Unlooping our fingers, she pressed both hands against my chest, pushing gently. “Stop…please.”
Stop?
I couldn’t.
I didn’t want to.
I never wanted to stop.
“Sully.” She avoided my seeking kiss.
I needed to taste her again.
“Please, stop.”
My eyes opened, blinded at first as if I’d lived in a different realm and forgotten how to see in this one.
Eleanor stared back. Her lips swollen and pink. Her cheeks flushed. Her gaze cool and resolute.
More pain.
A goddamn axe to the chest.
It took every bit of strength I had left, but I pulled away. My lungs pumped air to a suffocating heart. My blood pressure ensured I would never walk again unless Eleanor helped relieve my excruciating erection.
But with the way she watched me…it hinted of punishment instead of pleasure.
Punishment I deserved, and punishment I would gladly take if it made me worthy of her.
Worthy?
Shit, I’d done so much to be the opposite of worthy.
My ribs cracked with overwhelming force—an emotion that I’d done my best to murder each time it appeared. A truth I could no longer deny.
I ran my tongue over my lips.
I raked both hands through blond hair.
I prepared to give myself to another.
To her.
Forever.
Our eyes caught.
I shrugged almost in apology.
I stared at my queen with her invisible crown and confessed.
“I love you, Eleanor Grace.”
Chapter Twenty-One
THE WORLD STOPPED.
I sat in a bubble of time, an iridescent capsule where nothing and no one could touch me.
I love you, Eleanor Grace.
I love you.
I
Love
You.
In another life, I would’ve launched into his arms and kissed every inch of him. I would’ve clambered onto his lap and inserted him deep inside me so we could consummate such a vow.
He’d told me he loved me while hidden behind the masks of other men. Now, he’d told he loved me while stripped bare and in pain.
But…
After what he’d done? After the tricks and tests? After doubting my honesty?
I was wary.
I was burned.
I was hurt.
I didn’t accept what he said.
I didn’t know if he was capable of love.
I didn’t know how to trust it.
Trust.
I laughed under my breath.
How ironic that Sully was finally prepared to trust our connection and I’d lost the ability to do the same.
I mean…how am I supposed to accept such a declaration when it comes from a stable hand with blond hair, brown eyes, and a body half the size of Sully Sinclair’s?
Yes, our souls sparked when we touched.
Yes, I heard him behind the voice of the disguise.
But it was still a mask.
A mask designed to protect himself—just like all the other masks he wore in his life.
He slipped between them so effortlessly, I doubted he knew he did it.
But I knew.
I’d been witness to the genius scientist who spoke of elixir like he’d birthed it, rather than conjured it in a test tube. I’d watched the sadistic hotelier as he welcomed guests upon his shores. I’d seen the golden-hearted man who killed himself with empathy over animals he couldn’t save. I’d studied the green-fingered gardener who prowled through vegetable patches bursting with life. I’d swooned over a man who loved a tiny parrot more than money, power, or possessions. And I’d fallen for the boy behind the mask of a monster.
The boy who’d been taught a lesson when he was young that trust was an abomination.
A boy who still carried that lesson at the forefront of his mind.
And now, I was supposed to believe that after decades of conditioning, he’d suddenly been able to switch? That he’d let me into the heart that had a thousand walls and locked with a million keys?
“Eleanor…” He pinched the bridge of his nose for a second, gathering his thoughts. The action might be done by a blond farm boy, but it was Sully’s mannerism without a doubt. The way his shoulders rolled. The way his chest strained with violence to argue his case and restraint to accept my refusal.
“I don’t expect you to leap for joy over such a confession, but…” He dropped his hand, staring me dead in the eyes. “I do expect you to believe me.”
I splayed my hands in surrender. “How can I know if it’s the truth?”
He grabbed my right hand and slammed it over his heart. It hammered beneath my fingertips, irregular and panicked.
Panicked at the thought that I would deny his devotion. Panicked that just because he’d chosen me…didn’t mean I’d chosen him.
“That is yours. It was yours the moment I fucking met you. It knew…all while I tried to say otherwise.”
I tried to take my hand back, unnerved by the walloping of his pulse. “Sully—”
“I love you. I can tell you again and again. Tell me how many times I need to say it to make you believe me.”
I smiled sadly. “It’s not about repetition.”
“What’s it about then?” He let me go, balling his hands. “What do you need to trust me?”
What did I need?
What would fix this after he’d broken it apart?
I studied him, noting the faint freckles over his nose, the golden strands on his head, the slightly crooked front teeth. As far as disguises went, this one was cute in a first boyfriend kind of way. First roll in the hay. First kiss behind the barn. First heartbreak at the end of summer.
The only thing was…Sully was none of those things.
He wasn’t innocent or young or blond.
He was stubborn and weathered and dark.
Dark of hair and dark of soul.
Dark enough to need the light I could bring him. Dark enough to hopefully step into that light…to show me his secrets…to hide nothing from me.
I looked up. My tummy clenched. I braced myself against his reaction. “Tell me the truth. About everything.”
His forehead furrowed. “What truth? The truth that I love you? That I always will. That I know who you are now? That I finally have an answer to a question that’s kept me up at night? You are mine, Eleanor Grace. You were mine the moment you took your first breath. Just like I am yours.”
