Chapter Three #2
She was momentarily distracted from her thoughts when he herded her into the library’s roating glass doors, and it was when they had stepped into that strange in-between space—sealed between glass walls, and they were alone for just a moment where no one could hear—
That was when Paul leaned close, his lips deliberately brushing the shell of her ear as he whispered, “I know what you want to do to me.”
W-What—w-why was he making it sound so sordid like that?
“And I give you my word: once we’re inside my car, you can do whatever you want to me.”
Argh!
The words—the sheer insanity and unnerving accuracy of his words—had Andie tripping over her own feet as they emerged from the doors.
Oh, if only she could just run away from him.
If only!
But standing in front of her was yet another obstacle—
“Evening, Ms. Jackson!”
Butch stood beside a sleek black limousine,looking every bit the proud employee in his crisp driver’s uniform as he grinned at her.
All she could do was smile weakly as he opened the door to the backseat.
“Told you we’d see each other again,” he said.
“You did indeed, Butch.”
It was the only thing she could manage. And all she could do was grit her teeth as she slid inside the limo—and Paul followed her in.
“Take us home, Butch.”
“Yours, sir?”
“Yes.”
“Understood, Mr. Mitropoulos.”
The privacy window slid up behind Butch as the limo pulled away from the curb. And when Paul finally turned his full attention to her—
“Don’t think you’ve won this round!”
The words flew out of her mouth before she could stop them, her logic overpowered by her—well—annoyance.
Unfortunately, it only had the billionaire looking at her with a painfully bored expression.
“Don’t start.”
“Don’t start what?”
“Lying to yourself.” He stretched one arm along the back of the seat. Not touching her. But close enough that she could feel the heat radiating from him. “I would rather you stay as you are. Exquisitely. Uniquely. And foolishly honest.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment.”
“That’s your prerogative, koukla mou. But know that it wasn’t entirely meant to be one.”
She should be getting more and more annoyed. But instead, he had her scrambling hard to keep her face expressionless—
This was so, so bad.
Because his smile had changed. It was no longer jaded. No longer mocking. Instead, it was frighteningly genuine. And she hated it—
“You looked it up, did you not?”
—because it meant he had guessed right.
“And you like it.” His voice dropped. Softened. Became something almost tender, and somehow that was worse. “That I call you my doll.’”
Andie lifted her chin.
He raised a brow.
Moments passed.
The limo hummed beneath them. The city slid by beyond the tinted windows. And then—
He laughed.
And unfortunately, this also sounded terribly genuine.
“So this is how you are.” He was studying her now, gray eyes intent, like she was a puzzle he couldn’t quite solve. “When you don’t want to lie, but you don’t want to admit the truth either.”
Andie shrugged.
Less said, less mistakes. It was one of the earliest lessons she’d learned, growing up on the wrong side of—
“How about this, then?”
His arm moved, and that was it.
Ah!
One moment she was pressed against the far door, keeping as much distance between them as the limo allowed. The next, his hands were at her waist, and he was lifting her like she weighed nothing—
And then she was in his lap.
His lap!
Her thighs straddling his, her hands braced against his chest, and her heart pounding so hard she could feel it in her throat.
“I—you—”
“You were saying?” His hands remained at her waist. Steady. Patient. Like he had all the time in the world to wait for her to catch up.
But she could feel him beneath her.
Harder than anyone should be, and pulsing so powerfully against her that it became a rhythm that threatened to hypnotize her senses.
“This is—” Andie tried to find the words. Tried to find the outrage she should be feeling. “This is completely—”
“Inappropriate?” One corner of his mouth curved. “Shocking? Unacceptable?”
“Yes!”
“Then push me away.”
Her fingers curled into the fabric of his suit jacket, but that was it.
“That’s what I thought,” he murmured.
Argh!
She wanted to try again.
Truly.
But it was already too late.
Because he was kissing her yet again, but this time...
Oh, this time...
It was nothing at all like that kiss in the library.
This kiss...
This kiss was meant to turn her into his property, with his mouth slanting over hers as his hand slid up to cup the back of her head, tilting her exactly where he wanted her.
His tongue swept past her lips, and she heard herself make a sound—a small, desperate thing that would have embarrassed her if she’d had any brain cells left to feel embarrassment.
But she didn’t.
All she had was him.
The taste of him—dark and rich and faintly bitter, like espresso. The feel of him—solid and unyielding beneath her. The scent of him—something expensive and masculine that made her want to bury her face in his neck and breathe.
Her hips moved without her permission. A tiny shift. A restless seeking.
His grip on her waist tightened.
A groan rumbled through his chest, and she felt it vibrate against her palms.
And then he pulled back.
Andie blinked at him, dazed. Her lips felt swollen. Her body felt like it was on fire. And he was just...looking at her.
Those gray eyes, storm-dark now, searching her face.
She didn’t know what expression she was wearing.
She only knew that she didn’t want him to stop.
She only knew that something was happening inside her body—something strange and frightening and wonderful—and she didn’t understand it, but she wanted more of it.
She was staring at him like—
Like she wanted more.
Something in his expression cracked.
“Fuck.”
His voice was pained.
And then his mouth was on hers again.
Hungrier this time. More desperate. Like something had snapped inside him and he couldn’t hold it back anymore.
His hand slid down her side.
Down her hip.
Until his fingers found the button of her jeans.
She gasped against his mouth. She knew she should tell him to stop. But she couldn’t.
The button came undone with a soft pop.
“Tell me you don’t want this.”
She didn’t. Truly! But the words refused to leave her throat, and all she could do was shudder when his fingers slipped beneath the waistband of her jeans, beneath the cotton of her underwear, and found her.
