Serving the Billionaire(35)

“Yes. They’ll be arriving shortly.” He leaned forward and looked at me intently. “Will you serve drinks for me tonight?”

I opened my mouth to tell him no, to tell him that I was going to keep my distance, that we shouldn’t spend more time together; but when I spoke, I heard myself saying, “I will.”

My own body had betrayed me. There was no going back.

I squeezed my hands together, bone digging into bone.

It was inevitable, really. I’d been kidding myself, pretending that I would be able to distance myself from Carter. I hadn’t dressed up tonight to protect myself; I’d done it so that he would look at me the way he was looking at me now, lids heavy, mouth curled to one side. I wanted him to approve of me.

He cocked his head to one side. “I wish I could tell what you’re thinking,” he said. “You watch everything, and you say so little. What are you thinking about, behind those dark eyes?”

Did he really think I never talked? He sounded like he didn’t think I had a personality. Most of our interactions had happened at the club, where I wasn’t supposed to be talkative. Annoyed, I said, “I’m an introvert. Is that okay with you?”

“Is that what it is? I thought you were just shy,” he said. “Go close the door.”

I obeyed without thinking, my heart beating faster just from thinking about why he might want privacy. The door was heavy, and made a solid, satisfying noise as I shut it and turned the bolt.

“No, don’t lock it,” he said.

I hesitated. “But—someone could come in.”

“That’s the idea,” he said.

I exhaled and unlocked the door. The thought of someone walking in on us was more arousing than it should have been. Public sex had never appealed to me, but Carter was bringing out my inner exhibitionist.

More accurately, he was bringing out my inner everything.

“Good,” he said, as the bolt audibly retracted into the door. “Now come here.”

I walked back over to him, swaying my hips deliberately as I placed my feet one in front of the other. The way he was looking at me made my mouth go dry. I stopped in front of him, between his spread legs, and planted my hands on my hips.

“That’s good,” he said. “Stay just like that and don’t move.”

I nodded, feeling heat gather between my legs. It still amazed me that Carter had this effect on me—that he could reduce to me gibbering arousal with a few commands and a meaningful look. He could overcome all of my reservations, make me break my own promises to myself, keep me waiting on his every word. No man should have that sort of power, but Carter did, and I was beholden to him.

He leaned forward in his seat and took the hem of my dress in both hands. Slowly, he dragged it up my thighs, up to my hips, and around my waist, his fingers skimming teasingly along my thighs as he went. I breathed through my mouth, shallowly, trying to keep my pulse even. I was glad I was wearing tights. Even with their protection, I still felt stripped to the bone.

And Carter wasn’t finished. With my dress out of the way, he tugged at the elastic waist of my tights, drawing it away from my body, and carefully shimmied my tights down around my knees, hobbling me. Underneath, I was wearing my usual silky underpants. Carter pressed his face against them, against my mound, and inhaled.

I moaned aloud, unable to help myself. God, he was smelling me, and I was sure he could; my panties were wet, and his face was right there, nose tucked up against my clit. I slid my hands into his hair, scratching at his scalp, and curled my fingers around the slope of his skull.

“You smell incredible,” he said, each word a warm gust of breath. “And your little bikini briefs—Christ, it makes you seem so innocent. But of course I know that you’re not.”

But I had been innocent, not so long ago. Not innocent in general, of course; I’d known for years that life was solitary, poor, and brutish, but until very recently I had been completely innocent about men, and about the sorts of things that Carter had taught me: the way my body responded to his, the molten desires churning deep within me, waiting to be unearthed.

I would never admit it to him, though.

Instead of replying, I tilted my hips toward him, a clear invitation. I wanted him to touch me, and I knew he would tease me all evening if I gave him the chance. I was too shy around him, still, to ask him for what I wanted, so I would let my body do the asking instead.#p#分页标题#e#

It didn’t have the desired effect. Instead of pulling down my panties and putting his mouth on me, he drew back and smirked at me. “We don’t have time for that tonight,” he said. “You’ll have to settle for second best.”