The Bad Boy Wants Me(83)

She walks towards the chair on the left, slips into it and puts her knees firmly together. Her eyes are beautiful blue stars, the pupils, dark pits of nothing.

Would you like a drink?’ I offer politely.

‘Thank you, no,’ she refuses, then she thinks better of it. ‘Actually, yes, I will have one.’

‘What can I get you?’

Her gaze flickers over me. ‘Um … cognac if you have it.’ And after a slight pause. ‘Make it a double.’

I walk to the bar and feel her eyes burning into my back as I automatically pull glasses from the cabinet. My mind is churning. I grab the cognac bottle and uncap it. One thing is for sure: She didn’t happen to be in the neighborhood.

I tilt the bottle and pour out a generous measure.

I try to think why she is here and I cannot imagine any reason she could possibly have for coming to my office at this time of the night. I wipe the frown from my forehead and turn around. Casually, I walk up to her and hold out the drink.

She lets her fingers brush mine as she takes it. Of course, they are as befits the pampered daughter of a dangerous man, silky soft.

‘Aren’t you having one?’ she asks, one eyebrow arched.

‘No.’ My voice sounds thick and strange.

‘Oh,’ she exclaims, gazing up at me.

It’s like looking down at an angel or an apparition. It has a hypnotizing almost paralyzing effect on me, probably because I’ve never been this close to her before. I struggle with the crazy urge to grab her and devour her sulky mouth.

Jesus! I need to put something between us. I walk around my desk and sit down. Silently, I watch her drain the glass. The way her white throat moves as she swallows, the movement so erotic my cock stirs. She clasps the empty glass loosely in her lap and looks at it. The silence stretches between us.

Odd. Tight. Strained.

But I hold my tongue. Let her break it.

Finally, she looks up. ‘I’m … getting … married in six months,’ she says quietly.

I already knew that little fact, Tasha. You’re marrying the good-for-nothing son of a psychopathic billionaire. I

t’s a marriage brokered in hell by her fat fuck father, a thoroughly ugly and detestable man. If he knew she was here it wouldn’t be a pretty sight. Blood on the floor would be the least of it.

I say nothing and she fixes me with those unnerving eyes of hers.

‘Well, anyway, I thought that before I settle down I’d like to try life a little.’

‘Oh yeah?’ I can’t fucking believe she’s going where I think she’s going.

‘Yeah. I want you to have sex with me tonight,’ she says very quickly into the tense air.

My entire body reacts to her words. My heart hammers in my chest and blood races so fast into my cock it hurts, but years of training keeps my face poker straight. Until today she has never even so much as looked in my direction and now she wants me to fuck her. Something’s not right. I steeple my hands on the table.

‘You might need to explain yourself a little bit more.’

She gives a one-shoulder shrug, a careless, elegant, infuriating movement. ‘What’s to explain? I want us to … fuck.’ The princess had to struggle to get that last word out.

‘Why?’

‘Because … because I want to be … taken by someone like you.’

Like me. Now, I get it. The spoilt, bored rich girl is going to become the spoilt bored wife of a spineless fool, but before she submits to that endless boredom she wants to experience something dirty, with someone from the wrong end of town.

The princess wants to be a slut for one night. And the person she has chosen is me. I lean back in my chair and let my eyes roll all over her. Well, well, well. All that untouchable beauty just laid out for me to spoil and dishonor.

‘What makes you think I want one night with you?’

Her smooth brow crinkles. ‘Don’t all men want a no strings, dirty night with a perfect stranger?’

I stare at her. This is what happens when you shelter your daughter to death.

She mistakes my silence for reluctance. As if any man in his right man would refuse her. Swallowing hard she straightens her spine as steely determination sparkles in her eyes. She has, after all, come from her father’s loins.

‘There will be no consequences to you. No one will ever know. After tonight we will probably never meet again, and even if we do it will be as if this night never happened.’

‘Where does your father think you are now?’

She licks those lips that I want to bite. ‘In my bed. Asleep.’

As if my lustful thought has transferred to her, her white teeth sink into her bottom lip. I inhale sharply. Pure lust is a powerful, bewitching thing. I have always detested weak people whose only excuse for doing things they shouldn’t is: