His Passion (By His Command #4) by Ana W. Fawkes

 
    -1-
     
    From the moment Jonathan Black took my wrist
and pulled me from the hotel room, I felt watched, followed, and
guilty. I didn’t want to look back as we left the room, but I did.
How could I not? In that hotel room lay the dead body of a man I
helped murder. Granted, I did not put the knife into Oliver Rush,
nor did I twist it or pull it out, but I helped. I lured him to the
hotel, knowing Jonathan Black’s evil intentions.
    The door shut and when it made that final
click – locked – a thought crashed into me.
    Good for him.
    I couldn’t believe I thought that, but as I
watched how fast and honestly Jonathan Black worked right then (and
since I had met him back at the elevators of his company) I knew
that Jonathan was the toughest, smartest, richest, and sexiest of
any man I had met or would meet.
    Plus, Oliver Rush tried to attack me. He
caught me in a vulnerable place and put a horrific memory in my
mind that ultimately ended with his death.
    But that wasn’t the reason why Jonathan
Black pulled me down the hall, darting left towards a back set of
stairs in the hotel.
    Someone would eventually find Oliver Rush’s
dead body and I was certain by then everything would have been
covered up on Jonathan’s end, if it already wasn’t.
    This new speed, this sense of panic – and
hate – came because I answered Jonathan Black’s cell phone. It had
been ringing non-stop for a day straight and finally, I answered
it.
    It was Jonathan Black’s father.
    He warned me that Jonathan was dangerous. He
wanted me to leave, right away, and forget all I knew. He blatantly
told me to take the memories of pleasure and consider myself lucky
that I had such a warning. Finally, he told me that if I didn’t
leave, I’d end up dead too. These were things I hadn’t shared with
Jonathan yet, unsure how to actually say it.
    The words of his father made me shiver… dead too . That implied to me that Jonathan’s father knew
about his son’s intentions and perhaps even his actions.
    The question was how?

-2-
     
    “Here, stop for a second.”
    Jonathan flicked his wrist and my toes
skidded on the hard floor in the stairwell. I was then against the
wall, his hands on my hips. His touch, no matter how simple,
subtle, or sexual, made my body electrify. I sighed and bent my
knees, seeking relief. The entire day into night had been wrapped
in so many emotions and yet somehow in the mix of murder and
Jonathan’s father stepping into the picture, I looked into
Jonathan’s eyes and could only hope he would have my body.
    Right there in the stairwell.
    Have me. Right now.
    “We have to go on now,” Jonathan said. His
voice was rough. I wanted to detect a hint of worry, but there was
none. The gorgeous billionaire before me wasn’t capable of worry.
He was capable of command and control. I needed that.
    “Yes,” I whispered. “Just take me.
Wherever.”
    His hand touched my face. He swallowed. For
a second I caught a glimmer in his eyes that suggested emotion,
care, and perhaps even love. Oh, I would have killed Oliver Rush
myself to have Jonathan Black fall in love with me. His stare was
that intense, leaving my body drained and turned on at the same
time. I expended all my energy just wondering what he thought
about.
    His mind – and body – were something
beautiful, and even as I stood in the stairwell with Oliver Rush’s
dead corpse down the hall in a room, I wanted Jonathan Black. My
urge to run and hide didn’t exist anymore. It would only take
someone finding Oliver Rush to make this a big problem… a
housekeeper coming to change the sheets… a business associate
tracking him down… something small that would create something
huge.
    We should have been on the run. We should
have been scrambling down the stairs, taking them two or three at a
time, to a getaway vehicle.
    But we weren’t.
    We stood in the open stairwell and stared at
each other. My heart echoed in my chest and my breathing echoed
around us.
    He was