Claim Me(20)

When he breaks the kiss, I see an unfamiliar ferocity in his eyes. “I will do it,” he says. “If that’s what it takes to protect you, I will leave you. Even if it kills me.”

“You won’t,” I counter, my breath coming hard and fast as my chest tightens painfully in protest and fear. “You won’t because it would kill me, too.”

“Oh, Nikki.”

He lowers his head to close his mouth over mine once again, more gentle this time, but just as possessive. I arch back, losing myself in his touch. I am like a switch, and all it takes is the slightest contact from Damien to send a wild current through me. To light me up and make me shine.

“Do you have any idea what I want to do to you right now?”

“Tell me,” I beg.

“I want to strip you bare and press you up against the glass. I want to trail my fingers over you lightly, just enough to make you awaken to my touch. I want to watch the lights of the Pier flash behind you, and I want to watch my own reflection in your eyes as you come.”

My mouth is dry, so the little “oh” that I say doesn’t actually come out as sound.

“But I can’t,” he says. “I believe I told you that I wasn’t going to touch you.”

“I won’t hold you to it,” I say.

“But that would be breaking the rules.”

I have to force myself not to whimper. “You’re playing games with me, Mr. Stark.”

“Yes,” he says plainly. “I am.”

“I suppose that’s fair, sir,” I say. “I’m yours, after all. At least for the night. But tomorrow, I’ll be a rich woman and the game’s going to have a new set of rules.”

For a moment, he is perfectly still. Then he nods slowly. “You raise a good point, Ms. Fairchild,” he says. “I need to make sure I get my money’s worth.”

“Your money’s worth?”

“Did you read the article in Forbes I sent you?” he asks. “The reporter did a good job of describing my philosophy in business.”

“I read it.” In fact, I’d read it several times, savoring every tidbit I learned about Damien the Businessman.

“Yes, sir,” he corrects.

“Yes, sir,” I repeat. “I read the article.”

“Then you know that I attribute much of my success to my ability to extract as much value as possible from every monetary transaction.”

I lick my lips. “And I’m a monetary transaction?”

“You are indeed.”

“I see. And how do you intend to extract value?”

“I already told you,” he says. “If you’re not going to pay attention …”

“You said you were going to make me come.”

His mouth curves into a lazy smile and the corners of his eyes crinkle. “So I did. Good girl. You get an A in class, after all.” Then, with a devious gleam in his eye, Damien takes hold of the cord at the small of my back and begins a slow tugging motion.

Oh. My. God.

It’s as if he’s creating electricity out of friction, and I close my eyes as my breath comes shallower and faster. “Damien,” I whisper.

“Do you like that?”

“Yes—oh, God, yes.”

“Good,” he says. And then releases the cord.

The friction stops and my eyes fly open.

He’s looking down at me, his smile a little too smug. “Frustrated, Ms. Fairchild?”

“No,” I lie, but even I can hear the petulant whine in my voice.