Page 253 of The Morally Grey Billionaires Boxset

Declan

"It’s fucking mayhem." I glance toward the doorway of the bookstore where we’ve spent the last half an hour.

We spent the night in different rooms. I didn’t insist she move in with me, which she seemed to be relieved about.

Which, in turn, pissed me off further, for reasons I don’t want to analyze.

When I walked into her room, it was to find her standing with her back to the mirror over the vanity table.

She’d stripped off her clothes and was peering at herself over her shoulder.

The sight of the rabbit-shaped emerald glittering from between her arse cheeks, once again, turned my knees to jelly.

A spurt of heat shuddered up my spine. I’ll never get over how erotic and forbidden and right it felt.

To have her wear my mark on her, in her, makes me feel like the luckiest man in the world.

I walked over to stand in front of her. Our eyes met in the mirror.

Her pupils dilated instantly, and her breath grew choppy.

I slipped my arms about her, then slid my hand down to ease out the butt plug.

Her knees buckled, and I held her close, supporting her weight.

She turned her face into my chest and inhaled deeply, as if storing my scent.

When she seemed more stable, I kissed her forehead, and though it hurt like hell to leave her there, aroused and wanting—I swear, I all but came in my pants as I held her soft body so close—I forced myself to leave.

We met for breakfast, which I served her. I made sure she ate everything on her plate, then I’d slipped the plug back between her arse cheeks and guided her out of the house.

In the first of our agreed-upon sightings by the press, I decided to take her back to the bookstore I bought for her and which I refuse to sell, despite the fact I could do with the extra money to put into the film.

It's more important to have a place where she can go if she wants to buy her smutty books, anywhere in the world.

Besides, the beneficiary of all the knowledge she gleans from the spicy books is me, so I can hardly complain.

I expected for there to be a lot of interest around our first sighting. What I hadn’t realized was the sheer number of reporters who’d turn out to get a picture of us. Now, I step in front of her, wanting to shield her from the crowd of paparazzi gathered outside the double doors of the store.

"Whoa, all of them are here for us?" She peers around me.

"It would seem that way." I shift to the side once more, trying to block her from the sight of the journalists. Which is crazy. She’s a figure of interest. One of the top-selling pop-stars in the world. She’s going to be performing in front of people soon.

When I asked her to join me in LA, I knew it was only a matter of time before the world would want a part of her.

I knew it, and I encouraged her to embrace her future.

Hell, I’m the one who introduced her to Harry.

So why do I want to wrap her up in cotton wool, and hide her away?

And fuck her, and keep her high on endorphins, and never allow anyone else to set their gaze on her?

I knew this was coming when I asked her to pose as my fake fiancée in front of the press.

I knew I'd hate sharing her with anyone else when I asked her to be my sub, but the extent to which this would be tested by her fame is not something I considered.

Did I make a mistake asking her to be such an integral part of my life? Did I fool myself into thinking I can keep an emotional distance from her—enough to allow the world to be part of her life, too?

Clearly, I didn’t analyze this enough. I didn’t conceptualize the enormity of what I wanted. It’s only now, hearing the excited cries from the throng of reporters and seeing the distant flashes going off, that I realize, once again, I’ve landed her in the eye of media attention.

And that was the entire reason for this charade.

To turn the spotlight on the two of us so it can benefit the film and her career, but goddamn, if I don’t want to call it all off and take her home and never let her leave.

Which is crazy. This is the life I chose.

This is what she deserves for her talent.

I have no right to deprive her of this chance to resurrect her career.

This is the right thing to do, to allow her to explore the heights of fame, and the influence and power it brings with it.

To step aside and let her shine. I bunch my fists at my sides, force my muscles to relax, then angle my body enough so I don’t block her from view.

But goddamn, I can’t allow her to be seen completely. I can’t. I hold out my hand.

I sense her stiffen. The seconds stretch, then slowly, she places her much smaller palm in mine.

A shiver of relief courses through me. I link my fingers with hers.

Outside the double doors, Rick stands shoulder-to-shoulder with Finn.

Rick looks at me over his shoulder. I nod, then lead Solene through the doors, and the flashes go off.

She inches closer to me, and I wrap my arm about her, drawing her into my side.

Rick and Finn bracket us on either side as the journalists fire off questions:

"Are you two together, Declan?"

"Solene, are you no longer with your bodyguard?"

"Solene, did you pretend to be with your bodyguard to throw us off track?"

"Declan, is the two of you getting together a publicity stunt?"

