Page 42 of The Billionaire Submissive
Lilly laughed. “He was very proud of it. Hopefully I won’t break his bed again.”
Annette’s eyes flared with interest but she didn’t ask for details Lilly wouldn’t be able to give. “Trevor is usually busy with his job during the day helping with the landscaping, but if he’s ever a nuisance, just let me know. I’ll reassign him elsewhere.”
“I’m sure it won’t be a problem.” Hank noticed her and came running over to the glass, drawing Donovan’s attention.
Slowly, he stood and turned to face her, his dark gaze locked on her. His shirt was gorgeous pewter blue that matched her dress, his suit a darker navy. No tie, shirt open, again, revealing the need she had yet to fulfill for him.Soon, lover boy. Getting you a collar is my top priority once we’re back in the city.
Annette slid the door open for her and Lilly gave Hank a firm “down” hand gesture to keep him off her dress, though she did squat down and scratch behind his ears. “Are you being a good boy?”
“Yes, ma’am,” Donovan said in a low, gravelly voice. A secret just for her.
She looked up at him, surprised he’d even hint so much before his employee, but he didn’t even look at Annette. His eyes were locked to her cleavage. No surprise there. “No, you weren’t, Mr. Morgan. There are entirely too many expensive new clothes I can’t possibly accept in the bedroom.”
Annette headed back to the door but she winked at Lilly. “We’ll start serving in a few minutes, Mr. Morgan. Trevor, why don’t you take Hank over to our house for a while?”
“Sure thing, Mom.”
“Thank you, Annette. And yes, Miss Harrison, you can and will accept those things. It’s payback for what I did to your other set of clothes.”
Annette chuckled but kept right on walking and shut the door behind her.
Shaking her head, Lilly joined him at the table and allowed him to seat her.
“What’s the count, Mistress?”
She watched as Donovan sat in his seat, turning his chair to face her. He was able to sit without wincing, so she hadn’t done too much damage to his fine ass. “I was going to say zero.”
He shot a dark look at her as he poured them both a glass of wine. “After all that work locating exactly what I wanted and then getting it here so quickly so it’d be available before you woke up? Zero isn’t acceptable.”
“There are only so many bruises a body can take, Donovan. It’d be better—”
“No.”
Annette returned with a rolling cart and began setting items on the table, so Lilly had to wait to retort. Each moment only ratcheted up her irritation more, and worse, he knew it. A smile played on his lips and he started chatting up Annette to keep her delayed as long as possible.
“Do you know of any woman who’d turn down a rack of designer dresses?”
“Oh, sure, lots of them, Mr. Morgan.”
“You’re not helping my cause here.”
“We women have to stick together. But if I could pull off the same dress and look that good, I’d wear nothing else.”
Startled, Lilly had to glance down at herself again. Sure, she’d known the dress and bra would do incredible things for her boobs, but it wasn’t all that, was it? Annette had the much more traditional tall and willowy figure designers seemed to prefer. “It’s easy to look good in a well-made dress.”
“No, it isn’t. Some designer dresses wear you, not the other way around. You just have this sense of confidence and sensuality that makes the dress come alive. You have very good taste, Mr. Morgan.” Annette’s voice rang with a deeper sense of meaning Lilly couldn’t miss.
Her stomach started to feel a little funny. Jumpy. And the loaf of artisan bread he was breaking open with his hands didn’t make her mouth water.
“Yes, I do.” It’d be impossible to miss the heat smoldering in his eyes. He slathered butter on the bread and set a piece on a saucer in front of her but she could only stare at it, her throat tight. “Impeccable.” He waited until Annette left and then leveled a challenging look at Lilly. “You hate it when I tell you no above all else.”
She nodded, but her irritation had disappeared like a puff of smoke.
“Aren’t you going to eat your bread? Maybe I need to put more butter on it.”
“No.” He started to reach for it and she slapped his hand. “I said no. I’m thinking.”
He settled back in his chair and sipped the wine, dark eyes intent, not missing a thing. “I don’t think Mr. Moneybags is the problem this time. We were doing well until then. So what is it?”
