Just a Bit Ruthless (Straight Guys 6)

Then, he became aware of something else. His shirt had ridden up, leaving his ass and legs completely exposed to Roman’s eyes. Luke’s first urge was to yank the shirt down, but if he did that, it would betray he wasn’t asleep. Luke didn’t feel like he was ready to face this man after their last disconcerting encounter.

His exposed skin prickled, the tension in his body growing. Why wasn’t Roman doing anything? Why wasn’t he leaving? Why had he come at all in the middle of the night? Luke had fretted and waited all evening, expecting Roman or someone else to come, but no one had. Thankfully, he’d been left with enough food so hunger wasn’t a concern. In the end, for lack of anything better to do, he had gone to sleep, figuring a businessman of Roman Demidov’s caliber would have more important things to do than visit a clueless rich kid who was useful only as a bargaining chip.

Except Roman was here now. Luke was sure he wasn’t imagining the subtle scent of his cologne mixed with the faint smell of cigarettes. His muscles quivered with adrenaline, his heart beating so fast he felt dizzy for a moment. Why wasn’t Roman moving? What was he looking at? What was he thinking about? And why the hell did Luke care?

“You’re as terrible at pretending to be asleep as you are at manipulating.”

Luke stiffened.

Chapter 8

The figure on the bed seemed to stop breathing, going rigid at the sound of his voice.

Roman’s brows furrowed. The boy was scared of him. While it was neither unexpected nor entirely unwelcome, it would only complicate things. He couldn’t have Luke fearing him too much. This time he needed…a gentler approach if he was to accomplish what he had decided to do after seeing Luke’s reaction to the punishment. The way the boy had clung to him, seeking comfort and trusting him enough to fall into exhausted sleep in Roman’s presence…it had opened new possibilities.

There were certainly far easier, faster, and less convoluted ways to make Richard Whitford pay, but this one would crush Whitford if implemented right. If Roman could condition Whitford’s only son, make the boy completely dependent on him, then he would have the keys to what Whitford treasured the most: Whitford Industries, his pride and joy. Roman wasn’t too concerned that Whitford didn’t trust his son. If the boy had no clue about business, all the better.

Hold your fucking horses, Roman told himself. As the proverb went, he mustn’t put the cart before the horse. He had to gain Luke’s affections first for the plan to work. That wasn’t going to be easy, even taking into account Luke’s submissive inclinations.

The truth was, Roman had misgivings about the plan. He didn’t like what he couldn’t control.

And he couldn’t quite control his own reactions that morning. When he had found himself with an armful of shaking, needy boy, it hadn’t been a conscious decision to comfort him. It was all instinct. Luke’s submissiveness had messed with his head, making him react instinctively—as any good Dom would react to a sub’s physical and emotional needs after a scene. The problem was, the punishment he had given Luke was never meant to be anything but punishment. The boy’s needy body language afterward shouldn’t have triggered his instincts.

But it did.

Roman was no stranger to power play. He derived a certain pleasure from power games in everyday life; sometimes, if the mood was right, his body itched for it, too. Most people considered him a cruel man, and they weren’t wrong. But he wasn’t a cruel lover, never had been. Granted, he wasn’t a gentle lover, either. He liked it rough, liked the rush of power he got when he reduced someone into a pliant, submissive mess—it was far more arousing than rape and the unnecessary cruelty some of his people indulged in—but he took good care of his sex partners. Sexual gratification wasn’t always the point when he was in the mood to play, but normally an attractive woman’s genuine submission made him want to fuck her. Roman had never thought a male could affect him the same way, yet this young man with his obscenely pretty lips and natural submissiveness did, and Roman had found himself wanting to do wicked things to him for hours before tucking him in.

He hadn’t, of course. He still had some self-control left.

But now it was being tested again.

Luke was still barely breathing. Roman’s eyes moved away from the mop of curls to the boy’s tense neck, down his back clad in Roman’s own shirt, to the perky, perfect little ass and shapely, toned legs.

Gritting his teeth, Roman tore his gaze away and rounded the bed.

The boy’s eyes were wide open, his cherry pink lips parted slightly. Luke licked them. “Why are you here?” he said, finally tugging the hem of Roman’s shirt down.