Coerced (Billionaire romance)(12)

Sutton lifted her dress from her body and tossed it, then helped her into the bath.

But when she expected him to leave her, he stripped and joined her, settling comfortably behind her, filling his hands with her breasts.

Fatigue overrode her good sense and she sank against him.

It was late and all she wanted was to climb into bed but there was something nice about being in Sutton’s arms like this that she couldn’t quite name.

“Why me?” she asked drowsily, slowly succumbing to the sense of lethargy dragging on her eyelids.

Sutton gently washed her breasts, sliding the soft cotton washcloth over her shoulders and across her belly.

“I don’t know,” he answered and she heard the slight frown in his voice. “I just know that I have to have you. You’re like a drug in my system and I can’t get enough.”

Warmth suffused her body and it had nothing to do with the heat of the bath.

What was this strange chemistry between them? They were clearly opposites but he sparked an electric need inside her that defied reason.

Maybe it was the same for him.

Elizabeth allowed him to wash her, even between her legs and when they were finished, they dried off and climbed into the bed.

Sutton’s arm curled possessively around her to pull her close and she was too tired to fight it.

This wasn’t normal and a life with Sutton wasn’t actually on the cards but she’d be a liar if she didn’t admit that pressed up against his solid length, his arm around her, felt pretty good.

Too good.

Particularly for a woman who was more accustomed to being overlooked by the hot guy rather than pursued by one.

The last thought that drifted through her mind as she dozed off to sleep was, gotta admit, it’s a nice change…even if it meant being pursued by someone like Sutton Buchanan.





Bookmark: 9



-9-

Sutton finished buttoning his sleeve and paused to watch Elizabeth still curled in the bed.

It took everything in him to refrain from climbing back into that bed and doing dirty things to his sleeping beauty but duty called and his cousins were miserable task masters.

Elizabeth, in sleep, was a porcelain princess with alabaster skin and plump, pouting lips that begged for a kiss.

Everything about her was sweet and soft, giving and generous.

He found the soft rolls of her belly very pleasing when he was pressed up against her.

He hadn’t thought to sleep with her but when he’d seen all of her belongings in the master bedroom, he’d discarded the idea of putting her in the spare bedroom.

Did that give him pause? Hell yes, if he stopped to think too long about it.

The fact was, he rarely invited any of his bed partners to share his actual bed with him.

Too personal, too much of an invasion of his privacy to tolerate and yet…he couldn’t imagine Elizabeth being anywhere but tucked up beside him.

Was this the trap his cousins had fallen into? Hadn’t Penny started off as his cousins property? Their “concubine” as they liked to call it?

And now she was married off to Dillon, pumping out baby Buchanans like a happy brood mare.

Sutton suffered a shudder. He wasn’t about to share the same fate. “Elizabeth, time to wake up,” he said sternly, grabbing his suit jacket and swinging it over his shoulders.

Elizabeth awoke with a groggy blink and yawn and those glorious tits came into view as the sheet slipped.

For a brief second all the thoughts in his head tumbled out of his head and all he could do was appreciate the view.

He considered himself an equal opportunity connoisseur of women’s attributes but Elizabeth’s breasts…good God, she broke the mold.

He wanted to bury his head between those beautiful globes and suck on the dark pink nipples until they pebbled like ripe berries.

“Where are you going?” she asked, her voice thick with sleep as she struggled to open her eyes.

Sutton snapped back to the moment at hand and answered brusquely, “Work. Now, listen closely, I have a day of plans for you scheduled.”

At that Elizabeth frowned and struggled to sit up, wiping at her eyes and —regrettably — clutching the sheet to her chest. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, I have a designer coming this morning to measure you for new clothes and you must be presentable. I want you showered and dressed with a light application of make up when the designer arrives.”

“Make up? Why?” Elizabeth asked, grumpy. “I hate make up.”

“Because otherwise, you will look washed out in the pictures.”

“Pictures?” She straightened, suddenly awake and seeming apprehensive. “What do you mean, pictures?”

“The designer will take pictures of you in each creation and text it to me so I can decide whether or not I would like to purchase it for your wardrobe.”

