by H M Thomas
“Gretchen?” He questioned once more.
Her eyes softened, a slow smile transforming her features into the woman who’d haunted his fantasies for years. She reached up and threaded her fingers through his hair before nodding.
“Fuck. Gretchen,” he growled. A renewed wave of lust wracking his body.
She gyrated beneath him, urging him to follow suit.
“Jesus,” he groaned and met her thrusts, determined to drive her over the edge of a precipice, harder and harder. Gone was the cool, detached persona of Jay Finley he’d tried to keep when he’d thought she was a faceless dancer. Now, he wanted to pull every bit of pleasure from her. Forcing himself to pull back from the soft, warm mounds of her breasts pressed against his chest, he stood by the side of the bed. Hooking her knees over his forearms, he yanked her to the edge of the mattress and drove into her, directing her passion, right over the edge of release.
“That’s it, baby,” he grunted. “Come, Gretch.”
She threw her head back, exposing the long, sleek column of her throat. He leaned over, unable to resist the urge to lick her there before sinking his teeth in. She cried out and her back arched as she dug her nails into his shoulders. The muscles of her sex took hold of him with unrelenting force, milking him as he held her hips and drove into her before releasing his own pleasure and collapsing on top of her.
~ ~ ~
Finn couldn’t move. He breathed deep and heavy as he tried to gather enough energy to move off the woman beneath him so as not to crush her. God, he’d lost it. His control. His sanity. He’d called this woman Gretchen, had actually convinced himself he was having sex with Gretchen. What the fuck was wrong with him?
The woman sighed and ran her hands up his sides, lightly tickling him with the tips of her fingers, before kissing him. “You taste good.”
Her lips curved against his neck.
Finn lifted his head, rising on his elbows to look down at her. She smiled at him and his stomach knotted. Gretchen. He wasn’t crazy, but he was so screwed. He pushed away, rolling to his back. He couldn’t think straight with her naked and soft under him. As proven by the fact he’d had sex with a woman he’d known more than twenty years and not even realized it. How had that happened? Maybe, because Gretchen Christensen had no reason to be in this hell hole working for Raymond Carlisle. No not just working, fucking dancing. On. A. Pole. He squeezed the bridge of his nose and prayed for calm. The mask made so much more sense now, she’d fucked him, without ever intending to reveal her identity.
“You tricked me.” He didn’t look at her. He didn’t want to see her all soft and rumpled and . . . naked.
The mattress dipped as she shifted toward him, but she stopped without touching him. Thank God for small miracles.
“I gave you what you came after,” she replied.
A harsh laugh escaped him, and he turned to her. Damn it. He’d been right to not look at her. Even with the wig and contacts, he could no longer look at her and not see Gretchen. “You kept that fucking mask on so I wouldn’t realize it was you.”
She narrowed her eyes. “And you let me because it made it easier to pretend I was someone else.”
He looked away so she wouldn’t see the confirmation in his eyes.
She scoffed. “You’re pissed because I turned out to be exactly who you wanted me to be. You were thinking about me the whole time. Admit it.”
Before he could confess that he was always thinking about her, the door burst open. He jumped up, throwing a blanket over Gretchen’s naked body. “What the fuck?”
The man in the door looked from him to Gretchen, his eyes resting on the expanse of exposed leg sticking out from under the comforter.
Finn followed his gaze, clenching his fists when the other man’s eyes darkened. “What do you want?” He stomped, naked, to the couch drawing the intruder’s attention away from Gretchen. The idea of the other man seeing her naked made his stomach twist.
The man inclined his head toward Gretchen. “I heard she was finally taking visitors. I love to try out the new ones.” He licked his lips as he looked back at her.
Anger flooded Finn’s veins and he turned toward the bed. Gretchen had sat up, and she clutched the blanket to her chest, but anyone who’d seen her on stage earlier, wouldn’t have trouble picturing what was underneath. A wave of possessiveness hit him, almost making him miss his next step. He disposed of the condom before pulling on his boxers. “She’s mine. You won’t be trying her.”
“Jay,” Gretchen whined in a flat, empty voice devoid of the slight Southern drawl he’d always loved. “I don’t belong to you. I have a job to do and Mr. Carlisle’s paying me a lot of money to do it.”
He turned on her. “Then I’ll pay you double.” His glare went back to the man in the doorway. “She’s off limits. I’m not done with her, and I don’t share.” When he looked back at Gretchen, she stared at him open-mouthed. “Besides, she’s probably the only one who hasn’t picked up something from you or one of those other assholes.”
Gretchen rose from the bed, the comforter wrapped around her, and marched her way to the corner of the room to retrieve what appeared to be a scrap of cloth but was probably a dress.
“We’re done here,” Finn told the man and waited as he backed out of the room, slamming the door behind him.
Neither Finn nor Gretchen moved for a moment, before they turned on each other.
“What the hell are you doing?” she snapped, only seconds before he managed to ask her what the fuck she was thinking.
