Nurturing Britney (Surrender Book 7) by Becca Jameson (best books to read fiction .TXT) 📗

How about you keep your hands away from your sweet little pussy while we’re getting to know each other?”

“What?” I’m stunned. It’s not like I masturbate all the time or anything. Hell, I’m usually too tired to even think of it, but did he just tell me not to?

“You heard me. Don’t touch your pussy. Let the arousal build.”

“How long are you planning to deny me?” I ask. It’s the boldest thing I’ve ever said.

He shrugs. “I’ll decide that.”

“How would you even know? Maybe I don’t need that vibrator to get myself off,” I point out, again with the boldness that’s coming from I don’t know where.

He pulls one of my hands up between us and kisses my fingers. “I’ll know. Don’t try me. If you think the consequences for cussing are harsh, wait until you find out what I do to naughty girls who get themselves off without permission.”

I shiver. He’s so intense. I can’t think how to respond to that, so I change the subject. “You’ve said sorry twice. I think that should cancel out two of my thank yous.”

Oh, that grin. It’s evil. “But you forgot my rule.”

I flinch. “You make all the rules…”

“Yep.”

“I’m not sure I like this game.”

His hand slides down to my butt and gives me a little swat. “You do, and you will. Trust me.” He releases me and backs up.

The doorbell rings, and he smiles. “That will be your clothes.”

I follow him, but he turns around and holds out a hand to stop me. “Stay there. I don’t want anyone to see you.”

Right. Jesus. He has scrambled my brain and made me forget my stupid life is in danger and I’m in hiding.

I watch from the kitchen as he steps outside and then comes back in carrying an armload of packages.

After he shuts the door, I approach. “That’s a lot of stuff, Davis.”

He shrugs as he continues walking down the hallway.

I follow him into my room, and watch as he drops everything on my unmade bed.

He turns to face me. “I have a new idea.”

I lean against the door frame and groan. “I’m not sure I like your ideas so far.”

“You do, and you will,” he repeats, chuckling.

“Instead of me letting you dig through all this, how about if we keep it a surprise? I’ll give you new clothes every day, and keep the rest so that you never know what you’re going to get, and every day is Christmas.” He’s so excited about his plan, and he even scoops it all back up and walks past me, heading for his own room now.

I’ve only seen the master bedroom from the doorway when I stood here last night. I enter behind him now. “Davis, this is silly.” But kind of fun, I have to admit.

“But you like it,” he tells me. He heads for the closet and puts all the packages inside on the floor before closing it. When he turns around, he claps his hands together, so pleased with himself. “Now, new rule.”

I groan again, though my heart rate has picked up.

“Two new rules, actually.”

My eyes widen as he saunters toward me. “No more groaning. I’m adding groaning to the thank you and cussing list.”

I bite my lip to stop the next sound that was surely going to be another groan.

He tips my chin back and meets my gaze. “You were right. Even though your apartment was ransacked, I could see you’re a slob.”

My face heats.

“I’m gonna break that habit. Go make your bed, and from now on make it every day before you come out of your room.”

I lick my lips. Something about his tone turns me on. The man is asking me to make my bed—no, he’s telling me to—and I’m aroused? What’s wrong with me?

He lifts a brow. God, I’m starting to love when he does that. It’s so alpha. It speaks volumes without words.

“I suppose that goes on the list of items that have mysterious repercussions?”

“Indeed.”

“Anything else?”

“Yep. You’ll have chores. I expect you to do them every day. It will cure you of your untidiness.” He grins, so proud of himself.

“Chores,” I return, my voice deadpan.

“Yep. I’ll make a list.”

“Another list?” I’m grinning though.

He winks at me. “I like lists.”

“I’m not good at lists.” I’m not kidding. I’ve tried to keep lists before. It never lasts a full day. I usually lose the list in less than an hour.

“You will be.” He kisses my forehead and slides his hand down to mine, giving a tug to lure me out of his room and down to mine. He points at my bed.

I look up at him, see his serious expression, and then scurry over to make my bed. I can feel him watching me. It’s unnerving. I wonder if he’ll criticize how I make my bed. Is he strict about that too?

He says nothing though, and when I’m done, I find him leaning in the doorway. “Good girl.”

I feel a ridiculous sense of pride as I return to his side. All I did was make my damn bed, for heaven’s sake. Granted, I’ve never done that before in my life I don’t think, and it’s silly to do so at the instruction of a man I’m staying with…

But he’s smiling at me like I’ve pleased him greatly.

And I like how he looks at me.

I like how he touches me too.

His hand lands on the top of my head and runs down over my hair. He lifts a section of it. “That foster mom you had when you were six was a lunatic and a child molester, but perhaps I should thank her. Your hair is truly gorgeous. Without her abuse, maybe you never would have grown it out like this.”

I start to thank him and then snap my mouth shut.

He chuckles, wraps an arm around my shoulders, and leads me into the living room. When we reach the sofa, he releases me. “Did your boss try to call or text you when you didn’t show up for work?”

I