Desperate Domination (Bought by the Billionaire #3) (10 page)

As she spread the dresses and sports clothes out onto the bed, Hannah tried to catch Eva’s eye—wondering if she’d spoken to her son and if she too was working for Hannah’s father—but the cook kept her gaze on the floor and retreated as soon as Hannah assured her that she had everything she needed. Dismissing the mystery of Dominic and her family’s enemies from her mind for the time being, Hannah slipped into a black and white striped, two-piece bathing suit that made her look like a 1940s pin-up and a semi-sheer black gauze cover-up with embroidery on both sleeves and went in search of breakfast.

It felt strange to leave her room without permission and even stranger to pad barefoot around the empty kitchen, opening drawers and cupboards and otherwise making herself at home. But by the time the oatmeal was simmering on the stovetop and she’d chopped up fruit and almonds for topping, she was beginning to relax. Giving the bubbling pot one last check to make sure the heat wasn’t too high, she crossed to the phone on the counter.

A few seconds later, Sybil’s voice crackled to life on the other end of the line. “The Mahana Guesthouse. How may I help you?”

“It’s me, Syb,” Hannah said, her throat tight with emotion. It felt like ages since she’d heard Sybil’s voice and so much had happened since she’d said goodbye, none of which she could tell Sybil about. “The phone was installed this morning so I wanted to call and check in.”

“Hannah! Sweetheart, it’s so good to hear from you.” Sybil’s smile was practically audible, and Hannah could imagine the way her aunt’s kind eyes were crinkling with pleasure. “I know you said you might not be able to call, but I was still worried. Are you enjoying the job? Is the family nice?”

“Yes, I am, and yes, the family is very nice,” she said, only feeling the faintest twinge of guilt as the lie slipped from her lips.

She’d told her aunt that she was going to be working as a nanny for a wealthy family while they spent a month decorating their new home on a private island. It had seemed like the kindest choice at the time—if Sybil knew her niece had sold her body to save their home she would be devastated—and it seemed the best choice now. At least until she and Jackson decided that their relationship was going to last for longer than the next ten days.

“So when do I see you?” Sybil asked. “Are you still staying the entire month?”

“Actually, the remodel is going better than expected. I might only be another ten days. I’ll let you know when the plans are firm,” Hannah said. “So tell me all the news. Have you been able to find anyone to start on the repairs?”

“I have,” Sybil said. “Hiro’s been an amazing help. We found a father and son team to work on framing the new cottages and I got a bid from the roofers on the other side of the island that’s half what our old company quoted. Hiro says they do extraordinary work.”

“That’s great. I’m glad he’s been there to help out,” Hannah said, stomach souring at the way her aunt’s voice caressed the pearl farmer’s name. Before Hannah had learned that Hiro had been Jackson’s spy, she’d encouraged her aunt to think about something more than friendship with the man, but now…

“Just be careful, okay,” she added. “Hiro seems great, but we really don’t know him that well. Sometimes there are ulterior motives with these kinds of deals, and the trusting third party loses out in the end.”

“Oh, I doubt it, Hannah,” Sybil said before adding in a softer voice. “And I know Hiro much better than I did. We’ve been seeing each other. Romantically.”

Hannah winced as her fears were confirmed. “Really? And it’s been…good?”

“It’s been wonderful,” Sybil gushed. “He’s such a gentleman and so kind and thoughtful. You were right. I should have given him a chance a long time ago.”

“That’s great, Syb,” Hannah said, grateful for the hiss of the stove as the oatmeal pot threatened to overflow. “I’m about to burn the kids’ breakfast, so I’ve got to go, but I’ll call soon. Take care of yourself, okay?”

“You too, darling,” Sybil said. “And call me soon.”

Hannah promised to call tomorrow and hung up the phone. She reached the oatmeal pot in time to rescue it from bubbling over and stood scowling at the stove, wishing she’d said something more pointed to her aunt.

