A Deal with Benefits

by Susanna Carr

  “Try not to put ideas into my head,” he murmured.

  The last thing she wanted was to be seen in public on the arm of the most unapologetic playboy. After years of shielding herself from the tabloids that had been fascinated with her parents’ escapades, she didn’t want the world to see how far she had fallen.

  No one would be surprised, though. She was, after all, the daughter of Linda Valdez and Donald Jones. “I thought men hid their mistresses,” she complained under her breath, “not showed them off.”

  “You have a lot to learn, Ashley,” he said as his hold tightened on her waist. “I’m looking forward to teaching you everything.”

  CHAPTER THREE

  HOW HAD SHE got to this point? Ashley stared at her reflection in the full-length mirror. Sebastian had brought in a stylist and hairdresser to his penthouse apartment at the top of his office building and they had spent the past few hours getting her ready for the night. Most women would have found it fun and relaxing. She thought it had been pure torture.

  Her eyes were wide and her hands were clenched at her sides. The sumptuous walk-in closet faded in the background as she focused on her wild mane of hair. Her gaze traveled from her red lips to her stiletto heels. There was something familiar about the look.

  Was this how all of Sebastian’s women dressed? She couldn’t live up to this sexual promise. This outfit, this look, was for a woman whose only goal was to please a man. Who placed her worth on whom she could attract and how long she could keep the man interested. She had seen plenty of women like that while she was growing up.

  Ashley frowned and studied the orange dress a little closer. Why would Sebastian want a woman who didn’t make any demands? He didn’t seem to be the type who would surround himself with vapid women who didn’t challenge his intellect. But then, she didn’t know much about his love life.

  Love? She snorted at the word. Sex, she mentally corrected herself. His sex life. If she asked him, would he remember all his lovers or were his women indistinguishable, one from the other?

  The possibility pricked sharply at her. She didn’t want to be grouped with those women. Nameless and forgettable. She couldn’t go out looking like this. Like one of his mistresses. The dress wasn’t as revealing as she’d feared, but the daring attitude carried more than a promise of sex. It suggested her status and her price.

  She abruptly turned her head and a memory collided with the movement she saw in the mirror. She froze. No, no, no! Slowly looking back, Ashley stared at her reflection with a mix of panic and horror. Big hair. Little dress. Bold color.

  For a moment, she resembled her mother.

  Linda Valdez had always worn bright and daring colors. She had wanted Donald Jones to notice her whether she was watching his tennis match from the players’ box or whether she was in a room filled with nubile women. When that didn’t work, Linda’s dresses started to get shorter and more revealing. She had been afraid to change her hairstyle in case it displeased Donald.

  Everything her mother had done was to keep Donald’s interest. If his eyes strayed on to another woman, Linda would become desperate for his attention. Ashley knew her father never cared about her mother’s interests or opinions; his only concern was that Linda was beautiful, sexually available to him, and that everyone knew it. He would dress Linda in cheap and tasteless clothes and publicly discuss their relationship in the crudest language.

  Ashley squeezed her eyes shut as she remembered one dress her mother had refused to wear. The bright red dress had been unforgiving. The corset bodice had painfully thrust Linda’s breasts out while the tight skirt had puckered and stretched around her bottom.

  Her mother had been extraordinarily beautiful, but that unflattering outfit had exaggerated her curves and made her appear almost cartoonish. Yet what Ashley remembered most was, despite the epic argument about the dress, her mother had reluctantly worn it. That dress represented the inequality in her parents’ relationship. Ashley remembered clearly how Linda had hunched her shoulders and bent her head in shame when she wore that dress, defeated and humiliated.

  Ashley’s nails bit into her palms and she choked back the panic. She fought the urge to kick off the delicate heels and rip off the dress. She wanted to get them off before they tainted her.

