Page 28 of Forbidden Billionaire
I lift a shoulder. “Something can be arranged from time to time, as long as you don’t take advantage of my good nature.”
At that she actually laughs. “You must have yourself confused with a different human being.”
“If everything is satisfactory, we can get on with it.”
“You really leave me no choice, do you?”
An offer you can’t refuse.
I pick up the pen and extend it toward her, and she snatches it from my grip.
She leans forward, toward me, making the skirt ride up her thighs, showing a sliver of pale skin that makes my blood roar.
I grip the edge of the desk, my knuckles white, fighting the urge to drag her across it and make her beg.
She signs, her name a sharp, defiant scrawl across the page.
The contract is ironclad—Seraphina is bound to me by ink, signature, and her desperation.
But the flash of defiance in her eyes and the stubborn tilt of her chin scream she’s not tamed. Not yet.
My cock’s hard enough to hurt. The fantasy of her kneeling in my penthouse flashes through me. I want her willing, curious, tempted enough to step closer to the flames, even while knowing she’ll burn.
When she tosses the pen on top of the last page, I pick it up.
I sign my name below hers.
Now that it’s official, the air crackles with everything we’re not saying.
I take a step toward her. To her credit, she remains in place. “Shall we seal the deal?”
Her eyes widen, and my question makes her retreat a little. “No!” The word is sharp, but her cheeks flush, her lips parting like she’s fighting her own desire. Her uniform stretches tight across her chest, and I can see the rapid rise and fall of her breath.
“No?” I close the gap, my gaze locked on her swollen lips.
“Absolutely not.” Her voice is a whisper, but she’s trembling. “No touching. It’s in the contract.”
“I’m not touching you.” But she feels my power, my heat, and the way her pupils dilate tells me she’s drawn to it, even if she won’t admit it. “A small kiss, perhaps? What can it hurt?”
She shakes her head, but her eyes flick to my mouth, betraying her.
I lean forward, allowing my lips to hover near hers. The feminine scent of her is a drug, and her quivering makes me want to devour her. “You feel it.”
“I don’t.” Her voice cracks on the pretty little lie.
“You’ll ask for it.” My words are a promise, and my breath grazes her ear.
“Never.” Her voice is a fierce whisper, but she comes in closer, a fraction of an inch, like she’s caught in the gravitational pull that exists between us.
Enjoying the pursuit, knowing she’ll surrender—because she will—I move back, giving her space to breathe. Her eyes are wide, her hands formed into fists at her sides as if she’s trying to hold herself together.
Her lips are parted, her chest heaving, and I want to destroy her composure all over again.
“Meet my driver downstairs,” I say, my voice steady despite the fire in my veins. “She’ll take you to Rêve de Mode.”
Her brows knit, her confusion deepening. “You mentioned that earlier, but—” She blinks. “Now? It’s the workday.”
“Your attire isn’t exactly appropriate for the office.” And I’ll get nothing done while she’s wearing it. After all, yesterday, I’d raised her hem and laid her ass bare for my spanking. Nothing would make me happier than to do it all over again. “I want you to return to me, ready to work and totally presentable.” Tonight, I’ll burn that fucking uniform, after I treat her to the dinner she’s not expecting.
