I cleared my throat. "Sir?"
Constantijin turned around. This time, I got a really good look at him, and it made me let out a small gasp. He looked – less than perfect. Still beautiful but – now he was beautiful in an imperfect way when he was never that before.
His hair looked like he had been running his hand through it all over (because of me?), his eyes had noticeably darker circles under them (because of me?), and his slightly unshaven face bore a faint red mark on his left cheek (totally because of me).
His eyes narrowed. "Stop it with the sirs."
Keep it cool, keep it cool, I reminded myself, biting my lip to prevent myself from saying anything I shouldn't. I had a very bad urge to throw myself at him and bawl like a baby. I missed him. Oh dear Lord, how I had missed him!
"I don't think that's a good idea, sir." Yes, I was provoking him. No, I had no idea why I was doing it.
Exasperation lined his face. "Yanna."
"Mr. Kastein," I said, imitating his tone perfectly.
We stared at each other.
My lips were the first to tremble, and then we were smiling, the bad parting we had weeks ago momentarily fading from the present.
"You are very stubborn," he said, shaking his head, his accent adorably thick.
And you are very addictive. The thought had me biting my lip.
His eyes darkened.
Uh-oh. Hurriedly releasing my lip, I asked, "W-what did you want to talk about with me?"
"Us."
I whitened. "I thought we were going to talk about work."
Just as tightly, he answered, "No. We're not."
"Then I'm through with this conversation." I turned back towards the door even though I wasn't sure if I was even making the right decision.
"Yanna, if you try to leave before---"
Unable to help it, I stole a glance at his face over my shoulders. Oh, shit. The feral look on his face had me panicking even though I wasn't exactly sure why. Self-preservation? Instinctive coyness? Everything in between?
It didn't matter in the end, not when Constantijin's furious strides had him catching up with me in seconds.
I let out a shriek when he suddenly lifted me up with just one arm curled around my waist. Feet dangling at least three feet in the air, I began beating his chest, struggling to have him put me down. "Constantijin, stop this!"
But he didn't answer, walking steadily towards the couch on one side of the room. Its leather covering was – you guessed it – black, sprinkled with white throw pillows, and bordered by glass tables where framed photos of an older couple were on display.
Constantijin threw me on the couch.
I immediately reared up like a resurrected zombie. My mind told me to hurry and escape, but my body told me to slow down, sensing how near its favorite addiction was. As for my heart – it was my most useless organ ever. All it could do was confuse me.
Constantijin's weight pressed down on me, and my legs automatically spread open as if welcoming him back. Shit. What was happening to my body?
"Get off me," I hissed even as my heartbeat continued racing, practically gunning for an Olympic record now that Constantijin's cock pulsed heavily against my aching core.
I tried pushing him away, bracing my hands against his chest, but it was a weak effort and we both knew it.
He stared down at me, unsmiling, his eyes intense.
"Yanna," he growled.
There was something in it that made me stop beating his chest with feathery-soft punches. God, I felt so weak even a newborn baby could knock me out with the kind of resistance I was putting up.
"You win." And that was all he said before his lips took mine for a breathtaking, toe-curling, and sanity-crushing kiss.
Oh, I could have wept for that kiss.
Wait, I already was.
Tears fell from my closed eyes even as I kissed him back hungrily, my arms going around him.
"Don't cry, schat," he groaned, kissing my tears away.
The tears fell harder.
He licked them away. "Please, sweetheart, you're tearing me apart."
Burying my face in his neck, I sniffed, "I don't understand what's going on now."
Constantijin suddenly flipped us, and I found myself lying on his chest in an instant. When I lifted my head to look at him in askance, he gave me a smile, albeit a grim one as he repeated, "You win, Yanna."
I frowned. "I win---what?"
He took a lock of my hair, curling it around one finger, caressing its tips as if he was fascinated by its texture. Then he let it go and, caressing my cheek with his knuckles, he stared into my eyes and said, "I will court you."
I stopped breathing.
The drawn look on his face told me he considered his words a huge concession on his part, and maybe – maybe it was. I had no idea what made him change his mind, but right now that wasn't important. What mattered was that he had said yes.
"Did you hear what I said?" Constantijin actually shook me, impatient and looking more than a little uncertain about my reaction when I just kept staring at him blankly.
Clearing my throat, I summoned a smile, which rested shakily on my lips. "I'm just … overwhelmed."
He smiled back, but it still didn't reach his eyes. He cupped my face suddenly, pulling me down for a short hard kiss that got me breathing again – no, hyperventilating. When he released me, he said, "I will court you but there are conditions."
Lesson #3
If your billionaire lets you have the last word,
it is because he will have the last laugh.
"Uh … "
Constantijin Kastein had agreed to court me.
My mind repeated the words over and over. He seemed to have said something else after that, something about confusion or whatever, which I totally understood. This was utterly confusing for me, too.
Constantijin Kastein had agreed to court me.
Oh, the mind boggled. It was like some girl – a total nobody like me – had asked Ryan Gosling to court her (the nerve!) and he had agreed (the bitch!).
"Yanna?"
I looked up at him blankly.
Constantijin Kastein had agreed to court me.
He frowned.
Okay, that was not a look a man intent on courting me should have. Shaking my confusion away, I said, "W-what is it?"
"Did you hear what I said?"
"That you're confused?"
Exasperation making his accent even thicker, he growled, "No. I said I had conditions."
Oh.
It was my turn to frown, and I did so, severely. "What do you mean ;conditions'?" He was the one courting me and yet – he was setting conditions, too? Did Dutch people have a different understanding of the word ;courting'?
"No one should know I'm---" He paused then said, reluctantly and distastefully, "---that I'm courting you."
My stomach twisted at his words. "Are you ashamed of me?"
His eyes widened and then he was kissing me again, his tongue boldly sweeping inside my mouth as his hands swept my back, trailing down to cup my buttocks and pushing it down on his cock.
"Sweetheart," he murmured, letting go momentarily of my lips but nothing else, "you anger me, confuse the hell out of me, but one thing I will never feel is ashamed of you."
He shifted under me, and I swallowed back a whimper because his movement had his erection rubbing against my already-sensitive clit.
Constantijin pulled my head back to his chest. I couldn't help wriggling closer, especially when he said, with a smile in his voice, "In fact you are the only woman who is not blood-related that I am proud of."
"Really?" I whispered.
"You love your work, I can see it every time I hear you make a presentation and talk to people about it."
His praise made me want to cry. Blinking tears away because I knew he wouldn't like it, I choked out, "Thanks."
Constantijin tipped my chin up. "So, no, I am not setting conditions because I am ashamed of you." His voice gentled. "You will not think like that again, yes?"
Oh, these Europeans and their confusing sentence-enders. Smiling tremulously up at him, I said, "Yes."
He pushed my head back down again. "Now, the conditions."
I couldn't help but tense.
"We will not tell anyone about it – not until it is the right time. Right now, you are unsure of me so there is no point for anyone to know. Office romances are discouraged – are forbidden but even so I know they exist. However, I do not want to rock the boat unless I have a good reason to."
"A good reason?" I echoed, a little confused about what that could be.
He didn't answer.
Lifting my head up again, I gazed into his eyes, asking worriedly, "Constantijin?"
A grin – the secretive and wicked grin that I so loved – touched his lips as he said, "Like when you agree that I can fuck you anytime, anywhere, any way."