Page 48 of While He Breathes

His dark eyes flicker to me, his brow furrowed as he considers me. “No. But I can get you some. Give me twenty minutes.” He pulls his phone from his pocket and starts typing out a text.

See? This is what I mean. The man is incapable of denying me anything, and that makes my heart do flips in my chest like a teenager with her first crush.

Hell, I may not be a teenager, but Orion sure as hell was my first crush.

“You don’t have to do that,” I rush to say. The last thing I want is for either the media or the criminal underworld to get wind that he’s running around trying to please me.

Does my affiliation with him put me in danger?

Am I going to be used as a pawn in a game I never agreed to play?

His gaze flicks up to meet mine, and he gives me a panty-melting smile. Before I met him, I was sure that was just a saying, but fuck me, if I was wearing underwear, they would spontaneously combust at the way his face lights up when he smiles at me.

“Ember, you could ask me for anything, and I’d find a way to give it to you. I think some cereal is well within my abilities.”

I can’t help the grin that tugs at my own lips.

I’m so fucked.

While we wait for my cereal to be delivered, I decide to get some much-needed space between me and the too hot for his own good billionaire-slash-drug kingpin.

I pad into the bathroom and close the door, leaving it slightly ajar the way he’s told me to, but an idea forms in my mind.

As much as I love the soft version of Orion that he’s shown me this morning, I also crave the depravity that comes with the darker side of him.

Smiling to myself, I close the door all the way with a decisive click.

I strip out of the shirt I pulled on when I got out of bed and move to the shower, turning the dials until the temperature is just this side of hellfire.

Exactly how all showers should be if you ask me.

If your skin isn’t red as a lobster when you get out, you’re doing something wrong.

It takes longer than I expect for Orion to appear.

I’m halfway through washing my hair when the door swings open, slamming into the wall and making me jump.

“Little Flame,” he rumbles.

“Yes, Orion?” I say, trying to keep the amusement out of my voice as I wash the suds from my hair.

“What did I say about closed doors?” There’s an edge to his voice that has heat pooling in my core, and I press my thighs together, desperately trying to get some kind of relief.

“That you won’t tolerate them,” I reply.

“And yet this door was closed?”

“Yep.”

Silence greets me, and I think he might have left, but then strong hands grasp my hips, and my stomach dips with excitement.

I should not get this much enjoyment out of pushing his buttons, but there’s something about being at Orion’s mercy that I can’t quite describe.

“Are you pushing me on purpose, Ember?” he murmurs against my ear.

He presses his body against my back and walks us forward until my warm skin makes contact with the freezing cold tiles, tearing a yelp from my throat.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” But my response comes out breathy, giving me away. Not that I think Orion didn’t see right through the game I’m playing.