  It was too late. The clothes weren’t the problem. Ashley flattened her hand on the mirror and bent her head as she exhaled shakily. For years she had been determined not to follow in her mother’s footsteps. She didn’t dress up for a man or try to gain his attention. She didn’t barter with her looks. And yet, here she was, a rich man’s plaything.

  The only difference was that her mother had worked hard to gain Donald Jones’s attention. It had taken strategy to become his mistress. She had tried to bump up her status to become a trophy wife with an “unplanned” pregnancy. Unfortunately, Linda Valdez had not been Donald’s favorite trophy.

  “You are nothing like Mom,” Ashley whispered to herself. She made sure of it. Once she thought her mother had been as perfect as a fairy-tale princess and she wanted to be like her. But as Linda got older, and Donald refused to marry her or give her his name, she became more insecure. She felt her beauty fading and knew she was losing the battle with her younger competitors.

  Linda Valdez had been beautiful but fragile. Jealous and tempestuous. Ashley had seen the dark side of love and passion even before her mother had killed Donald before turning the gun on herself.

  Ashley had been eighteen when that happened. Before that fateful moment she had been wary of men and kept her distance. As she struggled with the aftermath and scandal of the murder-suicide, she knew she would never allow love or sex to influence her life. Ashley had suppressed her passionate nature and hid on Inez Key. She didn’t mind being celibate. She had believed sex wasn’t worth the tears and heartache.

  There were times when the isolation was almost too much to bear. But it was better than what she had witnessed in her parents’ relationship. She was ready to spend her life that way until Sebastian showed up on her island.

  She had relaxed her guard under his charm and attention. One night with him and her quiet, contained life had spun wildly out of control. Even now, a month later, she found it difficult to hold back. She was too aware of him. Too needy for his touch.

  Sebastian had proven her deepest fear. Ashley knew that she was very much her mother’s daughter. She was stronger and more disciplined, but she had been wild in Sebastian’s arms. The desire had been primal. Almost uncontrollable. She hadn’t been the same since. She didn’t want to feel the heights of passion because she knew the crash and burn was inevitable. If she wasn’t careful, she would succumb to the same torment as her mother.

  * * *

  Sebastian glanced at his watch and strode to the door leading to the walk-in closet. He was not used to waiting for a woman. They followed his schedule and didn’t cause any inconvenience. Ashley needed to learn that she was no different. He would not give her any special treatment. “Ashley, I’m not a patient man. It’s time to leave.”

  As much as he would like to stay in and reacquaint himself with Ashley’s curves, this was one party he couldn’t miss. Wouldn’t. The opening of his newest club would bring in hundreds of thousands for charity. His old neighborhood needed that money. And yet, even now, he was tempted to strip off his gray suit, knock down the door and reclaim Ashley. He went hard as he imagined sinking into her welcoming body.

  “Ashley?” he snapped.

  “Have fun without me,” she said through the door.

  Sebastian closed his eyes and inhaled sharply. He should have known that she would pout and sulk. Heiresses. It didn’t matter if they lived in stilettos or sandals. Each of them knew how to throw a tantrum.

  “You’re coming with me,” he said in a low voice. “That’s the agreement.”

  “Actually, I did
n’t agree to it,” she said, her voice loud and clear. “I said I’d share your bed. I didn’t say anything about dressing up like a whore and being put on display to stroke your ego.”

  Whore? Sebastian shook his head. The dress and shoes were bought at one of the most exclusive boutiques in South Beach. He had paid the hairstylist and makeup artist an exorbitant fee to give Ashley a natural look.

  Even if Ashley rolled out of bed and only wore a wrinkled sheet, she couldn’t look like a whore. There was something in the way she carried herself. She acted like a queen. Like she was too good for the rest of the world. Too good for him.

  “Fine,” Sebastian said as he walked away from the door. He could find another woman in a matter of minutes. Someone who was so grateful to be on his arm that she wouldn’t challenge him every step of the way. “You don’t want Inez Key that much. Understandable. It really isn’t much of an island.”

  “Wait,” she called out.

