Page 34 of Misdeeds of a Billionaire

“But—”

“Go on. Boss’s order.”

I grinned. It was clear Odette didn’t like orders. Her eyes flashed golden before her shoulders slumped. It had to be a way Doctor Swan ensured his daughter understood he was in charge.

“Thank you, Doctor Swan.” He nodded and left us. The moment he was out of earshot, I demanded, “Take us into your office.”

Odette glared my way. Apparently, she didn’t like it when I bossed her around either. “Or I could do what I intend here with an audience.” Her spine stiffened. Something felt off about her, I just couldn’t place it. “Lead the way.”

She stomped—yes, stomped—her way toward the long hallway, opposite from where her father stood with other nurses speaking in urgent French. She stopped before jerking open the door of a room and my lips curled.

Exam room number 5.

It was where I met her yesterday.

The moment the door behind us shut with a soft click, she whirled around, letting me see the full wrath in her eyes. There was judgment and something else in them. Disgust.

It caused me to rear back. What the fuck happened? I’d been inside her only this morning. She moaned and writhed under me, demanding more and now… this?

My heart twisted in an unfamiliar way.

“What’s your problem?” I demanded to know. It came out harsh, and I instantly regretted it. I meant to ask what was wrong and offer help, instead it sounded like an accusation.

Her lips thinned and she refused to meet my eyes. I wouldn’t have it. I closed the distance between us, cornering her body. I cupped her face, forcing her eyes to meet mine.

“What’s the matter?” I asked again.

“What can I do for you, Mr. Ashford?” The offer was cold—the question formal—but my dick didn’t care. Not at all. Instead, it jumped at the opportunity to feel her pussy strangling my cock and to feel her soft lips on mine.

“Well, now that you mention it—” I skimmed my mouth over her jaw, the scent of apples like a bubble around us. It’d be impossible to ever see an apple again and not think of this woman. The moment my lips brushed against hers, a moan filled the room and sent heat to my groin.

“That’s right, baby,” I murmured against her lips. “Give me your all.”

In the next second, her fists came to my chest and she pushed me away.

“What do you want, Byron?” she panted, her eyes hazy.

“I thought it was clear.” I grabbed her by her nape. “I want you.”

She turned her head to the side just as I readied to kiss her again. “You had me last night and this morning. Now be on your way.”

I straightened, pulling away to look at her face. “What in the fuck is the matter with you?”

She snickered. “Un-fucking-believable.” Odette could curse magnificently in English. In French, too, but she seemed to prefer to do it in English. Other than mixing in random French words here and there—like whipped cream—her English was impeccable.

I groaned inwardly. Why was I thinking about whipped cream? Oh yeah, the little minx smoothed it over my dick last night and then insisted on sucking it clean off me. Jesus H. Christ.

“You and me, baby, are un-fucking-believable. Now, tell me what your problem is so we can resolve it and move on to fucking.”

She pushed me away—hard—but she barely managed to put another inch between us.

“What the fuck is wrong with you? Haven’t you destroyed enough?” The raw, angry words sliced through the air. The hate in her eyes had me reeling and doing a double take. “Get lost, before you bring more shit to my door.”

I frowned. What in the fuck was she talking about? She took advantage of the space between us and, to my surprise, was storming for the door.

I plowed after her and grabbed her wrist. “What the fuck, Odette?”

She yanked away her arm and hissed, “Let go of me.”