Petra Brooks never wanted a man like her father—a charmer with light fingers, and an eye for the main chance. But former bad boy Zack Cunningham won’t take no for an answer. When she organizes a silent auction to help fund her godson’s medical treatment, Petra is stunned when Zack bids one hundred grand for her offer of "a day performing domestic duties". Since she knows his interpretation of "domestic duties" will differ from hers, she fears she’ll have a hard time keeping him at bay.
Now a successful entrepreneur, Zack grabs the opportunity to convince Petra that he is a reformed character with legitimate business interests. With her effectively trapped in his apartment for the day, he aims to persuade her to act on the sexual attraction that’s been sizzling between them. If she’s intent on cleaning for him, he’ll make sure that things get really dirty first.
Be Warned: light BDSM, sex toys, forced seduction, spanking
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“Where do you keep your cleaning equipment?” She bent down and started opening cupboards under the sink. “Or is that a stupid question. You’re probably too busy making money to worry about such trivialities.”
“I’ve got a housekeeper who comes in three times a week, if that’s what you mean. Nothing wrong with that.”
“No. Nothing at all. I imagine it takes a lot of time and energy keeping abreast of developments in your line.”
“In my line?”
“Hotels. Spas. And whatever else you’ve got your tawdry little fingers in.”
His tenuous control on his temper snapped. “What the fuck is your problem anyway?”
She straightened up, a bottle of cleaning liquid in one hand and cloth in the other. “My problem is that I know why I’m here, Cunningham. Seeing as you’ve always tried your best to get me in the sack for free, why would I possibly think you wouldn’t expect me to put out for a hundred grand?”
“You flatter yourself if you think I’d pay that much for sex.”
“Really? And yet here I am.”
He nodded toward the cleaning gear in her hands. “Time’s ticking. Maybe you’d better get started on your domestic duties.”
She raised her hands in the air as if to say, “That’s what I’m here for.”
“Where would you like me to start, oh masterful one?”
He tapped his fingers on the counter in the hope it would release some of the tension building in his chest. “Shower could do with a spruce.”
She bowed low. “As you wish.”
Balling his hands into fists, he strode out and toward his study, where he barely resisted giving the door a healthy slam behind him. What the fuck had possessed him to go through with this? He had plenty of female company, had no difficulty landing whatever woman he set his sights on. Why the hell Petra Brooks got under his skin like no other was a fucking mystery.
He booted his laptop and decided to get some work done. He had a contract negotiation to review with his lawyers, travel plans to confirm, and a myriad of other administrative details he could do from home. He really should be at his office, but instead he was here getting his ass chewed.
He thought of her in that white tee, the outline of a bra visible beneath. He wanted his hands on those breasts, his mouth sucking at her sumptuous flesh, his tongue laving across her nipples. He wanted her naked beneath him, at his mercy to explore in any way he deemed fit. Shit, he wanted his cock inside her, pounding into her until she screamed his name.
Fuck. Now he was bloody hot and bothered, his erection straining against his trousers. If he’d found it difficult to concentrate on business before, now it was near impossible.
He could hear her moving around in his wet room. Damn it, but the last thing he’d expected her to be doing there was cleaning. When he’d imagined it, she was naked, slammed up against the shower wall while he nailed her good.
As his cock throbbed, he gave up all pretense of trying to work and went into the kitchen for that coffee. He saw the two mugs he’d set out earlier still waiting by the percolator. He touched a palm to the jug. Lukewarm. He tipped it out and brewed fresh.
If he had any sense of self-preservation, he’d change into his suit, go to his office, and leave her to it. All he had to do was give her a list of things she could do, and he could hightail it out of there. Any decent man would hand over the check and tell her to forget her end of the bargain.
Maybe there was just a little bit of him left that wasn’t all straight and narrow after all. If he’d given up after the first hurdle where his business was concerned, he’d still be running errands for the big boys. As it was, he’d kicked and fought his way to where he was now, and he’d didn’t plan on stopping until he reached what he dreamed of for himself. He had plans, dreams. And fuck it to heaven, he wasn’t a man to give in without a fight.
So he’d fight, he thought, pouring coffee into two mugs. Before the end of the day, he’d have Petra Brooks in his bed if it fucking killed him.