CHAPTER 13

I never, ever imagined I’d see George again.

I still didn’t believe I had.

I couldn’t believe he’s fucking with my twenty-four-year-old mind as easily as he stole my seventeen-year-old heart.

And that, in essence, was everything this trip was. A mindfuck. I didn’t believe he wanted to get to know me at all. Hello, this was the twenty-first century—you use coffee for that shit. Not a six-week worldwide trip. No, the second the shock faded from his eyes, an age-old hunger took over.

All George Stone wanted was what’s inside my very pretty pink lace thong.

Well, mostly inside.

He was playing the game well. He could get it any time he wanted. It was what he was paying for, essentially. Hell, the guy could tell me to get on my knees and wrap my lips around his cock and I’d be completely powerless to deny him it.<

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  I think I just heard the greatest love story of the twenty-first century. I also think I need to vomit. “You look tense.” George stepped behind me and placed his hands on my shoulders, his thumbs digging in at the bottom of my neck. I bent into his touch, unable to help the sigh that escaped me. “So would you if you’d had the night I have.” “Same again.” He nodded at the bartender and sat me on a stool. “Let me guess. You got the soap allergy story too?” I turned. A small smile played on my lips. “For real? He told you too?” “Oh yes. He wants us to do his marketing.” “No wonder his wife was so far up my ass she could see my brain,” I muttered. George laughed, a rich sound that curled my toes. “Gina,” he admonished. There was nothing to it. He was merely masking his amusement. “Behave.”

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  “If I knew then, standing in front of you for the first time, that I was captured, caught, royally fucked, then don’t tell me now that I’m not. Don’t stand there with a guard around your heart and your memories and tell me that I’m not still caught up in the person who stole my heart and ran fucking marathons with it.” “Fuck you and your memories.” “And fuck you and your defiance, Gina. Just for five goddamn minutes, surrender control. Let me in.” I drew in a deep breath. No, no. My job is the epitome of control. Every detail of my life—controlled My orgasms—controlled Every. Fucking. Thing. “No.” I pushed back into the glass harder. George’s hand slid to my side and undid my zipper. He tugged the dress down roughly until it was pooled at my feet and my bare skin was against the cold glass. “You can surrender by choice or I can make you

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  The suite door closed. “Gina?” “In the bedroom.” My cheeks flushed. This was the first time we’ve spoken since we left Vegas—since he pinned me against a glass wall and fucked me with his fingers until I came spectacularly. We both slept during the flight and he left early this morning while I was still in bed. My skin hummed with awareness when he walked into the room, and a low, appreciative chuckle left him. “Not what I was expecting to see, but welcome all the same.” I flipped him the bird over my shoulder. “I have nothing to wear.” “You’re standing in front of three suitcases. How can you have nothing to wear?” “I didn’t pack for a trip to the surface of the sun.” George unzipped his own suitcase on the other side of the room, and I heard the swish of material as he changed. “It’s not that h

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