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With surprising strength she shoved him away and moved off of his desk. “If you’ll excuse me, Mr. Ortega, I have work to do.”
    “Wait, Amanda—”
    He tried to grab her arm but she jerked away from him. “Look, let’s both be clear about this. You’re blackmailing me, this isn’t anything romantic or a date, I’m aware of that, but you don’t have to make me feel cheap.”
    “What?”
    “I own you,” she said in a mocking tone as she rewound her hair into a tight bun. “You may own my body, but you don’t own me, got it? Now, since it seems I’m spending the night with you, regardless of my wishes, I have shit I need to get done.”
    “Amanda, that wasn’t what I meant.”
    She gave a cold laugh and guilt panged through him again at the scornful smile she gave him. “You know what, I used to think you were a nice guy beneath all your bullshit, but now I know you’re as calloused and arrogant on the inside as the outside. I’ll meet you at your home after work, but you better get your money’s worth because after tonight I’d rather go to jail than have to suffer your touch again.”

Chapter 4
    At precisely 7:00 p.m. Amanda walked past the perfectly manicured palm trees flanking the stone walkway leading to Dallas’s waterfront mansion on the south side of Miami. The sun was just beginning to set and it framed the huge two-story Spanish-style home beautifully. She’d been here before for business purposes, but this time instead of appreciating the loveliness of the home she was trying to keep from breaking out into a sweat. With her overnight bag over her shoulder, she lifted her chin and put her shoulders back in case Dallas was watching her.
    In a useless act of defiance she’d dressed as conservative as possible in this heat, wearing a pair of khaki cargo pants and a long, loose pink silk blouse that buttoned up to her neck in a mock priest collar. Her hair was pulled back in a tight bun and she hadn’t put on a drop of makeup. Even her underwear were conservative—plain white cotton with just a touch of lace. They were the plainest underwear she owned, but she wished she had some giant granny panties to wear instead. If she hadn’t gotten waxed regularly she wouldn’t have bothered to shave, either, but that was kind of a moot point.
    Anger pushed away her nervousness as she once again struggled to understand exactly how she’d gotten into this situation. While she took the steps leading to the sheltered alcove of the front door she cursed herself for the thousandth time for being so stupid. She should have told Dallas to go fuck himself, or reported it to the police or something. Instead she’d melted like sugar in the rain and enjoyed everything he’d done to her.
    Just like she would probably enjoy every perverted, kinky, dirty, wonderful thing he would do to her tonight.
    Her pussy clenched and she grit her teeth, pissed off at her body’s reaction as she rang the doorbell. A few moments later Dallas answered the door and she sucked in a quick breath, trying to hide her reaction to his appearance. He wore a black tank top that lovingly exposed his well-developed shoulders and arms with a pair of worn jean shorts that hung low on his hips. His feet were bare and when he smiled at her there was such joy in his expression that she had to fight the urge to smile back.
    “I was hoping you would come,” he said in a soft murmur.
    Giving him a hard glare, she pushed past him into the foyer. “Like I had a choice.”
    “Ahhh, querida, don’t be like that.” He took her bag before she could protest and set it next to the front door after shutting it. “Come here.”
    Before she could protest he had her pressed against the wall, his hands on either side of her head. She tried to push him away but it was like trying to move a tree. “Really, Mr. Ortega, let’s just get this over with.”
    His full lips twitched, and he leaned forward so his breath warmed her lips. “If you