The Billion Dollar Bachelor (11 page)

Something hot ignited in his eyes, his jaw tightening, his thumb on her lip pressing a little harder. “Of course I know that. But if I catch you hacking into my e-mail account again, there will be trouble.” Tension had crept into the big, powerful body resting next to hers, that familiar blue flame flickering in his eyes. Interesting. Clearly the kiss and the white minidress was having its desired effect.

“That sounds intriguing,” she murmured. “What kind of trouble are we talking about here?”

His gaze dropped to her mouth, lingering there. Then abruptly he released her chin and looked away. “I’m serious, Pandora.”

A familiar, creeping disappointment settled in her stomach. Once again, like he had at the art gallery, he’d given her something, then pulled back. And now, as then, it hurt.

“Why are you doing this?” she blurted out before she could stop herself.

He shot her a glance, frowning. “Doing what?”

“Pulling away from me.”

“I’m not—”

“Then why haven’t you come to bed with me since that art gallery opening?”

“I’ve been busy.”

“Bullshit.” She put a hand on his thigh and felt hard, hot muscle tense in response. “You’ve been avoiding me and I want to know why.”

The look on his face was, as per freaking usual, as easy to read as ancient Sanskrit. “I’m not sure what else you want,” he said flatly, ignoring her hand.

“I want what we had on our first night again. I want that passion. That intensity.” She took a breath. “I want the Huntsman.”

He looked away. “No.”

“Why not? Why can’t you—”

“I said no, Pandora.”

Frustration ate away at her. She took her hand away, staring at him. “Is it me? Did I do something wrong?”

He was silent a long moment, his body still rigid with tension, his clasped hands resting on his thighs. Then abruptly he sighed. “The reasons … It’s a long story.”

God, did this mean she was finally going to get something from him? “So? Tell me.”

“You wanted to know about the email concerning Sean? Yes, he’s my youngest brother. My half-brother.”

Her heart began beating a little faster. He didn’t talk about his family and she hadn’t asked. But that didn’t mean she wasn’t curious. Sean Morrow had disappeared years ago, but according to the internet gossip columns she sometimes read, he’d joined a biker gang. “I thought he …” She hesitated.

“Joined a gang.” Jax sounded tired. “Yeah, he did. About five years ago now. I’m currently in the process of trying to track him down.”

“Why did he leave?”

“It was partly my fault. His mother was one of dad’s mistresses and after she died, he came to live with us. Mom was … unhappy about it.”

“I can imagine.”

A shadow flickered briefly in his blue gaze. “Dad dumped this five-year-old kid in the house and left him to fend for himself. It was an unfortunate situation.”

Curiosity tightened inside her. She almost didn’t want to breathe in case he clammed up on her. “No wonder. That must have been incredibly stressful. But how is his leaving your fault?”

His face settled into hard lines. “When he first arrived, I tried to manage the situation since Dad wasn’t interested in doing so. But one day Sean knocked over an heirloom vase belonging to my mother and it broke. Mom laid into him and since he was only five, I intervened.”

That sounded like Jax. “Of course you did. I would have, too.”

“Except I went about it the wrong way though. I was angry. I said things to Mom I shouldn’t have said.” He glanced at her. “She never forgave me and she never forgave Sean. She blamed him for ‘turning me against her.’ I wasn’t even allowed to see her after she got sick with terminal cancer. She died and I never got to say good-bye.”

Sympathy twisted hard inside her, a lump rising in her throat. “But that’s not fair. You were only trying to protect him.”

“I should never have gotten so angry. I managed to screw up my relationship with her and made things worse for Sean, too.” Something shut down in his gaze, a door closing. “He was always the outsider and my mother never wasted an opportunity to remind him. Eventually, he withdrew from all of us. I know he was angry that I spoke up for him.” Jax’s gaze met hers again. “If I hadn’t, maybe my mother would have forgiven him. Maybe she wouldn’t have twisted the knife. Maybe he wouldn’t have left. I know I certainly would have been able to see her before she died.”

“But those were her decisions, Jax. You shouldn’t take responsibility for them.”

“But I can for my own actions. And I should never have let my anger get the better of me.” His gaze was very direct. “The heat of the moment is never a good place to be, Pandora. People get hurt. You got hurt. And that’s why I can’t be the Huntsman for you. Not again.”

