BOUGHT BY THE RUTHLESS BILLIONAIRE

HIS BED

Chapter 8: His Bed

Amara woke up in a cage of warmth.

She was not in the guest room. She was in the huge master bed, and Ethan's arm was heavy around her waist, his chest pressed against her back. Her head was on his arm.

She froze. She had never slept with a man before.

She tried to move slowly, but his arm tightened, pulling her closer.

"Stay," his sleepy, husky voice murmured in her ear. His face was buried in her hair. "It's 5 AM."

"Your... your arm," she whispered, blushing in the dark.

"My arm is where it should be," he said, not opening his eyes. "My wife is in my bed. Where else would my arm be?"

Amara's heart pounded. She could feel his bare chest against her back. He was not wearing a shirt.

"Did you... did we..."

"We just slept," he said, opening his grey eyes now, amused. "Disappointed, Mrs. Blackwood?"

"No! I... I just..."

He turned her around gently so she was facing him. In the dim morning light, he looked softer, younger, without his cold billionaire mask.

"You talk in your sleep," he said quietly.

"I do?"

"You said 'Don't leave me' three times last night," he whispered, brushing her messy hair from her face. His touch was so gentle it hurt.

Amara's eyes filled with tears. "I... I dreamt about the hospital. About my mother dying."

Ethan's expression changed. He pulled her tightly against his chest, holding her head.

"Your mother will not die," he said firmly. "I paid for the best doctor in New York. She is having surgery today. She will live. I promise."

Amara sobbed quietly into his chest. "Why are you so kind to me sometimes and so cold other times?"

He was silent for a long time, stroking her hair.

"Because kindness is dangerous for me," he finally said. "If I am kind to you, you will have power over me. And I have never let anyone have power over me."

"But I don't want power over you," she whispered.

"You already do," he said.

He tilted her chin up. Their faces were so close. This time, there was no one watching. No mother. No cameras. Just them.

"Amara," he breathed.

And then, finally, he kissed her.

It was not a rough, possessive kiss like she expected from a billionaire. It was slow, soft, and desperate, like he had wanted to do it for a long time.

Amara gasped against his lips, but she didn't push him away. She had never been kissed before, but her body responded naturally. Her hands clutched his bare shoulders.

When he finally pulled back, both of them were breathing hard.

"That," he whispered, his forehead against hers, "was not in the contract."

Amara touched her lips, her eyes wide. "Why did you do that?"

"Because I couldn't not do it anymore," he growled, kissing her again, deeper this time. His hand slid into her hair, holding her.

Amara moaned softly, and that sound made Ethan lose control. He rolled her under him, his body over hers, careful not to crush her.

"Tell me to stop," he said, his voice shaking. "Tell me to stop, Amara, and I will."

But Amara didn't tell him to stop. She looked up at him, her innocent eyes full of trust and something that looked a lot like love.

"I don't want you to stop," she whispered.

Ethan's phone suddenly rang loudly on the nightstand, destroying the moment.

He groaned and grabbed it. "What?!"

He listened, and his face changed.

"What do you mean she disappeared?"

Amara sat up quickly. "Who disappeared?"

Ethan looked at her, his grey eyes dark with fear.

"Your mother. She is gone from the hospital."

The phone slipped from Amara's hands.

Vanessa's revenge had just begun.