“To the second part of your interview.” He cocks his head at me as my eyebrows pull down into a deep frown. “You didn’t think you’d get through this without getting naked and showing us what you got, did you?”
I swallow thickly, and my stomach does a flip-flop behind my ribs.
He makes a shooing motion at the same time I hear Nix’s footfalls echo on the stairs. “Go, or you’ll be shown out.”
I can do this, I say in my head. I slowly swivel and take the first step to follow Nix. It’s just sex. I knew this would happen eventually, but I sure as shit wasn’t prepared for it to happen tonight.
I take another step, and in this moment, I’m entirely grateful that my glasses don’t have a camera.
Chapter Seven
Feenix Blaylock
Istand next to the bedroom we’ll be using, leaning my shoulder against the doorframe as I wait for Charlie to climb the stairs in the heels she’s definitely not used to wearing. I noticed that when she walked into the kitchen; her ankles wobbled ever-so-slightly. It was then and there, before I even looked at her body, her strikingly familiar face, that I knew she didn’t belong here.
Charlie. The name sounds as if she’s just the girl next door. The good girl. The obedient girl. She has no place in my world, and though I tried to get her to change her mind, she refused to walk back out that door.
If Andre hadn’t been there, I would have shown her out myself, but he looked at her like she was a fucking snack. Either before or after she was dead, the things he would do to her or would have done to her made me want to beat the shit out of him because, even though I don’t know Charlie, she’s like a kitten needing protection fromthe nocturnal predators. For some odd reason, I stepped in to be just that protector even though I’m a predator myself.
Her heel lands on the top step, and my attention shoots to it. Slowly, my gaze roams up her slender ankle, her thick thighs that disappear under a form-fitting tight dress. Perfect hourglass hips. Shaped but plump waist. The kind of tits that any guy could bury his face between and happily suffocate. Her hair curls around those breasts, and I have the deepest urge to grab ahold of one of those strands and bring it to my nose.
I smelled her when I leaned in close at the table. She wasn’t wearing perfume like most women do when they come here. She smelled exactly like my aunt’s home: cloves from the clover patch in her backyard we’d play in. Maybe that’s what kickstarted the protective instincts I try to bury so deep. Old habits die hard, and having her scent around could be a habit I can’t afford.
Still, I raise my gaze to her face, features that are so familiar that I cannot quite place it. Her eyebrows are perfectly arched to shape her oval face. They hover above soft, dark blue eyes and lashes that are long but surprisingly not fake. Her jaw isn’t strong, but it’s not weak either. It’s somewhere in between, and it slopes to a neck I want to bite. I know without a doubt that she’d moan, that there’s a sensitive place somewhere along that olive skin that I could coax to make that beautiful sound.
Her lips part when I lock eyes with hers, and she stops a few feet away from the stairs, both heels resting on the floor and her arms loosely wrapped around her middle.
She’s nervous. Good. She should be. Maybe after tonight, she’ll rethink her decision and walk away from this. From me. Because, even though I saved her from Andre, she’s no better with me, and someone like her…
Andre wasn’t lying when he said that there’s a marketfor women of her shape. She’s got the looks. She’s got the innocence. I’d bet my last dollar that she’d come in high demand, and for some odd reason, that doesn’t settle well with me. The men in my side of the business will want to partner up with her once she takes off her clothes, and I fight back a snarl at the very thought.
But I can’t keep her to myself. I don’t participate in the porn, not since I rose. Now, instead of doing the fucking, I approve the fucking from behind my desk in my home.
The sounds of the sex happening in the room next to this one draw her attention toward that shut door. They’ll be at it for a while, but I’m more interested in reading her face than listening to tomorrow’s money.
I give her credit. Her eyes don’t widen any more than they already are, but her lips part, and I can’t tell if it’s from fear or if she’s turned on. Maybe it’s both.
“Do you want to back out now?” I ask after filling my greedy mind with watching her nipples harden. She’s definitely turned on.
She drops her arms back to her sides as if realizing she appeared vulnerable. “Not a chance.”
I raise an eyebrow to her, push off my resting position against the wall, and turn the handle. The door swings open with a gentle shove, and I wait for her to cross the threshold into the dark room lit only by purple neon lights that wrap around the edges of the ceiling.
She shuffles up to the door and observes what’s within. It’s just a bed under the purple hues of the lights. It’s set up like a true bedroom: soft white comforter, modern nightstands, and a dresser with absolutely no clothes in it. The only thing that doesn’t belong is the camera waiting to record on a tripod at the end of the bed.
“Does anyone live here?” she asks softly.
“No,” I answer gruffly, watching as goosebumps rise over her arms and across her shoulders.
I hover behind her, letting my heat warm her skin, and wordlessly urge her inside. Even though I don’t want her here, I want her here. I want to see what she looks like under that skimpy dress, what color her nipples are, if her pussy glistens. I want to see if her olive skin is throughout her body or if it’s still lingering from summer fun under a hot sun.
Her scent stuffs its way up my nose, and I inhale deeply before blowing it out across her skin with a rumble of contentment.God, she smells good. It shouldn’t shock me that she leans a little back into the kiss of air, but it only serves to turn me on more than I already am.
My cock stiffens as she shivers slightly. “What’s going to happen in here?” Her voice is so quiet it’s almost a whimper.
I have the urge to lean a few inches and bite to see if that sensitive spot is in the crook of her neck. “Step in and find out.”
She glances over at me, and we hold each other’s stare, a silent challenge. It’s a wordless game of chicken, one I won’t lose. She has no idea what I’ve done, what I’ve seen, what I do.
