A Dance for Him by Lara Richard Read Free Book Online

number in a kind of abstract way, but it’s only just registered that that’s basically my rent and utilities for the month.
    The rich really are different …
    I wonder if he’s thinking he can buy me. I’m not sure what I think of that - part of me recoils at the idea, but then there’s that other part of me that is perversely turned on by the idea.
    There are worse things in the world, after all, than being bought by Sebastian Morland!
    I get out of my car. It’s a cool night, and I gather my coat around me, but I can feel the cool air give my wet nether parts a bit of a chill.
    Such a strange feeling, that.
    Meanwhile, he must have heard the car draw up, because by the time I make it up the steps, the door swings open.
    It’s him.

 
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
    CHAPTER TEN
     
     

    “Hello, Ms. Lytton,” he says, “please come in. I’m glad you decided to come. I rather expected you might, but I’m delighted all the same.”
    He’s dressed in the sort of preppy intellectual manner that’s typical for him, but this is the first time I’ve seen him with his sleeves rolled up. He’s got amazing forearms, broad, strong, muscular. Fuck, he is hot.
    And so are my cheeks. I’m usually so cool and collected at the club, but my composure is failing me again, now that he’s looking at me with a hungry intensity I haven’t seen before, not even last week.
    It’s a stare that makes me feel naked, even though I’m still dressed for now.
    Speaking of which I probably should take off my coat!
    He moves forward slightly, as though to help me out of it, but I hurriedly shrug it off, out of a strange embarrassment that I don’t even understand, and he retreats.
    Damn.
    I wouldn’t have minded him touching me, not at all. I could have taken my coat off more languidly, so that he’d have a chance to get close. Why am I pulling back?
    It just feels awkward somehow. It was easy at the club, I knew what to do.
    But I’m definitely out of my element here - I’m not used to this, to not being in control …
    After I hand him my coat and he deposits it in the closet, he shows me in.
    And, oh my God, it’s a bloody mansion. Plush and patrician, a bit old-fashioned, with heavy curtains and antique furniture that has that family heirloom look to it. Not to mention a beautiful curving wrought-iron staircase. The whole thing has old money and privilege written all over it.
    It’s only after he smiles at me that I realise that my mouth has fallen open in surprise.
    He must think he’s impressed me. Annoyed, I recompose my features to affect cool indifference - the last thing I want is for him to think that I’m intimidated, that I’ll be one of those girls who are easily dazzled by his money …
    He removes an envelope from his pocket and hands it to me.
    It’s still warm from his body heat …
    “Thank you for coming, Ms. Lytton. You’ll find the cash in the envelope, feel free to check it.”
    I decline to check it - I’m not going to stand here counting his money in front of him - and tuck it in my bag instead.
    He smiles.
    “Well, in that case, Ms. Lytton, if you’ll come with me into the living room.”
    The living room?
    I suppose that would give him a lot more deniability than if he’d just gone ahead and suggested his bedroom outright!
    I’m so flustered that it’s only after we’ve gone into the living room that I realise that I’m already dressed for the part, that that’s probably why he’s been looking at me ravenously since I took off my coat.
    There’s just something about this man that seems to render me incapable of rational thought …
    He takes his seat on the couch, lounging back on it, staring at me appraisingly all the while.
    The whole thing looks incredibly decadent, given the palatial surroundings - it feels rather like some sort of European movie about the idle rich and their sexual exploits, and despite my discomfort with the lushness of the place, I have to