hadn’t exactly given him a chance to tip me, last time.
“I won’t run,” I said.
He drew his hand up my arm and back down to my wrist, a deliberate caress this time. His fingers curled around my wrist and held me there. Like handcuffs. He wasn’t fooling around. “I asked Germaine to reserve a room,” he said.
I drew in a breath and let it out again, feeling myself stretched out and buoyant as a helium balloon. I would float right away if I wasn’t careful. “Lead the way, then.”
He did. He gripped my wrist more firmly and guided me down the hallway, trailing a few paces behind him, until we came to an empty room and he pushed the door open and drew me inside.
I recognized the room, of course. I had been there before, many times. But it seemed different now, like I was seeing it with new eyes, or seeing it for the first time. Like Turner had the power to make everything new.
I moved into the center of the room and stopped, feeling my heels sink into the thick carpet.
Behind me, Turner closed and locked the door.
“It’s just you and me now, sweetheart,” he said.
“That’s what I’m afraid of,” I said, without turning around to look at him.
He laughed, low and dark. “What do you think it is you need to be worried about?”
I did turn to face him then, and let my face show all of the worries I’d gathered to me over the last two years of dealing with hungry, eager men who didn’t always want to listen when I said no. If Turner was going to ask a question like that, he was going to get an honest answer. “Why don’t you tell me?”
He must have accurately read my expression, because he huffed out a breath, half of a laugh, and said, “I’m not a monster, sweetheart. I’m not going to force you. You can walk out the door right now with no repercussions. I’m not going to fire you because you don’t want to touch my prick.” He paused, and cocked one eyebrow. “Or maybe that’s what you want. You want me to hold you against the wall and use you like my own private jungle gym, and make you come screaming when I touch you.”
His words send a terrible, wonderful shiver up my spine. Somehow he knew every unwanted thought that had crawled up my backbone and made a home in the base of my brain. “That’s not what I want,” I said, and knew the words were a lie even as I spoke them.
His smirk told me that he knew it too. “That’s exactly what you want, but we won’t quibble over the details. You haven’t left, so I’ll take that as blanket permission to do anything to you that I want. Come here.”
What could I do but obey him? I took one step toward him, and then a second, and a third, and then I was close enough that he could slide a hand around my waist to settle in the small of my back and pull me against him, hip to hip. We were close enough to share breath and maybe even thoughts. He slid one wool-covered thigh between mine, pressing firmly against the hungry heat between my legs, and I arched my back and leaned backward, a dramatic curve, and his hand slid up my spine to hold me in place.
I was caught, then, between him and gravity. There was nowhere to go but up.
Or down, if he dropped me.
“You’re the perfect whore, Sassy Belle,” he said. “Beautiful and mysterious.”
I didn’t look at him. I hated his constant reminders that I was a whore.
“And you’re offended now,” he said, sounding amused. He pulled me upright again, his hand moving along my spine until it cupped the back of my neck, forcing me to stand straight and meet his gaze. “Of course. Sell yourself for money, and get annoyed when someone reminds you of that simple fact. All right, we don’t discuss it further.” The hand that wasn’t holding my head in place slid down my bare chest to the swell of my breasts, hoisted into lush roundness by my corset. “Take this off.”
I sucked in a deep breath. “You’ll have to help me.”
“Gladly,” he said. “How like a woman, to wear something you can’t even remove without assistance.”
“I don’t think that’s something women do,” I said. “I think that’s something whores do.” I spat the word at him, full of venom, but he just gave me a bland look, like nothing I said could possibly affect him.
It probably couldn’t.
Well, I didn’t fucking care. He obviously liked me. He wouldn’t have requested me again, otherwise. For some bizarre reason, he liked my smart mouth. So why hold back? He said he wouldn’t fire me for refusing him, and Germaine said she wouldn’t let him fire me no matter what, so why keep Sasha under lock and key? Sassy was sweet and melting, but Sasha, the real me, was ready to spit flames.
I was tired of being a plaything for men. Fine. There: I admitted it.
But it didn’t matter what I wanted. There were people depending on me.
Furious, aroused, I gave in and turned in his arms.