Page 9 of Skin Trade

“You bought me.”

He held the door lock in his hand and turned it over like he’d no idea why it was there, and it struck Payton right then; he looked like a mischievous kid, all brains and tease, hidden behind curious perfection. She bet he won the hearts of all the women in his life, even the ones he didn’t want. Probably had every woman and girl wrapped around his finger.

“Actually, I paid for your freedom. You could be a little more gracious.”

“My freedom? If I were free, then I could leave.” She waved her arms, signalling the room. “Is this freedom?”

He shrugged and tossed the lock onto the counter; then he was back looking at her. She wanted to say stop it even if it was just to make him turn his back on her a moment. "Do you want to leave?"

“Maybe,” she said. Because yes might have got him showing her the door and she had nowhere to go, and no might have had him thinking he was onto a sure thing, and she was surely going to wipe that thought from his handsome face.

“Maybe?” He moved, and she thought he was going to go into her bedroom because he went to the side of her. She stepped into the bathroom. Big fucking mistake. He pressed himself against the front of her. All that warmth, all that heat from his body going into hers. She swallowed. “I’m not keeping you prisoner, Payton. If you want to leave, leave.”

“If I do?”

He had her stuck, and he knew it too. He cocked that gorgeous head of his to one side and leant a hand against the cold marble countertop behind her. "If you leave, you leave — end of. But there are worse things out there. Worse places to be. Besides," he said, twisting his utterly scrumptious, just-the-right-size, lips into a smile. "If you leave, you'll drive yourself mad."

“Will I?”

"Mmhmm. Because you'll not get me out of that head, you'll think of me every time and wonder what if."

Putting her hand against his chest, she wanted to push him away. She even told herself to do it, but her body wasn’t responding to her commands. “You’re very sure of yourself.”

“When you’ve lived as long as I have, you know people. People are pretty predictable.”

“I’m not.”

“No?”

She shook her head, and just to spite him, she put her hands down beside her and gripped the edge of the counter, showing him, she wasn’t afraid. She wasn’t intimidated by this game he was trying to have with her.

"You're biting your lip. It's very distracting, but at the same time, it's very appealing." He slid his hand up the side of her body, pressing the cool fabric of her gown to her naked flesh beneath. It was almost like it wasn't there, and damn her brain; she almost wished it wasn't. She had to blink at that and shake. “Get out of my damn head.” She took a breath.

“Your nipples are hard, and it isn’t cold in here.”

"Maybe I'm afraid." She didn't cover herself or flush or hide, or whatever it is she thought he wanted.

He leant into her. “You want me, Payton. You know you do.”

“You bought me.”

“Yes,” he said. “But that’s probably the part that turns you on the most.”

She couldn't stop her pulse from racing; even her breath hitched at his arrogant statement. The bastard knew it too because the hand on her side, moved slightly to the front, and the curve of his hand brushed over the swell of her breast, his thumb lightly grazing her nipple. He stepped back.

“The sun will rise soon. Your windows should close to keep any light from entering if you prefer to sleep in the dark. If not, leave them on. I want you awake by dusk. You will eat with me in the evening and then we will discuss your duties.”

“You’re having dinner with Tasha,” she said.

“That I am.”

“I am not into threesomes or whatever it is you have in mind.”

“Eating, Payton. That is all, unless of course …” He winked at her. “Dinner. My private dining room. One of the girls will be up in a while to make sure you’ve everything you need. Ask them for directions.”

“I need some underwear,” she said.

“Oh, sweetheart. I wholeheartedly disagree.”

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