Page 13 of His to Possess
I allow myself a single smirk. “You were so ready to let me deflower you just a few minutes ago. And now you’re all shy?”
She glares at me and reaches for the strap of her nightie. Shit, my little tease is about to backfire. I quickly turn my back, afraid of what I might do if I see her naked.
God, though. I really want to see her. The soft sound of fabric rustling is like knives to my already shredded nerves. The idea of her standing there, so close, completely exposed to me—
You need to get your shit together,I remind myself. This isn’t about wanting her. It’s about helping an old friend of the family, just like I would hope someone would help Veronica if she ever found herself in trouble.
But my feelings for Lilah are nowhere near brotherly. And my directives to stop thinking about her like that fall flat when she speaks again. “Will you get my zipper?”
Fuck. Touching her seems like a really bad idea right now.
You’re Philip Matthews,I remind myself.You’re the best Dominant in the state. Control is your middle fucking name. You had a naked woman suspended from the ceiling on the main stage of Club Wyld for a whole hour not two weeks ago. You can handle a zipper.
Yet I still can’t stop the way my chest tightens when I turn and see her standing there. She looks small and uncertain in her street clothes, all traces of the sex kitten from the auction absent. Her hair is tousled around her shoulders and I want nothing more than to run my fingers through it, to see if it’s as soft as it looks. To hear what kind of noise she’d make if I gave it a little tug.
“Turn around,” I tell her, hoping she doesn’t notice how gravely my voice sounds. She does as I requested and reaches back to hold her hair out of the way. I brush her hand aside without thinking. “I’ll do that.” She’s still for a beat before she releases her hair, letting it fall in messy waves around her shoulders.
It’s every bit as soft as I expected when I gather it at the side of her neck. I look down for the zipper and nearly swallow my tongue. The unzipped dress gaps open along the elegant line of her back, all the way to the top of white silk panties. I wonder if she picked them tonight on purpose. Was she trying to play up the innocent angle when she got dressed to come here? If she was, it sure as fuck worked. I want to rip the dress off and stare at the ass I’m only getting a peek at now.
I swallow hard and pull the zipper, perfectly aware that I’m standing too close to her. I don’t move back though. She feels too good, small and delicate in front of me. I allow my fingers to brush the silky soft skin of her lower back while I bring the zipper up, and grin to myself when visible goosebumps erupt down her spine. She’s responsive. I like that.
But it doesn’t matter,that voice in my head reminds me. It’s starting to sound a lot weaker the longer this hellish night goes on. There’s no way I can allow myself to lose control so I finish the zip and quickly step back, fingers immediately missing the silk of her hair.
“Come on,” I tell her. “We’re going home.”
She stiffens. “I can just get a ride share. You don’t have to drop me off.”
Hmm. Lilah Cartwright doesn’t want me to know where she lives.
“I have no intention of dropping you off,” I say, my suspicions confirmed when she visibly relaxes. “I plan to bring you back to my penthouse.”
“What?” she squeaks.
I grasp her shoulders and turn her to face me. She stares up at me with those big, innocent eyes and I suddenly wish I had never set foot in this building tonight. Maybe it would have been better for both of us if I hadn’t been here to save her. Because I’m starting to get the feeling that the two of us could very well destroy each other.
“You’re my responsibility for the next week,” I tell her, forcing my voice into the controlled business-like cadence I use when securing multi-million-dollar deals. “So you’ll be sleeping at my house.”
“Philip, that’s not—”
“Lilah.” I close my eyes, exhaustion and frustration running through me. “I just want to go home. Can we please argue about it in the morning?”
“Okay,” she whispers, eyes downcast.
I grab her hand and quickly usher my million-dollar prize out of the building.
Lilah
I’ve only been to Philip Matthew’s penthouse once, and he probably doesn’t even know it. Veronica and I came here one night after we’d snuck out with our fake IDs to hit the clubs in the city. We’d gotten completely wasted and were both too afraid to go home.
So Veronica had directed the cab to her brother’s building, assuring me he was out of the country and besides, he had given her a key for precisely that kind of situation. We were eighteen at the time, which meant I was fully invested in my Philip crush. I’d walked through the rooms of his penthouse with reverence, too afraid to touch anything, trying to soak up the essence of the man I’d been obsessed with for so long.
What would that eighteen-year-old girl think if she saw me tonight? If she knew Philip Matthews would one day spend a million dollars for the chance to take me to bed?
Not to take you to bed,I remind myself bitterly as Philip opens the front door.To protect you. Because he still thinks you’re a little kid.
“You want something to drink?” he asks, tossing his overcoat to the back of the entryway chair.
“Water would be fine.”
