Millionaire Playboys: Paying the Playboy's Price. Emilie Rose

      And then an even more painful realization hit. Lust wouldn’t hurt this much. That meant that her feelings for Rex might be more than simple physical desire. Was she falling for him? Her heart pounded. No, she couldn’t be. He didn’t fit in with her life plan or her career goals.

      “Juliana, I’m sorry.”

      She straightened her spine, lifted her chin and met his solemn gaze. She tightened her fingers around the mug in a grip that would break more fragile china. “I’m not sorry.”

      She wasn’t. Taking control of their relationship, her sexual pleasure and her life was—what had he said?—oh, yes, a journey she had to take. But she wasn’t the auditor with the highest success rate at Alden Bank and Trust for nothing. When she wanted something, she didn’t give up without a fight. And she wanted more of the passion Rex Tanner had shown her. More of her reluctant rebel. She wanted—needed—to store up memories for later.

      Did he want the same? She didn’t know, but she’d learned early on that if you wanted something and didn’t speak up, then you got exactly what you asked for. Nothing. And if that meant she had to become the seducer instead of the seducee then she’d willingly take on the role.

      Rex exhaled harshly. “You don’t get it. I can’t be the man you need. You’re hearts and flowers and forever. I’m not. I let people down, Juliana. It’s what I do best.”

      Forever? Her mind snagged on the word. “I didn’t ask for forever, Rex. All I’m asking for are the two and a half weeks remaining in your auction package.”

      His jaw muscles bunched.

      She closed the gap between them and opened her hand over his chest. His heart beat frantically beneath her palm. “Seventeen days, Rex. That’s all I want.”

      Now that you’ve tasted passion, can you live without it?

      Of course she could. She had her life mapped out and if she wanted to make it to the top, the way her mother had, then Juliana couldn’t afford detours. Especially not the kind that made her think of taking days off to laze in bed with a lover.

       Eight

      Apparently his momma had raised a fool, Rex told himself as he stopped outside his open bedroom door.

      Otherwise Juliana’s offer of a no-strings-attached relationship wouldn’t have his mouth salivating and his heart palpitating at the sight of her lying on his bed in a puddle of moonlight and tangled sheets. Obviously he’d learned nothing from his past.

      He wanted her as badly as he wanted his next breath. If her alarm hadn’t sounded this morning immediately after she’d dropped her offer on the table, then—right or wrong—he probably would have dragged her back to bed, shoved her robe from her shoulders and buried himself deep inside her.

      Forget the bed. He would have taken her in the kitchen. He’d been that hot, that eager, and it hadn’t taken giving a performance in front of tens of thousands of screaming fans to get him harder than a steel rod. Juliana had managed that feat all by herself, which meant she had the power to take him lower than he’d been when he’d hit rock bottom. Not good.

      But damn, he craved her. Craved her like an addict needing a fix.

      Quit thinking with your balls, Tanner.

      His eyes adjusted to the darkness of the apartment. In the silence at two in the morning, he could hear the whisper of Juliana’s breath. She lay on her side with her dark hair spread across his pillow just the way she’d been last night when he’d forced himself to leave her.

      His heart thumped hard and fast, like a beater against a bass drum in an up-tempo song.

      Head for the sofa. But his feet didn’t move and his unblinking gaze remained fixed on the woman who’d dominated his thoughts all day. The ceiling fan stirred the air, surrounding him in her scent.

      Accepting her offer isn’t the same as using her.

      Wasn’t it? Would he be backsliding into that selfish SOB mindset if he gave her what she wanted? Hell, he’d never intended to live the rest of his life like a monk.

      If not celibacy, then what do you have planned, bucko?

      Nothing. The answer surprised him. All his life, he’d worked toward a goal. First on getting off the ranch, second, on landing a record contract, and then on making it to the top of the charts. He’d accomplished all three, leaving a trail of casualties in his selfish, self-destructive wake. After his parents’ deaths, he’d set his sights on getting out of Nashville. Once he’d managed that, he’d focused on getting Renegade open and making himself available to Kelly and the girls. Once again, mission accomplished, but this time he had no intention of hurting or disappointing anyone.