Page 33 of The Morally Grey Billionaires Boxset

Liam

I scowl. Anyone else in her position would agree to my proposal and take the opportunity to run.

But this woman has to defy me. She always has to find a way to contradict the simplest of my instructions.

It’s what caught my attention in the first place.

She’s never been scared of me. Never been so awed by my presence that she’s submitted. Not yet, that is.

"Well?" She curves her lips. "What do you say?"

"What’s the condition?"

"I won’t sleep in the same bed as you."

"No fucking way."

"Yes way."

"What is it, Isla?" I search her features. "Why is it that you won’t share my bed? Are you afraid you’ll grow too dependent on me? Are you afraid you’ll get used to my presence next to you? Are you afraid that" —I lower my head until my nose bumps her— "you won’t be able to live without me?"

She pulls back as much as my hold on her will allow.

"You’re implying I have a problem with intimacy, and I can promise you, it’s not that."

"Then what is it? Tell me. Whatever it is, we can face it together."

She bites the inside of her cheek. Some of the color fades from her features. She glances to the left, then the right. A trapped look comes into her eyes.

“Baby, it’s okay. You can tell me anything, Isla,” I say in a soothing voice.

She opens her mouth to speak, and I’m sure she’s going to tell me what’s worrying her. I’m focused on her expression to the exclusion of everything else. It’s why I least expect her to bend her leg and knee me.

"Motherfucker!" Pain slices through me, white and blinding. Sweat breaks out on my shoulders. My grip on her loosens, and she darts away. I bend over, trying not to scream as the waves of agony pound through my body. I take a deep breath, then another. By the time I straighten, I spot her running around the boundary of the house. I’m going to track her down, and when I do, I’m going to teach her a lesson she’ll never forget.

I grab her Kindle, then limp forward, then break into a run. I jog slowly around the perimeter of the island. If she thinks she can evade me, she is so wrong. I know every inch of this island like the back of my hand. I’m going to track her down if it’s the last thing I do.

"LadyBird," I call out, "where are you?" The wind blows through the trees.

The long grass ripples. I circle the island once, then head toward the house.

Once inside, I shut the door and lock it.

I prowl through the living room, the hallway, the kitchen, then the bedroom, before I reach my study.

I walk in, shut the door behind me and lock it.

The scent of books is as pervasive here as the smell of the sea air outside.

The windows are closed, and the only other furniture is a deep settee in front of the now dark fireplace.

I run my fingers down the spines of the books—classics I grew up reading, others I picked up along the way.

The Three Musketeers by Alexandre Dumas, The Odyssey by Homer, The Complete Sherlock Holmes by Arthur Conan Doyle, the entire series of Harry Potter by J.K.

Rowling, King Solomon's Mines by H. Rider Haggard, The Last of the Mohicans by James Fenimore Cooper, Tess of the d'Urbervilles by Thomas Hardy, Pinocchio by Carlo Collodi.

When I reach my vinyls, I pause. One shelf holds my collection of opera, and above it is a row of classical music greats.

I hear a sound behind me; turn to see her dash toward the exit. She reaches the doorway and tries to twist open the handle, but it doesn’t give. She tugs on it, shakes it, but the door won’t open.

"Looking for this?"

She turns, spots the key I pull out from my pocket, and scowls. "Give it to me," she holds out her hand.

"Come and get it, baby."

Her chest rises and falls. "Don’t call me baby."

I take in her flushed features, the pulse that beats at the base of her throat. "Thought you liked it when I called you baby, baby?"

She sniffs. “That’s beside the point.”

“The point is that there’s no way out. I have you where I want you, baby.”

She draws in a sharp breath, and her pupils dilate. "You haven’t caught me yet.”

"That’s easily remedied."

I lunge toward her. She screams, evades me and runs past me and into the room. I turn, stretch out my fingers, then close them again. "I’m gonna get you, LadyBird."

I walk toward her, and she races around the sofa.

I reverse my route and she runs the other way.

We keep this going for a few seconds more.

Her chest rises and falls. Her breath comes in pants.

I reach across the settee, and she yells and backs away.

I prowl around the couch and head toward her.

She skitters back until she hits the shelf behind her, then gasps and comes to a stop.

She glances toward the door, then back at me.

I click my tongue. "Don’t even think about it."

I take a step toward her, and she flattens herself against the shelf.

I move forward another step, and she darts past me, or tries to.

I grab her arm. She screams. I haul her to me, and this time, I shove her into the shelf, leaning some of my lower weight into her so she can’t knee me again.

One of the books on the far side of the shelf falls off the far end with a crash.

She jumps. "Let me go," she says in a breathless voice.

"Remember what I said. Once I catch you, you’ll do everything I say."

"And I said I had a condition."

"Which I’m not agreeing to."

She wriggles against me and the blood drains to my groin. She freezes. "You... you—"

"Am aroused. And if you keep that up I’m going to have to throw you down and take you right here."

Her breath hitches, and her pupils dilate. A trembling grips her, and I swear, I can smell the sweet scent of her arousal.

"Liam, please," she gasps.

"Please what?"

"Liam, I—" She shakes her head.

"What is it you want? Tell me, LadyBird."

She bites down on her lower lip.

I stare at her mouth. "No one is allowed to bite you there except me."

She blinks. "You’re crazy."

"You make me crazy."

"And you make me…want things I don’t think I can have."

"Tell me what you need, and I’ll give it to you."

She swallows.

"Or maybe you want me to tell you what you want?"

She frowns.

"How about this?" I hold up her Kindle and begin to read. "He tears off her panties then lowers his head to the melting flesh between—"

"Gimme that." She reaches for the Kindle, but I hold it up and out of her grasp. I read aloud. "He holds open her pussy lips, then swipes his tongue up to her clit. He—"

"Liam, don’t you dare read further," she yells.

"Okay."

"Okay?"

"Why don’t you read, and we’ll act out the scene?”

"You’re kidding right?"

"Do I look like I’m kidding?"

"N-no," she murmurs.

"Either you read it and I’ll follow your instructions, or I’ll come up with ideas of my own, all of which are going to be kinkier than anything you could read in your romance books."

She arches an eyebrow. "Do you even know how spicy the scenes in my books can get?"

"Is that a challenge?"

She tilts her head. "And if it is?"

"And if I win?" I retort.

"You won’t."

"But what if I do?"

She’s already shaking her head. "Please don’t ask me to spend the night with you, Liam. Please."

I lower my hand, then cup her cheek with the other. "What is it, baby? Please, tell me."

"I can’t Liam. Not yet."

I look between her eyes. There’s helplessness in them, and hurt and fear. What is she so afraid of? "Whatever it is, I promise, I’ll support you."

"How about you stop talking and fuck me instead?" She drops down to her knees and pulls down my swimming trunks.