With a sudden movement, he stopped and faced her. He wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her into him. Her eyes widened and she drew in a surprised breath.

“Never presume to know me, Miss Campbell.” He reached out with his other hand and caught a lock of her hair, rubbing it between his finger and thumb. It was just as soft as it looked.

She stared at him warily, her hands flat on the lapels of his jacket.

He pulled her closer, his palm hot against her cool, bare back, felt her breasts press against his chest. He wondered what her nipples looked like—pink and dusky or just a shade darker than her pale skin? He let go of her hair and moved his thumb slowly across one of her golden eyebrows.

Her breath quickened. Those blue eyes darkened a bit. As he slowly leaned forward and kissed her temple, her lashes fluttered, tickling his cheek. Bloody hell, he was rock hard and he hadn’t even kissed her properly.

Leaning his head back, he tenderly brushed his hand across her jaw, then ran his finger over the seam of her lips. Those full, pouty lips. They parted and her eyes drifted shut.

He dipped his finger in her mouth, then traced her upper lip with his damp fingertip. His own breath was shallow, his heart racing. He edged the tip of his finger in her mouth once again. “Suck,” he whispered.

Her eyes shot open, and she jerked her head away, so that his finger was no longer touching her. “No.”

He stroked the naked skin along her spine, felt her shiver. “You’re having difficulty with the ‘every whim’ part of the program, aren’t you, darling? If you want to end this arrangement now—”

“I don’t.” Staring daggers at him, she grabbed his free hand and lowering her head, licked his finger from base to tip like it was her favorite treat. Then she slid it between her plump lips and began to suck. Gently at first. Leisurely. With a moan, she swirled her tongue around him. Her head bobbed up and down, her eyes never leaving his as she gave a porn-star performance. Scraping her teeth against his knuckle, she increased the suction, pulling him further inside.

Good God.

His cock pulsed with the rhythm of her mouth and got even harder, if that were possible. By forcing Allie to do this, he’d just fucked himself. And not in a satisfactory way.

Abruptly, she jerked the finger from her mouth with a pop and dropped his hand.

“Happy?” she asked.

***

It was getting harder to suppress her reactions to him—the anger, the anxiety. And the attraction. That tug she felt when he took her in his arms and stroked his fingers along her jaw. When he kissed her temple and looked at her with stormy gray eyes. She’d almost softened toward him, too, until he reminded her yet again about their little transaction. Every whim, her ass.

He constantly kept her off balance—cold and sarcastic one second, hot and sensual the next. He was toying with her, and she didn’t like it.

He gazed at her with a mixture of amusement and something else she couldn’t quite define. “Well done, Miss Campbell. Now, we need to get back. I still have some work to do this evening.”

“More poor people to exploit?” She couldn’t manage to keep the hint of bitterness out of her voice.

“Widows and orphans to destroy, puppies to kick.” He sighed deeply. “So much evil to do and only twenty-four hours in a day.”

She glanced up at him. “You’re not funny.”

“You, on the other hand, are terribly amusing.”

As they walked back to the house, she let her hand trail over the velvet petals of a yellow rose. “If you miss England so much, why did you leave?”

He stopped, that nasty smile hovering on his lips. “Wherever did you learn your sucking skills, Miss Campbell? You’re exceptionally good at it. Had a lot of practice?”

She let go of the rose petal and twirled toward him to lash out, but when she did, her finger caught the tip of a thorn. “Damn.” She stuck the bleeding finger in her mouth.

“Let me see.” Taking her hand, he brought it closer to his face and squeezed.

“Ow, stop that.” She tried to yank out of his grasp, but he tightened his hold.

“Don’t be such a baby. It’s only a scratch.” Drawing a folded white handkerchief from his pocket, he wrapped it around her finger and applied pressure.

This time when she tried to pull away, he let her go. She clutched the handkerchief and resumed walking. She didn’t look at him, didn’t ask any more personal questions.

With his hand on her bare back, he led her to the house, through the dining room, to the foot of the staircase, where he’d felt her up earlier in the evening. Her cheeks grew warm thinking of his hand on her breast, squeezing it like he owned it. Which, for the next two months, he did.

But that was nothing compared to what was coming. She was going to have to show him the whole enchilada, let him touch whatever he wanted. She was on the verge of freaking out when he gazed down at her with a mocking smile.

“Good night, Miss Campbell. Try not to dream of me.” He ran his fingers down her spine before striding toward his office.

She stood alone on the bottom step, completely confused. Her heart slowed to a steady beat, and the threatening tide of panic began to subside.

So, that was it? No sex? He must be playing another game, one that only he knew the rules to. But she was too tired to figure them out tonight.

Grateful for a reprieve, she whisked off her shoes and, grabbing the hem of the dress with her uninjured hand, lightly ran up the stairs to the safety of her room. She shut the door behind her and locked it. It wouldn’t keep him out, but at least she might have some advance notice if decided to barge in.

She went to the bathroom and unwrapped her scratched finger. The initials embroidered on his handkerchief read TWB. Trevor William? She scoffed, glancing at herself in the mirror.

“You’re an idiot, Allison. Who gives a crap what his middle name is? The man was about to take over your house and kick your family out on the street.” No matter how many flowers he planted or how gently he wrapped her bloody finger, he owned her ass. And she’d better remember that.

In the bedroom, she removed the dress, letting her hand drift over the expensive fabric before hanging it up in the closet. Then, she threw on a pair of men’s boxer shorts and an old, faded T-shirt before grabbing the phone off the side table. Allie needed to call her father and explain the situation. She could only imagine what Monica told him, and he must be worried by now.

He answered on the first ring.

“Hey, Dad.”

“My God, Allie, what the hell is going on? Monica said you’re living with Trevor Blake.”

“Sorry I couldn’t talk to you in person, but when I came to see Mr. Blake about the loan, he offered me a job,” she said, forcing enthusiasm into her voice. She didn’t want her father to suspect anything was wrong.

“Allie, he’s throwing us out of our house. You can’t work for that man.”

She sank down on the bed and, plucking the gray duvet with two fingers, took a deep breath. “I’m going to be his assistant, Dad, and in return, he’s going to forgive the debt you owe and pay off the mortgage and the rest of the medical bills.”

“Why? Why would he do that, Al?”

She hated lying to him. But it was necessary. “He liked my initiative. I’m not getting much of a salary at this point, but I have room and board and I’ll gain a lot of experience.” She winced as she said the words. She didn’t really want the kind of experience a man like Trevor Blake would give her. Hot, consuming sexual experience.

Her father laughed. “That’s amazing, Allison. I’m so proud of you.”

He wouldn’t be proud if he knew the truth. She closed her eyes and kept her voice light. “Can I talk to Brynn?”

“Let me see.” He came back a minute later. “She doesn’t want to talk right now, but she’ll come around. She doesn’t like change and you left so suddenly…”