uds. Her head was pounding, a dull, throbbing ach

amiliar, a vast white expanse with a delicate,

ough her, cold

er. She was wearing a man's silk pajama top, the fabric pooling around her. Her own dress

hot and shameful,

body moving against hers, of a sensation so intense it blurred the line between pain and

hand flew to her mouth, stifling a sc

oom door

erfectly tailored navy suit, not a single hair out of place. He was once ag

hint of what had passed between them in the night. He

, his voice neutral. "Tak

k hit the padded headboard, pulling t

er voice hoarse with fear. "Wha

bed and sat down. He crossed his legs, the picture of casual

aze without flinching. "As for last night," he paused, letting the weight of his next

ual statement hi

vid, humiliating flashes of memory-her own voice, her own hands

a welcome distraction. She forced herself to breath

trol of this. "I'm grateful for that, Mr. Sterling. Name your price. I'll compensate

crisis. With a transaction. It was clean, d

mian's chest. A laugh. It was a so

er hip, effectively trapping her. His proximity was overwhel

arrogant eyebrow. "Miss Campbell, do you

Asha leaned back, pressing herself into

do you want?"

raced the line of her jaw, se

en threat. "And I gave you what you asked for in t

he humiliation was so intense it felt li

," he countered smoothly, twisting

lders slumped. He was right. That w

flicker of satisfaction in his eyes. He settled b

voice slow and deliberate. "If you tru

es glinting with a dan

ere this goes. No contracts