Naughty Little Gift -- A Temptation Court Novella (Temptation Court, Book 1) by Angel Payne Read Free Book Online Page B

doubts.
    I’m braced for the twentieth reference to lunacy but she turns instead, brow tightly knitted. In a rasp, she asks, “Why?”
    I quirk a small smile. “After the last two days, do you really have to ask? Wait.” I push up, a move easily carrying me into the steps remaining between us. “After last night , do you have to ask?”
    She tilts her head up. I’m certain she must hear the thunder in my chest, now so close to her stunning face, as I take in her flash of joy. She hasn’t just remembered what happened in her bedroom. She’s relived it as many times as I have.
    Which doubles my confusion about the new mask she slams down over that bliss. “Cassian—”
    “Ella.” Yes, I use the name intentionally. With just as much purpose, grip her by both elbows. I don’t shirk the hold, even when she stiffens against it.
    “Why do you insist on calling me that?”
    “Why do you insist on pretending you don’t like it?” When she relents, just for a moment, I seize the chance to move an inch closer. Nearly fitting our bodies against each other… “Why do you insist on acting like you’re not pleased with my revised proposal to your father?”
    “Proposal.” She twists both arms free, stumbling back. “ That is what you have titled it?” The arms fold back in. She spits a bitter laugh. “And I thought Arcadia had been missing out on so many miracles of the modern world. But if buying a human being is still simply relegated to a piece of paper—”
    Okay, slow down.” I half-expected her to go here. I didn’t expect the vehemence with which she’d do it—or the pain in her eyes as she did. “Nobody is getting ‘bought,’ Mishella.”
    “Right,” she retorts. “ Désonnum . So sorry. My big bad. You do not wish to purchase; you simply want to rent.”
    “What?” I want to be angry but shock makes that impossible. “Where do you get—”
    “Six months.” She sweeps a hand toward the contract. “I have that correct, yes? Is it not all completely spelled out in your pretty papers? You agree to invest forty million dollars in Arcadian entities recommended by my father, in exchange for getting to have me on call to you for the next six months.”
    A band of pain clamps my head. I step back before snarling, “Not on call .” It’s no less crude than her inflection.
    “Oh?” One of her hands hitches to a hip. “What, then? Forty million dollars’ worth of companionship ? A ‘plus one’ for social affairs? A movie buddy? A dog trainer?”
    One side of my mouth kicks up again. “You want a dog?”
    Her eyes widen. I swear that inside, she’s just regressed to the age of six. “Do—do you have one?”
    “I can get you one.”
    The six year-old disappears. The woman is back, head tilting, going for what she perceives to be cynicism. “Cassian, are you seriously saying you expect me to return to New York with you…and not fuck you?”
    Well, hell.
    I’d anticipated that question too— hello, obvious —just not those words for it. And those words, flowing in her musical voice…what they instantly do to me…
    Damn. Damn.
    Everything in my body tightens. The skin around my cock does not get a free pass. The fucker just got charged double fare, and he’s not happy about it. The insult to the injury: that tiny tick of her auburn eyebrows, which might as well be fist pumps in some unseen boxing match to which she’s challenged me.
    Okay, sweetheart. You take that victory dance. I’ll wait riiiight here.
    I’ve never looked forward more to surging off the ropes.
    And I do.
    One unwavering step—two—then I’m right back next to her, screwing propriety, manners, and personal space, molding our bodies exactly as they’d been in the recesses of her bedroom. Just as intoxicating as those shadows is the Arcadian morning sun, surrounding us…warming her lips for a kiss I long to brand on her, into her, through her. But I don’t. I lean until only the tips of our mouths touch,