I throw up my hand, and the crowd quiets. Then I twine my fingers with those of her left hand. I slide my other hand into my pocket and brush my fingers across the device. Next to me, she gasps, and I see her shiver.

She turns to me, but before she can speak, I lower my head and close my mouth over hers.

I draw off her breath, draw in the words she was about to throw at me, tilt my head, and deepen the kiss until she melts into me.

I pull her close and kiss her for a second longer, aware of the flashbulbs going off around us.

Then, I tear my mouth from hers and survey her flushed features.

She raises her heavy eyelids, a mixture of lust and anger swirling in hers.

Just how I like her. Defiant enough, yet ready enough to fall apart under my ministrations.

I step back, then lift her palm, and more flashes go off.

They bounce off the diamonds on the ring, until the entire space around us seems to be haloed in light.

I hold up my hand again, and they fall silent once more.

"Does that look like a publicity stunt?" I snap.

The questions start up again:

"When did you get engaged?"

"How did he propose, Solene?"

"When’s the wedding date?"

Fucking hell. There’s no satisfying this crowd, is there? At a glance from me, Finn and Rick push back the journalists. A path clears, and once more, I wrap my arm about Solene, hold her close, and shield her as much as possible as I guide her toward the waiting car.

Rick holds the door to the passenger side open.

She slides in, followed by me. Rick throws himself into the seat next to the driver, and Finn, who’s taken the driver’s seat, steps on the accelerator and sets off even before Rick’s door is completely shut.

The noise fades. We leave them behind, and Finn steers the car forward. Silence descends.

Solene’s hand is still in mine. Her palm is sweaty, her breathing erratic. I turn to find she’s staring straight forward, a dazed look on her face.

"You okay?" I murmur.

She nods, then shakes her head. "I don’t know, to be honest." She raises her hand to her hair, her fingers trembling.

"It’s okay, baby, I’d never let them get to you."

She laughs a little. "Somehow, I believe you. I knew they’d be interested in pictures of the two of us.

Hell, I’ve faced crowds of twenty thousand during my tour, but they were at a distance.

There was always a separation between them and me.

With the paparazzi though—" She shudders. "They’re so close. It’s like they want to crawl into your skin and get a piece of you. "

"Hey, look at me."

She tips up her chin, and our gazes lock.

"I’ll never let them hurt you. I’ll always be there to protect you, I promise."

She half smiles. "I do believe you. Not sure why, but I do. Especially after that stunt you pulled back there."

"You mean this?" I slide my hands into my pocket and touch the device.

Instantly, her back curves, and she pushes out her breasts, the nipples already beaded and visible through her blouse.

Fucking hell, I don’t want to share her, and yet, I’m proud of how much I’m able to affect her.

That I can push her arousal to fever pitch by the flick of my fingers.

When her breathing finally slows, she lowers her chin. "You’re not playing fair."

"I love to catch you unawares."

She pouts. "I can never predict what you’re going to do next."

"It’s why you love being with me, baby."

She tosses her hair over her shoulder. "I shouldn’t allow myself to be this weak with you."

"You can be anything you want with me, Rabbit."

She glances ahead at the two men in the front seat.

I hit the button and privacy screen rises. “There, now they won’t see or hear anything."

"You always get your way, don’t you?” She shakes her head. "Why am I not used to the kind of influence you have over others? I thought I’d tasted fame and the ability to hold power over others, but you take the ability to wield authority to a whole new height."

I allow my lips to curve. "It’s who I am, baby."

She snorts. "Can’t accuse you of being modest."

"I didn’t get to where I am by being modest."

She nods slowly. "You wear power like it was made for you. You hold dominance in every angle of your body, in every pore on your skin, in every glare, every breath, every step you take. Your presence is a weapon made to make others bend to your will."

"Just as long as I have you in my power, I don’t care about anything else."

She looks into my eyes, then chuckles, the sound nervous. "You really mean it."

"Of course I do. Fuck the world. Fuck my career.

If I can have you with me, if I can bend you to my will, if I can make you submit to me, if I can satisfy you, and arouse you, and take you to heights you've never been, if I can coax you to trust me, and push you out of your comfort zone, and discover the woman you truly are inside, then I’ll have fulfilled the reason for my existence. "

The pulse at the base of her throat picks up speed, and her lips part. "Oh my god. That was so… romantic. I shouldn’t think it to be so. I should be frightened of what it means when you declare your intent with such ferocity, but somehow, I’m not."

"Good." I tug her even closer. "Are you ready for the next stage?"