With trembling hands, I unbutton my jeans and slide them down my legs, letting them puddle to the floor at my ankles, where I kick them off and toe them aside. I forget trying to be sexy. I’ve never given a sexy strip tease in my life, and I have a feeling if I try to start now, I’ll only look like a foolish little girl. Next I lift my shirt over my head and remove it, depositing it with the jeans. I try to suck in my stomach and stand taller to best show off my assets. God, I feel like a piece of art work on display. And worse, why am I so desperate for this man’s approval?

"Don’t," he says, his voice low.

I swallow and release the breath I’ve been holding, my shoulders relaxing and my body returning to its natural state. I stare straight ahead, meeting his eyes, unflinching, and not daring to look away. Something inside me feels rebellious and strong, even though I’m obviously the one in the weaker position right now.

"Take off your bra," he says next, his voice a rough growl.

My fingers reach behind my back and I release the clasp, my heart thundering against my ribcage as I let the bra fall away. My instinct is to cover my breasts yet again, shield myself from his view, but deciding it would be pointless and show how weak and helpless I feel, I let the bra drop to the floor between us. My nipples tighten in the cool night air, begging for attention. I’ve been wound tight ever since I’d sucked his cock, my panties slightly damp and my body aching and confused. I shouldn’t want this – I shouldn’t crave this moment between us, but knowing we’ve been building toward it all night only makes me want to see it through.

"The panties too, sweetness," he whispers roughly, his voice sending little darts of electricity flickering across my skin.

Sucking in a deep breath, I push my fingers into my panties, easing them down my hips and giving my bottom a little wiggle as they round my backside and drift to the floor.

His eyes are still locked on mine. He hasn’t looked down at my now completely naked body and something about his control unsettles me. I felt no such restraint when it came to perusing his body. My eyes had greedily soaked in every detail.

I never expected to be physically attracted to the man who purchased me, and I know it will only complicate things for me. It’s disheartening knowing I don’t have the same effect on him. Maybe he’s not impressed.

But finally, his eyes begin a slow descent, wandering down my body like we have all the time in the world, and his tongue wanders out to meet his bottom lip.

His gaze settles on my breasts. They feel so full and heavy they’re practically throbbing. Does he want me? I’m not sure why that matters to me, but suddenly I know that it does. My self-esteem has never been entirely robust, but it’s never been completely lacking either. Yet there’s something about standing nude before a rich, powerful, sinfully attractive man that makes me want to measure up.

Drake swallows, the bulge in his throat bobbing, before lowering his eyes to my bare juncture between my thighs. I want to press my legs together, but I remain steady. Heat zips through me as his gaze rises, glancing up to meet my eyes again. That’s it? He ordered me to strip just to look at me?

But then my gaze lowers and I see the long, thick erection rising in his pants. The only indication that he likes what he sees. Then why won’t you do something about it? The errant thought flashes through my brain, along with a catalog of erotic images – his full mouth at my throat, the feel of his large palms cupping my breasts as his thumbs move over the sensitive peaks. I would grip his solid arms, lay my head against his warm chest and come undone as his cock, that I know from experience is hot and hard, nudges restlessly at my center. A warm shiver races up my spine and I swallow down a helpless whimper.

"What do you like to sleep in?" he asks, his voice completely composed and unshaken.

"Usually a t-shirt and pajama pants," I say, digging my big toe into the plush carpeting.

He nods and heads for the closet, retrieving a gray t-shirt and a pair of cotton pants for me. They’re both a size large – but they’re soft and comfortable as I slide them over my overheated skin. I ball my discarded clothes into a pile and wonder where I’m supposed to put them. I have nothing here – no belongings, no sense of purpose and the realization is dizzying. I shouldn’t have been focused on tempting him with my curves. I needed to be clear-headed and figuring out how to survive in my new life.

Drake enters the bathroom and closes the door behind him, giving me a chance to wander the large suite uninterrupted. I pad across the floor toward the closet and realize that I’ve never felt carpeting so thick and soft before. It’s like it’s padded underneath with pillows of cotton. It’s heavenly. A slight smile curls on my lips. At least I’m able to find some silver lining in this crazy situation. I live in a freaking mansion. And besides, it could be a lot worse.

As I wander toward the closet, I can’t help but notice the faint scent of women’s perfume that clings to the interior of the bedroom. The scent is stale, but it’s still present. Lingering like a mystery. I wonder briefly who the perfume belonged to.

The large walk-in closet is bigger than my bedroom back home. One half is filled with designer suits in various shades of black, navy, gray and pinstripes, a rolodex of ties in every color hangs from one wall, neatly folded stacks of cotton shirts rest on built-in shelves along with various men’s items. A stray watch, a leather portfolio, cuff links, loose change. But the main thing that stands out to me is that one entire half of the closet has been emptied out – just a few loose padded hangers remain along with a red silk camisole dangling from one of them haphazardly.