She stared at him. Dear God, the man was quite serious. “Oh, for fuck’s sake. You really believe that?”

Black brows drew down. “It’s not a question of belief. It’s the truth.”

“So, let me see if I’ve got this straight. You’re holding yourself back because you think … what? That you’ll screw up the situation with us now?”

“Yes.”

“Newsflash, Jax. It’s already pretty damn screwed up. I don’t think it can get any worse.”

“It’s not that simple.”

“I’ve got two words to say to that: Bull. Shit.”

He scowled. “I could hurt you.”

“Yeah, you could.” She turned back to her laptop and flipped up the screen. Her poor silly, uptight Huntsman needed a lesson. How strange it was she, the virgin, who was going to teach it to him. “Oh, look,” she said, gesturing to the screen. “I got into your e-mail again.”

The hard line of Jax’s jaw became even harder. “Don’t.”

“Hmmm, perhaps I’ll send an e-mail to the entire company from your account. Perhaps the stick up your butt isn’t quite long enough and you’re wondering if anyone else has got anything longer. Yep, in fact, that’s definitely what you’re going to do.” She leaned forward, her fingers on the keys.

But before she could type a word, an arm wound around her waist, pulling her back hard against him. “I said, don’t,” he growled, a hard edge to his voice.

Excitement caught in her throat. Oh yeah, that sounded like her Huntsman all right. “How are you going to stop me?” she said thickly. “I can hack any system you name.”

The arm around her waist tightened, his body hot as a furnace behind her. “This isn’t funny, Pandora.”

“You think I won’t do it?” She pulled against his hold, wanting to make him work for it. “I can. And I will.”

“Goddammit.” She felt him shift and suddenly heat pressed against her spine, her butt, and the backs of her thighs as he pulled her into his lap, his arms tight bands around her. “Would you stop it?”

Excellent. She was in the perfect spot. “No.” And she wriggled.

“Fuck.” The word was sharply bitten off as she wriggled again, feeling the hard length of his rapidly growing erection pressing against her butt, the short hem of her dress sliding up.

“Pandora … ”

“You said there would be trouble if I got into your e-mail again and I did. Are you going to let me get away with it?” She didn’t know why it mattered to her so much but she was sick of his detachment. Sick of his reserve. Sick of him pulling back. She wanted everything he had to give and she wanted it now.

He was inhaling and exhaling faster now, the heat of his breath feathering across the back of her neck. “No.” There was a dark note in his voice. “Choose your punishment then.”

Adrenaline burst through her, the earlier desperation returning with a vengeance. His arm was an iron band around her waist and the feeling of being held so tightly by him was intoxicating. “You know what a bad girl I am, Hunt,” she whispered. “Perhaps you’d better spank me. Just to make sure I don’t it again.”

“Jesus.” He’d gone quite still. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

She loved that side of him, that protectiveness. But she’d had enough of being protected to last her a lifetime.

“I know but … I’ve never done anything even remotely kinky, not even by myself. And I want to try it. I want to try everything. And I want to try it with you.” She shifted her hips again, pressing against the hard ridge of his cock beneath her, the delicious ache of need gathering tighter. “I trust you, Jax.”

He said nothing for a long moment, his body taut as a coiled spring beneath hers. Then, at last, he said, “Over my knee, Pandora. Now.”

She was shaking, but it wasn’t from fear. This was another choice she’d made for herself and shit, she wasn’t going to pull back now. She wanted it. She wanted it so badly.

Shifting around, she maneuvered herself over his knees, letting him position her so she lay on her front, her cheek against the leather of the couch. Then he jerked her dress up to her hips and pulled her underwear down and off, leaving her bare butt exposed. The position was sort of humiliating and yet … she was wet, the hot pulse of desire between her thighs.

“You should be careful what you ask for,” he said, the rough heat in his voice making everything inside her turn to liquid. “Especially when you don’t know what it is you’re getting.”

Swallowing, she pressed her forehead against the couch, still shaking as she felt his hand slide over one buttock, squeezing, stroking. Then it lifted. And came down hard.

