Total pages in book: 155
Estimated words: 145112 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 726(@200wpm)___ 580(@250wpm)___ 484(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 145112 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 726(@200wpm)___ 580(@250wpm)___ 484(@300wpm)
I have no idea where my next words come from. Maybe my own ego is trying to retain a little control. Or maybe I’m just plain stupid. ‘Say please.’
The moment his eyes find mine, I realise I’m the latter. They’re laced with a threat I wholeheartedly comprehend. ‘Now.’ He supports that threatening look with an equally threatening tone.
I’m not just stupid. I’m very stupid. ‘Say. Please.’ I spell it out boldly, and quite bravely, too. If I’m going to do this, I’m going to have some control. It’ll make me feel better about being so completely and utterly foolish.
Becker steps forward, shaking his head, watching me closely. ‘You want me to say please?’
I nod.
He chuckles quietly, glancing away as he pinches the bridge of his nose, squeezing his eyes closed. He seems amused, but that doesn’t stop me from being on my guard. I recognise power when I see it, despite having an unreasonable desire to test it.
He growls, reaching forward quickly, and rips my dress from my body in one fast yank. It splits straight down the middle, and I suck in a shocked shot of air, jumping back from Becker, who’s currently screwing up the two pieces of my dress. ‘Abra-fucking-cadabra.’ He smiles at me.
‘Oh my God,’ I gasp, my naked skin warming under his scrutiny.
‘I don’t say please, princess.’
‘Yes, you do,’ I laugh. ‘You pleaded with me to let you in. You pretty much begged me to let you have me.’
His smile falls away fast, being replaced with confusion. I can see him mentally rewinding back a few minutes, trying to recall my claim. He can’t possibly deny it, and if he does then I’ll gladly jog his memory with a complete run-through of how he ended up in my apartment. He wants me. And he basically begged. He’s not taking that away from me. This isn’t only what I desperately want.
His brow wrinkling actually fills me with relief. He remembers. ‘You’ll pay for that.’
‘Excuse me?’ I laugh, my hands coming up to cover my chest. ‘For making you beg?’
‘Yes. Drop the hands.’
‘Say please,’ I retort through a tight jaw, narrowing my eyes.
‘Abra-fucking-cadabra,’ he bellows, and for reasons unbeknown to me, my hands drop, and he charges at me. I inhale and brace myself, yelping when his body collides with mine and he throws me up on to his shoulder. This is just another part of our cat and mouse game, both our frustration and impatience making for a very fiery encounter – an encounter I know I’m going to enjoy more than I should.
Becker paces determinedly across the room and chucks me on to the bed, and my knickers are being tugged down my legs before I’ve gained my bearings, my body flipped over soon after so he can access the clasp of my bra. It’s whipped from me as I gasp and squirm, anticipation ruining me, before he flips me on to my back again.
I blink my eyes open and brush my hair away. He’s standing at the end of my bed, stance wide, hands by his sides, looking at me through his long lashes. He looks like something to be worshipped. God-like. Holy. A saint.
Without a word, he slowly reaches up and starts to unfasten the buttons of his shirt, one by one, slowly, never taking his eyes from mine. I watch, completely rapt, buzzing from the tips of my toes to the very top of my head. Then the heaviness in my tummy drops straight into my clitoris and begins to pulse slowly. The delicious sensation makes me fidget on the bed, yet my eyes remain on his hands working his shirt buttons until they’re all undone and the white material is hanging open. My teeth bite harshly on my lip as I cast my gaze up to his face, finding him holding back a smile. I know what he’s thinking. He’s thinking I’m going to voice my impatience at any moment, but he’s wrong. I can only see a sliver of his flesh right now, but I have a good memory. That chest has been imprinted on my brain since the moment I clapped eyes on it at The Haven when he and that woman fell out of his office, and that is what I’m seeing now . . . minus the woman.
‘You’re rather quiet, princess,’ he says on a husky murmur, holding each side of his open shirt with steady hands.
I make sure I remain that way as I lie before him, naked as the day I was born and completely unbothered by it. His appreciative eyes, as they make sporadic trips up and down my body, leave no need for shyness. He likes what he sees, and while my thighs and arse might be a little on the curvy side, now isn’t the time to admit to my body hang-ups.