She’d promised not to tell Jackson about Dominic, but she hadn’t promised to keep secrets from her aunt. Still, there was a chance that Jackson had tapped the phone. It seemed a little paranoid, but he
was
a criminal used to watching his back and a control freak to boot.

And that’s the man you want to live happily ever after with, Hannah. A criminal who you can bet wouldn’t like learning that you’re keeping secrets from him.

Especially a secret like a man in his employ secretly working for someone else.

“You should have asked Eva to make that for you.”

Being careful to keep her thoughts from showing on her face, Hannah looked up to see Jackson standing in the doorway to the kitchen.

CHAPTER TWELVE

Hannah

God, he was beautiful, sexier than any man she’d ever met or imagined. In gray suit pants and a white linen shirt that emphasized the bronze of his skin, he looked more like a businessman than a criminal, not to mention good enough to eat.

She smiled, refusing to let stress of any kind ruin their first semi-normal day together. “No, I shouldn’t have. I’m perfectly capable of making oatmeal on my own.”

“I’m sure you are.” He moved to stand on the other side of the island, facing her across the stove. “But I don’t want you to have to do anything that makes you frown.”

“I wasn’t frowning because of the oatmeal,” she said as she turned off the burner and pulled the pot away from the heat. “I was just thinking.”

“Always a dangerous thing.” He held her gaze, his dark eyes boring a hole through her skin and straight into her soul, making her certain he could read her thoughts. “What were you thinking about?”

“Your job,” she said, impulsively. It was at least partly the truth and she didn’t like keeping secrets from Jackson if she didn’t have to. “I was thinking about how dangerous it must be. It worries me.”

“You don’t have to worry. I know what I’m doing.” He threaded his hands together into a fist as he leaned his forearms on the counter. “But I’ve decided to take some time away from my work. There’s nothing that can’t keep until after the holidays and I figure I have enough on my plate at the moment.”

Hannah glanced up from the pot, her spoon stilling. “You mean me?”

“I mean you,” he confirmed, sending a shiver of awareness across her skin. “I find you take up an inordinate amount of my focus.”

She fought a smile. “Well…good.”

His eyes narrowed even as his mouth curved. “I thought you were only doing smug on Saturdays and Tuesdays.”

“Isn’t it Saturday?” she asked, deciding she enjoyed flirting with Jackson almost as much as she enjoyed being naked with the man.

“Thursday.”

“Oh, well then. Sorry about that.” She lifted one shoulder and let it fall. “Guess my focus has been off, too. I seem to have lost all track of time. Do you want some oatmeal? I have almonds and fruit to put on top.”

“Sounds good,” he said. “Thank you.”

She turned back to the cupboards, chuckling softly to herself as she fetched two bowls.

“What’s funny?” he asked when she returned to the stove.

“Nothing,” she said, still grinning. “You’re just cute when you do normal things like say thank you for your oatmeal.”

“I wasn’t raised in a barn, either, you know,” he said, sliding onto a stool on the other side of the island. “And I’m not cute. Ever.”

“I have to disagree, Mr. Hawke.” She sprinkled chopped almonds, berries, and pineapple on his oatmeal before placing the bowl and the honey pot in front of him. “There are times when you are adorable.”

His smile faded. “And there are times when I’m a nightmare. Don’t forget those, Hannah.”

“I won’t,” she said, keeping her tone light. “But it’s too early for Broody McScary to come out to play. So be sweet and eat your oatmeal and then we can decide what to do with the rest of the day.”

He arched one brow. “You do have a bossy side.”

“I know,” she said with a wink. “I never claimed to be submissive all the time, either, you know.”

He studied her as he reached for his spoon. “I wonder if you’re a switch.”

“A switch?” She frowned. “What does that mean?”

“A submissive who enjoys taking her turn as the Dominant or vice versa.”

She frowned. “I don’t know, but I don’t think so. I don’t like the idea of tying you up.” She took a bite, humming beneath her breath as she added more honey to her bowl. “No, I take that back. I do like the idea of tying you up, but not for sexual reasons. Just when you make me angry. There are times when you’d be more manageable tied up.”