  Sebastian hesitated. He didn’t wait for anyone. That was one benefit he discovered after making his first million. The powerful people who used to ignore and instantly dismiss him would now wait endlessly for a minute of his time. Why should he treat Ashley any differently?

  And yet he was compelled to turn around. Because he wanted Ashley. No other woman would do. She had already invaded his dreams and captured his imagination. When Ashley wrenched the door open and stood defiantly in the threshold, his breath caught in his throat.

  Her long brown hair fell past her shoulders in thick waves. He bunched his hands as he remembered how soft and heavy it felt. His gaze drifted down to her face. Only the scowl marred her exquisite beauty.

  He couldn’t stop staring. The thin leather dress was perfect for Ashley. The casual design made him think of the oversize T-shirts she favored, yet the burnt-orange color reminded him of the sunset they’d shared on Inez Key.

  “Perfect,” he said gruffly.

  She skimmed her hands uncertainly against the metallic embellishments that gave the simple dress an edge. “Did you choose this?”

  Sebastian shook his head. “I told the stylist what I expected.” He’d wanted something that had symbolized the weekend they’d shared in Inez Key. He didn’t know that the dress would cling to her curves and accentuate her sun-kissed skin. His gaze gravitated to her long, toned legs. He remembered how they felt wrapped tightly around his waist. Sebastian swallowed roughly as his mouth felt dry.

  “It’s too short.” She tugged at the hem that barely skimmed the top of her thighs. “Too revealing. Too—”

  “Sexy as hell,” he said in a growl.

  Ashley’s breath lodged painfully in her lungs as she watched Sebastian advance. She took a step back and bumped against the door frame. The man moved quietly, like a jungle cat ready to pounce, and she stood before him like helpless prey. Her heart was already beating hard when she saw him. Now it wanted to explode out of her chest.

  Ashley wasn’t sure how she was going to get out of this situation. She wasn’t sure if she wanted to. She liked how he looked at her. Liked this tension that coiled around them, excluding everything else. She felt beautiful, powerful and vibrantly alive. Only Sebastian made her feel this way.

  But how many other women had felt like this with Sebastian? Her pulse skipped hard as the question bloomed in her mind. Just as he was about to reach her, Ashley held up her hand to stop him. She hoped he didn’t see how her fingers trembled. “Not so fast.”

  “Don’t worry, mi vida,” he said, his voice husky and seductive. “It will be slow and steady.”

  “That’s not what I meant.” She felt the heat flood her face as she imagined Sebastian exploring her body, taking his time while she begged for completion. Begged for more. “First, some ground rules.”

  He raised an eyebrow. “You can’t be serious.”

  Were mistresses not allowed to negotiate? She found that hard to believe. What they had was a business deal. “Do not tell anyone about this arrangement,” Ashley demanded as she crossed her arms, forming a barrier. She knew how men bragged. She remembered hearing her father discuss his conquests to any man who’d listen. Each story got bolder and raunchier as the men tried to one-up each other. “This is a private matter.”

  Sebastian watched her carefully. She couldn’t tell if he was offended by her request or if he didn’t know why it was worth mentioning. “I don’t discuss my private life,” he confided in a low voice. “And I won’t let anyone talk about you.”

  Ashley blinked. She wasn’t expecting that answer or the sincerity in his dark eyes. Sebastian Cruz was a good liar. He knew what she wanted to hear. If she didn’t know that he would say or do anything to get his way, she’d almost believe him.

  “Anything else?” he drawled as he moved closer, towering over her.

  Ashley felt the pulse fluttering at the base of her throat. His scent, his heat, excited her. But she had one demand that wasn’t negotiable. If he denied her this, she would walk out immediately. “You will have to use protection.”

  He reached out and brushed his knuckle along the line of her jaw. She shivered with anticipation at the gentle touch. “I always do.”

  “Always?” she taunted. Womanizers didn’t think much about the future. They focused on instant gratification. It was the women who had to protect themselves and deal with the consequences alone.

