All That He Desires (The Billionaire's Seduction Part 2) (5 page)

But he was right.

“I want answers,” I said.

He closed his eyes, smiled, and nodded. Like,
Aha, THERE it is.

“And the truth. I want the truth,” I added.

He opened his eyes and stared at me like he wanted to drink me down like a glass of wine.

“Alright, here’s my proposal: we play poker. You get five cards. You have one draw – you put down any number of cards from your hand and get that number of new cards from the deck.”

“I know how to play five-card draw,” I snapped, narrowing my eyes.

He grinned. “All right, then. The stakes: if I win a hand… I choose what you do. Either you have to remove an article of clothing – your choice of what article – ”

“Strip poker?
Really?”
I interrupted in a
gimme a break
voice, though to be honest, I was a little frightened. And turned on.

“ – or you do what I tell you to do. My choice.”

My heart thudded in my chest.

“I have to do… what you say?” I squeaked out.

“Yes.”

“You’re not going to just say, ‘Come over here and do me?’”

Which I wouldn’t mind, given my current state.

He smiled again, that dangerous smile of his. “Not that fast. Think of it more as… foreplay.”

I’m glad my lips were pressed closed, because I might have moaned a little if they were open.

“And in return, I get…?” I asked – when I finally trusted myself to speak.

“You can either have me take off a piece of my clothing – ”

“Which you’d probably do anyway without playing a stupid game,” I said, though in my head I was thinking
Yum.

“ – or – which I know you want more – you can ask me any question.”

My eyebrows raised. “
Any
question.”

He tilted his head playfully. “Leaving aside business deals covered by non-disclosure agreements, and anything that might cause me to compromise national security interests.”

“National security interests,” I laughed, like,
Ohhh, that’s a good one.

He just gave me a little sphinx-like smile.

My laughter faded.

I don’t think he’s kidding about the national security interests…

“And you’ll answer me truthfully?” I demanded.

“Except for what I just mentioned – ”

“Except for those – truthfully?”

He nodded. “Yes.”

“I have your word?”

“Do I have your word that you’ll do whatever I tell you to?”

I gulped.

“Do I?” he pressed.

“Within reason,” I choked out, then tried a little humor. “Excluding non-disclosure agreements or – ”

“ – national security, right,” he grinned. Then he grew serious. “What’s within reason?”

My heart was jackhammering in my chest.

“Nothing degrading,” I whispered.

“Depends on what your definition of ‘degrading’ is.”

I gave him a look.

“But I’ll err on the side of caution,” he demurred.

“Nothing goes in ‘the out door,’” I said pointedly.

He roared with laughter. “Agreed,” he said, almost having to wipe tears from his eyes.

“And nothing painful.”

“And what is ‘painful,’ exactly?”

I narrowed my eyes. “What exactly are you planning?”

He grinned. “Can’t let
all
my surprises out of the bag. I’ll tell you what: anything I do, if you don’t like it, use a safe word, and I stop immediately.”

Safe word?

What the hell are you planning to do to me, Connor Brooks?

“What’s the safe word?” I asked nervously.

He considered. “‘Safe word.’”

I shook my head. “‘Safe word’ is the safe word? Seriously?”

“You’ll remember it.”

True…

He looked me up and down, undressing me with his eyes.

I realized that I wanted
so
badly for that not to be a metaphor.

“So… do we have a deal?”

I sat back in the chair and took a sip of wine. “Break out the cards,” I said in my best
bring it on
voice.

If only I actually felt that confident.

8

As it turned out, he had to call down to the concierge for a pack of cards.

“And another bottle of wine. And another table, with a selection of fruit and chocolate,” he said into the phone before hanging up.

My mouth started to water. I had only eaten about half my dinner – not only had the conversation gotten distracting, but I was a little worried about pigging out and then having to strip down naked.

But offer me chocolate, and all bets are off.

Connor looked me over appraisingly. “Thinking of your questions? Or thinking about what I’ve got in store for you?”

Yes. And yes.

Damn it, I hate how he can tell what I’m thinking – especially when I don’t want him to know.

“No, I’m cataloguing how many pieces of clothing I’ve got on,” I lied.

Hey, nobody said anything about lying
outside
of the game.

He chuckled. “Well, most of the clothes will come off before I begin to have my way with you, so…”

Have my way with you.

I crossed my legs again, both from nervousness and being uncomfortably turned on.

I tried to regain the upper hand.

“You’re, uh, at a little bit of a disadvantage there,” I said, wiggling my finger at his shirt. “Sure you don’t want to put on your jacket and tie again?”

“I don’t think so. I’m an excellent poker player.”

My stomach dropped a little in fear… because I’m
not.

“That confident, huh?”

“That confident,” he smiled in that arrogant, dashing, ‘makes me want to kick his ass’ kind of way.

Someone knocked at the door. “Room service,” a muffled voice called out.

Connor got up from his chair. “Think I should call Johnny for protection?”

Ah… THERE’S a good question… why do you have an armed bodyguard in the first place?

“He’d probably prefer it,” I said.

“Too bad,” Connor answered.

I expected him to look at the little eyehole, but things were a bit more high tech than that. He hit a button on a small screen next to the door, and the image of a man in a white uniform appeared. Connor opened up, and a man in white swept into the room with a rolling table identical to the first: linen tablecloth, silver domed dishes, wine glasses, lit candles, decanter of dark red liquid. The only thing different was a pack of cards still in the wrapper.

