Fractured (Not Quite a Billionaire #2) Read Online Free PDF Page A

under me, not touching me, and I couldn’t even tell if what I’d said had affected him, beyond the obvious physical reaction. He hadn’t seemed like it had. He’d been as still as always, as firmly under control.
    As we’d talked, I’d begun to believe that he’d meant everything he’d said, that he really was going to be mine forever, and that we could negotiate anything that came up. We’d been through so much together. How much tougher could it get?
    Showed what I knew.
    “Well?” I prompted when he still didn’t move. I was beginning to feel foolish, and too vulnerable, too, sitting on top of him and getting nothing back. Did he even want me here? Was he so angry about this enforced negotiation that he wasn’t going to touch me?
    His hands stayed at his sides as he said, “This isn’t a position you should put yourself in for negotiations.”
    I groped for an answer and couldn’t find one. This had been wrong. I’d been supposed to stay businesslike. I’d meant to stay businesslike. But I’d needed to touch Hemi. And now, I needed him to touch me. To hold me. And maybe more. No, definitely more.
    He didn’t do it. Instead, he said, “But then, we already talked about this, didn’t we? We don’t need to negotiate this, because we both know the rules. You have your safe word, and you know you can use it. I’m driving, and you’re drawing the line, though I have to say—you seem to get confused about that. You’re doing it now, in fact.”
    “Mm,” I said, starting to feel a little more confident. “If you hate it, I guess we’d better negotiate that.” I had my hands in his hair now, even though it was too ruthlessly short for me to get a good hold. So I bit down on his earlobe instead and whispered into his ear, “Tell me what you want.”
    He sighed. “I’ve got no choice, have I? Not when you keep taking the reins. Stand up and take those tights off, sweetheart.”
    I needed this, and I kept teasing anyway. “Why?”
    “Hope.” Nothing but danger in his dark eyes, in his low voice. “I’m done negotiating. Stand up, take them off, and give them to me.”
    I looked into his eyes, then pushed myself off of him. He could have helped me get to my feet, but he didn’t. He just watched while I got both hands under my skirt, shimmied the black tights down my legs, and dropped them in his lap.
    “Good,” he said. “Now walk to the end of the coffee table and lie down on it. On your stomach.”
    “Hemi…” I began.
    “No,” he said. “No talking. That’s over. Do it.”
    I swallowed. I wasn’t afraid of him, and the dark thrill was running through me all the same. Danger blended with excitement, the leaping sparks jabbing at me with an electric impact that set up an answering throb that begged to be satisfied. I was burning already, and he still hadn’t even touched me.
    I looked at him again, and then I did it: got off his lap, walked to the end of the table, and lowered myself onto cold black lacquer, turning my head so I could see him.
    “Hold onto the legs,” he said.
    There wasn’t a bit of softness in his face, and the hard shivers were running through me, the table’s surface unforgiving and cold under my cheek as I slowly reached out and obeyed. I wrapped a hand around each of the black-lacquered legs, held on, and waited.
    He moved at last, but he still didn’t touch me. He just sat down on the edge of the table, sighed, and finally said, “I’m afraid I’m going to have to spank you hard today.”
    I was breathing more heavily already, my body tensing in anticipation. Finally, he was lifting my skirt, pulling it high. Still not touching my skin, though, and I needed him to touch me.
    It was dirty, and it was twisted, and I wanted it.
    I was wearing high-cut, pale-blue underwear with an edging of lace, and he must have been looking at them, but I couldn’t see him well enough. I began to turn to get a better look, and he put a hand on my shoulder and pushed me