“Letting you see me,” she whispers.
A low grumble moves up my chest. I slide a hand under her hair and palm the back of her neck, telling myself to stop even as my grip pulls her to me. Running my nose along the curve below her ear, I breathe her in. Her naked body goes limp in my arms, but I see the racing pulse in her delicate neck, feel her fingers curl into my hair.
Finally, I taste myself on her, and a slow tremor quakes us both.
A taste turns into a nibble, then a bite. Then I’m sucking on her skin, and her hair is tangled in my fist. My chest hammers, need ripping through me. She claws my neck and mewls when I move off the bed, standing with her naked body coiled around me.
I lift her high enough to pull her nipple between my teeth, my heartbeat drowning out her moans. With one hand still in her hair, I dip the other between us and stroke her wet clit. She jerks and tugs my pants down slightly, rubbing her hot pussy against my cock, and my lungs constrict. I stiffen, a surge of adrenaline seizing my muscles as I faintly recognize that I’m spiraling. She squirms and tugs at my sweats again, then pulls my ear in her mouth and sucks.
My blood pumps so hard it’s blinding, specks of black appearing and dissipating.
Fucking shit.
I throw her on the bed and whirl around, fixing my sweats. Running both hands through my hair, I squeeze and pull at the strands as I pace across room.
What the fuck am I doing?
Bracing one palm on the wall, I drop my head and close my eyes, forcing the blistering heat inside me to die down so I can breatheoxygenagain and regain a little fucking control.
I haven’t lost it in six years, and even then it wasn’t like this—spiraling before I even got my damn release.
The bed creaks, and my back stiffens. “Don’t.”
She waits in silence for a long moment while I steady my breaths, my pulse. My cock doesn’t seem to get the message, no thanks to Emmy’s scent still clouding the air, her touch lingering on my skin. When I speak next, my fingers dig into the wall as though it could restrain me from pouncing on her again.
“What do you need?” I bite out.
“Wh-what do I need?” Her voice is out of breath and confused, and it only frustrates me more.
“What’s it going to take to get you to follow some goddamn instructions?”
“What?” She sounds stunned at first. But when she opens her mouth again, fire coats her words. “What’s it going to take? I wantyou. I—”
“More money? A different master? A plane ticket home?” I pummel straight through her answer as if she wasn’t speaking, because the one thing she named isn’t a fucking option. “Name your price, mouse.”
The bed creaks again, and this time I hear material shifting before she’s approaching from behind. She pauses. I can picture her body tightening in anger without having to look at her.
Pushing off the wall, I turn to face her.
She’s put her slip back on, her hair a mess and her skin still flushed. Her eyes are fuming, but her chin is held high.
Because deep down, she’s not a damn mouse.
“If that’s the way we’re doing this,” she finally says, “fine. I want different duties. No more being stuck in the kitchen or other housekeeping jobs. I want to do something of value. And without a babysitter glued to my hip.”
My gaze narrows, suspicion spiking inside me. “Something of value.”
She nods. “Things that actually matter for your businesses. Like what Stella and Aubrey do.”
Taking a slow step toward her, I mutter, “And what do you know about my businesses?”
She pulls her shoulders back. “The kitchen wasn’t exactly eye-opening.”
My lips twitch despite the irritation still coiled around me. “No, I don’t suppose it was. And you realize what you’re asking?”
Her eyes flicker with uncertainty, but she wipes it clear. “Yes.”
I rub my chin, genuinely considering her terms.
