Page 34 of The Billionaire's Baby

He carries me across to the galley, lowers me onto the chair, then pours me some orange juice from the open pack.

"How much have you got stocked away?”

"Enough for one person on this trip."

He walks over to the stove and busies himself, chopping vegetables.

"What do you do when you’re not sailing?"

"What do you do when you’re not running your security business?" he retorts.

My company. My employees. Shit, I haven’t thought of them since I got on the boat. When was the last time I went through an entire twenty-four hours without stressing about my responsibilities? When was the last time I took my eyes off my goals, huh?

He adds butter to the skillet, then casts me a sideways glance, "Where did you go to?"

"Nowhere."

"I must not be doing a good job if your mind is elsewhere." He smirks.

"You’re full of shit," I mumble.

"And you need to submit to me," he declares.

I spit out the orange juice and he chuckles.

"Some warning please?" I choke out. "I haven’t had my breakfast."

"So, it’s fine to get kinky with you after you’ve eaten?" He shoots me a glance over his shoulder.

"The rope play was all well and good," I glower at him, "but I’m not doing it again."

"Oh?" He peruses my features. "Not only will you be my rope bottom, but you are going to enjoy it."

"Says who?" I frown.

He turns off the flame on the stove then turns and glares at me, and my pulse flutters. Moisture laces my core. Oh, hell, what is it about his dominant ways that gets me all hot and bothered inside?

I tip up my chin, and he jerks his chin to the ground. "On your knees," he orders.

"What the hell?" I gape. "Is this one of your stupid mind games?"

"Do it," he commands.

"And if I don’t?"

"You don’t want to know."

"Try me." I sniff. "You and your stupid threats."

He moves so quickly, I gasp. The next second he’s seated on the chair and I am bent over his knee… Again. For a man his size, how the hell does he move that fast?

"Count to ten—" His gravelly voice shudders down my spine.

"What?"

He pulls up the T-shirt so it's bunched around my neck, and his palm connects with my naked backside.

I squeal. "What the—?"