Free The Prize by Becca Jameson

be attracted to you?”
    “I’m not submissive,” I replied.
    “Mmm.” He righted himself and turned to pull me farther into my apartment, easing
     out of my space slowly until all he held was my hand, and he finally dropped that
     too and meandered around my living room. He took in everything, as if memorizing my
     world.
    When he shrugged out of his jacket and tossed it over the back of the couch, I admired
     the stretch of his broad back beneath his starched white shirt.
    He loosened his tie and pulled it off next. And then he tipped his head back a few
     inches, elongating his firm neck to unbutton the top button on his shirt. He stopped
     there, his arms dropping.
    His fingers trailed along the back of my secondhand couch as he moved toward the kitchen.
    I held my breath, willing him not to decide to sit on the uncomfortable sofa.
    The only sound in the room was his breathing. And it was surprising I could hear it
     over my own.
    “Give me a tour?”
    That broke the serious spell because I had to chuckle. “A tour? You’re looking at
     it.” I pointed at the two doors to my right. “Bathroom. Bedroom. That’s it.”
    He nodded and leaned his ass against the kitchen counter, crossing his legs in a way
     that made him look like a relaxed cover model. “You have secrets.”
    I sucked in a sharp breath. How could he know that?
    “I won’t pry. I can respect your privacy.”
    I opened my mouth and hesitated before I spoke. “You’re astute. Why do you think I
     keep pushing you away?” It was more than I wanted to reveal, but I didn’t have much
     of a choice but to toss him something.
    He glanced around again. “I don’t give two fucks where you live or how you live or
     how much money you have. You know that, right?”
    I did. Deep down I knew he wasn’t that shallow. But it melted me a little to hear
     him say it. Why did he always have to make it so hard for me to turn him down?
    He wasn’t stupid. He knew I had a good job and made decent money. So, he had to draw
     his own conclusions about my lifestyle choices. Maybe I like to hoard my earnings.
     Maybe I was worried about an apocalypse. Maybe I had a dying relative who bled me
     dry. He could think whatever he wanted, but he’d never know the truth. And that was
     all that mattered.
    “Come here, Meagan.”
    I hadn’t moved from my single step into the apartment. I rubbed my arms, suddenly
     chilled. The heat in the room was fine. Material things weren’t my style. Heat was
     not something I would do without.
    I inched toward him while he waited patiently, not commenting on my slow approach.
     When I reached him, I would surrender to him in a nanosecond. That was how I was with
     him. Every time.
    As I got close, he spread his legs and then reached for my hand and pulled me between
     them. His cock pressed into my belly.
    He brushed a few curls from my forehead and tucked them behind my ear, his face clouded,
     serious. “I’m sorry about earlier. I swear I didn’t mean to out you like that. I know
     you didn’t want your friends to know.”
    I nodded. “My fault too,” I muttered.
    “Not really. I knew what I was doing. I could have stopped it.”
    A slow smile spread across my face. “So you’re saying you’re impervious to my presence
     and I’m the only one who loses her mind with arousal when we’re in the same room?”
    He chuckled. “Not even close. But I’m a Dom. I should control myself better. I broke
     your trust. It wasn’t fair.”
    “Is that why you’re being so standoffish now?”
    He shrugged, tracing a finger down my face and around my mouth before tapping my nose.
     “You grew agitated when you realized I was going to come home with you. The fear was
     palpable. I want to know why.”
    “I did?”
    He nodded. “Definitely. If we hadn’t already had sex numerous times, I would have
     thought you were nervous about being intimate with me. But that’s not the case, which
     means you were stressed about me