“And times when I more than earn a spanking?” he asked, eyes sparkling.

“Of course.” She licked honey off the tip of her spoon, not missing the way Jackson’s eyes followed her tongue. “But that wouldn’t be sexual either. In a bedroom situation, I prefer to be the one being spanked.”

“And I prefer spanking you,” he said, his voice husky.

“So maybe I shouldn’t follow the rules all the time,” she said, hips swaying back and forth as she leaned her palms onto the counter. “I do enjoy being punished now and then.”

“Eat your oatmeal,” he said, the intensity in his gaze making her blood rush faster. “Or you’ll be eating it cold.”

“Why’s that?” she asked though she already knew exactly what was going through his head. There were times when Jackson was a mystery, but there were also times like these when she swore she could read every thought flitting through his beautifully dirty mind.

“Because if I hear one more word out of that pretty mouth, I’m going to have you for breakfast.”

Hannah’s tongue slipped out to dampen her lips before she whispered, “One word.”

Jackson’s spoon clattered into his bowl. A moment later he was around the island, pulling her into his arms as he lifted her onto the counter and reached beneath her cover up. As soon as her swimsuit bottom hit the floor, he knelt between her legs, his lips finding where she was already wet and his wicked tongue working its magic. He brought her over twice—once without honey and a second time after drizzling a sticky spoonful across her clit and licking her clean—before he stood and reached for the close of his pants.

“You should put on swim trunks,” she panted, hands shaking as she helped push his boxer briefs over the firm mounds of his ass. “Easier access.”

“You should stop making me want to fuck you every ten minutes.”

Her response died on her lips, becoming a moan of satisfaction as Jackson’s cock drove inside her, pushing through her already pulsing flesh. Cupping her buttocks in his big hands, he rode her hard and fast, the urgency in his thrusts making it clear how much it had turned him on to bring her pleasure.

“Yes, Jackson,” she said, gasping as he shoved deeper. “God, yes.”

“Come for me again,” he growled as he claimed her mouth, sending the taste of her own salty heat rushing through her mouth as he kissed her. “Come for me, sunshine.”

She obeyed with a ragged cry, her pussy contracting with an intensity that was almost painful. She wasn’t sure her body was built to withstand three orgasms in such rapid succession, but she wasn’t about to complain, not when she was flooded with such mind-numbing bliss.

Jackson pulled out this time, groaning into her mouth as he pressed his cock between them and came on the fabric of the cover up bunched at her waist. She would have to change again, but who cared?

Not her. She didn’t care a bit about cold oatmeal or changing clothes or anything but how perfect it felt to be wrapped in Jackson’s arms, catching her breath as they both drifted back to earth.

“Looks like you were right about the timing,” he said, kissing her forehead. “I’ll have Adam pick up supplies for you when he goes to the market this afternoon.”

Hannah’s brow furrowed until she glanced down and saw the blood on Jackson’s still semi-erect length. “Oh my God,” she said, embarrassment rushing through her. “I’m so sorry. I knew it was close to time, but I—”

“Why are you sorry?” he asked, reaching for the dishtowel beside the stove. “There’s no reason to be sorry.”

“I’m sorry because it’s gross,” she said, blushing as he cleaned himself and began to wipe away the red smears on her thighs.

“It’s not gross. It’s part of you and no part of you is gross.”

Hannah’s lips parted, but before she could think of how to respond to something so sweet, Jackson continued.

“It also means that we’ve dodged a bullet. If we don’t want to use condoms we need to figure out an alternative soon.” He knelt down, plucking her swimsuit bottom from the floor and dropping it into her hands. “Maybe an IUD? I can find a doctor to make a house call if you think that’s a good option.”

She nodded as she eased off the counter, suddenly feeling shy. “That would probably be best. Birth control pills would take too long to work, so…yeah. Let’s do that.”

He studied her face before asking in a softer voice, “Are you all right?”

“I’m fine,” she said, stepping into her suit. “Just a little embarrassed.”