A Billionaire's Redemption - By Cindy Dees Page 0,44
experience with women, when they tell you nothing’s wrong, something’s always wrong. And they’re never thinking nothing. What’s up?”
Suddenly, his shoes appeared to interest her more than just about anything else in the world. Genuinely worried now, he reached out to tip up her chin with his finger. “Willa?”
“I can’t begin to thank you for all you’ve done for me. Goodness knows, you don’t owe me or my family anything. I truly am grateful.”
“But?”
“Is there a but?” she half whispered.
“I don’t know. You tell me.”
“But I don’t expect all of this from you. You don’t have to seduce me as a pity case.”
“A pity case!” he exclaimed.
“It’s sweet of you to feel sorry for me, but I don’t expect you to fix me. It’s my responsibility to get over what James Ward did, and I’m not going to force that on anyone, certainly not on you after everything else you’ve already done for me.”
“Force— Willa, you’re not forcing anything on me, and certainly not yourself. In case you hadn’t noticed, I’m quite a bit bigger and stronger than you. Not to mention, nobody has made me do anything I didn’t want to for a number of years now.”
She sagged beside him. She ought to be relieved by his declaration, but for some reason, she looked...crestfallen.
“Do you want me to seduce you?” Normally, he wouldn’t be so blunt with a woman. He knew the signals well enough to recognize if a woman wanted to sleep with him or not. The problem with Willa, though, was she was giving him mixed, and contradictory, signals.
She definitely was attracted to him. And when he’d seen that dress at her front door earlier, he’d been pretty damned sure she wanted to sleep with him. But then those women—and her own mother, the bitch—had shredded her, and it was as if he’d brought an entirely different woman home from the party than the one he’d taken. This one looked like a lost little girl. Or worse, like the robot from behind her father’s shoulder at campaign appearances.
“You haven’t answered my question,” he said to the side of her averted face.
“I can’t,” she said in a muffled voice.
“Why not? It’s okay to say you don’t know what you want, or not now, or hell, no. But please be honest with me.” Not that he had any business pointing fingers at anyone for being less than truthful. He wanted her in his bed so bad he could taste it.
“I can’t answer because—” she took a deep breath and continued in a small voice “—because if I said I did want you to seduce me, you’d do it to be a gentleman and not because you actually wanted to.”
He laughed heartily. “Honey, if I seduce you, it most certainly won’t be out of any sense of duty. And I don’t necessarily promise to be a gentleman about it.”
Her gaze snuck up to his for an instant before sliding away. She tossed back a large gulp of her liqueur and coughed as it burned a path down her throat. He reached over to pound her back until she could breathe again.
So. Willa Merris was interested, but too insecure to admit it. He could work with that. He could definitely work with that.
He plucked the empty glass out of her fingers and took it over to the bar to refill it. When he returned, he was pleased to see that she had kicked off her shoes. He passed her the drink and lifted her feet onto his thigh to massage them. In moments, she was making little moaning sounds of pleasure that just about drove him out of his mind.
“So, we’re agreed, then,” he said in a businesslike tone. “Seduction is the order of the day.”
Another gulp and another cough. But she conspicuously failed to disagree with him. The fire crackled, and its golden light painted Willa’s exquisite features with glistening fairy dust.
“You’ve got me at a disadvantage,” he murmured.
She looked up at him, her blue eyes big and wide and questioning.
“You’re arguably the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen, but if I tell you that, you’ll think it’s a cheesy pick-up line.”
“I wouldn’t believe you if you said it, anyway,” she answered lightly. “I’ve seen a bunch of the women you go out with. You have sophisticated taste. I’m not in that league at all.”
“That’s the point. You’re different. You’re...real.”
She laughed painfully. “A real mess.”
“Everyone’s got baggage. And most of yours isn’t of your making. For tonight, could you try