Deep (Chicago Underground #8)(29)

That drew a smile from me, a real one. “Hey, it’s because of you that I’m not in class right now. You may as well give me some practical experience.”

He leaned back, the motion slight but somehow suggestive. “If you want practical experience, all you have to do is ask.”

Dirty images flashed through my mind—me in a pencil skirt, kneeling underneath that desk. Him on a conference call, trying not to make a sound. “We call that avoidance.”

“Fine.” He leaned forward. “Dig into this. I did protect Colin and Rose. For so many years that was the only purpose in my goddamned life. First from our bastard of a father, then from hunger, starvation, from crackheads—from the court system who tried to take them away, put them in foster homes. I protected them, and now they have lives of their own, families of their own. My job is done.”

So where did that leave him? Alone. My heart clenched. These were slippery rocks, loose pebbles underfoot. I could slide here. I could fall. “I’m sure if you told them you missed them—”

He made a dismissive sound. “They’re better off without me.”

He actually believed that. “No,” I managed to say. “They love you.”

“I’m toxic. They know it. I know it. It’s time you learned it too.” His dark gaze swept over me, from the loose brown hair around bare shoulders, to a tank top with a little more room in the bust than my small breasts could use, to the bare feet peeking out from underneath soft jeans. “Come here, kitten.”

God, I hated that my body responded to that pet name. And I secretly loved the thrill it gave me. “I already paid the down payment.”

He laughed, low and threatening, like the dark roil of an incoming storm. “It’s a start.”

“How much will this end up costing me?” He wanted to scare me, that was all.

He didn’t plan to keep me. No one really did.

His dark eyes burned with an almost savage intensity. It was something close to hate, close to love. Possession. “There isn’t a part of you I’m not going to touch, isn’t a wall I’m not going to break down. Understand? You want to know how much you’ll pay? Everything, kitten. Every damn thing.”

My breath shuddered out of me. “Philip.”

“Starting right now. You’re going to take off those clothes for me, just like you did years ago. Do you remember that?”

I could never have forgotten. “Philip, please. Wait.”

“And then you’re going to make yourself come. The whole time, I’ll be watching. Does your skin get flushed when you finger yourself? Do your nipples get tight? I can’t wait to find out.”

Arousal held my body in a tight clench. How could he do this to me with only his words? “Wait. I only came to talk about…to talk about my brother.”

“I’ve made inquiries,” he said, his tone dismissive. That was already considered, already planned. “I don’t want to talk about that. I want to talk about how you make yourself come. Is it fast and focused? Or do you play with yourself, draw it out?”

My cheeks burned hot. I wasn’t even sure of the answer. Which one did I do? Probably fast and focused most of the time. But sometimes, if I couldn’t sleep late at night, I would think about Philip and draw it out. That only made me blush harder.

His mouth tilted in a predatory smile. “Lovely,” he murmured, almost to himself.

“Last time you didn’t like what you saw.” My voice shook, my whole body tense and hot as if I were already baring myself, already naked. “You said I embarrassed myself.”

A shadow crossed his eyes. “Last time you were a broken little girl who’d just gotten roughed up by ten dickheads in a penthouse suite.”

I flinched at the cold description of me. “I’m still scared.”

“Maybe so, but you’re definitely a woman. You’re also brave and smart and kind.” His expression turned wry. “And yet I still like you.”

I fought a smile, flushing at his praise. “If you like me so well, then why make me do this?”

That made his eyebrows rise. “Because I like you. I want you. I’m not in the habit of denying myself. And I’ve already waited long enough. Your clothes. Take them off.”

The authority in his voice turned my will liquid. I felt like I was supposed to fight him, like a strong woman would fight him. Except my brother’s life may hang in the balance.

And in the deep, secret part of my heart, I didn’t want to fight him. I wanted to be with him—that had been true since I was a broken little girl. Now that I was a woman, I wanted more than that. I wanted to submit to him, to be owned by him. I had dark dreams about being used by him in ways that should have been degrading. They were degrading, but also incredibly, painfully arousing. At least they were in my dreams. I hadn’t been sure reality would work as well.

With a deep breath I grasped the hem of my tank top and pulled it off. Trembling fingers worked on the zipper of my jeans, and then I was shoving them down too. There was no finesse in my actions, no sensual grace. I felt disturbingly similar to the way I had all those years ago, exactly the same.

Broken little girl.

I held my breath, waiting for the harsh words, the rejection.

Except I couldn’t deny that Philip’s response was different. Then he had been distant, almost angry. He’d pushed me away—hard. Now his onyx eyes burned with black fire, with dark promise. And the rise in his slacks told me exactly how his body reacted to the sight of me, no matter how ungraceful my little strip show had been.