“What? Fuck?”
I gaze at my own feet underwater and his that are right beside mine. They are much bigger and sturdier, like his hands. And his thighs, they’re huge, as is his stature. And for some reason, being in this tub with him like this is the first time I actually feel safe in this room.
I grab a strand of my hair and tuck it behind my ears. “You told me you were waiting for me to say the words.”
He stops washing me and brushes aside my wet hair so he can lean in close. “It’s not the words I’m looking for,” he whispers, and he presses a kiss onto my shoulders so soft it makes me feel like a wax candle melting away. “I’m waiting for you.”
Me. It’s always been about me.
All this time, I thought I was dancing to his tune. Fighting him at every turn and waiting for him to take what he came for. But it wasn’t about that at all.
It’s my heart.
My love.
My choice.
That’s what we’ve been fighting over all this time. The pulling and tugging weren’t solely about my body but to win over my soul. To make me fall.
And I am falling … so fucking hard.
The kisses he plants, one after the other, undo me and strip me of every defense I ever put up. An uncontrollable ache in my body commands me to yield, and while my hands float in the water, I close my eyes and hum to the tune of loving defeat.
I want his lips. I want his touch. I want him to take me.
Even if he is the bad guy.
The one who stole me away from my old, habitual life and immersed me into a world filled with sexual deviance and power. A world I crave to explore.
All this time, I was wishing and praying I wouldn’t fall for the devil, but I should’ve known the devil has his ways and always wins. And now he’s won me over.
“I want you. I’ve always wanted you …” he says, pressing a kiss to my neck as my head tilts sideways. “From the day I saw you at your father’s wedding until the day you finally said yes at the altar.”
“But I hated you,” I murmur, my body instinctively leaning into his as his lips land on my skin. I’m halfway turned in the tub, crawling up against him, his rock-hard abs candy to my eyes. Droplets of water roll down his chiseled face along his beautiful dark lashes, his pronounced cheekbones, and his delicious lips. My eyes can’t stop taking him in.
“You hated the idea of me. The power I have and how I use it to ruin everything around me.” He cups my face and forces me to look at him. “To get my hands on you.”
My lips part, but I don’t know what to say. Even when I offered myself to him, he still didn’t take me. And now here we are, face to face, in the most exposed situation with all our feelings laid bare. All this time, I thought I was the one who lost. Who was locked away and imprisoned by the beast.
But I’m not the only one who suffered. He sacrificed his sanity, his morals, and his dignity to be with me. And even though that should make me loathe him, I don’t anymore.
Because I feel for him. I feel for the man who could’ve been everything we both wanted if the circumstances had been different. If we’d met in a different place and time, maybe we could’ve been together without all the grief and pain. Without wanting to hurt each other.
“You want me, but do you really know you do?” I mutter.
“More than anything. I would sacrifice my business for you if I had to,” he says, clutching me, our lips grazing. “I’d fucking sacrifice my life to be close to you.”
“Then kiss me,” I murmur.
He kisses me so fucking hard that the tub suddenly feels as though it’s filled with scalding water. My heart pounds in my throat as his mouth claims mine. His kiss is mind-numbing, soothing the turmoil in my heart. His tongue darts out to expertly pry my lips open and toy with my tongue, leaving my body needy with more. He licks the roof of my mouth and grabs a fistful of my hair to pull me closer. I’m fucked by his tongue, and I love every second of it. This small moment in time of bliss is where I find my acceptance with my own wantonness and the arousal settling between my legs.
I move in, sliding my hips over his, the friction becoming too much to take. I want him inside me; I want him to own me, completely, fully, whatever it takes. I don’t want to think or feel; I just want to be.
But then he pulls his lips off mine and leans back, gazing at me with eyes that scream for more. But no matter how hard I try to seduce him, he doesn’t come for me. His penetrating stare forces me to come face to face with my own depraved lust. But I know full well what I did … what I said.
“I told you to fuck me,” I say straight to his face. His dick grows against my thighs, but he ignores it completely. “Why don’t you do it?”
He cocks his head, and a smile tugs at his lips. “I don’t need your permission.”
“But you wanted me to beg,” I mutter as my index finger grazes his lips. “And I begged for it.”
“And I heard you loud and clear,” he groans, grabbing my wrist. “But I want you to mean it.”
Our lips are so close, lightning shoots through my veins. I don’t want to beg, but I would do anything right now for those lips to numb this confused heart of mine again.
“I do,” I mutter, but deep down, I know it’s a lie.
I said it at a moment of delirium when the lines between what’s right and wrong blur. But I know I needed to go down into the depths in order to understand my own needs and to give in to them. Doesn’t that count?
“You’re beautiful when you’re lying,” he says, a lopsided grin appearing on his face.
I frown and lean back. “So you won’t take me even when I did what you wanted?”
“I want you to want it for yourself,” he says, still trying to keep me close to him. “Not because I want it.”
“But you do. We both do,” I say, sliding back into the water. “Why does it even matter?”
“You know why,” he says with a suddenly serious look on his face.
