“Did you have a nice time tonight, Miss Parker?”
The way he calls me that—Miss Parker—puts me even more off-kilter. It’s so at odds with his private smile, with me sitting on his lap, his fingers lightly caressing my smooth skin.
It feels wrong, but I’m still dreadfully hopeful.
I’m not sure I can speak without making a fool of myself, so I’m relieved when I manage to answer evenly, “I did. Thank you for taking me along.”
His fingers move along the inside of my thigh, drifting an inch higher and robbing some of the breath from my lungs. As if unfazed, he says, “No thanks required. You were magnificent.” He waits a beat, but not long enough for me to think of anything to say with him touching me the way he is. “Is your position at my company everything you expected it to be?”
I want to answer him, I really do, but then he slides his hand so high up my thigh, the tip of his fingers brush my panties.
My heart skitters to a stop. The breath freezes in my lungs. The whole world seems to stop moving for the span of a single missed heartbeat.
This is what I wanted, so why doesn’t it feel right?
It’s his demeanor. He’s still completely in control of himself—I haven’t awakened some ravenous beast inside him, he’s not passionately giving in to some fierce desire for me…
Then it hits me, and it’s horrible.
He’s toying with me.
Maybe he isn’t. Maybe I’m reading it wrong. I’ve never been in an intimate situation with him before, so maybe my fantasy of what it would be like between us is totally wrong.
I hope I’m wrong.
I couldn’t bear to be toyed with, not by him.
Instinctively, I reach down and cover his hand with mine, stilling it against my thigh so it doesn’t go any farther. It’s not as effective as I want it to be, though. He doesn’t resist, he allows me to stop him, but I want so badly to be wrong that my gesture is half-hearted. “What are you doing?” I ask softly.
“Giving you what you want,” he says simply, leaving one hand trapped beneath mine, but drawing the other up to play with my hair. First he caresses a chunk of silky gold hair between his thumb and forefinger and it’s almost tender, but then he suddenly wraps my pony tail around his fist and tugs.
I gasp as he pulls me backward, but I notice his grip on my thigh tightens as if he knew he would startle me and wanted to ensure I didn’t fall.
He brings his lips so close, I feel them brush the shell of my ear. “This is what you wanted, isn’t it? You reached into your pretty little bag of debutante tricks to coax me into the house—you want me to fuck you, right? If there’s one thing I know about you, it’s that you always get what you want, so let’s get on with it.”
His words are like little knives being thrust in my heart. It’s not just what he says, but how he says it—like he still views me as some spoiled little rich girl and he thinks wanting him is just my latest whim.
Prying his hand off my thigh and reaching back to free my hair from his tight grip, I murmur, “No, Foster, this isn’t what I wanted.”
He cocks an eyebrow as I launch myself off his lap and turn to glare at him. “No? Could have fooled me.”
“No,” I repeat, more heated with each passing second. Gesturing wildly between us, I repeat myself with more emphasis. “This is not what I wanted. Yes, I tricked you to get you in the house—but you knew I was tricking you; you were hardly defenseless against my wiles. I wanted to spend some time together just the two of us. I wanted to spend time with you. I don’t see what’s so wrong with that.”
Foster stands, his dark gaze narrowing on mine as he takes a step in my direction. “And why is that, hm? None of my other employees feel the need to spend alone time with me outside of the office.”
I take a step back as he advances, but I’m still angry so I fling back, “Maybe that’s because they all think you’re an asshole and you’d say no.”
His lips curve up faintly as he takes another step toward me. His reluctant amusement always gets to me, but paired with the way he’s backing me toward the wall…