The Billionaire's Princess - Ava Ryan Page 0,22

just be a smart, exciting and sexy guy. There must be a troll, pedophile or, hell, serial murderer hidden in there somewhere. Or, if he is as smart, exciting and sexy as he seems, his arrogant streak probably reaches titanic proportions and/or he’s already married three times and has mistresses stashed in every major city in the world.

My life just doesn’t suddenly get this exciting and easy.

“Here.” He hands me back my phone with grim satisfaction. “Call me when you’re ready to explore this thing.”

I numbly glance at my phone, then zero in on him again. “So that’s it. I call you whenever I’m ready.”

“Fuck no.” He looks at me as though I’ve taken the decision to become a professional sumo wrestler. “You’ve got forty-eight hours to get reasonably ready. After that, I’m hiring those investigators and showing up on your doorstep. Bye.”

I laugh shakily. “I don’t know whether to ask you to come home with me or slap your face.”

“Figure it out. Bye. No, wait. Come here.”

I eagerly walk back into the danger zone of the magnetic field surrounding his body, my foolish head full of wild ideas about how we could lock the door and return to the sofa for a round two. So it’s with some disappointment that I watch Damon extract a handkerchief from his breast pocket and use it to wipe my mouth before wiping his own. I linger when he’s done, a hopeful light no doubt shining in my eyes.

“No more kisses for you tonight.” He gives me an X-rated once-over that does little to cool my overheated blood. “I’m cutting you off until you do the right thing.”

I can’t stifle a bark of surprised laughter. “You’re a horrible man. You know that?”

“Then why do you want me so much, princess?” he asks silkily.

“No idea.”

I walk out, propelled by the galling sound of his knowing laughter behind me. The lively sound of the cocktail reception in full swing returns in a rush. Luckily, the hallway is still deserted, so there’s no one to see me turn in a flustered circle while I try to decide which door is likeliest to lead to the washroom. The second try is the charm. I lock the door and flip on the light, braced for the worst as I face the mirror.

Aaand it’s worse than that.

I set my phone on the counter and attack my hair first, digging in my clutch for my tiny comb and making liberal use of the luxury beauty products laid out for the guests. My lipstick-smeared mouth, which looks as though it’s been used to test makeup for the next Joker movie, takes longer.

As for my feverish color, bright eyes and fumbling hands?

Nothing I can do.

“Get a grip, Charlotte,” I tell my reflection, rubbing my chest to slow my heartbeat. From there? Easy enough to flatten my palms and run them over my nipples in a fruitless attempt to stop the aching. To wish Damon’s hands were touching me instead.

Damon freaking Black.

I’m a mess and it’s all his fault. Worse, I can’t stand this uncertain purgatory of not knowing when I’ll see or speak to him again. It was hard enough to walk out of the library just now.

Another wild impulse—I’m just full of them these days—makes me call him, excitement keeping me in a stranglehold while the phone rings.

“Hello?”

I take a deep breath. “Charlotte Montgomery calling,” I say in my crisp phone voice. “May I speak with Damon Black, please?”

I literally hear him smile. This, naturally, makes me smile.

“Speaking.”

“You’ve made an absolute disaster of my hair and makeup. I thought you should know.”

“I regret nothing.”

“Smug bastard. Now I’m not sorry for leaving you in that state. How are your privates, by the way?”

“Still blue. The sound of your voice in my ear doesn’t help.”

I grin at myself, ridiculously pleased. “Do take care of things down there. It’s an exceptionally fine cock.”

“Glad you feel that way,” he says, his voice husky now.

I turn away from the mirror and lean against the counter, balancing the phone against my shoulder.

“Speaking of my new favorite subject,” I say softly, “I find it ironic that, according to you, I’m supposed to remain untouched. Yet your cock is free to do whatever it bloody well pleases. How is that fair?”

He also lowers his voice until it becomes a soft and seductive murmur. “You’ll be happy to know that my dick is only interested in you. Which has been a wildly annoying and inconvenient development recently. So you have