The Billion Dollar Bachelor(41)

Their limo was already waiting at the curb, and Jax pulled the door open for her so she could get in.

The door closed behind her with a heavy sound.

You’re mine.

Pandora’s throat tightened. She didn’t know how to process that. She didn’t even know what he meant.

No other men. Not now. Not ever …

She took a deep, silent breath, trying to force air down into her lungs.

His arm snaked around her waist, drawing her over the seat, up against him. He nuzzled against her neck, his breath warm on her skin. “That was … amazing. You’re amazing.”

Yes, it had been. She hadn’t cared about where they were. That they were in public. She’d only wanted to close the distance between them. Release his intensity, his passion. To show him that there was freedom in letting go. And he’d given it to her. Given her everything.

You’re mine.

“Hey, what’s wrong?”

She realized she’d gone stiff in his arms, her whole body tight with a fight-or-flight reflex. Strange. “Nothing,” she said. “Just … tired.”

Well, that’s a straight-out lie.

Yeah, it was but then, she had no idea what to say. Her feelings seemed to be tangling themselves up in a massive knot that she couldn’t unravel, couldn’t even begin to make sense of.

“Not too tired, I hope. I was promised scarves.” He pushed her hair over her shoulder, his mouth brushing her neck and she shivered helplessly in response.

Well, that at least was easy enough to figure out. Desire always was.

The ride back to the penthouse was a quiet one but he didn’t seem to expect her to talk, which was great. Instead he touched her, kissed her, stroked her. All the little touches he’d made in public, now in private. It was like what had happened back in the restaurant had released him from whatever had been holding him back. His rigid self-control had fallen utterly by the wayside.

She should have loved that she’d somehow broken through to him. But instead she felt … afraid almost. Which was strange because she’d never been afraid of him before. Even the night she’d first met him in the bar, she hadn’t felt like this.

As they walked through the front door of his penthouse, Jax backed her against the wall in the hallway, pinning her there with his body. Kissing her hungrily. He put her hands up on the wall on either side of her head and covered them with his own, palms together, fingers intertwined with hers as he kissed her.

She could feel her body responding, aching for him, but fear sat in her gut in a small, cold lump and not even the heat of sexual desire seemed to melt it away.

“Now,” Jax breathed against her throat. “I recall something about red scarves … “

The ones she’d brought at a store today. Expensive red silk. And she’d had visions of him using them on her since they hadn’t done that yet. Of her using them on him, too. The fantasy had been thrilling and she’d been looking forward to it but now …

No other men. Not now. Not ever. You’re mine.

The feeling of suffocation was back. She pulled her hands down, pushing against his chest, needing space, needing air. “Let me go,” she said thickly. “Please, Jax.”

“What?”

“Move.” He wasn’t fast enough so she shoved at him. Hard. “I can’t … I can’t breathe.”

He stumbled back, his eyes dark in the dim light of the apartment. “What’s wrong?”

“I just … I need some air.” She turned and walked quickly into the lounge area, trying to calm her racing heart. Trying to breathe and just calm the fuck down because she had no idea what was wrong with her.

Yes, you do. You’re his. He wants to own you. Tie you down. Trap you.

She tossed her purse down on the couch, her heart still beating fast and hard, adrenaline firing through her. Then she turned round.

“What’s going on, Pandora?” He was walking slowly toward her, a fierce light in his eyes. With his tie askew and her lipstick on his mouth, a smear of it in one corner, he bore absolutely no resemblance to Jax Morrow, CEO. Cool and calm and detached. This was another man. The man she knew when the walls came down and he gave in to the passion that burned inside him. The Huntsman.

She held up a hand, palm out. “Don’t. Just … stop. Please.”

He halted, a frustrated expression crossing his face. “Are you going to tell me what the problem is or do you want me to guess?”

How strange their roles were now reversed. At the beginning of the evening, she’d been the one demanding answers.

And now you’re afraid to give them.

No, she wasn’t. Of course she wasn’t. “Why did you say that?”