Page 7 of The Wrong Bond (Wolf Billionaire #4)

CHAPTER 7

ARLENE

S hawn’s sleek black car was the first clue of the kind of life he had. He had driven to the bar himself, and now we were at his home.

But calling it a home was doing a bit of a disservice to the mansion that stood in front of me. It had manicured gardens and a huge fountain right out front.

“Wow,” I gasped as soon as I stepped out of the car.

“It was my dad’s idea. He handled the design and construction of the house, and I just let him do it. That tacky fountain is the first thing I’m taking down when I renovate,” Shawn said, leading me into his home.

“Wow,” was all I could get out again.

“Your coat,” he said as we walked into the foyer.

I shrugged out of my coat, and he pulled it off me and hung it on the coatrack by the door. Then, we walked into the house. The marble titles shone under the soft glow of the chandelier hanging from the ceiling. To the right of the doorway, there was an enormous sweeping staircase lined with a plush red rug.

The entire house looked like something from a movie, and it was the first time I’d ever been uptown. Now I understood why the rebellions always happened back home. We were being fed scraps downtown.

The uptown wolves had all the resources they needed to survive, and more.. Everything they could ever want was simply provided to them on a silver platter because they were from a higher social class.

But we downtown wolves had to claw our way to the top, and it was especially hard doing that with a job that paid peanuts.

So it was little wonder that I was here, with Shawn Elton, ready to exchange pleasure for money. A slight feeling of embarrassment bubbled in the pit of my stomach, but I swallowed it.

“Do you want me to give you a little tour?” he asked.

I raised an eyebrow at him, a small smile on my lips. “It’s not like I’ll be living here, so what’s the point?”

“I need you to become familiar with the surroundings.” A small smirk played on his lips. “You’ll be coming here often, after all.”

I sucked in a breath and dug my hands into the back pockets of my jeans, feeling completely out of place. “Okay then, where do we start?”

“The library!” Shawn said with a playful grin.

I couldn’t help but smile. “Really?”

“Yup. I’m trying to win points from you.”

“You don’t need to win points. This—” I motioned between me and him. “—is already established. We know what it is, so there’s no need to win points.”

Shawn shrugged. “Well, a part of me wants to anyway.”

And that was scary. I had no idea why he was being nice and sweet when this was just a business transaction.

Winning points was what someone did when they wanted the other individual to like them, and in this situation, that didn’t apply.

All this would have been much easier to navigate if he was professional and just stuck to the terms. But his kindness was blurring the lines a little bit.

Shawn led me up the staircase and down a hallway lined with artwork that probably cost more than my annual salary.

“You like art,” I noticed, stopping to take in the details of one of the paintings.

“I like beautiful things,” Shawn said, and when I turned around, I caught him looking at me.

I cleared my throat loudly, my heart pounding in my chest. “So where’s the library?”

“Come with me.”

We kept walking until he finally stopped and pushed a door open. My breath caught in my throat as I took in the floor-to-ceiling shelves filled with books, a cozy fireplace, and a plush armchair.

“Wow,” I gasped. “Have you even read all of these?” I asked, running my fingers down the shelves of books.

“I don’t read as much as I used to, which is a shame,” Shawn responded.

I giggled and nodded. “Me too. I’d like to go back to a time when I could forget all of my worries and just read. But with working a job that ends at odd hours of the night, there isn’t much time for a hobby.”

“You could make time for it.”

I rolled my eyes. “Shawn, not everyone is as privileged as you are.”

He groaned. “Please don’t start with that.”

“But it’s true. You think everything can be done so easily, but that isn’t the case for most of us.”

“Well, if you need a break, you can come here anytime to read.”

I picked up a leather-bound book so I could look as nonchalant as possible when I asked him my next question. “What about your other mistresses? I don’t want anyone to pull my hair out if I show up unannounced.”

He chuckled. “Are you trying to ask me something?”

“Well, I did ask a question, didn’t I?” I said, smiling.

He smiled too, and stepped closer to me. So close that I could smell his aftershave and cologne. So close that if I took a quarter-step forward, I would be smack against him. So close that if he leaned in just a little bit, his lips would be on mine.

“It wasn’t direct, though.” His breath fanned across face.

I swallowed as my heart pounded in my chest. I’d always loved how confident and fearless I was, but whenever I was with Shawn Elton, I melted into a puddle. It was annoying that he had this much control over me.

I quickly stepped away and placed the book back on the shelf. “You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to. It’s none of my business.”

He was about to say something when my stomach let out a loud and very embarrassing growl.

“Was that you?” he asked with a laugh.

I frowned, feeling my cheeks heat up. “Who else is in here with you?”

“You’re a bit of a firecracker, aren’t you?”

I smiled. “I just love to have the last word, that’s all.”

“But when was the last time you ate something?” Shawn asked.

I thought for a moment, and realized my last meal had been before my shift. Before I could answer, he nodded knowingly. “It’s been a while. Come on, let’s see what we can whip up.”

He took my hand, which made butterflies do somersaults in my stomach, and led me through the spacious house to the kitchen. The sleek and almost too-clean aesthetic made it look like something straight out of a magazine instead of a place where food was actually made.

He opened the cabinets. “Let’s see if I have something we can make.”

I opened some cabinets, too, but they were very empty.

“You don’t cook?” I asked.

“I can tell you’re judging me,” he chuckled.

“I’m not. I promise.” But I was lying. I was, in fact, judging him, and judging him very hard.

“I actually do cook. A lot, in fact, so get ready to be pleasantly surprised.”

“Okay. So do I sit back and watch, or do you need help not burning down your house?”

He scoffed. “Sit back and watch.”

“Okay.” I sat on the high stool that faced the open kitchen and watched him with interest. There was something mesmerizing in the way he moved; he was so confident and relaxed. He’d never had to try to impress anyone in his entire life, and it was obvious.

“So I found pasta, cheese, peppers, tomato sauce, cilantro.” He made a face, and I chuckled. “Olives, vegetable oil…I think we know what I can make with this.”

“I could eat pasta,” I teased.

“Alright then, that’s settled.”

“Do you really cook often?” I asked again, genuinely curious.

“Not as much as I would like,” he admitted, setting a few items on the counter. “But I enjoy it when I get the chance. It’s a great way to unwind.”

“So is there anything you’re not good at?”

“Nothing.”

I chuckled. “Sure.”

Feeling slightly uncomfortable just watching him, I grabbed a cutting board and a knife and joined him.

“You’re meant to sit back while I cook,” he reminded me.

“Oh, you’re definitely cooking. I’m just going to help you cut the peppers.”

“I’ve never had a sous-chef, but I could get used to this.”

We spent a few minutes prepping the pasta in silence before I said, “So what’s your specialty?”

“Probably pasta,” he said, his eyes meeting mine. “It’s simple but satisfying. I was known for my pasta-cooking skills in college, and at one point, I was close to opening a restaurant.”

“Why didn’t you?”

He sighed. “When you’re an Elton, there are only so many frivolities you’re allowed.”

“But that’s a good profession, not a frivolity,” I argued.

I could sense there was more than what he was telling me, but I didn’t want to push him so much that he felt uncomfortable. Instead, I let him change the topic.

“What about you? What are your specialties?”

I laughed. “I wouldn’t say I’m a culinary genius like you, but I do make a mean grilled cheese.”

“I can’t wait to try it,” Shawn said.

We continued in silence for a bit, and then he leaned over me to grab the plate of peppers I’d sliced. The sleeve of his shirt brushed my skin.

Goosebumps ran up my arms, and something hot coiled in my stomach. A part of me wanted to leave his home and never return, and another wanted to see how long I could play with fire without being burned.

He plated the meal and sat down at the kitchen island, our knees brushing under the table. He also poured us both a glass of red wine.

“To new beginnings,” he said, clinking his glass against mine.

“To new beginnings,” I echoed, a bit nervous.

I twirled the fettuccine around my fork and took a bite. The rich burst of flavors and spices in the tomato sauce pleasantly surprised me.

“So?” Shawn asked, awaiting my verdict.

“It’s good,” I admitted.

“Told you!”

“You should cook more. When you have the time, I mean,” I said, trying and failing to stop myself from bringing the past up. “You’re really good at this.”

“It’s not a project I can just start up. I have responsibilities, and they can’t be abandoned.”

Yikes. That sounded ominous. Being as rich as the Eltons was supposed to mean they could do anything they wanted. That was the main reason anyone wanted to be stinking rich: to have complete freedom.

But being held back by responsibilities sounded terrible. Somehow, Shawn managed to surprise me every time we talked. He’d always seemed to have a heart, and now he had a passion, and that was making it hard for me not to like him more.

His face grew clouded as we both finished our meal.

“You don’t have to think too deeply about it,” I told him, reaching out to place my palm on his.

“Yeah, I know.”

He slid his hand out from underneath mine and held it, his fingers rubbing circles at the top of my palm.

My breathing stopped as shivers ran through my body and blood pounded in my ears. It suddenly seemed like the air conditioner had stopped, and it felt stuffy in the kitchen. The electricity I had felt every day for the past week hit me square in the face.

“We should clean up our plates,” I breathed, an obvious shake in my voice.

“Yeah, I agree,” Shawn said.

For a very short moment, neither of us moved. Our eyes were fixed on each other as Shawn continued rubbing circles around my palm.

Suddenly, his mouth crashed down on mine, and my arms wrapped around his neck, pulling him to me. A low moan came from my mouth, and he pushed the plates to the side, lifted me by my waist, and placed me on the counter.