“What am I doing?” He tried to control his voice as he stalked toward her. “What are you doing, Gretchen? Your dad has more money than God. I’m sure there’s something you could be doing besides turning tricks to pay the bills. Hell, come home with me. I’ll pay you to not be here. How about that?”
~ ~ ~
Finn’s eyes burned wild with fury, holding a hint of disappointment that broke Gretchen’s heart.
“I’m not turning tricks,” she told him quietly. “I’m not a hooker.”
He laughed as he looked around the room and back at the rumpled bed. “Newsflash, Gretchen, that’s exactly what you’re doing. I knew you had mommy issues, but I never expected this.”
She looked down, surprised at how much it hurt that he believed her charade. Feeling suddenly exposed, she turned her back to him and slid her clothes on under the blanket.
“You’re the only one.” She faced him again before walking to the mirror to make sure the wig still covered her own hair.
He stalked up behind her. “What are you doing here?”
She watched him in the mirror and her gaze fell to the tattoo on his chest—the compass with no letters for direction. He’d once explained he needed the symbol because he often lost his way, though he’d left off the labels because he didn’t care where he was going. If only she could tell him she felt the same way.
Still avoiding his eyes, she turned toward him, daring to place her hands on his chest before she leaned in and brushed her lips over each point of the tattoo. He inhaled sharply, holding his breath until she pulled away.
“I have a job to do.” She strolled to the bed, straightening the rumpled sheets and replacing the comforter.
“You’re not going back out there.” He stepped in front of the door.
She crossed her arms over her chest. “Are you planning to keep me in here all night alternating between having sex with me and telling me what a whore I am?”
“I didn’t say that.” He started toward her and she took the opportunity to slip around him and make her way to the door. “Gretchen,” he called as she pulled the door open.
“It’s Lilah, Jay.” She stepped into the hall and closed the door firmly behind her. She forced herself to breathe calmly as she dried her sweaty palms ov
er the skirt of her dress.
What the hell had she done? Finn wouldn’t let this go, and dammit, if she were honest with herself, she hoped he wouldn’t let her go. He would though, and he’d ruin her case, because he’d dig until he uncovered the truth, and then he’d force her out. Maybe he’d never love her like she wanted him to, but he’d always protected her.
She took a deep breath, plastered on a smile and strutted to the bar to slide onto a vacant stool. When Amber motioned toward a shot glass, Gretchen nodded. The other woman pulled it down and filled it with brown liquor. Gretchen offered a wink as she took the glass and sipped.
“Lilah.”
She turned toward the hallway she’d vacated.
Finn stood in the doorway now fully dressed. His gray eyes were narrowed on her and his nostrils flared in rage. “Come here.”
She looked around the room. Everyone had stopped, watching the exchange closely.
“I believe Jay told you to go to him,” Carlisle spoke up.
“She heard me,” Finn growled.
Gretchen slipped off the stool. Although her instincts urged her to tell him to fuck himself, as Lilah she could never do that. Instead, she stood nervously, pulling her dress down over her thighs.
“I don’t work for you,” she responded in a barely audible voice. “I work for Mr. Carlisle.”
Finn’s eyes flashed dangerously, and Carlisle chuckled behind her.
“She’s been trained well.” There was a shrug in the man’s voice before he turned to her. “Honey, if Jay tells you to do something, you do it. No matter what it is.”
He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively and her stomach rolled. If he’d been tossing her to anyone other than Finn, she may have lost her nerve.
“Now come here,” Finn ordered her again.
Gretchen cast a wary glance at Carlisle, who nodded, before she crept toward Finn. He looked ready to attack. She’d seen that look before, but his anger had never been aimed at her. As she moved forward, she fought back her tears. Why had Finn had to be here? He was the only person capable of breaking her and ruining everything.
“We’re leaving,” he told her through clenched teeth when she reached him.
“No, I’m not. You think because you fucked me you get to—”
“Yes,” he yelled in her face. “That’s exactly what I think. You want to be a hooker, Lilah?” He spat the name. “I’m going to train you in the art. Let’s go.” He grabbed her arm and began dragging her toward the door.
She jerked away, surprised no one seemed bothered by the way he manhandled her. In fact, they appeared to be enjoying the show.
He spun around and leaned close, as if to share a secret, although everyone could still hear him. “Let me explain things to you. I’m taking you home with me, and I’m going to enjoy showing you all the things you should learn to expect here.”
Tears and bile rose in her throat, her chin trembling as she swallowed them down. He was going to break her right here in front of everyone. She could’ve taken this from anyone else, but not Finn. She’d loved him in one form or another her entire life, but now she realized he wasn’t the man she’d ever thought he was.
He took her arm in a gentle grip. She knew better than to try to get away again and allowed him to lead her wordlessly out the door to his car. They stopped beside a black Porsche, and he finally released her to open the door for her, but unable to move, she simply stood, staring over the hood of the car.
“Get in.” His soft voice had her tears threatening to fall on their own.
“You know I hate you now, right?” She didn’t meet his glare.
He nodded. “If that’s what it takes.”
