Page 6 of Bought

“Take off your dress,” I say. “Let’s see what’s underneath.”

Her arms remain crossed over her chest. “You first.”

My lips twitch. “I’m not wearing a dress.”

“Haha,” she counters. “You know what I mean.”

I haven’t smiled genuinely on one of these nights. She’s charming me, though. Adorable even. Breaking down walls I thought were indestructible.

“This isn’t how it works,” I say.

“Maybe not for your typical kind of girl.”

Her accent surprises me. The city influence is there, but there’s something proper behind it. British, but she’s been here for a while.

“You think I’ve done this before?”

“You’re a regular,” she smirks. “One of their best customers.”

Heat prickles over the back of my neck. The agency is discreet. And so am I.

“How do you know that?” I narrow my gaze.

I can’t read the look that’s passing over her face. She shrugs and looks away. “A lucky guess.”

“You don’t come here to run the show. You read my profile so you should know my first rule. You come here to do what I tell you.”

“I read the profile,” she says. “And your list of rules. They made you sound like a real control freak.”

I hold back a chuckle. “That doesn’t sound like me.”

“Interesting.” Her blue eyes challenge me as she says. "Still. You go first. Lose the shirt.”

She’s an anomaly. I should end it right now. Send her away. Call someone else. But I don’t.

Instead, I slowly unbutton the top button of my shirt, keeping my eyes fixed on hers.

“Safe word?” I unbutton another.

“I don’t need one. You try anything non-consensual, and I’ll rip your balls off.”

And for the first time in longer than I want to admit, this isn’t just another night. This woman isn’t a brief escape. She’s the kind of problem you can’t just walk away from. The kind that burns slow and dangerous but never goes to embers.

She holds my gaze as if she owns it, as if she’s already inside my mind, unraveling the tightly wound knots of control I’ve spent ten years perfecting.

My fingers move to the next button on my shirt. Deliberate. Measured. A provocation, not a courtesy.

A test.

I don’t usually test women. I command. They follow.

But her?

She makes me want to find the edges. To see how far I can push her before she breaks.

All while feeling I’m the one at risk.

“Your turn,” I say.