I could see the primal desire in his eyes as he pulled back to look at me.

My initial thought was to push him off because we needed ground rules for this kind of relationship. We needed to scrap cooking and eating a meal together, and he needed to stop talking about earning points when he was paying me to spend time with him.

But I didn’t push him off. I couldn’t. Instead, I threaded my fingers through his hair and pulled his lips back to mine. I felt his firm grip on the back of my neck and the pressure of his lips on mine.

His mouth moved over mine, hot and demanding, and my thoughts became foggy. I didn’t know what I’d expected for our first kiss, but it certainly wasn’t this.

I’d kissed my fair share of men in my life, but none had ever kissed me like this. I gasped when Shawn moved between my legs without breaking the kiss, his hands moving all over my body.

He hooked my legs around his waist and carried me to the living room, placing me gently on the sofa. He cupped my neck, the world fading away and leaving only him in the frame.

My breath hitched as he tilted my head to deepen the kiss. It was an all-consuming, desperate fight with our mouths. I craved more of him.

“Shawn,” I gasped as his hand slipped beneath my shirt, skimming over my stomach.

“Keep saying my name,” he murmured, his voice husky with urgency as he trailed kisses down my neck.

I couldn’t even speak as my body was completely ablaze with heat. His hand snaked under my shirt and took it off, and Shawn paused, taking me in, his eyes hungry with need.

Then he cupped my breasts, his hands moving across my body as if committing every dip and curve to memory. He grazed a nipple with his lips, and a choked moan escaped me as his fingers pinched my other nipple.

I moaned, glad I’d picked today to not wear a bra.

His hands slowly began to move lower, the anticipation heightening my feelings of passion. His heat seared through my clothes, and then a wave of his scent hit me, thick with the unmistakable scent of his arousal.

One of the skills I’d gotten from my father, who I’d never known, was my top-notch sense of smell, and that was both a blessing and a curse.

My heart pounded in my chest as his hand found the waistband of my jeans, and with a single tug, he pulled them off.

His touch dipped lower, a slow descent that left me breathless with need. Heat flooded my face as everything seemed to hang on that very moment.

“Please,” I gasped, my fingers digging into his hair as a wave of raw need washed over me. Every touch, every brush of his hand, sent shivers down my spine.

He chuckled, a dark rumble against my skin. “Please what, beautiful?”

The words wouldn’t form. My voice was lost in the rising tide of desire. All I could manage was a whimper, a sound laced with desperation.

“Do you want me to touch you?” he murmured in my ear. “Tell me what you want. Use your words.”

“Yes,” I breathed, my voice barely audible. “Please, I need you.”

It was as if he’d been hanging on by a thread of control, and in that moment, it seemed to shatter right before my eyes.

He pulled down my panties and nipped the skin of my inner thighs. So far, he had been doing all the work, and I wondered if I should intervene. I was the one getting paid, after all.

But all thoughts vanished from my head when Shawn dragged a finger along my wetness. “What do you want me to do to you?”

“Huh?” was all I could get out. Using my brain right now felt like torture.

“What. Do. You. Want. Me. To. Do. To. You?” he asked, punctuating each word with a kiss on my bud.

“I want you,” I panted.

He pushed my legs apart and went in like a man starved. He licked and sucked, and I couldn’t hear anything but my own cries of pleasure.

My heart hammered in my chest, a chaotic mixture of wanting him to stop or to never let go. Sweat beaded on his skin, and his touch sent shivers down my spine.

“Don’t stop,” I whimpered before I could stop myself.

I was certain I wouldn’t be able to look Shawn in the eyes after today. I was a writhing mess under him, and all my defenses and confidence had shattered the first moment he had touched me.

As he used his mouth, he dipped a finger into me, thrusting in and out with practiced rhythm. He kept his mouth on my clit as he thrust with his fingers. I wanted more; I wanted him.

My climax was a wave like nothing I’d ever experienced before, and as it washed over me, it tore a loud scream out of me. As the tremors subsided, a delicious weakness filled my limbs.

“I want you,” he breathed as he kissed my palm and led a trail of kisses to my lips. “I’ve wanted you since the first moment I saw you.”

I wanted to ask him what he meant by that, but I was still delirious from what had just happened. No one had ever made me come like that, and I still couldn’t feel my limbs.

But the thoughts persisted. Did he want me for my body? Or did he want me ?

“It doesn’t matter. You don’t need him to like you, Ally. It would even be better if emotions weren’t involved.” I heard Leah’s voice in my head.

She was right. Emotions would only cloud my judgment and end up hurting me. But it was hard not to get emotional when he said things like that and cooked pasta for me.

“I want you, Arlene,” Shawn repeated.

“I want you, too,” I managed to say.

That was all I could say before he carried me bridal-style off the sofa and up the stairs. And I knew then and there that there was no going back from this.