Beautiful Bitch (Beautiful Bastard, #1.5)(7)

Chloe stopped where she stood on my porch, her back to me for several long, confusing seconds before she turned to stare at me. “What did you just say?”

“Did I stutter?” I asked, and when she just continued to stare, I explained, “Yes, we were apart because I was a jerk. But so were you.”

Her eyes narrowed and grew dark. I was half scared, and half thrilled as f*ck that she was about to blow up at me. She backed me to my front door, her fist curling tight around my tie before she yanked down, pulling me so our faces were nearly even. Her dark eyes were wild and wide. “Give me your keys.”

Reaching into my pocket, I pulled them out, depositing them in her waiting palm without question.

I watched as she flipped through them and actually found the right key on the first guess. “It’s the top lock and the—”

She cut me off with a fingertip to my lips. “Shh. No talking.”

I tried to puzzle out what was happening. Obviously she hadn’t expected me to tease her about leaving me the way she did. Maybe she suspected we’d left all of that discussion in the conference room where we reunited. And I suppose in many ways we had. I didn’t need her to apologize, and I didn’t feel like I needed to apologize anymore. But our separation had been a shitty few months, so it didn’t feel like the conversation about it was entirely over. Besides, spanking her seemed like the most appropriate way to work it all out of our systems.

Her hand didn’t fumble behind me as she slipped the key into the lock. I heard the familiar squeak and click, then she pushed the door open and backed me over the threshold.

“Straight back to my living room,” I offered. “Or down the hall to my bed.”

I could sense her steering me to the living room, her eyes moving between my face, her hand on my tie, and the house behind her. It was, after all, the first time she was seeing my home.

“It’s nice,” she whispered, seeming to decide what she was doing with me as she pulled me up short. “It’s so clean. It’s so . . . you.”

“Thank you,” I said, laughing. “I think.”

As if remembering that she was punishing me for something, she threw me a stern look. “Stay here.”

She left and although I was tempted to see what she was up to, I followed her instruction. After only a few seconds she returned with one of my high-backed dining room chairs. Once she had it situated behind me, she pressed on my shoulders to urge me to sit down.

Turning, she walked over to my sound system, picked up the remote, and scanned the buttons.

“First turn on the—”

“Shh.” Without turning, Chloe held up a single hand to quiet me.

I closed my mouth, jaw tense. She was stretching my patience a little. If she hadn’t indicated that I was supposed to stay seated, and I didn’t suspect she wanted to play, I would have had her flat on her stomach by then and already yanked her ass in the air for a spanking.

After only a few moments, a smooth, pulsing rhythm slid into the room with a woman’s husky voice layered on top. Chloe hesitated at the stereo, shoulders moving with her deep, nervous breaths.

“Baby, come here,” I whispered, hoping she heard me over the music.

She turned, returning to me and standing so close that her thighs pressed against my knees. My face was at her chest level, and I couldn’t help but lean forward, kiss her breast through her shirt. But her hands came up and pushed my shoulders back so that I was again sitting up straight.

She followed my body, moving to straddle my lap. With both hands, she reached forward and toyed with my tie.

“What you said outside . . . ,” she whispered. “Maybe we do need to talk some more.”

“Okay.”

“But if you don’t want to do it now, we can go to your room and you can do everything you want to me.” She lifted her gaze to my face, dark eyes searching. “We can talk later.”

“I’ll talk about anything you want.” I swallowed, and smiled up at her. “Then I’ll take you to my bed and do everything I want.”

I could hardly catch my breath. I reached up to undo the top button of my shirt, but she caught my hand and pulled it down, her eyebrow raised in silent question.

Slowly, she undid my tie until it was wrapped around her fist like a boxer’s tape. I was so turned on by this power in her that when she moved my hands to the side of the chair, I didn’t really notice. My cock grew uncomfortably hard, and I shifted my hips to adjust the angle in my pants, my heart pounding beneath my ribs. What the f*ck was she going to do?

“Tell me you love me,” she whispered.

My heart was racing and my blood seemed to pound through my veins. “I love you. Wildly. I’m . . .” I’d imagined this a thousand different times, but this moment felt way too loaded and my words came out in a breathless rush. Taking a deep breath and closing my eyes, I murmured, “I’m wildly in love with you.”




“What happened?” she asked, stopping about a foot away from me, her arms crossed over her chest. I could see she was preparing for a professional battle on my behalf, but I wanted her to fight a far more personal one.

“Nothing work related,” I said, rubbing my jaw. “I . . .”

I drifted off, staring at each part of her face in turn: her eyes as they narrowed in concentration, the full lips she’d pulled together in concern, her smooth skin. And, of course, I let my eyes drop to her breasts because she’d pushed them together and . . . well, f*ck.