I rattle it off without thinking; the numbers spilling out of my mouth before my brain can catch up. There’s a long pause, and I can hear him breathing on the other end, can practically feel the tension radiating through the phone.
“Patterson—”
He hangs up.
I stand in my apartment with my phone pressed to my ear, listening to dead air while my entire body vibrates with anticipation. He didn’t say he was coming. He didn’t say when. He demanded my address and hung up like I wasn’t worth another second of conversation.
I should be furious.
Instead, I’m already walking toward my bedroom to change, pulse racing, skin flushed. Every nerve ending is lit up with the knowledge that Patterson Cross is on his way.
And if he wants me to beg?I will.
15
PATTERSON
She opens the door, wearing a silk robe that barely covers her thighs, and I push past her without a word. The door slams behind me, and I turn to face her, letting my eyes drag down her body slow enough to make her squirm.
“Patterson—”
“Don’t.”
I hold up a hand, and she freezes.
Her lips part, but nothing comes out.
I shove my hands in my pockets and lean against her kitchen counter, studying her apartment like I’ve got all the time in the world. Canvases are everywhere, along with paint-stained rags. An easel stands in the corner with a drop cloth covering something.
“I’m waiting,” I tell her.
“I am too,” she says, opening the silk robe and showing me her perfect, naked body.
I study the curve of her breasts, the outline of her muscles, down to her perfect pussy. She’s bare and beautiful.
“Beg,” I say.
Her eyes flash with defiance, and I watch her war with herself. Her ego fights against her physical need. I don’t move from my spot against the counter because I have all night to play this game. She wanted this arrangement; she proposed the terms, and now she’s going to follow my rules.
“Please,” she says.
I shake my head. “Pathetic.”
“Pretty please?” she offers.
“It’s almost like you don’t want this,” I tell her, sighing, then move toward the door.
Something shifts in her expression; the armor cracking enough for me to see the raw want underneath.
She takes a breath, and her voice comes out smaller when she speaks again, stripped of all that attitude she usually hides behind. “Please, Patterson. I need you to fuck me.”
“That almost sounded like you meant it,” I say.
Her hands curl into fists at her sides as she moves toward me and drops to her knees in front of me. The sight of her looking up at me from the floor, with lips parted and nipples hard, is something I’ll never forget.
“Mmm. Look what I have here. Kendall Hart on her knees for me.”
Her fingers find my belt and work it open, then the button of my jeans, then the zipper. She tugs everything down enough to free my cock, and I watch a smirk form when she sees I’m already leaking for her.