He parked the new table, took the old one, and hustled out of the room. Connor murmured something to him before he closed the door.

“Another hundred dollar tip?”

I said it casually, but inside I was like,
Daaaaamn! I wish I worked someplace they gave out hundred dollar tips…

“Something like that.”

“Why the decanter of wine? Why not just a bottle?” I asked as I lifted up the silver dome on my side of the table.

Oh sweet Lord…

There was a gorgeous selection of chocolates within. What brand, I had no idea, but there were spheres dusted with cocoa, wafers black as night, round circles drizzled with some sort of syrup, and broken pieces – for that artisanal look, I guess, like fancy paper with rough texture and bits of coarse pulp woven into the grain.

Not only that, but there were two types of cherries, ripe and dotted with moisture; green, red, and tiny little champagne grapes; and a bowl of raspberries and blackberries lightly sprinkled with sugar.

Even if I didn’t get laid again tonight, I could still have an orgy with what was on that silver tray.

“Is that one of your questions?”

“What?” I said, snapped out of my chocolate fantasy.

“The bottle versus decanter – is that one of your questions? Because we haven’t started yet,” he said with a smartass smirk.

“Just making conversation,” I said coolly, “but if you don’t know – ”

“You have to aerate the wine to get all the subtleties out of it. There’s actual chemical reactions that occur in the presence of air that unlock the flavors. The decanter helps do that.”

“Aren’t you just a font of information,” I cooed. “I had no idea you were such a connoisseur.”

“I am.” He smiled and locked his gaze deep into mine. “And I’m
all
about savoring the experience.”

Heat fluttered in my belly, and I held my breath. Which wasn’t much of a comeback, I’ll grant you.

He ripped open the cellophane package, pulled out the Jokers, and tossed them aside.

“No wild cards?”

I had kind of been hoping they would help me out.

He rolled his eyes. “No. No training wheels.”

I pretended to pout as he shuffled the cards, but then I got mesmerized by his hands sorting the cards. They were so fast, and so capable… so large and powerful…

He slid the deck over to me. “Cut?”

“Uh… what?”

“Cut the deck? Unless you’re not worried that I’m a card shark.”

I took a third of the cards off the top and replaced them on the bottom. “No, I’m not. And it’s technically a card
sharp.
”

“Ooooh… aren’t
you
a font of information,” he said mockingly.

I pushed the cards across the table. “Deal.”

The first hand ended quickly: I won with two pair, aces and nines.

He looked at me expectantly as he shuffled the cards again. “So… what will it be? Question or clothing?”

I looked at his firm chest peaking out beneath the ‘v’ of his unbuttoned shirt, and my mouth started to water… but I wanted to know a few things first.

Plus,
I figured,
his shirt’s coming off sooner or later anyway.

“Question.”

“Okay… just be sure that whatever you ask, you can handle the answer,” he cautioned me with a friendly smile.

For some reason, that filled me with a little dread. But I pushed on anyway.

“Why is Johnny so concerned about your safety?”

“He’s my bodyguard.” He grinned. “
That
was easy.”

“That’s no answer,” I snapped. “You promised you’d give me the truth.”

“I did,” he insisted.

When I continued to glower at him, he relented. “There have been some attempts on me in the past.”

My eyes bugged out. “‘Attempts’? What kind of ‘attempts’?”

“Mostly kidnapping,” he said casually as he dealt out the next hand.

I beckoned with my fingers like,
SPILL it.

He tilted his head back so it rested on his chair, then sighed and stared at the ceiling. “I thought you were going to ask things like, ‘How many women have you slept with?’”

“I’m not sure I could handle that answer.”

He grinned, which seemed to break his suddenly dark mood, and looked back down at the cards. But not at me, I noticed.

Then the grin went away and his voice dipped lower as he answered.

“My father was kidnapped five years ago in Mexico. I was the one who went to the ransom meeting, not sure if I was going to get killed or kidnapped, and worried sick the entire time that I’d never see him alive again. Even though I hate the old bastard.”

A chill went up and down my spine as he spoke. I hadn’t prepared myself for this.

I don’t think he had, either.

“Is he… is he okay?” I whispered.

Connor looked up with a bemused expression. “He’s fine. Still a total asshole, still making everyone around him miserable. Shortly after that incident, I hired Johnny. He’s never left my side since.”

He paused for a second.

“Sometimes I forget why I hired him… like tonight.” He tapped the table and muttered, almost to himself, “Sometimes it’s good to remember.”

Then he gave a wry smile and picked up his cards. “Prepare to get naked.”

9

As it turned out, I won the next hand, too. Three jacks.

“Damn it,” he swore, throwing down his cards.

“You know what that means,” I said.

“Clothing, right?” he asked in a fake hopeful voice.

I shook my head ‘no.’

He breathed out heavily, then smirked. “Well, I guess I used up all my luck earlier tonight when I got lucky.”

When I got lucky.

Holy crap.

That was something
I
would say about sleeping with him… not something I would expect him to say about sleeping with
me.

The butterflies were twirling up a storm in my stomach, but I kept to the plan.

“You don’t work for LMGK, do you?”