Page 7 of The Fixer

“If they missed a spot of paint, I’ll have to fire them after we have whipped them, of course,” he murmured before cutting his gaze to mine. “Did you need something?”

“My sanity. I think it’s gone missing. I don’t know where the wardrobe is,” I admitted, gripping the towel with white knuckles.

“Get in the bath, little lamb. Use the bath salts to ease the pain of your injuries. There’s also bubble bath, which I purchased for you. Use it, and I’ll bring you a change of clothes while you bathe. Don’t worry. I won’t blatantly stare at your pussy as you did with my dick. I am, after all, a gentleman.”

“A gentleman wouldn’t have kidnapped me, threatened me, or tossed me out of a plane.”

“Semantics. The men of this era are pussies. They’ve neglected the women and forgotten how much they love being manhandled and forced to admit their depraved, filthy desires. Inside every woman is a filthy slut who wants to be fucked hard and roughly until the troubles and stress of her day vanish and solace is found in the arms of her lover. It’s why you read until midnight and fall into bed exhausted. Isn’t it? You’ve never found a man who can make that brilliant mind of yours shut off long enough for you to know what solace even is.”

“You know nothing about me,” I stated defensively. So what if he’d pegged me in the ass? I wasn’t admitting it to him, ever. He braced his hand on the door jamb as he leaned closer.

“I know more about you than you know about yourself, Elle. You can lie to yourself if it eases your cognizance, but don’t lie to me. Own who you are. It isn’t your fault the men you’ve fucked weren’t worth a damn. Get in the bath, woman. They’ll think I’m up here amending your lack of fucking if we take too long.”

Turning away from him, I strode to the bathtub and peered at the welcoming steam rising. I felt the weight of his stare boring into my spine as I dropped the towel and stepped into the water. Tit for tat. I wasn’t one to leave any debt unpaid. I’d seen his goods, so he could see mine. He could look all he wanted, but that was where my generosity ended.

“Heels or flats?” he called from the doorway.

“Black heels, and something red to wear, preferably.”

“Short, long? Or would you prefer slacks?”

“Above the knee, with a slit,” I answered, leaning back against the pillow to peer out the opened wall of the bathroom. “Not too much of a slit, though.”

“Now those are beautiful,” he growled. Turning my head, I smirked as he slid his heated, dark gaze over the curve of my chest.

“I’m glad you approve of my tits, Raithe. I grew them myself.” Dismissing him, I closed my eyes and focused on the sounds of nature that filled the room. The scent of fresh air and peonies soothed the chaos of my thoughts, but the insanity of considering this job played in the back of my mind. “You can stop staring now. I’ll need something to dress in for brunch, unless you want me walking around naked?”

“No one else gets to see you like this, impish brat. Not unless I say otherwise. You’re mine until we’ve concluded our business arrangements.” The sound of his hand releasing the doorjamb told me he’d headed to the wardrobe. From the sound of it, it was in his bedroom, which was a problem I’d worry about later.

Chapter Five

Raithe’shandpinnedmineabove my head, and his lips were hovering a hairbreadth from mine, teasingly. Whimpering, I rocked my hips, begging him to sink his thick, monstrous cock deep into my core and hurt me. His broad chest lowered against mine, and as he pushed against my opening, water splashed my face. My eyes opened to angry, narrow slits, and I turned to glower at Raithe, who looked amused.

“That wasn’t nice,” I muttered, sitting up and crossing my arms on the edge of the tub and resting my chin on them.

“It isn’t safe to sleep in bathwater,” he murmured as he rose, dragging his cock against my cheek. It was erect, and my eyes rounded in shock. Raithe’s cock wasn’t like the others I’d had before. This one deserved to be worshipped and praised for delicious ache it would create between a woman’s thighs. “Were you dreaming of me?” Apparently, he didn’t care about lounging around naked, or being seen in his birthday suit.

Making a strangled noise of disbelief, I lied through my teeth. “Like I’d fantasize about you, Raithe,” his name rolled off my tongue like lust-soaked silk as I protested.

“I didn’t ask if it was a fantasy, little lamb. I asked if you were dreaming of me.” He snorted as he stepped into the shower and the spray shot against the sinewy hard lines of his body. “You were moaning my name. I wasn’t sure if I was fucking you or strangling you. Now I know which was being played out in that filthy, erotic mind of yours.” Feverish heat burned my chest before flowing up to my ears.

“You didn’t think you should wait to shower until I’ve vacated the bathroom?” I asked in a churlish tone.

“I did, and I also knocked on both doors. When you failed to answer either, I feared you’d either drown or attempted to escape from the balcony. Either would have allowed me time to shower, in any case,” he stated in a matter-of-fact tone.

“Indeed,” I murmured while admiring the hard, powerful muscles of his back. The tattoo on his back was intricate with a delicate beauty of otherworldliness. The woman was perched on a throne with her hand stretched toward an unseen lover. Around her feet lay skulls that had varying levels of damage. The entire back piece, minus the woman, was done in blank ink. Crimson curls lay over one small, pert breast while the other was visible. The skirt she wore was slit up both thighs, revealing plenty of leg, and one of her feet was balanced on a skull while the other was thrown over the arm of the throne chair she ruled from. Emerald-green eyes bore into mine, and in their depths, there was vitriol and warning. “Who is she?” I asked before I could stop myself.

Tensing at my question, he turned cold, unfeeling eyes on me as his lip curled with disdain. “If I wanted you to know, I’d have told you. Finish up. We’re late because you’ve taken longer than you should’ve to bathe.”

Okay, so whoever she was, she was a tender topic. I snatched the towel from the perch beside the tub and wrapped it around my body, concealing my nakedness from his heavy, penetrating scowl. I climbed from the tub.

“She’s none of your concern. Understand?”

“Completely.”

He’d hung my clothing on a hook, and I fingered the smooth, elegant material. On the marbled counter lay nylons with a garter belt, panties, bra, and a pair of Saint Laurent Jodie platform high heels. Feeling the lavish Italian leather, I grinned at their elegant simplicity.

Making hasty work of my mane, I braided it in multiple braids before piling it atop the crown of my head. Pushing pins in, I secured it in place but left a few strands loose to frame my heart-shaped face. Brushing my teeth, I ignored the steam rolling from the enclosed shower and spit the water into the sink before rinsing with mouthwash.

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