His hips pistoned harder while he feasted on my tattoo.
I didn’t know what animal he looked at or why he studied something of innocence when debasing me in the worst possible way, but his voice tangled with emotion as he growled with each thrust.
“Otter.”
Thrust.
“Ocelot.”
Thrust.
“Orangutan, oregano, ostrich.” Thrust, thrust, thrust.
“Owl.”
I waited for more. I waited for Olive.
But his forehead crashed against my spine and he gathered me up, wedging me off the table until my hips lay on his arm. “I’m sorry. So fucking sorry.”
His apology had no direction, and I had no time to guess which memory he wanted absolution for. His speed increased until we both cried and groaned together, growing wilder, fiercer, chasing the razor-sharp release just out of reach.
Fear swelled alongside my orgasm, making me sensitive in both body and soul. I was terrified of letting go. Petrified of how I’d feel afterward.
But I couldn’t stop it.
Gil drove me to the pinnacle, and I tumbled over the edge.
Gasping, I rode the deep internal waves of rapture. Milking him, thanking him.
My slipperiness added another element to his need, and he took me as brutally as he could. His roar echoed in my ears as he followed me.
Curling over me, he smothered my back as he sank teeth deep into my tattoo. I moaned as he thrust again, filling me completely.
Hot, pulsing streams spurted inside me.
And when it was over, his tattered breathing turned into a breathless curse. “Fuck.” He withdrew, backing away from me and buckling his jeans. His entire body shook as he raked both hands through his hair and looked at me with wild, green eyes.
I didn’t speak as I slipped off the table and twisted to face him, shimmying my skirt down and pulling together the ends of my torn blouse. His cum trickled down my thigh, staining my pantyhose the longer we stood and stared.
It became unbearable.
The silence.
The stress of what’d happened.
He looked like he was about to jump out of my four-story window. Needing to touch him, to heal him, I tripped into his arms and sucked in a shivery breath as his arms threaded around me and squeezed.
A hug.
So simple and normal but it ripped out my heart better than any sex or orgasm.
Tears glossed my eyes as I pulled away and tried to catch his stare.
He didn’t let me, turning away and wiping his mouth with a shaking hand.
Things were fragile now. Terribly delicate and the vulnerability between us didn’t have a cure.
My stomach growled, snarling through the quietness.
Gil threw me a half-hearted smirk. “Hungry, O?”
I grinned, grateful for the embarrassing noise. “I haven’t eaten properly in days.” A plan rapidly unfolded in my head. A plan that could patch up the wounds left behind. “Let’s get takeaway and eat here. Then...if you’re so determined to babysit me, I can finish packing. I’ll stay...for one night.”
Ignoring my concession to sleep over, he frowned. “You want to eat...together?”
“Don’t worry. It’s not a date.” I moved toward the fridge where takeout numbers and menus waited under ugly magnets. “Just a necessity of life.”
He sighed, muttering something I didn’t hear under his breath.
“Sorry?” I grabbed a Thai menu and found my cell phone. “What was that?”
He grimaced. “Nothing you need to hear.” Heading toward the bathroom, he added, “We’ll eat. But it’s not a date.”
As the bathroom door closed and my cell phone connected with the Thai restaurant, I whispered, “It’s all a date, Gilbert Clark. Every word, every stare, every argument. It’s all a dangerous game with no winners.”
“Pardon me? You want what?” A Thai-accented voice sounded in my ear.
I tore my eyes from where Gil had vanished. “Sorry. Can I order a lemon grass chicken and Pad Thai beef? It’s date night.”
Chapter Twenty-Six
______________________________
Olin
-The Present-
“WHAT THE FUCK do you want from me? I’ve done everything you’ve asked. I have nothing left. Do you get that? Fucking nothing. You’ve bled me dry and—”
Sleep dissolved; the world grew solid. I sat up from my bed as Gil’s shadow paced in the dark living room.
“Goddammit, it’s too soon. I just—” Whoever he spoke to cut him off, making him growl under his breath. He paced faster. “No, fuck, I’m not saying I won’t—”
He stormed to the window where city lights and moonlight painted him in silvery, buttery illumination. “You’re not listening to me—”
He punched the windowsill. “Christ, don’t. I’ll—”
Whirling around, he looked at the ceiling as if he could find divine intervention and support. His nostrils flared, and his eyes were suspiciously wet. Finding no salvation on the ceiling, he hung his head and pinched the bridge of his nose. All fight siphoned out of him. He nodded dully. “Fine. Yes. I’ll get the money.”
My hands fisted around my covers.
Is that the guy who beats him up?
Gil sighed heavily. “Yeah. Give me a couple of days. Just don’t...” He cut himself off before adding, “Please, don’t.”
The sound of Gil begging made me want to burst into tears.
He nodded again at something before terminating the call. His arm bunched behind his back as if to throw his cell phone against the wall. But he stopped himself. Dropping his hand, he placed his phone carefully into his pocket.
And then he turned to my bedroom and caught me sitting upright in bed.
“Ah, shit.” He bit the words into pieces.
I didn’t speak. What the hell was there to say? He’d been caught in a trap. I’d witnessed him being puppeteered by someone who controlled him with something. Something important with the way his skin had turned to ash and his eyes darkened with helplessness.
“How long have you been awake?” He moved tired and exhausted to lean against my doorframe. We’d ended up staying at my place after a dinner of shared Thai, some Netflix, and the agreement that the kidnapper might know where I lived but I was just as safe here with him on my couch as I was at his place in the same arrangement.
I’d deliberated offering him to sleep in my bed.
But I couldn’t quite make myself as we’d said goodnight and I’d thrown him a spare blanket for the threadbare settee.
“How long, O?” He crossed his arms, his biceps bunching.
“Long enough.”
He nodded dejectedly. “Great.”
“What’s the money for?”
He shook his head. “Don’t ask questions I can’t answer.”
“What happens if you don’t pay?”
His laughter etched with dismal damnation. “You don’t want to know.”
“I do. I do want to know.”
“Yet you’re not going to.”
“Are you in danger?”
“You’re in danger.”
I waved a hand. “Forget about me. I’ve just stumbled into this. You’ve been dealing with this for a long time I’m guessing.”