Page 7 of Tempting the Billionaire (Billionaire Brothers #5)

Ezra

I can think of nothing other than Emma Hayes all night long. Her eyes, her hair, her legs, her breasts. Every inch of her. How I’d so badly wanted to take her right then and there, savor every second of it, make her mine.

I’m still in utter disbelief that the evening played out the way it did. I’d gone from halfheartedly fantasizing about my attractive new sales assistant to having her suddenly standing before me, utterly naked and willing to do whatever I wanted.

And I’d walked out the door .

The absurdity of it almost makes me laugh. A beautiful woman had basically thrown herself at me, and I’d walked away.

But I have my reasons, and I’m standing by them. Because what I’d told her was true. I may give off the kind, unassuming gentleman demeanor, but in bed, I like to do things a certain way. And that certain way means I’m in charge.

Of everything.

Of when she’s naked, of what we do, how I touch her, of when she comes. Everything.

And I’d love nothing more than to be in charge of Emma. Telling her what to do and having her obey at a moment’s notice. And in order to get what I wanted, I needed to turn the tables. Get the upper hand and take things from there.

And after seeing that look on her face—shock, embarrassment, confusion—I know that everything I want will eventually fall into place.

I lean back against the pillows on my bed, staring out the window to the city lights outside. I’d been toying with the idea of a rebound. Something to get my mind off Diane, help me move on, help me heal. And maybe this just might be it.

The next morning, I push open the door to Bishop Jewelers, the soft bell echoing throughout the shop. Rachel looks up when she sees me, confusion clouding her features. “You’re not usually in on Tuesdays,” she says simply.

I shrug. “Decided I wanted to work from the shop today,” I say. “Where’s Emma?”

Rachel inclines her head to the back room.

I stride past the counter and through the door.

Emma is busy making herself a coffee in the kitchenette in the corner, her back to me.

I take the moment to check her out—how her pencil skirt seems to hug her curves so perfectly.

My mind jumps back to last night—to what it was like to see those curves unclothed.

“Do you know if we have any creamer?” Emma asks, turning. But when her eyes land on me, she straightens, immediately putting her coffee down. “I thought you were Rachel,” she says quickly.

“Can I speak to you in my office?” I ask.

She nods, suddenly looking terrified, and I feel a tiny twinge of guilt. I really shouldn’t be trying to scare her.

She follows me into my office, and I shut the door behind her. She stands quietly, watching me warily .

“You’re not in trouble, Emma,” I say, unable to take that look on her face any longer. In fact, this is partly why I decided to come in today and have this conversation.

I can see the relief washing over her features, and I wonder if she spent all night worrying. Now I feel bad about how I’d walked out.

I approach her, moving to stand just inches away from her.

“I very much want to continue whatever this is,” I say softly, reaching up to brush a strand of hair behind her ear.

“But I want to make it very clear that regardless of what happens—what we do or don’t do—your job will never be in jeopardy.

I need to establish this before we move forward. ”

She widens her eyes slightly in surprise, and then she shoots me a small smile. “Understood, Mr. Bishop.”

I clench my jaw. Damn. Mr. Bishop . “I normally like being called Ezra, but I like Mr. Bishop when it’s coming from your mouth,” I say, leaning down to press a soft kiss to the nape of her neck.

She sighs quietly, and fuck does that sound do something to me. I have half a mind to take her right here and now.

“I mean what I said,” I say, trailing kisses up her neck and breathing against her ear, “about being in control. ”

Her breathing becomes ragged, and I feel her gripping the front of my shirt.

“Will you do what you’re told?” I whisper.

“Yes,” she breathes, almost immediately.

I smile. Fuck, she’s obedient, and I fucking love it. I lean back far enough to meet her gaze. “I don’t want you to come until I make you come. Understand?”

Her eyes widen, and her mouth opens.

I raise my eyebrows. “Understand?” I repeat.

She nods.

“It means no going home and thinking about everything I’m going to do to you while you get yourself off. And it definitely means no letting any other man lay his hands on you.”

She nods again, her chest rising and falling. Damn, she’s turned on by this. She’s not just agreeing to my terms, she’s enjoying them. “Is that a yes?” I prompt.

“Yes,” she says.

I smile. “Good girl.”

Her eyes darken, and it takes every ounce of self-control within me to take step back. “Let me buy you a drink this weekend. Friday? ”

“Okay,” she breathes.

“I’ll look forward to it,” I say, leaning in to press a kiss to her cheek before opening my office door and gesturing her back out to the floor. “Don’t forget your promise,” I tell her.

She steps out on wobbly legs, glancing back at me over her shoulder.

“Oh, and the creamer is on the bottom shelf in the fridge.”