Bartered Submission: The Billionaire's Wife, Part 5 (A BDSM Erotic Romance) Read Online Free

It's
fun.”
    Anton shook his head. “No. I don't want to fall in
love. That's not...” He appeared to search for the right word.
“That's not compatible with my continued happiness. Too messy. Too
much can go wrong. Like I said, cleaner this way.”
    I stared at him. “Wow,” I said at last. “And I
thought I had issues.”
    He cocked a brow at me and took another sip of wine.
“You do,” he said. “I've read your blog, remember?”
    “Yeah, but you just said you want a wife without the
messy part of loving her. You need a fucking therapist to help you
with that, not an arranged marriage.”
    A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. “But
Felicia, why would I need a fucking therapist?” he asked me. “I
already know how to fuck.”
    That caught me off guard and I laughed, nearly
spilling a mouthful of wine down my shirt. I stared at him in
amazement. “I didn't know you knew how to joke,” I said. “Oh,
whoops, we're getting to know each other now. That's not good.”
    His lashes fluttered as he leaned against the counter
and took another sip of wine. “It's fine,” he said. “For now.”
    “How gracious of you.” I cast about for something to
say, then finally hit on the perfect conversation starter. “So how
was work?”
    “Full of headaches and triumphs,” he said. “Working
on the takeover of your father's company, actually.”
    I had almost forgotten that was happening. In my
mind, marrying Anton meant only that my mother got medical
attention. Thinking about my father getting a second chance in life
made me want to throw up, but I didn't dare. The wine I was
drinking probably cost as much as a new iPhone and it would be a
terrible waste to send it back down the drain before I'd absorbed
its precious alcohol.
    “Oh,” I said. “Good.”
    “You don't sound too thrilled that your family is
avoiding total financial ruin the likes of which has not been seen
since 2008.”
    I shrugged. “If you'd grown up with my dad, you
wouldn't care much what happened to him, either.”
    “I still don't,” he said. “I just thought you
might.”
    “Uh-oh,” I said. “Learning something about me. That's
dangerous.”
    Anton did not seem amused by my sarcastic remarks.
Carefully he set his wineglass down, the clink of it on the marble
counter top grating over my wine-heightened nerves.
    “Felicia,” he began, but I held up my hand.
    “No,” I cut him off. “I'm sorry. I know you're a
private person. I didn't mean to imply that it wasn't okay. I'm
just being an ass after a long and stressful day. Two days. Week.
Whatever.”
    He still watched me. Then he closed his eyes and took
a deep breath, as though girding his loins. When he opened them
again, he had a determined set about his mouth.
    “Is the sex not good enough for you? The money?” he
asked.
    He was so dense. But so was I. We were two peas in a
pod, I guess.
    “It's not that,” I said. “I just worry about you.”
And it was true. He did not act like a rational human being. I
should have been running in the opposite direction like my ass was
on fire. But I needed him. And... well, I kind of liked him.
    “You worry about me?” he said incredulously.
    I shrugged. He wasn't the total asshole I'd thought he was.
    Anton stepped across the narrow space, closing the
distance between us. Reaching out, he stroked a finger over my
cheek, a light, gentle gesture that left me trembling, my lips
parted, begging for something I couldn't put a name to.
    Bending his head, Anton slanted his lips against mine
and kissed me.
    God, the man could kiss.
    Our lips slid together, soft and sensual. He nibbled
at me, as though sampling delicate fruit. Then his tongue slipped
from between his lips and I was falling open to him, falling apart,
begging him to come into me.
    His arms went around me, his hands tangling in my
hair as I rubbed my hands up his chest. I felt his heart hammering
beneath my palm as he broke our kiss and moved his mouth to my ear.
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