Chapter Thirteen

Denied

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“T HANK YOU, AMY.”

The knowing gleam in his eyes told Amy what his mouth had failed to.

That he always won.

He would always win.

The floor beneath her felt shaky as the realization dawned. She’d assented to come into his world and join his staff, but she’d had no idea what that truly meant. His influence wasn’t just about legal documents or what the money he’d offered would mean for her life; it was visceral, as though her every move depended on his command.

“Let me look at you.”

Rising to his full height, he stood opposite her, his concentration falling to her chest. He was only an inch from her tightening nipples, yet despite the way she seemed to sway at his approach, their bodies never touched.

Swallowing at his powerful scrutiny, she rolled back her shoulders. If he wanted to look, then let him look. Amy wasn’t ashamed of her body, and however consuming the wave of embarrassment that sought to drown her was, she appreciated the carnal way his eyes widened.

He wanted her. Just as she wanted him.

The symbiosis should have been everything she desired.

She just hadn’t envisioned their passion for one another transpiring the way it had—with her obligated to strip while they ate an evening meal together.

She wasn’t his, wasn’t anyone’s, but standing there, his possession was so penetrating, she may as well have his brand burned into her skin.

They remained there in silence for heavy, lengthy seconds, her every breath amplified in the oversized room until, eventually, a smile stretched wide at his lips.

“It’s good to be right.” The loose strands of his dark hair fell past his eyes as he reached, not for her breasts, but her face. Brushing his fingers along her cheek, his digits settled lightly on the back of her neck. “You are utterly beautiful.”

She wanted to hate him for belittling her, longed to flinch from his caress and kick him in the shin, but staring into the astonishing blue pools of his eyes, she noticed something else. Her body softened at his touch. Even though it made no sense, even though she should have tensed, it was as though his attention eased some of the tightness from her muscles.

“Thank you, sir.”

She met his eyes finally, her head still whirling as though she had consumed the red wine.

“Is it so bad?” His deep voice was a soft purr. “To be exposed to me?”

“No.” Her answer was immediate, and a subdued facet of her will wished silently that she’d held back her reply or made him wait at least. But no. The word was out there instantly, revealing her true feelings. “I just didn’t think you’d want me like this in here, sir.” She glanced around the room, vaguely cognizant that they were still in the dining room, with Leonard only a couple of doors away.

“So, you had thought about it?” His fingers stiffened a fraction at her nape.

“No, I...” Her voice trailed away as she realized his words had managed to entrap her. She had imagined the two of them together, and surely, he could ascertain the truth from her flustering face alone. “I just mean—”

“It’s okay.” His thumb massaged small circles at the base of her neck. “I’ve thought about it, too.”

“You have?” Had that absurd squeak come from her?

“Yes. I’ve thought of little else since we met.” He leaned closer, his expensive shirt crushing her aching nipples against the fabric as his lips skimmed over her mouth. “I know attraction when I feel it, Amy, and you and I... we have it.”

Oh God.

She held her breath at the enticing caress, not daring to hope for what might come next. Flashes of the two of them entwined in erotic embraces erupted in her mind, making it difficult to stay on her feet. As her head tipped backward, she wondered if it wasn’t only his hand holding her in place.

“Mr. Kyle.”

It seemed ridiculous not to use his first name in a moment of such heightened intimacy, but perversely, she acknowledged how referring to him formally seemed more natural than ever. She liked it. There was no denying that anymore. She approved of his dominance.

“It’s all right.” His thumb continued its consoling circles. “We’re both adults. It’s okay to admit our fascination with each other.”

“Yes.”

A million times, yes.

She yearned for his tongue to slide into her warmth and imitate the things she craved from his cock. She wanted to switch off the warning lights in her head and just surrender to the unbridled sense of passion he ignited. She wanted all of it, and she wanted it then and there.

“That’s good.” He offered her forehead a chaste kiss as he drew away, and without the warmth of his hand, the spell she’d longed to bewitch her was broken.

Naturally, she still yearned for him—still swooned at the intensity of his eyes and the more than desirable body she swore he was hiding under that suit—but the irrefutable sense of need had waned.

“Sit down, Amy, and eat.” He gestured to her food before he turned and sank onto his seat.

“What?” Her focus darted between him and the food. How could he be thinking about their main course after the electricity they’d just created?

“Your food.” He reached for his wine. “It will be cold.”

“But what about us...”

Hadn’t he just been there with her, caressing her skin as he confirmed the chemistry between them?