I shake my head and snort. “You did everything, all of this, to capture me, use me, and degrade me so you could flaunt it in front of my father to destroy him. You want to see him suffer, and I was part of that plan, right?”
He doesn’t answer, but he doesn’t need to. I know how he works.
“You hate him. And here is your one opportunity to stick your middle finger up at him, and you won’t grasp it?” I ask, raising a brow. “You won. I give in. I’m yours. What else could you want?”
“You,” he says with such a convincing, genuine smile that it shakes me to my core.
Why would he do this? Why would he make things so damn difficult? I was ready to give him my body, to give him what he wanted, and now he won’t take it.
“I’m here,” I retort in one last attempt.
He sighs. “Because I wanted you here. Because I made sure you’d be here, right in this position, saying the very things I wanted to hear. I made you this way. I broke you for my own selfish needs.” He licks his lips. “But that’s still not enough.”
Still not enough? Fuck him.
Fuck him and his self-righteousness.
First, he steals me away from my home, claims my life, my body, and anything under the sun, and now that I’m willing to give it to him freely, he refuses to take it? What is wrong with this man?
Then it hits me. There’s only one reason he wanted to steal me away from my home … my father and his business.
“This isn’t about me, is it?” I growl. “It’s about my father.”
He frowns. “What are you talking about?”
“You still want to punish my father.” I suck on my bottom lip. “This is all a ploy to get me to like you so you can throw it in my father’s face.”
“What? No?” He waves it away as if it means nothing.
“Don’t lie to me,” I say, pointing a finger at his chest. “If you love me like you say you do, stop lying.”
He grips my hand and holds it down. “Fine. Yes, a part of me does
want to see him suffer.”
I shake my head. “So nothing has changed.”
“Yes, we have,” he says, cupping my face.
“No.” I swat his hand away. “You can make me be with you, but you can’t force my heart to love you back.”
“Why do you make things so difficult?” he sneers.
“Because I’m still only a tool for you,” I growl out loud and stand in the tub.
“That’s not true,” he says.
“Tell me the truth, Easton,” I growl, folding my arms. I’m not backing down from this one. “For once, tell me what it is you’re doing to him. If you think I can love you back after the truth comes out, then maybe it’s worth telling me after all.”
His face turns dark as the silence in the room kills me.
“I want your father to know I own his precious girl.”
“He does. I’m married to you,” I say. “But that’s not enough for you, is it? You want to see his face dissolve when you kiss me. When you …”
Shit.
I figured it out.
The cameras.
The footage on his laptop.
His incessant need to log everything and his need for revenge.
I gasp. “You’re … sending the footage from those cameras to my father?”
He doesn’t answer, but his deadly stare says enough.
I grimace. “That’s disgusting.” I wrap myself with the new bathrobe. “Fuck you, I’m out of here.”
“Charlotte …” He reaches for my legs, but I push him off and jump out of the tub before he can touch me.
How dare he send that footage to my father without asking me, without informing me of his plans? Images of all the things I’ve done, all the things Easton did to my body, replay over and over in my head, and it makes my stomach tumble.
My father saw it.
God knows how much of it …
How can I ever look him in the eyes again?
Easton did this on purpose. No wonder he has cameras everywhere. It’s not only for his twisted needs but to get back at my father too.
He lied to my face when he said it was all for himself.
And here I was, thinking I could warm up to him, and maybe, just maybe, I was falling for this dude.
Fuck him.
I don’t want him, and he can tuck that huge dick right back into his pants where it belongs, just like his cocky, arrogant smile.
Chapter 17
Easton
When she left, I got out of the tub and dried off before leaving her room. I don’t know where she went, but it didn’t take her long to return and slam the door shut behind her. I’m not welcome there right now, and I’ll accept that, considering the circumstances.
She’s mad at me, which I fully understand. She wants to make me out to be the bad guy while simultaneously wanting me to fuck her into oblivion. It doesn’t work that way, and she knows this. And now she’s upset she didn’t get her way.
Of course, she’ll never admit this out loud, which is why she’s probably fuming in her bedroom right now. I’ll leave her be for a moment. After all, there’s no use having a discussion with her when she’s denying her own feelings.
Though, her knowing about my incessant need to punish her father does put a dent in my plans. I didn’t think she’d bring it up. I got caught off guard with her questions, and she saw the truth in my eyes.
The way she looked at me when she knew I sent that footage of us to her father cut me deep. She despises me, and I don’t blame her. I would hate the person who did that to me too. I should’ve thought of that before I hit send.
Now I wish I never did.
* * *
Charlotte
The longer I sit in my room, the more time slips through my fingers. I’m not doing anything, and it’s infuriating. These books I’ve collected from Easton’s personal library bore me to death. I’ve already read a lot of them, or they’re simply not my taste.
I didn’t know being left alone to do what I wanted would be so … boring.
I always imagined that I’d be excited when he left. That I’d enjoy the time I’d have on my own since I don’t get a lot of it. Easton’s always watching me like a hawk, trying to spin me around his finger, but when he’s not … it’s both refreshing and scary.
However, I won’t forgive him for sending my father footage of us.
