Page 67 of Shark’s Edge

“Truth.” His smirk was a perfect cocktail of sexy and smug. “But at least I got the chance to practice my manners a bit more.”

“Ah, yes.” I beamed a wider smile, enjoying how it made his crotch swell against my ass cheeks. “Well, you’re doing beautifully, I might add.”

“And you are a quick study in acquiescence.”

My heart hammered harder. “That . . . uhhh . . . reminds me.” I straightened as much as was possible, given our positions. “There’s something we should prob—”

“Hold that thought.” His firmness made it an order, but his enthusiasm made it a seduction. He turned his head, jiggling the mouse to wake up all three of his monitors. “For the record, I don’t usually go paging the security office to recall elevators. There was a real method to my madness.”

“Besides needing to kiss me until the room turned upside down?”

“Well . . . besides that,” he volleyed, as if I’d just told him his suit looked nice.

With an equally confident nod, he directed my attention toward the screen in front of us.

For the three seconds before my astounded outcry.

“Sebastian.”

Each of the monitors was consumed by a different image of high-end luxury. One was a tropical canyon centered on a small palace, similar in architecture to the one he owned. The next looked like a mountain chalet, complete with a courtyard waterfall. The last was a seaside villa with a negative-edge pool overlooking a deserted beach.

“Was that a gasp of pleasure or horror?”

I flipped my gawk from the monitors back to his face—where the subtle worry in his eyes kept my attention glued. “You’re kidding, right?”

His cocky smirk returned in its heart-halting resplendence. “Which one do you like best?” he asked softly. “They’re all available this weekend, so I want you to have the final vote. If you want to see more pictures, I can pull those up too.”

“I—I’m not sure . . . ” I looked closer, noting the URL at the top of each search referred to something called privateluxury.net with a substring that said sharkbite3000. From there, I snapped the pieces together. He didn’t want to sweep me away for the weekend. He wanted to sweep me away for the weekend.

“Hey.” He rubbed my back reassuringly. “Don’t stress about this, okay? These places have screened their staff for decorum and discretion.”

“With three-page NDA forms?”

I made the joke evident in my tone, but Sebastian’s nod was all business. “Likely. As well as additional training on top of that for things like security awareness and service standards.”

“Of course. I mean, that’s a given, right?”

A low chuckle from him now, appreciating my jest, before he started nibbling at my neck again. “I guarantee you, Abbigail, there will be a lot of things given on this trip.”

Shockingly, I was able to form some actual words into a response. “That sounds like a really good agenda.”

“Hmmm, yes.” He hummed it into my ear. “So let me enlighten you about the options.” He clicked first onto the mansion that looked like his place. “This one’s the closest. Palm Springs. It’s hotter than Satan’s balls out there right now though, so clothes aren’t a concern.”

“At—at all?” I squeaked.

“At. All.” He nipped at the curve of my jaw. “And hey, look at this. The master bed is on a rotating dais. We can get . . . creative . . . with positions.”

Hard swallow. “P-Positions?”

“Oh, definitely. What’s your favorite, baby?”

“I . . . uh . . . hadn’t really thought about it.” Not a lie. Not by a long shot.

“Well, there’s your homework before we go. I want top three by the time we leave on Friday.”

“Wh-What’s the next one?” I used the question as an excuse to calm my throbbing sex. The wicked fantasies he’d started spinning—especially the totally naked part—had turned me into a glob of helpless arousal. I liked it. I hated it. Oh, God, I was a mess.

Even more so as he moved on to the Alpine Chalet.