“There is no us .” He chuckled. “I was merely articulating the magnetism in the room. I know we both feel it.”

Yes, she felt it. Much like the current and growing urge she felt to throttle him as she staggered to her chair.

How dare you?

She hoped her glare carried the recrimination as she settled into her place, painfully aware of how her top half was now on display for his so-called pleasure.

“And yes, I’m prepared to exploit the contract to enjoy you.” He lifted his glass in a twisted attempt at a toast. “If that makes me a son-of-a-bitch, then so be it.”

That was one word for it, although many others bubbled to the fore of Amy’s consciousness.

“You’re working for me now,” he went on, sipping at his wine. “And that means if I want you topless, then you’ll strip to the waist and smile while you obey.”

“So, you’re saying you’ll subject me to anything you want, but you won’t take me to bed, sir ?” She hissed the final word to try to release the resentment swimming in her system.

Kyle had fired her up and now appeared content to eat his cold duck while she sat there exposed and mortified.

“Take you to bed?” His tone was mocking. “Is that what you want me to do?”

“I...” What was that supposed to mean? “I had thought about it, yes.”

“I have better places to take you than bed, Amy.” He placed down his glass and sliced into his duck.

Then why wasn’t he taking her there?

She suppressed the query, sensing she might not want to know the answer. Why wasn’t she just dressing and getting out of there?

Where was her dignity?

I don’t want to leave.

She gripped the edge of the tablecloth, accepting that, even though she despised it, the answer was honest.

She wanted him to take her wherever the hell he usually fucked women and screw her into the furniture. But one thing was for sure—she wasn’t going to fucking beg him for it.

“Eat.” His voice was insistent.

“I told you, I’m not hungry.”

Not for food anyway, not anymore. Whatever had remained of her appetite had faded with his touch, and now the only thing she yearned for was to recapture that exquisite sense of capitulation as she yielded.

There was a power in it, a strength in turning inward and accepting her desire with a complete lack of judgment. She’d sensed the potency as she’d swayed to the wordless rhythm of his body and known it as she relaxed at his touch.

It was where she found her heaven.

That was what Kyle could offer her. Aside from the money and the accommodation, he seemed to have silent dominion over her attention. She could use that power to dismiss the layers of shame she’d buried deep in her soul and just be .

She wanted to just be Amy .

“You will eat, Amy.”

The edge in his tone convinced her that he meant every word and that, in some gloriously agonizing way, he would make her eat something. Briefly, she considered digging her heels in and discovering what that way was. No doubt she would feel it. His every action and inaction seemed to command her feelings.

“I’m sorry.” She inched her plate away. “I also dislike waste, but all of this has robbed me of the urge to eat.”

“So, you’re choosing to be stubborn?” Kyle shook his head.

“No,” she countered. “I’m being honest.”

“Does everything have to be a fight with you, Amy?”

“What? No.” For some ludicrous reason, her already taut nipples beaded at his criticism. “I’m not fighting. I’m just overwhelmed. This is overwhelming.” She signaled around the room, trying to quell the motion of her breasts as she moved.

“I’m sure it is.” He cut another piece of meat. “But you’re not here to starve. If you insist on behaving like a child, then rest assured I shall find ways to treat you like one.”

She didn’t even want to know what that meant, though the pulse between her legs said otherwise. It indicated its preference to find out and revel in the meaning.

“Eat the duck.” His attention flitted to her plate. “Your body needs the protein, and you have a long day of attending to my needs tomorrow.”

His needs.

Was that the only thing that the fucked-up dynamic was about?

“Like this, sir?” She glanced down at her nakedness.

“Maybe.” His lips twitched. “Would you mind?”

“Would you care if I did?”

“You know the deal.” He shrugged, as though the piece of paper on the table between them in any way justified the way he was exploiting her.

Or the way I’m loving it.

“You mean, if I want the money, then I stay and comply.”

Fuck, why did that sound so damn alluring?

“I wouldn’t put it quite that way, but yes.” He placed down his fork. “I promise to make it worth your while.”

Pushing a piece of the duck past her lips, she ignored the throb of her clit and watched his self-satisfied smile. Worth her while? She could only imagine what he meant by that.

She swallowed the meat. “Right.”

Amy used to think she was strong-willed and that her determination would be enough to get her where she needed to be, but that was before she met William Kyle.

In the empire he owned, he made the rules, and he decided what was at stake. If she could only get through the next six days, she had no doubt it would all be worth her while.