The Redemption (Filthy Rich Americans 4)

She shut off the bathroom light as she emerged back into my bedroom, and her footsteps were quick as she went to the pile of clothes I’d left discarded on the floor. She plucked out my white shirt and had one arm in a sleeve before she abruptly stopped.

I’d told her she was to remain naked for the rest of the evening, and perhaps she was recalling that now. Or maybe she worried she hadn’t asked permission. Her back was to me, and I admired how stunning she looked as she turned over her shoulder to speak.

“Do you mind if I . . .?”

“No.” I didn’t mind in the least, and it was a cliché for a reason. The possessive streak inside me responded eagerly to seeing her in my shirt. While she’d been gone, I’d gotten into bed, my back against the upholstered headboard and the sheets across my lap. My gaze went to the empty space beside me. “If you’re cold, there is a blanket here.”

She finished buttoning the bottom few buttons on the shirt, the sleeves far too long on her and the cuffs unfolded, but the way she looked was incredibly appealing. Her hair was tousled, her makeup softened and smudged, and she was—for lack of a better word—glowing.

I’d done that.

And after we had a few hours rest, I’d do it again, no matter how sore we both were in the morning.

“You sure you want me to stay?” She glanced away, hesitant. “You don’t seem like the type of guy who wants to cuddle after.”

I tilted my head to level a hard look at her. “Get in my bed, Sophia.”

She moved swiftly, sliding in beneath the sheets and laying her head on the pillow, then stared up at me like I might change my mind at any moment and ask her to leave. It bothered me. All the careless boys she’d been with before had shaped her view of sex, including what happened afterward, and I was determined to change that.

“Will you sleep?” she asked softly.

“Yes.” A faint smile crossed my lips. “You’ve successfully worn me out.”

I undid the clasp on my watch and slid it off my wrist, but she reached out and pulled it from my fingers. She studied the face then turned it over, reading the inscription on the back. “It’s about time. Love, Julia.”

An uncomfortable sensation banded across my chest as I took the watch from her and deposited it on my nightstand.

“A gift from my first wife. It was an inside joke,” I explained, although I wasn’t sure why. Perhaps it was the way she stared at me with questions hiding in her eyes. “Julia didn’t like me very much when we first met. She thought I was quite arrogant.”

Sophia feigned shock. “No.”

I ignored her sarcasm and pressed on. “That didn’t matter to me. I’d decided fairly quickly that I wanted her, and even though she’d tell me she hated me every day, I didn’t give up.”

Her eyes widened. “She said she hated you?”

“My competitive nature means I will use any means necessary to win. She claimed some of my tactics were . . . unfair.”

Distrust filled her expression. “Like what?”

“She’d been dating someone else at first. When I’d offered him ten thousand dollars to walk away, he did.”

Dismay ran visibly through her. “You paid her boyfriend to break up with her?”

“I did her a favor. If someone had made me the same offer, I would have refused. There was no amount of money that would have made me leave her, and certainly not ten grand. He was a fool not to see how priceless she was.”

“Oh,” she said, her outrage fading somewhat.

It’d taken Julia weeks to speak to me after that, but I’d stayed committed. The man she’d been with moved on quickly too, confirming my suspicion that their relationship hadn’t been serious. It didn’t exonerate me completely, but I had no regrets.

“It took her some time to forgive me. So, I bet her that if I could beat her in a game of trivia at the bar, she’d let me take her out.” All these years later, the memory still caused a smile. “I’d rigged it, of course. I paid the host earlier to give me the questions.” I’d done it for a solid month until she’d taken me up on my wager.

Faint amusement lit her eyes. “Scoundrel.”

“I convinced her to date me, and a few months later, when she finally admitted she was in love with me, I didn’t say it back. My first response was to tell her—”

“It’s about time,” she finished.

“Yes.”

She smiled and mashed her pillow down so she could look at me better. “That’s a nice story.”

It was. “I’ve never told it before.”

I was glad I’d shared it with her, and it appeared the same was true for her. Sophia’s expression was soft and warm. “I don’t really remember her,” she said. “What was she like?”