Page 15 of The Billionaire's Fake Wife
The door slides closed. "About time," I glare.
She frowns, "You’re acting as if you were expecting me."
"I was." Wisps of candy-fluff colored hair cling to her flushed cheeks. My fingers tingle to whisper it off of her face. The fuck—? I slide my palm into the pocket of my pants.
"Are you stalking me?" She chews on her lower lip and my dick twitches.
I widen my stance, "And what if I was?"
"If… if this is your idea of a joke—" Her shoulders go rigid; she glances up and around the corners of the steel cage.
"No cameras."
Her gaze pops back to my face.
"It’s a private elevator." I punch the stop button and she draws in a sharp breath.
The elevator jolts, then halts. "Oh, hell." She pivots, slaps her hand on the door.
"Too late." I lean a shoulder against the steel wall.
She swallows, "Why… why did you do that?"
I fold my arms, "Not for the reason you are thinking."
She sidles away. Her shoulder brushes the wall opposite me, and she jerks upright. "Wha… what reason would that be?"
I scan her features, down the arch of that neck—it’s quite stunning, actually—down to the thrust of her breasts. Today, she’s wearing a jacket that pulls in her shoulders. Clearly, it’s a size too small for her. It’s buttoned in the front. The material strains at her chest, showing off her curves.
Annoying little thing that she is, she’s used to flaunting her assets to get her way, no doubt. I stare at her breasts, and she folds her arms around her waist.
"Not that either, as I clarified earlier."
Her cheeks flush. Hmm, interesting color. She’s a natural redhead obviously, given how the color on her face highlights every single freckle on her beautiful skin. I stiffen. Why is my mind headed that way? I am used to controlling it, ensuring that my will is obedient to me. Every time I see her, though, my brain seems to drop to my groin. My dick twitches. I widen my stance and her gaze drops down to my crotch.
"You could have me fooled. From where I am, it seems you’d very much like 'that.' ” She makes inverted commas with her fingers.
I stiffen. Sod this. I will not be insulted by the likes of her. "So that’s your game, huh?"
"Now, what has that asshole mind of yours conjured up?"
"You don’t want to know." I flex my fingers and she pales.
"Try me." Her chin wobbles.
"You wouldn’t be able to stand it, Sweetheart."
"Stop calling me that."
"Oh?" I take a step forward and she blinks, scans the small enclosed space.
You’re trapped, little Bird. Can’t get away from the big bad bully now.
Her breath hitches; she retreats against the wall. "St… stop."
I take a step forward. "No one tells me what to do." I glare down at her.
"You think waaaay too much of yourself." She juts out her chin.
