She laughs like I’ve said the funniest thing in the world, then sobers and leans in so our mouths are almost touching. “I’m not an idiot. I get the concept of what we are doing. What I don’t get is why I can’t be your assistant, or your personal chef, or hell, your valet. Why am I wearing this skimpy red dress and grinding on your lap like I want to go for a ride?”

The visual hits me before I think about her words. I take a second to gain control of myself again. Unacceptable.

I grip her chin, about to set things straight, but her eyes stray to the two girls making another lap, looking like they might come in and see if I want some extra company.

Then her mouth is on mine, her fist in my hair, and I’m tasting her, all before I can process the idea in my brain, assimilate it. She overtakes my senses. The whiskey she sipped, and the cool clear taste of her, like a rainstorm on a hot day. I cup the back of her neck and let her finish what she started.

All too soon, she breaks away and casts sleepy eyes over at the girls. She’s marked her territory, and they back off to make their rounds.

When she brings her gaze back to mine, I realize she’s shifted so she’s straddling me, the back of the dress barely covering her ass, her panties pressed against my slacks, exactly where I’d want her if…

“What was that?” I ask, already knowing the answer but needing the time to get a hold of myself.

She shrugs and wipes her mouth gently. “You said make it convincing.” Her eyes go wide, and she looks down at where my erection is tenting my pants. “I guess I made it a little too convincing.”

Oh no. I capture her face in my hands and pull her back to me like I might finish our kiss. It leaves me speaking against her wet mouth, my lips brushing hers with each word. “No, Princess. You fooled them, and it will do for now, but this doesn’t concern you.”

Her brows draw down, and she catches my wrists, one in each hand. “Oh, you’re a virgin. That makes so much more sense now.”

6

SELENA

I don’t know why I felt the need to push his buttons last night. My only reasoning is because he does it so easily to me, and if I find a place to prod, I should do it while I have the chance.

This morning, he doesn’t bring me food, so I assume the door service is over. When I get so hungry my stomach rumbles loudly, I slip on the short silk robe I brought and head out of my bedroom to find something to eat. Even if I have to order it.

I find a small breakfast nook set off in a tiny galley kitchen, but it’s occupied. He sits in one of the two chairs, a tablet in one hand, a mug of coffee in the other.

His eyes barely scan over me before dismissing me completely. So I sit. If we stay here, together, silently, I can work with it.

There’s an extra mug and a carafe, so I pour myself some coffee. What I wouldn’t give for some news right now. But I don’t care about the headlines. I want to call one of the few people I trust in my city and find out what’s happening, who is doing this to me, and how I can stomp them under my stiletto and put things back to normal.

So with none of that, and my captor unlikely to provide any news even if I ask nicely, I consider how maybe I shouldn’t antagonize him. And yet, the first thing I want to do is fight with him. His face is too perfect, too smug, and every time he looks at me, it’s as if I’m the insect infestation he’s unable to get rid of.

I sip my coffee and study his face. Damn. He really is too fucking beautiful for his own good. The women in my city would eat him alive, especially if my speculation about him being a virgin is true. He has to be in his late twenties, so more my brother’s age than mine. But there’s something about him that makes him seem older. A weight which hangs off his shoulders, dragging them down to the level of someone far more experienced.

By the scars on his body, he’s seen things. Terrible things. Maybe that’s what makes his eyes look just the wrong side of haunted and his bearing feel so much older.

“Stop staring,” he snaps. I jerk and slosh hot coffee over my hand.

With a hiss, I grab a napkin and swipe at it, then set my cup down. “I’m not staring. I’m analyzing.”

Tags: J.L. Beck Romance
Source: readsnovelonline.net