There’ll be about three days of glow, then everything I do will start to annoy him, leaving me on the wrong side of the richest and most powerful man I’ve ever known.
Then it’ll be my turn to be put out on the street like garbage.
“Whatever you’re thinking right now, could you stop?” he growls in my ear. “It doesn’t feel like it’s working in my favour.”
I turn my face into his chest before replying, “You were making fun of my career advancement, but my relationship abilities are in a far worse state than my employment skills.”
“Good.”
The gruff response makes me tilt my face to read him better, but it’s impossible from this angle. All I see is the dark ink of his neck tattoos fading into his thick facial hair. I tug lightly at his beard, and he grabs my hand, pressing a kiss into my palm that sends tingles racing at lightning speed around my body.
“How can that possibly be good?”
His eyes catch the light as he tilts his head to look down at me. “Because I’ve only had one serious partner, and it ended in failure. I don’t need someone coming along all skilled up in healthy relationships. Not when I enjoy having the upper hand.”
Despite the jocular tone, I take his words at face value. “Well, it’s your lucky day. I wouldn’t recognise a healthy relationship if it tied me up and stowed me in the boot of its car.”
Baxter wraps his arms around me. His soft exhalations warm my cheek. With one palm still happily resting against his chest, I feel like I’m cocooned in a large human blanket.
I could stay like this forever.
“Today is a trial run,” he murmurs when I’m on the verge of falling asleep. “But in the future, if you’re a brat more than once in a day, I’ll punish you for each instance. And your days without satisfaction will compound.”
My voice barely counts as a whisper. “Spoilsport.”
“And it’s time for bed.” He lightly taps the side of my arse, just hard enough to remind me it’s tender. “Do you need an escort?”
“If I say yes, does that mean you’ll take me or you’ll call in your paid thug?”
“Careful or you’ll hurt Yuri’s feelings.”
I unwind from his embrace, guessing that’s my answer. “Good night,” I whisper, kissing him on the cheek.
“Sleep tight.”
At the doorway, I turn to catch a last glance of him for the night. He has his phone in hand, frowning at the screen, but when he feels me looking Baxter raises his eyes to mine and his mouth relaxes into a sensuous smile.
His handprint on my arse cheek throbs as I retrace my steps to find my room.
CHAPTERSEVENTEEN
ISABELLE
I might have been close to sleeping when sitting on Baxter’s lap, but back in my bed it’s another story. Each time I close my eyes, something fires mysterious bolts of heat through my core until I open them again, staring with anger at the ceiling.
You know who he reminds you of… Do you want to start all that again?
I flip over, punching my pillow half a dozen times to make myself more comfortable and take my irritation out on something.
Yes, I know who he reminds me of. Even if my head’s been scrambled since Sophia’s rescue, there aren’t so many exes in my life that I can’t instantly link to the correct one.
The one who also liked to spank me.
And slap me. And punch me. The one who finally rigged the blade on my favourite pair of performance skates so he could rush in and be the hero as I healed.
Except I didn’t heal, and he wasn’t a hero.
Baxter isn’t like that. The painstakingly slow demonstration told me a lot more about him than his favourite method of correction. It taught me he would stay aware of me, even as he enforced his punishment. Gave me a graphic insight into his self-control and his understanding of the game he wants us to play.
