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The bite of his tone sent the shivers on hiatus.
Then it dawned on me—Wilson was in Martin’s villa with half-naked women parading around looking to snag themselves a wealthy sugar daddy. Top shelf women who were on the prowl. All it would take Wilson was a crook of his finger and he’d have his pick.
Disgust coated my mouth.
“Don’t worry, I was just leaving. Enjoy your night.”
My attempt to step around him was impeded when he stepped closer.
“What the hell does that mean?” he angrily asked, his gaze slipping to the side.
I followed his eyes and my belly clenched.
Wilson was watching the beautiful blonde with Martin.
God, this was horrible.
A loud, obnoxious squeal rang out then a chorus of giggles. The party was just getting started. I knew from last night’s call at three in the morning from Martin, needing me to come back to the property to handle a champagne delivery that had been wrong that things would get rowdier. Half-naked would turn into fully nude and sex acts would be plentiful.
The cleaners had their work cut out for them.
“It means just that. I’m leaving. Enjoy your night.” I paused as a shirtless guy in baby-pink boardshorts passed by dragging a woman with the largest fake breasts I’d ever seen, two small triangles covering only her nipples, behind him. When they were out of earshot I continued. “Professional courtesy; I wouldn’t get in the hot tub if I were you.”
The tubs had been fully drained, disinfected, and refilled but they were already in use. God knew what bodily fluid had already been spilled into the bubbling hot water.
Gag.
Wilson’s angry blue eyes were back on mine.
Was he pissed I’d caught him at a sex-fest party?
“I’ll ask you one more time, Atlee. Why are you here?”
“I’m sorry, does me doing my job screw up your plans of finding a beautiful blonde to fuck?”
Something flashed in his eyes but it was gone in an instant.
“I don’t fuck blondes,” he ground out.
“Well, luckily for you there are a plethora of brunettes and red heads to choose from. Though I’m not sure if all the red heads are natural. There could be a blonde lurking under the dye.”
Suddenly Wilson tagged my hand and was forcefully dragging me through the living area.
“Wil—”
“Quiet.”
He made it to the foyer. I tugged my hand trying to get free. His grip tightened and he pulled me into a linen closet that was the size of my bedroom. Wilson glanced around the shelves of white towels, bed sheets, extra pillows, and down comforters, all of them pressed and neatly folded.
Faster than should’ve been possible Wilson was on me. His strong arms banded around me like a steel trap. One of his hands glided up my back and hooked around the back of my neck. I was instantly back in Idaho, remembering all the delicious ways he tormented me. How good his hands felt when they roamed my bare skin—and it had all started with his long fingers digging into the back of my neck.
His head lowered but instead of kissing me his mouth went to my ear. His breath came in fast, furious puffs fanning over my skin.
“Listen closely,” he whisper-growled. “I’m not here to fuck a blonde, a brunette, or a red head. Unless that brunette is you. And as much as I’d like to thrust my dick inside of you to remind you who the fuck you’re talking to it seems we’re both working.”
Working?
“Wil—”
