“I didn’t do anything wrong.”
He laughs. “Jesus, so you don’t think trying to shoot me was wrong? Let me tell you how this arrangement of ours is going to work.” He pauses for a beat. “With all those strikes against you; you’re going to have to earn whatever it is you want from me.”
My muscles go rigid. “Earn?”
“Yes, Babydoll, earn.”
When he gives my body a bold sweeping gaze, and his eyes darken with desire, I know exactly what he means by earn, and my heart stills. I can’t play the part of the decent woman I wish I could have been when I all but confessed I was a whore last night. Not just any whore either. I’m the kind who works in a sex club and gives it up for money.
“What do you want me to do to earn what I want?” I seethe. My temper, however, doesn’t faze him in the least. In fact, it makes him smile wider.
“You worked at Club Montage, so I’m sure you can figure out what I want you to do. But let me give you some ideas.” Pure sex shines in his eyes, and I curse myself when moisture beads between my legs. “I like blowjobs, hand jobs, eating pussy, and my kink is tasting.”
My mouth goes dry. I can’t say that I’m not used to men talking to me like this.
What I’m not used to is a man like him. Once again, the aspect of differentiation is him, and I’ve never come across anyone who named their kink before.
His is tasting. His gaze drops to my neck, and my vein pulses in response. It jars me, and suddenly I feel more afraid than I did before.
He gives me a toothy grin when I swallow hard and chuckles like I said something funny. Or maybe it’s more that he finds my reaction humorous.
“Most of all, though, Babydoll, I like fucking. Hardcore fucking. And just for the record, I would really like to fuck you.”
His words send a combination of panic and arousal surging through me. The deadly cocktail makes my heart thump against my ribcage, and I harden my face to mask whatever the fuck is happening inside me.
I don’t know how this guy has managed to stir such feelings in me, but I check myself and decide to check him too.
“I’m not going to fuck you,” I tell him, but as the words fall from my lips, they sound more like something I’m trying to tell myself. “I’m not going to be some fuck toy or plaything just because you’re holding me here.”
“It’s funny. I swear I can practically see you thinking about what it might feel like if I decided to rip off your panties and fuck you against this wall.”
I wasn’t thinking that. But now I am. I am, and I’m not sure what woman wouldn’t with a man like him looking at her like she’s some rare exotic dish.
Just that look alone shatters my senses, and the heat that streaks through me makes every inch of my body awaken with an energy I’m not sure I’ve felt before. Maybe that’s because I’ve always closed myself off to feeling anything.
Regardless, I don’t want to feel anything right now aside from grief. I certainly don’t want to feel the lure of temptation rippling from this man. So, the first thing I think of doing is the thing I’m best at. Lying.
“My thoughts couldn’t have been any different, Mr. Markov.”
“Well, it will be very interesting to see what you come up with to earn what you want, Babydoll. It looks like you and I are in for one wild ride.”
He backs away from me, and I feel like I can breathe again.
As he walks out of the kitchen, striding with the authority and strength of a warrior, I watch his tattooed back until he turns the corner, and I can’t see him anymore.
The only question that rings through my head is:
What the hell am I going to do?
Seriously, what am I going to do? I have no idea how long I‘m going to be here, and all I want to do is go somewhere and cry forever.
I don’t understand him. Anybody else would be careful with me because of the loss of my sister. Anyone else would express condolences. Not him, though.
He jumped straight into business then on to sex.