It’s ours.
Pim glanced back and forth between us, her thoughts guarded. I’d give anything to know what she thought. How much she wanted this. How much she was terrified.
“Ready?” Holding out my hand, I gave her yet another chance to accept or deny.
I didn’t know which one I wanted her to do anymore.
She swayed back, still expecting a slap or worse, but just as quickly, she half-smiled, looked into my eyes, and bravely placed her hand in mine. “Ready.”
My heart leapt. Then sank like a pirate ship.
Nodding goodbye to Selix, I escorted her to the elevators. We didn’t say a word as the doors opened, we entered, and then were trapped, ascending to our room. The heat of her body, the closeness of her proximity, the knowledge of what we were about to do caused adrenaline to pump through my veins instead of blood.
The doors opened silently, depositing us onto our floor. I led her down the wide French Rivera inspired corridor and inserted the key into a white-painted door.
Opening it, I bowed for her to go first.
With a respectful nod, she drifted forward, a small gasp falling from her lips as she took in the room. “Oh, wow. This…it’s stunning.”
I had to admit, it was beautiful.
The main bedroom was dressed in duck egg blue with a cream four poster bed and heavy ruffles. The windows were double story, taking in the congested harbour, flash of skin from holiday-makers, palm trees, fountains, and cherry reds and canary yellows of Ferraris and Porsches below.
The lounge held turn of the century French baroque chairs with a chaise by the window and large off-white coffee table. Everything was creams or blues or deep rich greys, manipulating my mood from tense to relaxed.
Pim headed toward the master bedroom, ignoring the second, just as nice suite, off the lounge. She sat hesitantly on the high mattress, jumping a little to sit. Her legs dangled while her fingers dug into the expensive linen.
We stared at each other.
Neither ready to speak or move or break whatever spell we were in. I couldn’t stand it. All I could think about was her hands on my cock and her lips against mine.
Needing a distraction from the sudden overwhelming need to touch her, I stalked toward the wardrobe and wrenched it open. As expected, I found my black duffel next to the red parcel and a smaller bag for Pim. Taking both, I headed toward her still sitting on the bed and placed the red package beside the girl I wanted more than anything.
“For you.”
Her eyes widened as I stepped back and dragged a hand through my hair. “Wear them. Not for me. But for you. It’s time to remember just how powerful clothing can be.”
“What do you mean?”
I glanced at the red box, already berating myself for how much harder this would be for me. “I mean the right wardrobe can erase multiple flaws and worries. The right wardrobe can bring your enemy to his knees.”
Her eyes sharpened, trying to decipher what I meant.
Tearing my gaze away, I stalked from the bedroom before she could crack open the box and cause me to lose the rest of my self-control.
I vanished into the bathroom to shower.
To prepare for the best and most likely worst night of my life.
Chapter Twenty
______________________________
Pim
LACE.
Garters.
Sex and sensuality and sin.
The box was full of lingerie all tucked demurely in pink and red tissue paper. To most women, it would be the prelude to one of the most romantic nights of her life. To me, it represented bondage and discomfort and the reminder I was soft while he was hard. I was useable while he was the master who could do what he wanted.
His body would go inside mine.
Was there anything more odd than one’s body penetrating another? Was I overthinking it? Would I ever be able to think about sex as emotion and sensation rather than brutal claiming?
Pulling a bra free from the snake’s nest of femininity, I eyed the cupid pink roses on the half-moon cups. The matching knickers were just as pretty, just as innocent. Tossing it onto the bed, I picked up another combination. This one jet black with velvet straps and lace panels in the underwear. Countless sets of whites and blues and cremellos.
Time ticked onward as my skin crawled at the thought of dressing in tight spandex and underwire.
My ears pricked at the sound of a shower turning on followed by the splashing of water. Instantly, my imagination took over. The image of Elder naked and soaked with his head tossed back and liquid slicking over his thick black hair. Soap bubbles coasting down his body, doing their best to wash away the pain inside him but failing.
My tummy clenched once again—surprising me, confusing me. I’d never felt such things before. Never thought of another and had a physical reaction. Never daydreamed about kissing voluntarily or entertaining the idea of more.
Elder had well and truly corrupted me just like he said I’d corrupted him.
Doing my best to concentrate on the lingerie and not my wayward thoughts of Elder covering his dragon tattoo in soap, of his hands sliding over dusky skin, of his body growing hard and—
I shivered, slightly lightheaded.
Stop it. He’s just human. Just a man.
But that was the thing.
Elder wasn’t just a man. He was more than human. He’d transcended into fantasy. He was the beast locked in a castle. He was the hero battling inner demons. He was more than just mortal because he’d already done so much more than any other roguish storybook prince would do.
He’d rescued me.
He’d awakened me.
He’d kissed me awake like Sleeping Beauty and removed the poisoned apple from my soul like Snow White.
He was my happily ever after.
I just had to be brave enough, strong enough, and fearless enough to claim him.
Get it together, Pim. Stop such fantastical thoughts.
This was just a date. Just sex. Nothing more.
