Page 8

I take a long sip of whiskey and force myself to focus.

“Good. Make sure there are no complications,” I tell him.

The business needs me, not my damn thoughts about some artist with more baggage than I’m willing to deal with. And yet, I just can’t stop thinking about her.

Later that night, I’m watching her apartment from a distance. It’s not the first time. I’ve been doing this for a couple of days now. I don’t know why. Maybe I just want to see how she lives and what she does when she thinks no one is watching. It’s stupid, I know. But it’s like I can’t help myself.

Her windows are lit up, but she doesn’t move around. The light from inside flickers through the blinds, and I imagine her sitting there, painting. Creating. She’s a mystery, and I don’t like not knowing things.

Growling, I drive back home. Soon, I’m back in the penthouse, staring out at the skyline again, but my mind is stilltangled up with thoughts of her. I try to shake it off. I shouldn’t be thinking of her anyway. What I need is a distraction.

Good thing the woman I’m expecting is about to show up. Right on the dot, the doorbell rings like a sharp crack, echoing through the apartment and unsettling me, just like the rest of this mess.

I take a second to look her over as she steps into the room. Her hair’s a wild mess, falling in tousled waves around her shoulders, framing her face. The soft glow from the lights makes her skin look almost porcelain, with a touch of pink on her cheeks. Her makeup’s barely there, just a hint, but her red lipstick stands out, bright and daring.

I can’t stop myself from thinking about those lips, and suddenly, the burn of desire hits me hard. Trying to play it cool, I pour myself a drink.

“You gave some pretty specific instructions in your text,” she says, her voice low and almost playful. “How am I doing, sir?”

She’s got on a white button-down shirt with three buttons undone, showing off a little cleavage. That shirt barely covers the rest of her, and I can’t deny she’s got a body that demands attention.

But she’s not her.

I grunt, giving her a quick look before setting my glass down and turning my full attention to her. She’s right. My instructions were simple enough, and she’d already followed them.

She’s ready, standing there with a needy look in her eyes.

Other than the shirt, she’s completely bare. Her long, straight legs appeal to me, especially knowing she’ll wrap them around my waist when I take her.

“Stand by the bed,” I order, my voice rough.

She moves slowly toward the bed, her hand on her hip, the shirt lifting just enough to catch my eye. The sight of her, bare except for that shirt, makes my pulse race. Damn.

“Right here?” she asks, her voice a little breathless.

“Yeah. Let me see you. Really see you.” I let the words hang in the air, dragging them out. “I’m gonna fuck you hard and fast tonight. Take your shirt off—slowly, don’t rush it.”

She starts unbuttoning it, one by one, each button coming undone with deliberate slowness. When the shirt finally falls, it drifts to the floor, and she’s standing there in front of me, completely exposed, just the way I want her.

“Take it all off,” I growl, my patience wearing thin.

She drops the shirt and looks up at me with an intensity that tells me she’s all in, just like me. I step closer, my hand sliding over her face, feeling the warmth of her skin. Her breath hitches, her eyes darkening with anticipation.

“There are going to be consequences if you don’t listen to me,” I say, my tone low and serious.

A shiver runs down her spine. She’s not scared, but there’s a touch of excitement there, too. She wants this. She’s craving it.

“How will you punish me, sir?” she asks, a wicked smile curling on her lips.

The soft sigh she gives is inviting, but tonight, I don’t want to be soft. I focus on her mouth—the one that would soon be wrapped around my dick—and pull her close. “Well, you’ll just have to disobey me to find out, won’t you?”

I move in, pressing my lips against hers in a rough kiss and claiming her mouth the way I need to. She melts into me, her body soft and pliant as I deepen the kiss. Our tongues move together in a fast, messy rhythm, and when I pull away, I can still taste her—the sweet tang of wine and honey.

“Touch yourself,” I instruct, my voice hoarse.

She doesn’t hesitate, her fingers finding their way to her nipples, teasing them as she watches me. The way she touches herself for me, the need in her eyes…it’s intoxicating.

“I want this so badly,” she murmurs, her breath catching as she plays with herself.