Paul...
Paul had his hand between her thighs, and oh.
Oh goodness.
His finger slid through her folds, and she jerked like she’d been electrocuted. The sensation was—she didn’t have words for it. Overwhelming. Terrifying. Exquisite.
“You’re wet.” His voice had gone rough. Strained. Almost reverent. “Koukla mou, you’re soaked.”
Her face flamed. She didn’t even know that could happen. Didn’t know her body could produce that kind of—that it meant she—
“Don’t be embarrassed.” His free hand cupped her face, forcing her to meet his eyes. And what she saw there made her breath catch. He looked almost...undone. “This is...you have no idea what this does to me.”
His finger moved again, sliding through the wetness, and her hips bucked.
“Easy.” The word was soft. Almost gentle. So at odds with the man she thought he was. “Let me show you.”
Show her what?
But then his finger found something—a spot she didn’t even know existed—and she stopped thinking entirely.
A sound escaped her. High and broken and nothing like any noise she’d ever made before.
“There.” Satisfaction darkened his voice. “Right there.”
He circled that spot. Slow. Deliberate. And her entire body lit up like a Christmas tree, nerves firing that she didn’t know she had, pleasure blooming in places she’d never felt anything before.
Her hands fisted in his jacket.
Her eyes squeezed shut.
“No.” His hand left her face to grip her chin. “Open your eyes. Look at me.”
She couldn’t.
It was too much.
He was too much.
“Andromeda.”
It was his first time to say her name, and oh, the sound of it—
She opened her eyes, her senses still reeling, and as soon as their gazes clashed, it felt as if she was about to drown.
“I want to see you when I make you fall apart.”
She didn’t have time to think, didn’t have a chance to process what he meant.
The moment his finger pressed harder, all she could do was feel.
All she could do was moan as his finger circled faster, and something started building inside her. Something strange and tight and almost frightening in its intensity.
“That’s it.” His voice was hypnotic. Dark velvet wrapping around her senses. “You feel that? That pressure building?”
She nodded frantically, not trusting herself to speak.
“Chase it.” His other hand moved to her hip, gripping hard. “Move against my hand. Take what you need.”
She didn’t know how.
She’d never—
“Ride my hand, koukla mou.” The words were raw. Almost desperate. “Like this.”
His grip on her hip tightened, and he moved her. Rocked her forward against his palm. Showed her the rhythm her body was craving.
And oh—
Oh!
Her body caught on immediately. Instinct older than thought took over, and she was grinding against him, chasing that maddening pressure, her hips rolling in a rhythm she didn’t know she knew.
“Good girl.”
The praise shot through her like lightning, her body buckling, and she dimly heard him groan—a low, broken sound—just as he started to strain against his trousers.
She raised her head, and oh, the look on his handsome face...
Was she truly the one responsible for that look?
Was she truly the reason why he looked so close to losing his control?
“Paul—” It was her turn to whimper his name out, and the sound of it had his fingers moving faster. “P-Paul. I don’t—I can’t—”
“You can.” His forehead pressed against hers, his breath hot on her lips. “Let go, koukla mou. I’ve got you. Just let go.”
A broken cry escaped her.
And then...
Aaaaah.
Her whole world...exploded.
There was no other word for it.
One moment she was chasing something she couldn’t name, and the next she was shattering, her body arching against his, a cry tearing from her throat that she couldn’t have stopped if she’d tried.
Wave after wave crashed through her.
Pleasure so intense it bordered on pain.
Her fingers dug into his shoulders hard enough to bruise. Her thighs clamped around his hand like she was trying to keep him there forever. Her entire body pulsed and throbbed and sang with something she had never known existed.
So this was what it felt like.
So this was what she’d been missing.
So this was why people ruined their lives for it.
Through it all, his hand kept moving. Slower now. Gentler. Drawing out every last tremor, every last aftershock, until she was wrung dry and trembling in his arms.
And then she collapsed.
Just...folded against his chest like a puppet whose strings had been cut.
Her cheek pressed to the expensive wool of his suit. Her breath came in ragged, broken gasps. Her heart hammered so hard she was sure he could feel it against his chest.
Her body was heavy.
So heavy.
Like every bone had turned to honey.
Her brain was fuzzy.
Wrapped in cotton.
Unable to form a single coherent thought beyond...his name.
Paul. Paul. Paul.
She didn’t know how long she stayed there, boneless and floating, listening to the steady thump of his heart beneath her ear. His hand had stilled between her thighs but hadn’t moved away, and she was too dazed to feel embarrassed about that.
Too dazed to feel anything except...
Grateful?
Terrified?
Ruined?
And then his hand was at her chin.
Tipping her face up.
Forcing her to look at him.
She blinked at him through the haze, still trying to remember how to breathe.
And the expression on his face—
It stole what was left of her breath.
He was looking at her like he wanted to kill her.
Or worship her.
Like she had ruined something inside him, and he hadn’t decided yet whether to thank her or destroy her for it.
“Whatever Joyce promised you.”
His voice was rough.
Stripped raw in a way she’d never heard from him.
Like she wasn’t the only one who had been undone.
“I’ll pay ten times more.”
She stared at him, uncomprehending. Her brain was still floating somewhere outside her body, and the words didn’t make sense.
“But in return—”
His thumb brushed her lower lip.
Still swollen from his kisses.
Still trembling.
Through the window, she could see iron gates beginning to open. A mansion beyond them, sprawling and magnificent, nothing like any home she’d ever known.
The gates parted, and the limo rolled forward.
“For as long as she’s away—”
He was bringing her to his home.
“I want you to be with me like you’re in love with me.”