“What if I hate what you pick out?”

He regarded her coldly. “And that would matter why?”

“Are you ever not a prick?” Elizabeth grumbled, pulling the sheets closer. “Last night in the bathtub you tricked me into believing you might actually have a soul.”

“Well, I’m happy to disabuse you of that notion,” he said. “As I was saying, the designer will send me the photos and I will decide. This should take all day. Prepare yourself accordingly. There is food in the kitchen but feel free to order what you like. I’ve left you a credit card you can use for household shopping needs.”

“Are you going to be gone all day?”

A smirk curved his lips. “Will you miss me?”

She narrowed her gaze. “No.”

He laughed at her outright lie. Her body told a story that her mouth couldn’t hide.

To demonstrate, he strode to her and gripped her chin for a sweet, yet demanding kiss that he knew she felt to her toes because he did, too.

He released her after a long moment that crackled with chemistry and left them both breathing hard.

“Try not to forget about me, pet.”

“Too late,” Elizabeth retorted with a shaky dismissal and he laughed as he let himself out of the apartment.

Was his step lighter than usual? Well, he did have that visual of a nude voluptuous women in his head. That would lighten any red-blooded American male’s step, right?

Ahh hell, maybe he ought to just forget about Elizabeth for now and focus on work.

At least that was safe.

***

After a long shower, Elizabeth found her way in the kitchen and searched for something to appease her yowling belly.

She was ravenous!

She’d always read that sex was good exercise but seeing as she’d never been particularly active in that department until recently, she’d bypassed all those pages in the magazines.

Okay, let’s be honest, she always bypassed diet and exercise pages because she loved food — as evidenced by the generously slathered cream cheese on her bagel — and if that meant she was a bit soft in the belly and thighs, then so be it.

Besides, it wasn’t as if guys were pushing down her door to spend time with her — which was just fine with her.

Her art was all that mattered.

Speaking of…she took a generous bite of her bagel and went to her bag to find her sketchpad.

Immediate glee lifted her heart as she settled into a corner of the immense sofa with her soft-lead pencil and pad and started to draw.

It didn’t surprise her that the first thing that came to mind was Malvagio. True, it’d been horribly mortifying to realize she’d been surrounded by all sorts of sex in varying degrees of completion but the sensuality of the place had really been her undoing.

Her muse had been kicking to be let loose as her fingers itched to draw something wicked and carnal even as her mind had balked at the very idea.

She was a good girl! She didn’t sketch penises, for goodness sakes!

What would her mother say?

An unlikely smile found her lips. Her mom would’ve laughed.

Nadie Downing had been a bit of a free spirit in her youth, from what Elizabeth had gleaned from the stories.

In fact, if Nadie had had her way, Elizabeth would’ve been named Rayne but Elizabeth’s father had intervened, suggesting the more traditional name as a nod to his grandmother.

Well, you’re not exactly a Rayne, anyway, so it all worked out.

Rayne Downing? Ummm…yeah no.

Still, she couldn’t help but wonder if maybe she’d been more adventurous if she’d been given a name that was a little wild instead of the safe, traditional name that practically implied I NEVER BREAK ANY RULES. EVER.

Wouldn’t what she was doing right now say she was breaking rules? Surely.

Not many people she knew sold their virginity to mega-rich men for an ungodly sum.

Well, that’s not true. Prostitutes probably did that at some point. Had to break in that saddle at some point, might as well get some cash for it, Elizabeth countered to herself.

Before too long, Elizabeth realized a picture was emerging, something sinful and wild. As she stared, she realized she was both horrified and fascinated that it’d sprung from her fingers.

A major departure from her usual work.

It was…dangerous. Either a career killer or something that could launch her into the stars.

A bubble of nervous laughter popped from her lips. Wow. Delusions of grandeur, much?

She rose and hurriedly tucked the sketch away, her cheeks burning at the very idea of anyone setting eyes on something so deeply disturbing and realized with a start that the designer was about to show.

Anxiety fluttered in her belly at the thought of being measured and pinched, prodded and judged.