Rule's Seduction (The House of Rule 4)

A white-hot mix of aggression and sexual heat slammed him in the gut at her challenge. Did the girl not realize that he held all the cards? Did she not get that she was totally at his mercy? Although he knew that he needed to take it slow— his first concern was to make sure that she wasn’t going to faint again—his base instincts were screaming at him to make her understand. His fingers sinking around her wrist, he squeezed just enough to let her know that he would only take so much. “Tread carefully, love. Right now, I consider you an innocent pawn in everything that’s happened to you. It would be best for you if I maintained that belief.” Her face paled, making him want to kick himself in the ass for upsetting her again. Trying to get a grip, he forced his tone to be low and soothing as he asked, “Are you feeling better?”

“Yes,” she said with a hint of a sneer, making his fingers tighten even more at her lack of compliance.

Slowly, he noticed her improving color. “When I let you go, you sit there,” he tilted his head toward the seat next to him.

She blew out a breath. “Fine.”

He released her without another word, but when she stood to her feet, she began walking toward the bedroom. At her pointed insubordination, his muscles tensed. Fighting with her wasn’t in his game plan. But if she insisted . . . “Erin.”

She turned, clutching the sheet to her torso and looked at him, much as a queen would look at an unworthy subject. “Yes?”

Torn between laughing at her attitude and wanting to enforce his position, he managed to show no emotion. “I believe that I requested you sit here.” He indicated the chair next to him once again—and damn if he didn’t do so politely. He would damn well keep up this courteous shit until they arrived home. The last thing he needed was for her to raise hell at the Buenos Aires airport.

“So you did,” she agreed mildly before dismissing him and turning toward the bedroom—as if testing him.

Barely holding his impatience in check, he came to his feet and followed her, closing the door behind them.

She turned and faced him with a flounce and narrowed eyes. “I’d like to get dressed.”

Graciously, he inclined his head as if granting her permission to do so and then he crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back against the door as if he had all the time in the world.

The look she returned was colored with belligerence. “Max.”

He gritted his teeth as a heated arrow of lust gripped him. She was so fucking fine—her channel so tight that the memory was bringing a full hard-on. He forced a nonchalance he wasn’t feeling. “Yes, love?”

“I want privacy.”

He barked out a short, strained burst of laughter and shook his head. How far should he push her and how quickly? He understood that the feelings she induced were twofold, at the very least. He wanted her independence of spirit back—and yet he never wanted her to be independent again. Such a fucked up thought to have over a woman.

At his denial, he expected her to begin screaming, just as she’d threatened earlier. Or possibly to march that sexy little butt closer and begin haranguing him. But that’s not what he got.

She narrowed her eyes, stared at him for the count of three seconds, and then dropped the sheet to the floor.

It was a challenge that impacted Max much like a double shot of whiskey on an empty stomach. He looked down her naked body and his heartbeat began slamming in his chest as all the blood in his brain dropped to his cock. Her body was slender, but her hips and stomach were soft with feminine curves, not appearing as if she starved herself to accomplish a look that, while it might be popular in the modeling world, affected him much like an emaciated scarecrow would.

No, her body was perfect—as if made for him. Her breasts were perfect, like two ripe melons he felt compelled to hold in his hands. Her hips made the perfect cradle for his, her channel the perfect haven for his cock. His wife was the perfect sexual partner for him—it was a dawning realization that tested his control as she flaunted herself before him.

As he enjoyed the view and fought for control, she abruptly turned her back to him as if he were the lowest life form imaginable and picked up her traveling case, which was on a bench at the foot of the bed. Her long dark hair hanging like a wave of silk halfway down her back, she ignored him as if he weren’t present and walked into the bathroom, where he heard a decisive snap of the lock.