Nothing he can say or do will make me forget who he really is.
I refuse to see him right now. I’d rather sit here and waste away than have to look at his goddamn handsome face while he’s trampling on my heart. No thanks.
Still, a hungry girl has to eat, and I am famished.
Would it be okay for me to go into the kitchen and make something for myself? Or did he forbid his staff from helping me? If I know him, he’ll try anything to get me on his side again. And if that’s the case, I’ll stop eating entirely. That’ll teach him not to mess with me.
With confidence, I march out of my room and down the stairs. There’s a delicious smell coming from the kitchen, and it lures me in without a second thought.
My mouth waters as I inhale the scent as I float toward the stove. Jill’s cooking homemade beef chili stew in a crock pot.
“That smells delicious,” I mutter.
She spins on her heels and almost hits me with a spoon. “Geez. You scared me.”
I wipe off some drops that landed on my cheeks. “Sorry about that,” I say.
“It’s just finishing up. You want a taste?” she asks.
“Well, if you’re offering …” I give her a big smile.
“Of course.” She grabs a bowl and fills it up, then places it on the kitchen counter. “Eat up.”
I sit down on a stool. “Thanks,” I say, staring at the bowl, wondering which piece I’ll start with first.
She adds a spoon and a napkin, accompanied by a soft smile that breaks my heart in two.
The last time I saw that smile was when I ran away at the store. When I was finally free and her world broke in two. Easton probably didn’t treat her kindly, and she must hate me for it.
I rub my lips together and pick up the spoon while she continues to stir the pot. She normally doesn’t cook, as Easton has a few personal chefs that work for him, so the fact that she’s here surprises me. I wonder if he made her do this or if she’s trying to make up for something.
“So … you’re cooking too now?” I mutter. “You’re like the perfect assistant.”
“Oh, it’s only for today. Mr. Van Buren requested I make this dish personally, and I agreed. It’s his favorite.”
“Interesting,” I say. I guess there’s so much more she knows about him than I do. “So you do this often?”
“No, just when he asks,” she says. “He’s had it a bit rough these past few days.”
Oh boy, I can’t imagine. That makes me want to roll my eyes.
“But don’t worry about me. Go eat,” she says.
I nod and look down at the perfect bowl of stew with just the right amount of herbs and probably the perfect taste, and it makes me wonder what else she does so damn perfect.
Yes, I’m envious. I wish I could cook like this and be so loving and supportive. That someone would need me for something other than my body or for revenge. That Easton would need me the way he needs her.
But that’s selfish of me.
The way he treats her and takes her for granted … I shouldn’t ever want that.
The longer I stare at the stew, the more hesitant I become to take a bite. I don’t want to upset her, but I don’t deserve this delicious meal either.
“What’s wrong?” she suddenly asks.
I put my spoon down. “Nothing, I just …” I sigh. I guess it’s better to talk about these things than to bury them in the shadows. “I wanted to apologize for leaving you at the store the day I ran.”
She stiffens and grows silent, clutching her spoon as if it’s her lifeline.
“I know Easton must’ve be
en harsh on you for that,” I say. “I’m sorry.”
“Oh, hehe,” she mutters, flicking her spoon like a baton. “It’s fine.”
“No, it’s not, and you don’t have to pretend that it is,” I interject. “I hurt you.”
“Nonsense, you didn’t—”
“I did. I hurt you personally by running away. I knew when I saw you that he’d punish you for it, and I did it anyway.” I swallow away the lump in my throat. “And I’m sorry about that. If I could turn back time and change what I did, I would.”
It’s silent for a few seconds as we stare at each other, and her eyes fill with tears.
“I saw your desperation, your need to be free …” she murmurs. “I should’ve stopped you.”
“But you didn’t.” I don’t look away because I want to see her pain. I need to see it so I can come to terms with the flaws of my actions and how they affect others. “And there’s nothing I’m more grateful for than that.”
She looks down at her feet, and there’s another pause.
“Did you like it there?” Her voice is brittle, soft as a whisper. “Outside in the real world?”
A gentle smile tugs at my lips. “Very much.”
“Did you get to do what you wanted?” she adds, clearing her throat.
It takes me a few seconds to answer. “Yes.” I nod. “But I would’ve loved more time …”
She clutches her arms, and says, “I’m sorry Mr. Van Buren didn’t want to stop looking for you.” She bites her bottom lip. “I tried to persuade him to give it up, but he wouldn’t—”
“It’s not your fault, Jill,” I say, smiling. “It’s no one’s fault but mine.”
She sighs out loud as though a heavy weight has lifted off her shoulders.
“That man has a giant crush on you,” she says. “Nothing anyone says or does will ever change that.”
I narrow my eyes. “Do you think so? Because he bought me for my body … and for revenge.”
She approaches the table and leans in. “There’s no one else on his mind. All day long. All he thinks about is you.”
“How do you know?” I ask.
She averts her eyes for a few seconds. “Because I see him. I know him. I’ve known him for a long time. And he’s never, ever fallen in love.” She cocks her head. “Except with you.”
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