“This isn’t a new game. We both know you can make me want you, and it won’t mean anything except that you know how to play the game better than I do.”
He releases his hold on me completely. Surprised, I stumble back on my heels, catching myself on the bar.
Mount takes a step backward and shrugs off his jacket, leaving it folded over the back of the living room sofa. With another step back, he loosens the knot of his tie and tosses it on a chair. One more step, and the top two buttons of his shirt are undone, revealing the tanned, thick column of his neck. Another step, and the remaining buttons are undone and his shirt falls open, revealing his hard chest and rippling abs.
He stands in the middle of the suite, tucking his hands into his pockets as he meets my gaze. “I want to hear it now. Before I drag you to the brink and you’re willing to say anything for me to let you come.”
I lick my lips and flatten them. My inner muscles are already clenching, wetness soaking my thong as my body anticipates what’s coming next.
Murder or pleasure. What happened to my life that these two choices became equally viable outcomes to the same issue?
“Fine. I’ll admit it. You win.”
Mount shakes his head slowly. “This isn’t about winning. This is about making it crystal fucking clear in your head that you crave what I give you. You don’t just want me to take control—you need it.”
He’s right. There’s no way I can deny it. We both know I’m a shitty liar.
“Then take it,” I tell him.
Again, his ridiculously handsome face moves slowly from side to side. “No, tonight you’re going to give it to me willingly.”
“What do you mean?”
He tips his head toward the floor-to-ceiling windows, hidden by opulent window treatments. “Open the curtains.”
My brain spins at his order. Where is he going with this?
“Ask another question, and I swear you won’t come tonight.”
I bite down on my lip because my natural instinct is to question his every order. But the idea of being denied orgasms all night, while he undoubtedly can give me many, isn’t something I want to contemplate.
His dark eyes flare with heat as I step toward the drapes and yank them wide open. The lights in the room are low, but still bright enough to give a clear view inside.
“Hands at your sides. Don’t move.”
In the reflection of the glass, I watch as Mount unbuttons his cuffs, strips off his shirt, and drops it on the floor before stalking toward me.
The cold from the window is already sending chills through my body, and Mount’s heat at my back creates warring sensations that are normal when I’m dealing with him.
The zipper on my dress hisses as Mount slides it down. His fingers push the straps off my shoulders, but I catch them with my elbows, holding the dress against my chest.
“Someone could see.”
His voice is low but implacable. “They can look, but they can’t fucking touch what’s mine.”
Of their own volition, my arms drop to my sides and my dress slides down, puddling at my feet.
“Step out of it.”