My pussy is still humming, my body still afterburning, so it takes me a few seconds to absorb what he just said.

Cage Bryant just asked me to stay—at least in his own arrogant way. I get the feeling this man doesn’t actually ask anyone to do anything as much as he just says something and expects to be obeyed.

I sit up on the table and press my damp thighs together, suddenly the queen of demure. “You’re…keeping me?”

“Under certain conditions.”

I slowly slide off the table, making sure my dress covers everything. I don’t know why since he just got a nice, long look at my goods, but there’s something about the way he’s devouring me with his gaze that unsettles me.

Excites me but also terrifies me.

He rests his hands on his hips, casual, strong, utterly in charge. “Don’t look so afraid.”

“I’m not.”

“You are.” He gives me yet another thorough look that has me trembling again. “I’m not going to take your virginity tonight. I’ve got to go back to New York for business.”

Huh?

“Are you asking me to fly back to my home and wait for you to…summon me?”

And there’s that bemused smirk again. “No. I want you to come with me for a few days to the city.”

The city. As in New York. As in a few days there with him?

Mind blown.

He chuckles at how dopey I must look just standing there in my sweet dress, trying to figure out the logistics—and the whys. He’s so out of my league in so many ways, and once again, I feel like an awkward teen. Why would he want me if he doesn’t have to have me?

But for some reason, he doesn’t seem to notice my awkwardness. Or maybe it just feeds his massive ego.

“I mentioned conditions,” he says, his mood changing, his expression deadly serious. “And here’s the first: I’m going to pay you a fee on top of what you’re already getting from the Highest Bidder.”

I manage to keep my jaw from hitting the floor. More excitement rushes me, but I tamp it down.

This wasn’t what I was expecting by “conditions.” And all that money… Boy, it could really save my butt.

“Why did you change your mind?” I ask.

“Maybe I judged this whole thing too quickly because this gift took me by surprise.” His cool reserve intensifies. “However, I won’t have another man paying my bills. My client will be paid back for what he spent on you, and I’m going to cancel your contract through the Highest Bidder site. I’ll be paying you directly.” He pauses. “And it’ll be double your initial fee.”

His expression intensifies as his eyes heat up, reminding me that his fingers were just inside of me, turning me on and pumping me up.

Dear god, like I’m going to say no to this offer? And I’m not only ecstatic about the money. Don’t get me wrong.

It’s about him. I already can’t get enough of Cage Bryant.

He lifts one of his dark eyebrows. “Are you taking the offer or leaving it?”

How do I say yes without seeming totally desperate?

“To be clear,” he continues, “this deal is only good if you come back with me to New York immediately and agree to do anything I ask of you.”

His words rattle me. Anything? “Is this what you really meant by ‘conditions’?”

Now his demeanor is absolutely impenetrable. “I’m never going to ask you to do anything that will cause you harm.”

Okay. But I don’t really know this man. Yes, he was already more intimate with me than I’ve ever experienced before, but part of me feels afraid because this is really happening—this impulsive, out-of-the-ordinary offer from a billionaire. But even more significantly, he seems like the type of guy who could steal my heart if I’m not careful.

I can be careful though—way more careful than I’ve been in the past.

“I accept your offer,” I say, my blood already singing for what I’ve just signed on for.

Cage doesn’t say anything, but I see something that confuses me in his blue eyes—something that grips my heart—before his gaze cools and he nods in satisfaction, sealing the deal.

* * *

All business now, he directs me to a lounge where there’s a gigantic plasma TV plus every media option available on it. After he gives me a phone charger, he tells me that since I’ll be hanging around, I’ll need some dinner.

I watch him leave the room, and I wonder if he always runs the gamut from hot to warm to cold and back again.

Probably. But I’ll be with him only a few days, so I can take his changing moods. My patience will hopefully be rewarded in many ways...

I plug my device into an outlet. Then I settle onto a stuffed leather sofa in the dark-wooded room that has a view of the waterside pool with white-draped awnings, which gives it a decadent Roman flavor. There’s also a curtained iron gazebo, and as I access a movie on the TV, I see Cage going out there with a tray of ingredients.

Is he going to cook me dinner?

It seems there’s a small kitchen in that gazebo, and I find myself watching him cook more than I watch the movie.

He’s still in his board shorts, shirtless, and that means I get to see his muscles work with every move he makes. Even though he’s not dressed in an elegant business suit and chased by paparazzi at this very minute, he’s still the authoritative billionaire who just bought me.

And he plans on fucking me.

Oh, god, but when? How? Where?

I curl onto the sofa, pressing my thighs together so the ache between my legs won’t drive me insane. I think the only thing that’ll make the delicious pain go away is him, his fingers, his mouth, and...

