Claire: The Forced Virgin Of The Billionaire

But then when he looked at me with that scary hunger in his eyes, he was suddenly the guy that had slapped me and scared me and tied me up, who’d threatened me.

Thankfully he’d broken the awkwardness by kissing me again. The way he kissed me…wow. I’d gone weak in the knees.

How could he make me feel like that one minute and fill me with hate a moment later?

Then, he glared at me for a second like I’d done something wrong and then we were walking hand in hand back toward the car and I wasn’t sure what would happen when we got back to his house.

He was walking too fast and I got a stitch in my side.

He waited, looking broody, while I washed the sand off my feet in a small fountain near the parking lot and then walked on the hot pavement to the car. He tossed my shoes into the back seat and got in the car and started it.

He was so quiet all the way back to his house that I didn’t know what I was in for. I just kept seeing his jaw muscles flexing as he drove.

My heart was racing.

The suspense was freaking me out.

When he pulled the car into his driveway and got out, I didn’t know whether or not to sit there and wait or get out. I reached for my shoes and then looked at him as he slammed his door.

“What, you want chivalry now?” he quirked his eyebrows up at me.

I opened my mouth but nothing came out.

He started to laugh. I cracked a smile, embarrassed, and then got out of the car and followed him into the house.

I wasn’t sure if the laugh was cynical or if he was just teasing me. I was having trouble getting a read on him. And that was something that usually didn’t happen to me.

“What happened to you?” Rosita, standing in the front hall, looked at me like I was something the cat had dragged in. Azriel was arming the house alarm.

“Wrestling on the beach with a golden retriever puppy,” I said and shrugged.

I caught my reflection in a mirror on the wall in the foyer. My hair was windblown and I was barefoot without an ounce of lipstick remaining on my mouth and my eye makeup was a little bit raccoonish, “Oh, I’m a mess!”

She smiled, looking surprised and pleased.

“No, you’re beautiful. You can punch the clock, Rosita.” Azriel said, “I don’t need anything else tonight. Where’s Earl?”

“He’s out back. I’ll tell him you’re in,” she was smiling at him, a sort of goofy grin.

“Alright. I don’t need to see him; I just wanted to know if it was him on patrol tonight. Lock the door on your way through the kitchen.”

“Alright. And yes, until midnight, then Marco relieves him,” her smile was still big.

“Alright,” He looked at her strangely.

Patrol. There were men here, guarding, just like Rosita had told me. Were they doing more than making sure I wasn’t escaping?

I’d seen enough mafia movies to know that most mafia families considered themselves under threat from some enemy or another most of the time.

“Let’s go,” he said to me and took my hand, then we headed up the stairs leaving her standing there still smiling goofily.

Following him up to the master bedroom felt ominous.

No sooner had I shut the door behind myself than he’d pinned me against it. He wasn’t touching me with his hands as both palms were flat against the door but his h**s were against me and I was stuck.

He was breathing heavily, looking down at me. I looked up into his eyes and swallowed hard. It seemed like an eternity passed before he finally spoke.

“So?” he breathed.

He threw his suit jacket on the floor and then undid the silver chain around his neck and tucked it into his pants pocket.

Then he undid the buttons of the dress shirt and shook it off, then held it in his hand. He did all this while continuing to pin me with his h**s. I felt his e******n against my stomach.

I took a deep breath. I was torn between wanting to stare at his beautifully sculpted naked upper body and looking away due to the darkening look in his eyes.

Obviously our little date was over and now he was back to being himself. The nice man in my delusion I’d come to know was long gone, if he’d ever even been there at all.

“Think you passed tonight?”

I regarded him for a second, trying to read his eyes. They were smoldering with something.

Was it passion?

Was it anger?

Was it both?

Whatever it was, I didn’t like it.

“I …” I started to answer but was lost for words.

“You’re a damn fine actress,” he said, shaking his head, and then he caressed my cheek with just a graze of the back of his hand. The touch was gentle but the look on his face — it wasn’t. I could feel heat coming off his body and I felt lightheaded. I didn’t say anything.

“Aren’t you the perfect little liar?” he looked upset. Oh no.

“How am I a liar; I wasn’t lying,” I whispered.

He looked at me in disbelief. His face looked on the verge of turning from upset to a sneer and a sneer couldn’t possibly bode well for me.

“I was pretending,” I said quickly, feeling like I was in very dangerous territory.

“What’s the difference?” he frowned at me, “There’s no difference.”

“You told me to behave a certain way and I did. What did I do wrong?” I was trying to not sound snarky. I was trying to not provoke him.

“Nothing. You were perfect.” He looked at me with sourness.