Digging into the red box, I shoved aside the last remaining lingerie and pulled out a black dress. Simple in its sheath like satin but with a nod to the ‘20s with its flapper-inspired fringe on the hem and in-sewn strings of black pearls over the bodice.
So he’d bought me clingy lingerie, yet ensured the dress would whisper around my body with no claustrophobia.
He said the lingerie was for you.
I didn’t believe that.
It’s for him.
He wanted to see me dressed like a normal woman he was about to seduce. He wanted to forget my past so he could prevent the guilt and shame I witnessed in his eyes every time we kissed.
I didn’t want that.
I wanted this to be new, but I also wanted it to be us. Not us pretending to be other people.
The bathroom door opened, blowing clouds of steam into the bedroom as Elder stepped out with a white towel wrapped around his waist.
I froze with my hands on the black bra while my heart forgot how to beat and turned supersonic. Droplets danced over the planes of his chest, the dragon black with fierce ink, its scales and claws somehow entirely real. The illusion of his ribs never failed to make me cringe in worry and gawk in awe while the hair from his naval disappeared into the towel, making my mouth go dry from want rather than horror.
I sighed.
I had no choice.
I needed to exhale the sexual tension inside me.
I needed to know once and for all if I could do this.
If I could be normal.
He didn’t notice my staring as he rubbed his wet hair, shaking away water with rough hands. His shoulders sparkled with rain from his head, quickly joining the tracks of other rivers down his torso. “Bathroom is all yours.” Glancing at me with tight eyes and harsh features, he stalked into the other bedroom with his bag, vanishing from view.
I climbed off the bed, my feet drifting toward where he’d gone rather than the bathroom
. I wanted to see how I’d feel if he dropped the towel and told me to get on my knees. I wanted to stare at him like I’d stared on the deck before he’d jumped overboard.
Stopping in the middle of the room, I clutched the black bra still in my hands.
What am I saying?
That I’m cured off all the monstrous things that have been done to me?
That I believed the moment Elder stripped, I wouldn’t seize up and have a panic attack?
You’re being ridiculous, Pim.
I wanted to see him naked. I wanted to touch and inspect. But how was that any different to what other men had done to me? How could I objectify him? How could I forget he was more than just a handsome thief? How could I get past what would happen after he was naked?
Yes, I found Elder incredibly attractive—I had since the moment I’d met him. I’d felt something the second his eyes met mine, and it wasn’t lust because, back then, I’d loathed that word.
It was something else, something worthy of seeking, something worthy of wearing lingerie to understand.
Something worth chasing even when it gets bad? Even when you second-guess everything?
My teeth locked together when I had no answers.
I hadn’t been in control of my future for so long, and I still wasn’t. Elder was doing things to me—crazy things, unknown things.
If tonight ended the way he’d hinted, I just had to hope I was strong enough to keep chasing.
Get in the shower.
Hopefully, the running water would calm my thoughts, and I could shed this sudden nervousness.
Turning on my heel, I returned to the bed and scooped up the knickers to match the bra. Rummaging in the red box, I found the black dress again and a pair of strappy heels then strode into the bathroom and shut the door.
For the first time in my life, I would primp and titivate with the sole purpose of making a man desire me.
I wanted to be free.
I wanted to be pretty.
For him.
Stranger things had never happened.
Chapter Twenty-One
______________________________
Elder
I PACED.
I wasn’t proud of it. I became addicted to the soft thud of my dress shoes on the rich blue carpet.
Left nine steps.
Turn around.
Right nine steps.
Repeat.
Ordinarily, when I suffered the jumpy signs of a free-fall into compulsion and repetition, I turned to my cello. I would forget about the world, evict myself from my exhausting mind, and allow the music to think for me. I’d pour everything I was into the melody until I was empty of myself and full of pure notes that didn’t need counting or cataloguing. I’d give myself to the only drug that had any power of keeping me sane.
But I couldn’t do that.
So I had to pace. And pace. I had to pace in steps of nine or the tic and skip of my faulty faculties would destroy tonight before we’d even left the goddamn room.
I’d keep it together. Pim would be ready any second—
The bathroom door opened.
Shit.
I held my breath as steam precluded the girl I couldn’t stop obsessing over. As mist gave way to clarity, the hazy black-covered figure grabbed me around the heart and made me silent. My thoughts turned quiet. My needs paused.
I slammed to a stop as she morphed from figment to reality, entering the suite with hesitant elegance.
Words deserted me.
Words like wow and holy fuck and what the hell am I doing? All I could do was stare. Stare at how stunning the black dress encased her with pearls and fringe. How the glimpse of velvet straps on her shoulders hinted at a bra beneath. How calf muscles tightened, giving definition to ballerina legs, tipping her higher in heels.
Pim had always been beautiful—even bruise covered and prison sick. Now, she looked like a goddamn goddess. An enchantress putting a spell on me.
Her eyes met mine, a shy smile creeping over her face. Her cheeks glowed as she looked me up and down. She’d used the hotel supplied makeup to darken her lashes and stain her perfect lips. Her hair hung like heavy silk over her shoulders.
I didn’t stand a fucking chance.