I blow out a breath. His penis. Or, now that I’m about to become very familiar with it, maybe I should start being a big girl and calling it what the big girls call it.

His cock.

By the time he finally summons me outside, I’ve blushingly fantasized about him having me in about a thousand different ways.

He’s put on a dark T-shirt, as if he took that extra courteous step for our waterside dinner, and he pulls out my chair for me.

A flutter of appreciation wings around the inside of my belly, and I smile at him as I sit and place my phone on a chair next to me. The white curtains stir in the mild breeze as the sun turns a simmering orange, coating the water with its warmth.

But it’s him I can’t take my eyes off of. Tall, dark, gorgeous him.

As he slides a plate in front of me, I realize that something smells delicious, and I close my eyes and inhale.

“Yum,” I murmur.

When I open my eyes again, Cage is standing there and watching me as if my slight, delighted sound has turned him on. I see it in his eyes. But he’s also guarded, absolutely in control.

This is a man who does things the way he does them. He’s a mystery I’m not going to solve in a few days, and I’m going to enjoy myself for what this is worth.

I glance at my plate, which is full of yellow rice with olives and something like grilled bananas. “What is this?”

Cage smoothly pours a golden wine into my waiting glass. “Cuban plantains. It’s supposed to be a family recipe from generations ago.”

I glance up at him to see the breeze toying with his thick brown hair. As he looks back at me, his eyes pierce me, and the color is all the more intense because of his tanned skin and dark eyebrows.

This has got to be a dream, I think as he pours wine for himself and then sits across from me. Every move he makes sends a quaver through me. It’s almost as if he’s stroking my pussy again, getting me wet and ready for what he’ll eventually be doing to me…

Tearing myself away from yet another fantasy, I take a sip of my wine. It’s buttery and fruity.

When I look at Cage again, he’s not eating. I think he’s getting his fill from watching how I drink, how I enjoy.

“You’ve got good taste,” I say, putting down the glass.

“Yes, I do. In everything.”

Does he mean me?

I blush yet again while I start eating, and damn, but he can cook. Is there anything he isn’t good at?

The mere question sends a ripple of desire over my skin. He was sure good at what he did to me earlier.

As I realize that I’m wolfing down my food, I slow my pace, offering him a whoops kind of grin. At first he wrinkles his brow, but then a smile ghosts over his lips. I don’t think he’s used to girls like me—ones who actually eat real food instead of brown rice and vegetables. Ones who don’t think chewing gum will put them over their calorie count for the day.

I drink more wine. It’s starting to give me a happy buzz, probably because I’m not a big drinker in the first place. “Where did you learn to cook like this?”

This one simple question must be the wrong one, because something shutters closed in his eyes. His voice is cool. “Cooking was a skill that was necessary for me to learn.”

Okay. The man of mystery strikes again. I have to say though that every time he goes dark and glacial like this, I like it. There’s got to be something wrong with me, but there it is—I’m drawn to his inaccessibility.

Then again, what is there about him that I’m not drawn to?

As the sound of seagulls travel through the air in the near distance, I sneak another peek at Cage. His gaze is fixed on the ocean, as if there’s something faraway that’s consumed him. It’s because of my question, isn’t it? God, I’m not going to ask anything else. Not if it makes him unhappy. Even as inexperienced as I am, I know my job is to do the opposite.

I study his strong profile and shift restlessly in my chair.

Speaking of jobs… When will he fuck me?

How?

Where?

Out of the corner of my eye, I see a message flash onto the screen of my silenced phone in the seat next to me, and I glance down at it. When I read the text, my entire body freezes.

Liam:

Got the package as expected.

I feel the color drain from my face, and the food and wine I’ve been eating and drinking go sour in my stomach. I want to throw up, but instead, I only put down my fork and lift my napkin to my lips.

Even though my gaze is fixed on my plate, I sense that Cage has picked up on my reaction.

“What’s wrong?” he asks.

“Nothing. I’m fine.”

Look at him, Karini. Play this off like it’s nothing.

I do my best to put on a brave face and act like everything is okay, but my pulse is racing and I can’t breathe very well.

Shit.

I’ve got to get through this meal, because I don’t want Cage to change his mind about taking me to New York. He doesn’t need a basket case—he wants the girl he already got a small taste of. A virgin who melts at his touch and who’ll turn him on.

I pick up my fork and make myself eat, but nothing has a taste anymore—not after that text.

When I lift my gaze, Cage is still watching me as if he knows something is wrong, but even though I’m battling a panic attack I smile again. All the same, my sudden paranoia doesn’t disappear.

And neither does that text.