ALL THAT HE WANTS (Volume 1 The Billionaire's Seduction) (12 page)

“Oh, for God’s sake,” scowled Connor.

“Better safe than sorry.”

Now it was Connor’s turn to sigh in disgust. He turned to the room service man and said, “Give yourself a hundred dollar tip.”

“Thank you, sir!” the man said with a gigantic smile just before Johnny closed the door on him.

“He gets a hundred dollar tip, I get ridiculed,” Johnny muttered.

“We both know you’re making considerably more today than he is,” Connor said, and lifted up one of the metal dishes. Steam rolled out over a succulent filet mignon, a humongous lobster tail, and a baked potato the size of Idaho. “You want to taste it, too, make sure it wasn’t poisoned?”

The bodyguard shook his head and looked at me. “If he tries to take you someplace, will you promise to call me first?”

“Don’t answer that,” Connor warned me, then escorted Johnny to the door. “Night-night, Johnny. Get whatever you want off the menu.”

“Five pounds of Beluga caviar, coming up,” Johnny said as he exited and Connor closed the door.

“I love that guy, but he’s a damn worrywart,” Connor sighed.

“Well… it sounds to me like there’s a reason for it.”

Connor crossed over to me, looped his arms around my waist, and smiled. “Yeah – women like you.”

He leaned down and softly, slowly, kissed me on the lips.

A surge of warmth fluttered in my belly. But… despite what had happened between us just an hour ago… I couldn’t let go. Not all the way. I couldn’t sink into the kiss.

There was a nagging little voice in my head whispering,
He does this with every girl he meets. You can bet on it.

Connor seemed to sense my reluctance, because he pulled back and looked into my eyes. “Is something wrong?”

“I’m just… it’s a little overwhelming,” I murmured, which was true. Fifty minutes ago I was pondering working till midnight and going back to my crappy little apartment. Now I was standing in a more extravagant room than I’d ever seen in my life.

With a guy I’d just had sex with.

Who was probably a major player.

The edge of his mouth quirked up a little. “You’ll feel better after we eat.”

I wasn’t so sure about that, but I
was
starving.

First he fiddled with a stereo system set into the wall. Smooth, light jazz started to play, but he turned it down so it was nothing more than a whisper in the background.

He pulled the room service table towards the window, got a couple of chairs from the main dining area, and pulled one out for me to sit. Once I was established, he poured out a glass of wine for me, then another for himself.

“To amazing beginnings,” he said, and clinked his glass against mine.

We both drank.

Good
Lord
that was excellent. Strong and powerful to start with, but with an aftertaste like vanilla and cherries, and smooth as silk.

“What
is
this?”

“Just… a little something I like. Good, isn’t it?”

“It’s better than good, it’s amazing.”

He smiled. “Glad you like it, too. Now eat, before it gets cold.”

We ate mostly in silence.

At first.

To tell the truth, I was incredibly self-conscious. I didn’t want to look like a pig, so I took tiny, ladylike bites.

Also, I was obsessing over my table manners. I’m a fried chicken, lick-my-fingers kind of girl. I didn’t eat out in fancy restaurants growing up, so I was a little worried about whether I was using the right fork and whatnot. My fears were justifiable, seeing as the food was fancier and more extravagant than anything I’d tasted in years – maybe ever.

Plus there was that whole ‘I just slept with this guy and he probably does this with every hot woman he meets’ voice muttering louder and louder in my head.

Which made me feel even worse, because I am
so
not hot. Eventually I began wondering why he had even bothered with me.

He sat back and took a sip of wine. “You look absolutely miserable.”

I looked up at him in surprise. “What? No. I’m fine.”

“Really.” His tone indicated he didn’t believe me.

“Yes, really,” I said testily.

“What’s going on in your head, right now?”

“Uh… the food is amazing… the wine is wonderful…”

“Bullshit.”

My eyebrows raised the tiniest bit. It was only the second time that evening I’d heard him do anything more than PG cursing.

“You’re saying the food’s not amazing, and the wine’s not wonderful?” I asked, amused.

“It’s fine. But that’s not what’s going on in your head.”

“‘Fine’? You must eat like a king every day if this is just ‘fine.’”

“You’re really good at that.”

“What?”

“Dancing around the question. Outright ignoring it. You should be a politician.”

“You probably know a few, don’t you,” I said with an edge of sarcasm.

“As a matter of fact, I do, and let me tell you, you’d be very good at the evasion part of the job.”

Of course
he knew politicians. Judging from the crazy events of the last three hours – things like getting the CEO of my company on the phone and calling him by his first name – he probably knew the President and a couple of Prime Ministers.

I sighed. “What do you want to know, then?”

“What I said before: what’s going on in your head?”

“Yeah? Well,
I’d
like to know a couple of things, too.”

He broke out into a huge grin. “You did it AGAIN.”

“You don’t get to control everything, Mr. Mysterious Big Shot, just because you have a lot of money and last-minute reservations to a penthouse.”

His voice suddenly downshifted into something darker, something sexier. “Oh, don’t I?”

I could feel the blood in my cheeks – and other parts. “No, you don’t.”

“That sounds like a challenge.”

“Take it however you want,” I snapped, annoyed with myself that I was getting turned on, and took another bite of lobster.

He sat there in silence until I’d finished swallowing a bit of wine.

“How about a game?” he asked.

“What?”

“A game. How about a game?”

I frowned slightly. “A game of what?”

He shrugged. “Poker.”

I frowned even more. All the hot-and-botheredness was quickly departing. “Poker?! Why?!”

“I want something from you, and you’re not willing to give it to me.”

My cheeks flushed again. The hot-and-botheredness was starting to come back.

“W-what do you want?” I asked, crossing my legs.

“You. Naked. Doing the things I tell you to do.”

Oh. My. God.

The hot-and-botheredness was back in full force.

I started to breathe a little heavily. “And what do
I
get?”

He threw his head back and laughed. Then he gave me a wicked grin. “That’s my girl.”

I blushed scarlet. “I didn’t mean money, or – ”

“I know what you meant.”

I crossed my legs again, purely for something to do. “Why do we have to play a game to… to do that?”

“Because I like playing for stakes. High stakes. And if you’re not playing for something worthwhile, it’s not nearly as much fun.”

“This is all just a game to you, is it?” I asked with a touch of anger.

“Everything is.”

“What, just for your amusement?”

He tilted his head a little to the side and looked at me with piercing, ravenous eyes. “That… and so much more.”

The ‘so much more’ part made my heart skip a beat.

Actually, if he
did
look at life as a game – at
everything
as a game – that explained a lot about his behavior since the moment I’d first heard his voice on the phone.

“So?” he asked.

“You still haven’t told me what
I’m
playing for.”

“You
could
play for the same things I want out of you… but that’s not what you
really
want most right now, is it?”

Actually, the idea of him naked, doing what I told him to do, was becoming more and more appealing by the second.

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.

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.