Page 59 of The Billionaire's Redemption

Her arms cross over her chest in a gesture of fierce determination. “Look at me, Ethan. You are an absolute monster in bed. You won’t even let me take a break!”

“You took a break,” I protest with wounded dignity. “You took a nap.”

“And when I woke up, you had your face somewhere it had no business being!”

“And you told me to lick you harder,” I point out with unrepentant satisfaction.

Her face erupts in a blaze of scarlet that would put a sunset to shame. “So I made a bad judgment call. How was I to know you were ready for another round? Look at my mouth!”

Her lips do indeed look slightly bruised and swollen, like ripe berries begging to be tasted again. I smile, unable to helpmyself, leaning down to brush them with the softest of kisses. “It looks very pretty.”

She smacks me away with more spirit than strength. “Of course you’d say that. You jerk. Never again.”

“There, there,” I try to console her with mock solemnity. “Look, I’ll get you something to wear. You don’t even have to move a muscle. Don’t make rash decisions when you’re clearly not thinking straight.”

The possibility of being denied access to Natalie’s body is more horrifying than any business failure I can imagine.

“My clothes are in the wardrobe.”

Opening the pine cupboard, I see two elegant suits hanging in pristine condition, and I reach for one of them only for her to snap with renewed energy, “You’ve completely lost your damn mind if you think I can wear a suit right now. Get me a T-shirt and pajamas. They’re on the top shelf, and they’d better be soft ones.”

I retrieve them for her with the care of a personal valet and ask, “Do you need some help getting dressed?”

She levels me with a look that could freeze hell over. “No, thank you. I’m not letting you near my naked body. Get out.”

Resisting the urge to laugh at her fierce protectiveness over her own person, I walk out, closing the door behind me with exaggerated courtesy. The coffee is ready, filling the air with its rich aroma, and I call the front desk to arrange for a masseuse to be sent up—a female one.

Before Natalie can emerge from her temporary fortress, room service arrives with impeccable timing. I tip the man generously before bringing in the food, arranging it on the table with more care than I usually show such mundane tasks. Natalie shuffles out a few minutes later, her gait uneven, and I feel another wave of guilt mixed with an odd sense of masculine satisfaction. Her voice carries a husky rasp that she seems blissfully unaware of, a souvenir from all the screaming.

I should probably have given her a break, although she seems to forget that she initiated two rounds on her own. Once in bed, she loses all inhibitions and becomes a creature of pure desire. I'm not going to be the one to remind her, though.

Helping her to the dining table, I put a plate before her. “I got us lobster—the best they had. And they had blueberry muffins, so I thought you might like those.”

“Blueberry muffins?” Natalie blinks in surprise, her expression softening with unexpected pleasure. “I thought you would get something more fancy for dessert.”

“If you want something fancy?—”

She shakes her head quickly, almost shyly. “I like blueberry muffins. I just thought you might prefer something more elegant.”

“There’s nothing wrong with blueberry muffins. The masseuse will be here in half an hour. You can eat, then she’ll look after you.”

She takes a delicate bite of the lobster, and her scowl melts into a smile of pure bliss. Her eyes flutter shut in appreciation. “God, I love lobster.”

I make a careful mental note of that fact for future reference.

After a few more bites, she seems to remember the outside world exists. “So what happened with the shareholders? Shouldn’t we return?”

“They want to see me, but I’ll go in the afternoon.” I pour her some more water before attacking my own meal with less enthusiasm. “The campaign was completed. It was set to be launched. The fact that the rival company was prepared to launch it the same day as us tells me that they’ve been getting information while the campaign was being formed.”

“Do you know who leaked it?”

“I’m getting it checked out, but it has to be somebody from the Marketing Department. They were the only ones who had complete information.”

“Have their computers been checked for any unauthorized data transfers?” Natalie’s brow creases with professional concern.

“An email was sent out from a temporary account on one of the computers during lunchtime. Iris’s assistant’s computer, to be exact. When it was sent out, she was not in the office, and once again, the cameras had been messed around with. Be ready to write up termination letters for a few people from Security as well.”

Natalie nods with grim understanding.