Page 60 of The Billionaire Submissive
Inside, she’d set up six large tables like she had in her garage. Instead of installing permanent wood boxes to hold the sheets of glass, she’d brought in commercial grade movable shelving, with pieces of cardboard and toweling in between the glass to protect them. She’d created a smaller space within the cavernous warehouse with the shelving and racks of tools. At the door, a table bore the remnants of the lunch he’d sent over, acres away from her work.
“Fucking son of a bitch,” she growled, startling him.
Had she heard him come in? But why on earth—
“Motherfucker.” She stood up, shaking her hand. “That’s going to leave a mark. Damn it.”
Concerned, he strode toward her, forgetting his irritation she hadn’t eaten. “Lilly? Are you all right?”
She jumped and whirled around, hiding her hand behind her back. “Donovan. Why are you here so early?”
“Early? It’s after six.”
“Oh. Strange. I could have sworn it was two or three in the afternoon just a few minutes ago.”
Ignoring her bright smile, he reached around her and grabbed her wrist to pull her left hand forward. An angry-looking red burn marred the back of her hand between her thumb and forefinger. He sucked in a breath and dragged her toward the bathroom.
“It’s not that bad. Donovan, seriously. I’ve burned myself much worse than this before. I usually keep an aloe plant handy just for this reason. That’s what happens when you use a four-hundred-degree soldering iron.”
“And where’s your aloe plant? At home?” He fought to keep his tone even and controlled, even while he seethed inside. “Why didn’t you put a first-aid kit on your list of supplies? Damn it, Lilly, I had no idea you’d get hurt making these fucking windows. I never would have asked you to work on them if I’d known you’d look like you tangled with a bobcat and then fell into an oven.”
“One,” she smiled faintly. “I never thought I’d have to start the count foryourlanguage.”
“Lilly!”
“It’s no big deal. Honest. I burn myself all the time. It happens. Glass cuts me sometimes. It’s the price I pay to create such beauty.”
“I don’t like it,” he ground out. He could hear the mean, hard edge to his voice but he couldn’t help it. His mouth twisted into a snarl. “I don’t like you getting hurt.”
She ran her hand beneath the cold water a few seconds and then sudsed both hands well despite how much it must sting. “Too bad.”
Too bad?With a growl, he grabbed her arm and whirled her around to face him. “I. Don’t. Like. It.”
Lilly let out a low, velvety laugh that tied his intestines into knots. She even reached up and unbuttoned his shirt. What the…?
Then her fingers slipped under the collar he wore and she jerked his head down so hard he almost broke his nose on the top of her head. “I’m so very sorry your silk panties are in a wad, Mr. Douchebag, but it’s myjob. The jobyouhired me for. I’m going to do the very best job I can. If you’re upset that I burned my hand, buy me a big fucking aloe plant tomorrow.”
Staring into her eyes, he tried to control his breathing, but one touch on the collar had him panting on the very edge. All his anger and worry fueled his lust to what could be a violently combustible explosion. “Two. And your boss is a complete fucking moron for putting you in danger.”
“Three. And I’m not in danger, silly boy. It’s nothing.”
“But—”
She let go of his collar so he could straighten. “Think about it. I’m not seriously injured. It hurts, yeah, but what do you think pain does for me? I can turn it into something else entirely.”
He knew very well what pain did for him, but it never occurred to him she might feel some of the same rush of endorphins. “That fucking iron wasn’t a fucking crop.”
“Five,” she replied, carefully blotting her burned hand dry on a napkin. “I never said it was. A serious injury would only hurt. This hurts, but with you standing here arguing and swearing and trying to intimidate me with your alpha arrogant ways, it only turns me on more.”
“Prove it.”
Her eyes narrowed and she planted her hands on her hips. “Be very careful, Donovan Morgan. Don’t throw down a challenge you don’t want to lose.”
She wasn’t sure what kind of game he was trying to play. If she didn’t know him better, she’d suspect he was trying to provoke her into taking him here and now.
In this very public, dirty warehouse bathroom.
That’s not Mr. Morgan’s prim and proper style.
