The Billionaire's Toy(11)

By: Penny Wylder

And then he’s backed away like nothing’s happened. My heart is thundering, and I scold it. I can’t get worked up every time he pays me any kind of attention. But he is paying attention. Even though he’s professional, I can see the way he’s looking at me. My body reacts to it in a way it never has with anyone else.

“Hurry,” he says, “I still need to show you your choreography.”


He smirks. “Something like that.”

I duck behind the screen and pull on the bathing suit. It’s a one-piece, but it’s so scandalous that it might as well be two. The fabric is woven in tight knots that form patterns over my skin. Some places are webbed with lace and sheer gauze, others are open to my skin. One strap is intentionally off the shoulder, and the colors are the same deep blue and teal that seem to be the theme. I put the robe on over the bathing suit, and I have to admit, it really works. I look like some sort of wanton mermaid or siren, ready to call to sailors and wreck their ships. With my make-up and hair, I look like someone who would do it with delight.

Coming out from behind the screen, I see that Andrew has walked a little ways away and is consulting with someone dressed in black who has a headset in his ear. They’re looking at a clipboard, and the headset guy seems really animated. Again, I wait. Trish was right, Andrew has about a million things to deal with at the moment.

But then he turns and looks at me, and he freezes. The air between us goes tight, and I can feel the magnetic pull between us like it’s a physical thing. I do feel like a siren, and I will him to come to me. He does.

“You look absolutely perfect,” he says.

“Thank you,” I say softly, grateful that my face is covered in paint and he can’t see the fiery blush now gracing my cheeks. I have to look away from him. “That’s nice of you.”

He shakes his head. “I know we don’t know each other well, but I never say anything I don’t mean. And I don’t think I’ve ever said that to someone before.” I lock eyes with him again and it feels like an electric eternity. He turns away quickly, breaking the moment. “Come with me.”

I follow him into the main gallery, and I practically blend into it between the lights and the artwork. In the center of the room there’s a low, oval platform. The lights play across the platform with a texture that makes it look like it’s underwater. “You will be here,” he says. “Lay down.”

I raise an eyebrow, but I do. Then he’s kneeling next to me, positioning me. “Start like this.” He pulls my arms above my head, and the way his skin feels on mine is electric. Fingers brush my knee. “One up.” If I’m not mistaken, his breath is a little short. Then his hand slides under my back and brushes my skin. “Arch as high as you can.”

The position stretches the suit, and I can feel that I’m inches away from being indecent, but I also feel sexy. Andrew is leaning over me, looking down, and I see him glance at my lips. Oh god, I want him to kiss me even though I shouldn’t. I want to pull him down on top of me right here in the middle of the gallery. Focus, Delia. “You mentioned choreography?”

“I did,” he leans closer, and I can smell the subtle, spicy cologne on his skin. I let my back sink back to the floor as he stares at me. “The choreography is simply this: ecstasy.”

“Like the drug?”

He laughs, and it echoes through the room. “No. Like sex. All of the models will be moving in slow motion, like they’re underwater. You just happen to be having the best orgasm of your life while you’re down there.”

I laugh softly. “So I am a siren. I wondered.”

“You certainly are.” I can tell he’s not joking.

Meeting his eyes, I arch my back again. “If I am, is it working? Because I can think of a few things that would get me in the mood to pretend I’m having the best sex of my life.”

Andrew’s eyes go dark, and his hand drifts down my waist grazing skin and fabric. Just as he reaches my hip, he pulls away suddenly, like he remembered where he was. He meets my gaze again. “Nothing is too far,” he says. “As long as it’s slow. If you want to touch yourself do it, if you want to moan, make whoever’s watching you feel your pleasure.”

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