  “Always,” he repeated as his fingertips grazed her throat and shoulder. “I take care of my lovers.”

  Sure. That had to be the real reason. It had nothing to do with giving up control. “And you wouldn’t want a gold digger to get pregnant and live off your money.”

  Sebastian’s eyes flashed with agreement. “Any more rules?”

  Ashley nervously licked her lips with the tip of her tongue. She wanted to create a list of rules, but her mind was blank. “No...”

  “Good.” Sebastian wrapped his fingers around her wrists. His hold was firm and commanding. She gasped when he held her hands high above her head. He leaned into her and Ashley hated how her body yielded to him. Her soft breasts were thrust against his hard chest and her pelvis cradled his erection. Sebastian surrounded her.

  His powerful thigh wedged between her shaky legs. “Now, for my ground rules.”

  Ashley swallowed hard. She should have expected he would have rules of his own. She was ready to refuse them all, but she was secretly intrigued. She wanted to know what he demanded from a woman.

  “First,” he said as he pressed his mouth against her cheekbone, “you are available to me twenty-four hours a day.”

  “You don’t ask for much, do you?” she asked sarcastically as the excitement clawed up her chest.

  “And you have no claim on me,” Sebastian said as he kissed his way down the curve of her throat. She couldn’t refrain from arching her neck and encouraging more. “When I want you, I will call for you.”

  Now, that she had expected from Sebastian. He would decide when and where. Any affair would meet his schedule and the woman would have to learn how to adapt.

  “Maybe you don’t understand,” Ashley said, closing her eyes as his hot breath warmed her skin. “I’m not the kind of woman who sits around and waits.”

  “You will be with me.” His mouth hovered against her wildly beating pulse point at the base of her throat. He circled it with the tip of his tongue, silently showing that he knew how he made her feel. “It will be worth the wait.”

  She took in a ragged gulp of air. “You talk big—”

  He cupped her cheeks with his large hands and kissed her. She was ready to counterattack, but he disarmed her immediately. His lips were demanding as he drew her tongue inside his mouth. She was out of control, mindlessly following his lead as the desire bled inside her.

  When he withdrew, Ashley saw the stain of lipstick on his firm mouth and the way his eyes g
littered knowingly. “I know how much you want this. Want me.”

  She was embarrassed at her response. Humiliated that he stopped the kiss. She felt scorched. Boneless. Ashley remembered feeling like this. Sebastian knew exactly how to touch her. She wanted more and yet she wanted it to stop. She needed to take control but at the same time she wanted to throw caution to the wind and see where she landed.

  “Anything else?” she asked hoarsely.

  His hand grazed her breast and he drew lazy circles around her hard nipple with his fingertip. “I expect total obedience from my women.”

  She flinched. She wasn’t sure which part of his rule bothered her. The fact that she was lumped into a group known as “his women”? Or the obedience part? She wasn’t going to let this man—or any man—master her. She wasn’t a plaything. “Following the rules has never been my strength,” she said.

  “You’ll learn. All you need is the right motivation.” Sebastian smiled as he trailed his fingertips down her rib cage. His touch was as light as a feather and yet her skin tingled with awareness.

  “I can’t promise you obedience,” she said between pants. “In fact, I won’t.”

  Her words made him smile. “I can make you promise anything.”

  She wanted to give a bitter laugh. Slap his hand away. Tell him he was only fooling himself. But deep down she knew Sebastian could have that power, and she didn’t want to test it. “You are very sure of yourself.”

  He didn’t reply. Instead, he splayed his hand between her thighs. Sebastian’s eyes held an unholy gleam when he realized she wore nothing underneath her dress. He murmured his approval in Spanish as he began to stroke the folds of her sex.

  Ashley immediately clamped her legs together but it was too late. Sebastian wasn’t going to let that deter him. He gave a husky laugh of triumph as she responded. She looked away as the liquid heat flooded her body.