Chapter 5
Gretchen followed Finn into his apartment without a word. They hadn’t spoken on the drive over. What could she say after he called her a whore and humiliated her in front of the entire club? She’d seriously overestimated Finn James’s character, he was no different than any of the other men she’d encountered while undercover. Only, as she watched him flip on a light and make his way through the open living room to the sleek, sparse kitchen, she couldn’t make herself believe that.
Finn tossed his keys into a bowl and braced his hands on the counter, before he dropped his head. She stood and watched, trying to quiet her breaths so she wouldn’t further annoy him. Her heart still pounded from the way he’d talked to her at the club. Likely, neither of them would survive a private confrontation now.
He looked back at her over his shoulder. “Go take a shower. My room’s through there.” He nodded to the door next to the floor-to-ceiling windows.
She only stared at him, immobile.
“Go take—”
“Why? You want to pretend this didn’t happen? You want me to erase—"
He spun around, his fists clenched by his sides and worked his jaw. Instinct and training told her to step back, but despite what she’d tried to convince herself, Finn wasn’t like any other man. She didn’t need to fear him, at least not physically.
“I want you to get rid of that wig. I want you to fix whatever you’ve done to your eyes. I want you to wash off that whore perfume, and I want you to come back out as Gretchen,” he raged before reining in his fury. “My Gretchen.”
His possessive declaration wasn’t going to erase everything he’d said so far.
“You wouldn’t touch Gretchen,” she reminded him as he stalked to the shelf holding several expensive bottles of liquor.
He snickered as he filled his glass, before he threw the liquor back and slammed the empty highball on the bar. “Do you think that’s because I don’t want you? That I don’t fucking ache for you?”
“Yet you only slept with me because you thought I was a whore.” She choked on the lump forming in her throat.
“Because fucking some whore couldn’t be nearly as dangerous as making love to you.”
Her breath caught, and the tears she thought she’d gotten under control sprang back full force. “I would never do anything to hurt you.” She took a step forward, wanting to erase the tension that bunched his muscular shoulders.
Before she could reach him, he turned to her and gave a swift nod of his head. “Yet here we are.” He met her eyes briefly before dropping his gaze. “Go take a shower.”
He pushed past her, leaving her frozen to the spot. She took an unsteady breath, as she listened to him retreat down the hall and slam a door behind him. Finally, she forced herself to walk to his bedroom. She glanced at his bed as she passed. How many women had he brought here? Less dangerous women, women he’d chosen over her. Had he ordered any of them to shower afterward? She surveyed his room. Like the rest of his apartment, the space was cold, spare, devoid of anything that hinted at the man Finn James had become. If not for the spicy, masculine scent of him that filled the air, she could’ve been made to believe he’d never been there at all.
Inside the black and white bathroom, she kicked off her heels, letting the cool tile ease her tired feet. Finn’s razor sat by the sink and his toothbrush was in the holder. The setup was all so simple and private. She bit back the tears threatening to escape her throat. He didn’t willingly share these pieces of his life with her, he didn’t want to share any intimate details with her.
She peeled off the too-short black dress and dropped it and her thong on the floor, before she went to the sleek glass shower. Her hand trembled as she turned on the hot water before she went back to the mirror to remove the wig from her hair. Her own long blond hair tumbled free as she pulled out the pins.
Gretchen ran her hands through the tresses, massaging away the tension on her scalp, and leaned close to the mirror, to remove the contacts and throw them into the wastebasket under the sink. She studied the girl in the mirror staring back at her. Would Finn ever see her as more than Broc
k’s little sister, the untouchable Christensen princess? Would her heart be able to let him go if he couldn’t? The answer to both was likely no. She sighed and stepped into the steam.
When she finished showering, two fluffy white towels hung on the bar by the shower door. She’d been so lost in her own thoughts, she hadn’t even heard Finn enter. Apparently, he’d snatched her clothes and shoes as well, because they were missing. Sighing, she wrapped herself in the towels and made her way back into Finn’s bedroom.
On the bed, he’d laid one of his button-up shirts for her. Despite her determination to stay mad at him her lips curved as she slipped the shirt on.
She looked around his room again. It would be nice to hide out there, at least until morning when maybe she’d be able to think more clearly and not do something stupid like beg Finn to finally love her.
Yeah right. Ten years hadn’t been long enough to erase that particular fantasy, one night wasn’t going to do it.
Out of any more excuses to hide in Finn’s bedroom, Gretchen trudged to the door. She stopped when she spotted him by the window, staring out at the lights below, dressed in gray sweats with a drink in his hand. Her chest tightened as she watched him, all the love she’d had for him over the years converging in that moment and almost consuming her.
He turned, meeting her eyes, his hair still damp from his own shower. Disappointment swept through her at the thought of him trying to wash any trace of her off him.
A slow smile curved his lips. “Gretchen.”
Her breaths came faster, and she swallowed as her gaze followed his journey across the rug toward her.
“Would you like a drink?” He lifted his tumbler.
She shook her head. “No.” The word came out strangled and she stopped to clear her throat. “No thank you,” she tried again.