Page 66 of The Billionaire's Redemption

“Okay!” I cry out, cheeks burning. “That’s enough. Just—Just stop talking while I get changed!”

Megan shrugs, eyeing my untouched breakfast. “Fine. Can I have your breakfast?”

“Please,” I whimper, hurrying to the bedroom to throw on some clothes, desperate to escape this humiliating conversation.

I’ve just taken off my shirt when Ethan walks in, the door closing softly behind him.

Covering my chest with my arms, I scowl. “Out!”

“I’ve already seen it all.” He puts his hands in his pockets, looking entirely too comfortable. He didn’t even bother goingto his room to change after he woke up. He just took a shower here, put on his shirt and pants, and ordered breakfast like it was nothing. “So what were you saying to my sister?”

“I was drunk!” I repeat, wondering how many times I have to say it for somebody to believe me around here. “Nothing I said counts.”

“On the contrary.” He leans his shoulder against the door, watching me with predatory intensity. “God’s honest truth is spoken when one is drunk. So you like my suits? No, wait, you like meina suit.”

“Get out, Ethan!” I snarl, clutching my shirt tighter against my chest.

A sly smile curls on his lips, and he straightens up, covering the distance between us in three long strides. Leaning over me, he takes my chin in his hand, his touch firm but gentle. “Maybe next time I should fuck you while wearing a suit. Or maybe once we get back to the office, you can get under my desk?—”

I feel the blush crawl over my face, spreading like wildfire down my neck. “You pervert.”

“That’s supposed to be a bad thing?” he chuckles, his breath warm against my face. “You quite like me as a pervert. You certainly weren’t protesting anything I did to you. In fact, I actually remember you begging me for?—”

I slap a hand on his mouth, my voice hoarse. “Stop it.”

“Why?” he asks innocently, lowering my hand. “We’re both consenting adults here.”

I think I’m going to combust. This man is shameless.

He lowers his mouth and presses it against mine. My lips part from instinct, betraying me. The kiss deepens, and despite my reluctance, I let out a whimper that embarrasses me to my core.

My body still remembers everything he did to me, and when I feel wetness form between my legs, I try to pull away. He slams me against the wardrobe, the wooden edge digging into myback as his mouth moves aggressively against mine. I know what he wants, and what’s more mortifying is that I want it, too.

Was it like this the first time around? Was I so helpless against him? When he touches me, I want to give him everything he wants. I’m overwhelmed by the desire to please him. I want to give up control to him.

Even as he has me pressed against the wardrobe, I can’t find it in me to tell him to stop because my body wants only what he can give me. Have I finally gone insane?

A banging sound on the door has us both jerking apart, and Megan shouts out, “I’m right here, you know? Go suck face with your girlfriend on your own time, Ethan. We have to go shopping.”

Ethan looks down at me, amber eyes dancing with amusement, and I hiss, “Wipe that smirk off your face. I’m not your girlfriend.”

He just chuckles, the sound rich and deep. “Fine. I’ll let you get dressed in peace, and we can revisit this conversation later.”

“There is no later. I’m telling you how it is!”

He just pats my ass and walks out of the room, supremely confident.

I can hear his sister arguing with him, and I sink to the ground, my legs trembling. What have I done? I should never have slept with him. What was I thinking, that I could control the outcome of this? I’m in so very deep over my head that I can’t see anything.

All Ethan had to do was slip past my defenses, and now I’m helpless against his advances.

This was supposed to be a one-night stand, one I could control. Instead, he’s the one with all the power, and I just gave it to him.

Shopping with Meganis an enlightening experience.

Waving her brother’s credit card gleefully, she takes me to the most expensive brand stores, and despite my attempts digging my heels in, she walks out with heavy shopping bags. Fergus loads the car, looking impressed as he arranges the mountain of purchases in the trunk.

“I really don’t need a haircut,” I protest weakly as Megan drags me toward a salon, its pristine glass façade reflecting the afternoon sun.