Free Naughty Little Gift -- A Temptation Court Novella (Temptation Court, Book 1) by Angel Payne

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    Mishella Santelle is not good business—or so nearly all my teams inform me. Flying all the way to Arcadia, searching for the angles to maneuver Fortin Santelle and save money, don’t match what I’m returning with: a contract at double the budget and a “houseguest” for the next six months. What the hell else am I supposed to call her? Like the explanation will fly for one second with Prim and Hodge—both of whom I will put off thinking about until we’re much closer to home. A “treat” to look forward to, if Doyle’s dour looks have been accurate prophesy—and they usually are.
    I don’t give a fuck.
    I would’ve paid four times as much for her. Been just as glad I had, for the payback of that kiss alone—though karma now carves her pound of flesh right out of my libido.
    That kiss.
    I crave so much more.
    Goddammit, I’ve paid for it.
    No. You’ve paid for the right to explore this with her, not take it from her. Dial it back, asshole. You’ve only brought this torture on yourself.
    The woman herself helps with the meaning of that final pronoun, sighing sleepily…stretching until her pink sweater set is yanked tightly across her sleek figure. I watch the fabric slide across her breasts, mentally filling in the basic white bra that undoubtedly covers them.
    Suddenly, every lace-clad temptress I’ve been with before is a dim memory behind Mishella’s hot-as-fuck take on that Doris Day goodness. Is she wearing matching panties? And is she still so soundly asleep, she won’t notice if I try confirming with a peek under her skirt?
    Sick. Fuck.
    “Mmmm.”
    While her moan kills off my Peeping Tom, it wakes up my Ready-To-Go-Randy. I shift in my seat, adjusting the wood to a more tolerable angle.
    Her eyes open halfway, then take me in fully.
    “Hey there, little Ella.”
    She curls a drowsy grin. “Bad princess. I fell asleep in the carriage—even after the prince’s kiss.”
    Hell. She has to mention the kiss. “I’m no prince, Miss Santelle.” Especially after what you’ve done to my thoughts in the last three hours.
    “Well, thank the Creator.” The moment it spills, she clearly can’t believe it has. With a dogged shake of her head, she peers out the window. “It is…still light outside.”
    There’s a question in her voice. “Ah. Yes.” I follow her gaze, to where the dark orange rays glint against the plane. “We’re chasing the sun—for another hour, at least.” Unable to rein back the action, I run a hand down the back of her head—intending to do only that. Slow the fuck down. You have six months. But when I pull it back, she chases my touch with her head. Burrows so deeply against my hand she ends up pressed against my chest. After the discernible click of her seatbelt, the rest of her follows, sitting fully on my lap—
    And I sure as hell don’t stop her.
    “Do you…mind?” She glances up, adorably sheepish. “I can see the sunset better from here.”
    “And I can see you better from here.” I let a full grin escape. Goddamn, it feels good. “So it’s a win-win.”
    I hope for a smile in return, perhaps even one inviting a new kiss, but her nose crinkles, and her gaze remains somber. “This decision…the new contract…” She traces the pattern in my sweater with the tip of a finger. “It is not a ‘win-win’ for you, is it?”
    “That’s not for you to worry about.”
    Tighter nose crunch. “To be plain about it, Cassian, that is bullshit.”
    I struggle not to laugh. “Is that so?”
    “I have a mind ,” she asserts. “And two ears that work.”
    “I never doubted either, favori .”
    “I know what Father’s voice sounds like, when he is trying to justify a business choice to a colleague. Yours sounded the same way during several calls on your cell phone today. You have walked out in a tree because of this.”
    “Walked out in a—?” Deep frown. “Do you mean…gone out on a limb?”
    She huffs. Waves an impatient hand. “You have taken