Millionaire Playboys: Paying the Playboy's Price. Emilie Rose

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      He dragged his gaze up to the half smile on her face. Trouble. Pure trouble. Sweat oozed from his pores, dampening his upper lip, chest and back. His heart drummed harder, faster. His breathing turned shallow.

      “The girls are out for the night.”

      Her whisper sent a bead of sweat snaking down his spine. He suppressed a shiver. “You should turn in. Early start tomorrow.”

      “It’s only nine. Why don’t you put on some music?” She sank onto the sofa and crossed her legs. She’d removed her shoes at some point. Her pink-tipped toes wiggled, and the lamp reflected off a gold toe ring on her right second toe and glittered on an ankle bracelet.

      Oh, man. He swallowed, but his mouth remained as dry as a dust bowl. “No stereo.”

      She blinked. “You don’t own a stereo? Isn’t that a little unusual given your previous occupation?”

      “Music’s no longer a part of my life.”

      “Why?”

      For a lot of reasons, none of which he’d share. “No time.”

      “Was it hard to walk away from something you loved?”

      Dammit. Why did she insist on getting inside his head? Every time they met, she peppered him with questions. “No.”

      Liar. There were times—like today, like now—when feelings bottled up inside him and his fingers twitched for his guitar so he could pour out those emotions. As a teen and later as an adult, he’d worked through his tangled thoughts with music, singing, writing lyrics or just playing melodies long into the night. Sometimes he’d thought music was the only thing that kept him sane.

      The more time he spent with Juliana, the more his thoughts strayed to the old Fender in the back of his closet. But he wouldn’t pull out the instrument, wouldn’t let her force him back into that world. A world that had cost him his family, his home, his friends and his self-respect.

      She rose and crossed to where he stood by the window overlooking the dark street below. He sucked in an unsteady breath and her spices-and-flowers scent filled his nostrils. “How did you do it? How did you find the courage to make your own life?”

      The uncertainty in her eyes knocked him senseless. If she’d boldly come on to him, whispered naughty intentions in his ear or just planted those delicious red lips on his, he could have resisted her. Probably. But the doubts clouding her eyes shredded his defenses.

      “What’s wrong with your life?” From where he stood, her life looked pretty damned good.

      She tipped her head back. Her breath swept across his lips and his pulse stalled. “Expectations. Theirs. Mine. Sometimes it feels like my life’s not my own and what I want doesn’t matter.”

      Sympathy softened his clenched muscles. This was the stuff she hadn’t told the reporter, either, the first night or tonight. And he’d bet these were the demons that had driven her to buy him at the auction. He wanted to know more and yet he didn’t. Knowing meant understanding. Understanding meant weakening. Weakening meant failing. Himself. Kelly. The girls. Juliana.

      He didn’t want to like Juliana, didn’t want to respect her, but if anybody could understand the pressure of others’ expectations, he could.

      He rolled his tense shoulders. “I know what you mean. For as far back as I can remember, my life was mapped out. Most kids get asked what they want to be when they grow up. Nobody ever asked me. I was born to take over the family ranch like my father and my grandfather before him.”

      “But that’s not what you wanted?”

      Just thinking about being tied to the ranch made his skin shrink. “I didn’t want to spend year after year worrying about drought, disease or whether there would be enough money left to put food on the table after a rough winter. I didn’t want to die young because I worked myself into an early grave like my grandfather. I wanted more. And I wanted out. Out of that one-stoplight town. Out from under my father’s thumb.”

      Why hadn’t he ever tried to explain his fears to his parents instead of hurling abuse at them? “I took off. But not without burning my bridges first. I followed my heart. That doesn’t mean it didn’t get me into trouble.”

      Her teeth worried her bottom lip. He fisted his hands against the urge to free the soft swell from assault. “So you do understand. And all I need is the courage to follow my heart?”

      “Something like that, but there are always consequences for the choices you make, Juliana. And sometimes by the time you realize the price you’ve paid is too high, it’s too late to fix it.”

      All she needed was courage, but courage was the one thing Juliana lacked most at the moment.

      If this had been a face-off with the top dog at the FDIC, she’d have been rock steady, but all she wanted was to feel like a woman instead of a pawn in a banking merger. The passion in Rex’s kiss could give her that.

      His heat and masculine scent ensnared her. Juliana’s legs trembled and she felt slightly dizzy from an adrenaline rush. Couldn’t he tell how much she needed his touch? Why wouldn’t he kiss her?

      Why don’t you kiss him?

      A novel idea. And a scary one. But taking an active role wasn’t nearly as scary as it once had been because she liked and trusted Rex.

      But what if he rebuffed her again? Would she have to give up and admit her tepid romance with Wally was all she deserved? A touch of panic quickened her pulse.

      “What is it you want so badly?” he asked.

      “I want to take control of my life, to do something just because I want to not because it’s expected or because it’s the wisest course of action.” She swallowed and dampened her lips. “I want you, Rex Tanner.”

      His eyes slammed shut and his jaw muscles bunched. “Bad idea.”

      “I think it’s a great idea.” Faking moxie she didn’t possess, she rose on tiptoe and pressed her lips to his. He stiffened and remained as rigid as a sun-baked brick wall while she brushed her lips over his once, twice, a third time. If not for the rapid hammering of his heart beneath the palms she’d braced on his chest, she’d think him unaffected. Encouraged by that telling sign, she licked his bottom lip. A groan rumbled from deep in his throat.

      Slowly, she settled back on her feet. “Show me how to take control, Rex.”

      A battle raged in his eyes. Just when she’d convinced herself she’d played her cards and lost, and her hopes began to sink, he snatched her upper arms, yanked her close and slammed his mouth over hers in a hard, unrestrained kiss.

      Shock lasted scant seconds and then a myriad of sensations engulfed her. The inferno of his tongue as it sliced through the seam of her lips to tangle with hers, the heat of his hands as they splayed over her hips and pulled her against the branding iron of his erection combined with his taste and scent to overwhelm and arouse her beyond her wildest expectations. The infusion of pure, undiluted passion made Juliana drunk with desire and doubly glad she’d never been exposed to this level of arousal before, because without a doubt, the rush was addictive.

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