The pain was sharp, the sound of his smack echoing through the wide empty space of the apartment. But underneath the pain, a weird, burning pleasure. God, it was intense. For a girl who’d spent most of her life without much in the way of sensation, it was almost too much.

Startled tears filled her eyes so she closed them, refusing to let them fall.

His palm descended again. And again.

Her teeth sunk into her lip, but not because it hurt. It was the perverse pleasure of it that was making her breathless. Making her want to cry out. Her skin felt hot and raw and when his hand descended again, she couldn’t stop the sound that escaped her. Because it wasn’t a smack this time but a stroke, a gentle soothing touch that had her squirming in his lap, wanting friction from the hard bulge in his trousers that was pressing against her, anything to relieve the pressure.

He didn’t give it to her. He stroked her over and over—the small of her back, her butt, the backs of her thighs, her calves. Then he brought his palm down on her buttocks again, harder.

Pandora pressed her forehead firmly into the leather of the couch cushions, her eyes filling with more tears. She tasted blood in her mouth from where she’d bitten her lip but she didn’t care. This was what she’d wanted, the intensity of sensation, the wild rush of feeling. It was like flying, like she was a bird finally soaring away, free …

His hand stilled on her hot, sore skin, his breathing as fast as hers. “I’m stopping.”

“But I—”

“I didn’t say it was over.”

Her throat closed as he began the gentle touches again, stroking her, his palm drifting over her stinging skin. Over the curve of her butt and then between her thighs.

Pandora moaned helplessly as his fingers found her slick flesh, circling the entrance of her body in a tantalizingly movement before one finger slid into her. She shivered, lifting her hips, desperate for more but he didn’t give it to her, that maddening finger easing out again, sliding higher to her clit, brushing lightly over it.

“Jax … please.” There were a thousand cracks running through her voice but she didn’t care. “I want … more … ”

His fingers wandered, maddeningly light. “Keep still. You got your pain but this is
my
punishment. You don’t get to come until I say.”

She wailed as he pinched her clit, moving restlessly on his knees, desperate to ease the ache. “That’s not … fair … ”

“No. It’s not.” His hand came down on her sore butt, a light tap. “What did I say about moving?”

Instantly she stopped moving, but he didn’t, teasing her relentlessly until she was mindless with pleasure, her whole world being the blinding need that built and built inside her, teetering on the edge of release without falling it over it.

And when she thought she couldn’t bear it anymore, his hands gripped her, sitting her up in his lap, her back to his front. He shifted beneath her and she heard the sound of foil ripping, then he was bending her forward as he thrust hard into her, ripping a harsh cry from her throat.

“Don’t you dare come, Snow,” he growled. “I didn’t say you could yet.” And the bastard thrust again, his hand slipping around and between her legs, fingers brushing her clit.

But no matter what he said, the orgasm rushed over her, heavy and inescapable as a freight train, turning her inside out, making her scream.

Then he was moving faster, harder, deeper inside her, his breathing ragged and harsh against the back of her neck. And when he came she felt him tremble, holding on to her so tightly she could barely breathe.

Silence descended as they both sat there, broken only by their rapid, shattered breaths.

Jax moved first, gently shifting her as he dealt with the condom, then began putting his clothing right. She did the same, shifting so she could pull her dress down.

“Wait.” Jax was looking down at the curve of one buttock. “Let me see.”

“What?”

“There are marks …” He reached out, his fingers brushing her skin.

“Well, of course there are. You spanked me.”

His gaze lifted to hers, opaque as blue glass. He stared at her for a long minute. Then abruptly he got to his feet, adjusting the rest of his clothing. “I’d better get back to work.”

“It’s nothing, Jax. I wanted it, remember?”

He didn’t say a thing. Only turned and left the room.

Jax paced restlessly in front of the windows of his office, New York glittering at his feet. He couldn’t concentrate, but then that was nothing new. He hadn’t been able to concentrate since Pandora Garret had come into his life. This time, though, was different.

This time not only had he crossed the line, he’d set it on fire then danced on the fucking ashes.

Jesus. And he’d been doing so well. Holding himself back, determined to hold on to his detachment—even keeping himself out of her bed. Yet all it had taken to push him over the edge was her in that sexy white dress, with her long legs outstretched, that challenging look in her dark eyes.