“A question for a question,” I tell her. “An answer for an answer.”
“You’re going to be disappointed with my answers,” she says with a weary note to her voice. “She barely told me anything. I was speaking out of anger when I saw you.”
“You came to my bar, you looked for my family. You tried to shoot me.” With every sentence, she cowers more and more. “There’s a reason for those actions.” She nods solemnly.
“What are you going-”
“Just sign,” I cut her off and she moves her focus to the empty glass. My pulse is racing, my nerves on edge. And yet, she looks so … unaffected by the weight of what’s to come. Like some part of her has given in.
“I need this as much as you do.”
Her huff is nothing but sarcastic. Easy, I remind myself. Go easy on her now. It will be different later.
“It will be an escape from the pain if nothing else. You need it,” I tell her and this time her expression changes slightly, as if she’s so very aware of the agony that mourning is. It’s also an aphrodisiac. There is never a more relevant time to be touched, or to be loved than when someone you love is gone.
“You want another glass?” I offer with a slight teasing tone to lighten the mood, an asymmetric grin pulling at my lips when she peeks up at me through her thick lashes.
“I may have had more than enough already.”
The sofa groans as she leans back on it, reading the single sheet of paper once again.
The faint light from the disappearing sun kisses her skin as the loose shirt slips down her shoulder and she has to readjust it. She doesn’t look back at me as she does. With her legs bent, her bare feet resting on the edge of the sofa and a thin blanket thrown over her lap, she looks far too casual for this moment.
As if that exposed skin of hers wasn’t everything I’ve been thinking about since I first saw her across the bar. As if I don’t want to rip that shirt off of her and devour every inch of her body with open-mouth kisses, dragging my teeth along her skin and making her that much more sensitive for what I’m going to do to her.
There are moments in time, pauses in your reality, where you realize this instant will be a memory forever. Something that will never leave you. I’ll remember this one forever.
I hope I never forget how the adrenaline is rushing through me, how eager I am. I want to remember it all. Every single detail.
I’ll remember it, and I’ll have to, because I’m going to lose her. She’s not meant to be mine.
That doesn’t mean I won’t take her, though.
“If I say no?” she asks, her wide hazel eyes searching mine for something.
“It doesn’t happen.” There’s no hesitation in my answer.
“If I say stop?”
“It stops.”
“Why do it then? Why would you do this?” she asks with her brow furrowed.
“Because I know you want it. I know you need it.” She’s silent in return.
“This would never hold up in court,” she says, finally breaking the quiet.
“I have no desire to ever see you in a courtroom, Miss Fawn. I didn’t even intend to write this down; I only did it because I thought you would respond better, maybe even listen to what I’m offering, if it was written in black and white.”
“And what is it you’re offering exactly, Mr. Cross?”
“Answers, and an escape, a way to pay a debt I know you can’t afford.” My gaze stays on hers, holding her in place until she gives me an answer. “This is a world you know nothing about, Bethany, and I’m willing to bring you into it. I’m willing… and you’d be wise to take this deal.”
“Call me Beth.” She corrects me without looking at me as the pen scribbles her signature, right on the line next to mine.
Desire sinks into my blood in an instant, surging through every fiber of my being as the paper and pen find themselves on the coffee table. Signed on the dotted line.
“I’ll go easy on you,” I tell her as I stand up, preparing myself to show restraint. She stays where she is, pretending not to be affected in the least.
“Is that right?” she asks as I pour a glass of wine. She stares at the dark liquid swirling before speaking out loud. “I’m already a little further than the right side of tipsy, Mr. Cross.”
I fucking love the way she said my name. My cock stiffens, immediately hard just from having her obey me, having her speak to me like this. There’s something about a fiery woman submitting that makes me lose all control and focus, giving it all to her.
“It’s for me,” I point out and take a sip. It’s cheap wine, but decent enough.
“Don’t confuse me going along with this for something it isn’t,” she says a little harder, with more resolve than I expect.
“Oh, and what isn’t it?”
“I’m not just going to let you do what you want and get away with it. I’m not that easy, and I’m not submitting to your every wish if that’s what you think this is.”
A beat passes before I ask her, “Then what are you doing?”
“I’m simply learning the ropes of your world, Mr. Cross.”
“This is how you’ll learn. You’ll do what I say. I ask the first question, then once I’m satisfied with your answer, you can ask me whatever you want. Those are the ropes, Miss Fawn.”
Her long brown hair brushes against her shoulders as she nods, making her shirt fall once again and a shiver run across her skin. She’s quick to lift the thin fabric back into place, as if it will be staying there.
“Lie down.” I give her the first command and just like yesterday, in the guest bedroom when I waited for the book she held so tightly, she hesitates, testing me before obeying.
“I’d like to address an important matter first,” she states innocently enough, arching a perfectly plucked brow at me.
“What’s that?”
“It’s seven seventeen,” she tells me and I grin, letting the rush of desire take over.
“I already started the clock at six fifty-two when I pulled into your driveway.”
Surprise widens her eyes.
“Lie down.”
“I’ll say no if you tell me to spread my legs for you.”
The determination in her voice is surprising, considering how badly she wants me.
Although I don’t speak the sentiment out loud, I make her words a personal challenge.
“You’d spite me to deny yourself a basic need?” I ask her and before she can respond I add, “I have no intention of fucking you today, but I know you need to be fucked long and hard … both that mouth of yours and your cunt.”
Indignation flashes in her eyes, darkening them, which only makes the golden hues that much more vibrant.
“If I put my hands between your thighs, would I find you hot and wet for me?” My voice is calm, although my dick leaks precum, throbbing from the very idea that her cunt is ready for me.
“You’ll never know,” she says offhandedly before lying down, covering herself with the blanket and resting her head on the one pillow that was tucked in the corner of the sofa.
“I asked you a question.” My words are hard, and her hazel glare whips to mine. “Is your cunt soaking wet for me?”