We stood with the room between us, neither ready to break the erotic studying of each other. I hadn’t been a saint in my past but staring at Pim…no other woman existed.
She was the only woman. She was the only creature with that title. It felt as if I’d never seen a female before. That she was everything sex and connection spoke about with her strength and hope and fledgling trust.
She was girl and witch and wife—
Fuck.
I shook my head, dispelling such delusional thoughts. I hadn’t played my cello. I wasn’t thinking straight.
I take no responsibility for my thoughts. None.
Pim was just a slave I’d stolen.
That was it.
But as her grass-coloured eyes teased down my black suit and lingered on the black tie around my neck, I grew hot. As she licked her lips at the grey shirt I’d chosen rather than white—blotting up the light rather than granting it—I grew hard.
She confused me by making me want to protect her all while the growing urgency to molest her made me go to war with myself.
The fact she’d worn the black lingerie beneath her dress made me crazy. Black was my colour of choice. She’d just made this night ten times fucking harder.
“You’re beautiful.” I cleared my throat from the heavy, needy rasp.
“You’re handsome.” She ducked her gaze, linking her fingers together as if afraid I’d reprimand her for the compliment.
I couldn’t let her be afraid.
I never wanted her to be afraid again.
Stalking forward, I hesitated as my hand shot out, aiming for her cheek.
Don’t do it.
Don’t let yourself feel.
My arm hovered.
I ordered myself to back away, but her face tilted up, her eyes widening in question when I didn’t touch her. The guileless way she stared—her gaze flitting from my mouth to my eyes and back again unravelled the rest of my self-control.
Slowly, ever so slowly, I closed the distance between us and softly cupped her face. My fingers shook from being tender when I wanted to be cruel. Wanted to growl at her to leave me alone. Tell her to run.
Words tumbled from heart to mouth rather than being analysed by my brain. I had no way to stop it. No censor to prevent the deep, dark truth. “I’ve never wanted anyone as much as I want you.”
Pim sucked in a breath. The tops of her breasts visible thanks to the lingerie.
The sentence could’ve been superficial. Wanting someone hinted at suffering from lust and nothing else. Wanting meant physical and selfish release.
But she already knew I wanted more from her than that. I wanted her mind, her history. I wanted to study her past under a microscope and pass exams on all things Pim.
And now, thanks to my failing willpower and her growing courage, I needed to rip apart every inch of her and pry apart every personality. I needed to understand her power over me.
But most of all, I wanted her.
Christ, I wanted her.
Goosebumps darted over her arms as I brushed my thumb over her lips. My hand continued to shake, and the slickness of her pale pink lipstick stained my fingerprint.
The feather of her breath on my hand clenched my gut.
She swayed into me. Her eyes clouding with the exact thing that infected me.
Desire.
Deep, true, unforgiving, burdensome desire.
Dropping my hand, I stepped backward, cursing the rigidity of my muscles and ache in my back. Wanting her had spread from my cock to my heart to my bones. She gave me lust rheumatism, and I hated that I was so far fucking gone, I came up with such ridiculous analogies.
I cleared my throat from the growl-gravel ready to order her onto the bed.
&nbs
p; We needed to leave. I needed some distance.
I need to get myself under control.
Smoothing my jacket, pretending it was the fabric I stroked and not my heated skin and aching bones, I snapped, “We need to go.”
She blinked away the compress of desire, coming awake once again. “Are…are we late?”
“Late?”
She bit her lip, worry shimmering around her. “For a reservation?”
Of course, she would think that. Anyone would if told we had to go in the same snapped urgency.
I had no booking, no agenda. Tonight was open to any and all experiences. That was why I had to get out of this room. Immediately.
I half-smiled, already regretting every event leading up till now and every event here after. “No, we’re not late.”
“Then why?”
I turned to face the door, bowing a little with my arm spread for her to join me. “Because if we don’t go this instant, then we’ll never leave.”
“Oh?” She came forward. Hips swaying. Hair shining. Eyes trusting. “Why?”
Christ, she couldn’t leave it alone. “Because I can’t be alone with you right now.”
I need public spaces and judging eyes.
I need to be reminded that I’m me and you’re you and whatever we’re trying to create can never work.
“Oh…” That one little word could be delivered in so many ways.
“Yes, oh.” I rolled my eyes and prowled to the door. She padded beside me with a soft smile on her lips. “I understand.”
Our eyes met.
Lust ignited.
And I knew she did understand.
All too well.
* * * * *
“A table will be ready in ten minutes, Mr. Prest,” the smartly dressed, middle-aged maître d said. “Can I perhaps interest you in a drink at the bar while you wait?”
I wanted to say no—that alcohol had no place in tonight’s activities—but I needed to do something with my hands to prevent from reaching for Pim. Maybe, for once, liquor would calm me rather than wind me up further.
I nodded. “Fine.”
“Great. Right this way.” The maître d guided us forward through the richly decorated restaurant to an intimate mood-lit bar. I’d chosen Hôtel de Paris’s signature eatery, partly because I needed to be close to our room in case I lost my shit, and partly to ensure Selix wouldn’t have an aneurysm for sending his protection away.