Propositioning Love - Page 22

I should be beyond furious with him for doing pretty much what Chad did to me last night, but peering up at his face, I feel something else.

Something dangerously close to excitement.

My heart starts to race and my lungs pull in air like the atmosphere has suddenly thinned as I stare up at him.

He presses in closer and muscle memories flood my system. Of my legs wrapped around his waist. Of his chest hard against my breasts.

Grinding my spine into the wall, I try to put as much distance as possible between us, but he just eases into the gap I created.

Looking left, then right, I look at everywhere but his face as I struggle to figure out a way out of this.

Head dipping closer, his face fills my vision, giving me no choice but to look at him. Eyes meeting mine, my muscles coil with tension.

“What do you mean you let me get away once?” I find myself asking breathlessly, and instantly berate myself for not telling him off.

This close, with that look on his face, it’s becoming harder and harder to remember that I’m pissed off.

“When you weren’t there this morning….” He trails off then curses. “Fuck.”

He leans back and his head drops down. I consider again making a run for it. If I give him a hard shove right now, I bet I can make it to the door…

His head snaps up and his angry gaze bores into me. Trapping me more effectively than his arms.

“You can’t quit.”

I shake my head and look away, trying to free myself of his trance. “I just did.”

Warm fingers curl around my chin and pull my gaze back. “But you haven’t even heard my proposal yet.”

“Proposal?” I repeat dumbly as his thumb strokes against me, creating all these unwanted sensations that travel down to my toes.

What could he possibly want to offer me?

“Yes, my proposal,” he repeats with more confidence.

I will my body to turn off, to ignore the pull of his presence, but it’s useless. For whatever reason, having him this close, overpowering my senses, has triggered a weakness deep inside me I didn’t know existed.

Licking my lips nervously, it takes more effort than it should to tell him, “There’s nothing you can—”

“One hundred thousand dollars,” he cuts me off almost brutally.

I’d rear back in surprise if I wasn’t already ground against the wall.

One hundred thousand dollars for what?

“Are you offering me a raise?”

An extra fifty thousand a year would go a long way with helping paying off the seventy-five-thousand-dollar hole Jared left me in. The interest alone is killing me. Pretty soon Bella will be sharing her cat food with me, whether she likes it or not.

The corners of Bry’s lips pull up, but there’s nothing friendly about his grin. The thing is downright predatory as he says, “No, I’m offering you one hundred thousand dollars to spend the next thirty days with me.”

I have to repeat his words three more times in my head before they finally sink in. He can’t be serious. One hundred thousand dollars for a month with me? Me?

“How stupid do you think I am?” I hiss as I reach up and push at his chest.

He doesn’t move. Doesn’t even budge an inch. I might as well be trying to move a slab of solid granite.

Inclining his head as if he accepts my point, he counters, “Two hundred thousand dollars.”

My fingers curl, clutching at his suit jacket in surprise. “What?”

“Three hundred thousand dollars for the next thirty days of your life, Ms. Adams,” he says calmly. “That’s my final offer.”

I blink at him, half-expecting his offer to be something I just hallucinated. But his eyes sear into me as if he’s willing me to accept it.

Holy shit, I think he’s serious.

Ten

Zoe

“You’re crazy.” I shake my head and finally realize I’m clutching at Bry.

Dropping my hands as if his touch burned me, I curl my fingers into fists at my sides.

“Perhaps, but I think it’s a fair trade.”

It’s on the tip of my tongue to argue with him, to tell him I’m not worth nearly that much, but I bite it back.

Three hundred thousand dollars. Three hundred thousand dollars, oh my god.

“What exactly are you getting out of this?”

Expression darkening, there’s no shame, no hesitation as he tells me, “Every waking moment of the next thirty days of your life outside this office.”

Fingers sliding along my cheek, he grabs me by the back of the head, forcing me to arch up.

“I want every second.”

Staring up at him, arched like this, I feel as if I’m on the edge of a cliff and about to tumble over it.

I shouldn’t. This is beyond absurd. But three hundred thousand dollars…

Three hundred thousand dollars.

“And my sleeping moments?” I ask, more to bide time than anything.

His lids lower and his face tips down. Lips a breath away. “Those moments will be spent beside me, in my bed.”

Tags: Izzy Sweet, Sean Moriarty Billionaire Romance
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