Goosebumps made me shiver. My stupid romantic heart wanted so much to stuff those words into its pocket and keep them safe. To pull them out and re-read the love letter. To hear them spoken every damn day for the rest of my life.
Just like this farmhand was the beginning of a romance—first kiss, first fumble, first goodbye—Sully was the end. The forever. The always.
There would be no goodbye. No heartbreak. If I’d done the impossible and made a man like him fall in love with me…then it wasn’t to be taken lightly.
He would always love me.
He would never stop.
He would never accept anything less from me.
I was his.
More so now that he loved me than I ever had been when he’d paid money for my life.
In his mind, my soul now belonged to him…not just my body, and that was something he would never give back. Even when I died.
That sort of dedication was petrifying.
But also immensely comforting.
He would never share me.
He would never hurt me.
He would ensure I was always happy because I was in charge of his happiness in return.
God.
How could I have known I’d find this level of intensity when I’d been kidnapped? How could fate have brought us together in such a way? How would we ever be normal?
A normal couple, sharing a life, creating a h
ome and hearth when men paid money to fuck elixir-drugged goddesses? How could I stand by his side while women were purchased and trapped?
What do I need?
I need convincing that I have enough power over Sully that our joint future might be different than his singular one.
I need to do what Jealousy told me: I need to give Sully his freedom…so others might have theirs.
I caught his stare. “I know what I need.”
He tensed, wary but willing. “What? What do I need to do?”
Jealousy’s voice filled my head. “He will lie to your face if you ever ask him if he loves you. He will lie to himself until he almost believes he feels nothing. He will never admit that you’ve wormed your way past his defences because that would force him to confront his very existence as a man. By admitting he’s fallen for you, he’s effectively signing his own death sentence because there is no easy path from there.”
He’d already admitted he loved me, so that death sentence was signed.
“He was the one who gave you that diamond. He was the one who fucked you in Euphoria. He was the one who told you he was in love with you because he could use the disguise to hide the truth from you as well as him. I guarantee if you get him to where he thinks he can hide behind a mask, he will be far more lenient with the truth. He’ll admit what’s in his heart because he knows he can take it all away again and it won’t mean a thing because it wasn’t him admitting them.”
And that was what I needed.
He’d admitted he loved me while wearing yet another mask.
The only way I would believe him…trust him…would be to hear it from him.
Not this blond boy.
Not the island god.
Not Sullivan Sinclair.
I need to hear it from Sully.
I straightened my spine and commanded, “Remove my sensors. Stop this fantasy. Tell me it was you who fucked me in Euphoria as the caveman and again as the father in love with his daughter-in-law. Tell me you love me as you and—”
“Okay.” He nodded, cupping my cheek with a shaky hand. “Okay, Eleanor Grace.” Never looking away from me, he swiped his thumb beneath my nose, dispelling the scent deceptor.
Bending close, he kissed me softly, then arched his chin, pressing my face into his throat.
I inhaled deeply.
My heart went wild, recognising the scent of coconut, sea-salt, and sun. The irrefutable cologne of a man who loved the tropics.
Kissing my cheek, his fingers went to my ears, gently pulling out the buds lodged inside. A loud crackle, a hiss of white noise, a quick screech of feedback and then they were gone, tossed to the barn floor, sticking to hay and dirt.
“It was me who fucked you in Euphoria. As the caveman. And as Roy Slater.”
I jolted with lust as Sully’s true voice filled my heart with honesty.
He didn’t stop, taking off his shirt to wipe at the oil on my skin, each swipe of the soft material granted back the sensation of muggy island rather than dry summer. “I told you the truth when I said I was in love with you in those illusions. I could be honest, even while I still tried to believe a lie.” He continued to wipe off the oil, turning his care to my legs and feet. “Did you honestly think Markus Grammer would have that stamina?” The blond boy smirked even as Sully’s voice fell from his lips. “How many times did we have sex that night? Nine? Nineteen? You drained me dry, Eleanor. You drugged me as surely as I’d drugged you. I couldn’t get enough. I never wanted you to wake up. I wanted to stay with you in that cave forever…just the two of us.”
I shivered as he threw away his shirt, not caring that he sat half-naked before me, the hairless chest of the stable hand still masking the breadth and power of the man I knew was in there.
He shrugged. “The second time…I knew it was over for me. Twice, I put Jealousy in your place, transforming her into you, letting men believe they fucked you, when in reality, I would’ve torn their fucking heads from their corpses if they ever touched you.
“I was late to the illusion as Roy Slater...leaving you on that doorstep drowning in need. And when I opened the door to you in that cute restaurant outfit? Fuck me, I choked on a confession there and then. I wanted to tell you everything. To stop playing the charade of having a son and pretending you were untouchable. Of having the luxury of telling you I was in love with you and not hide behind a fucking guest. Christ…sleeping with you in that fantasy, I walked a tightrope the entire time. A few times, I worried I’d broken the illusion—that you knew exactly who filled you, that it was me admitting all my fuck-ups.”
Rising onto his knees, he came closer, cupping my cheeks again. “You’re right that it’s different when we touch. That bite between us, that painful kick of awareness has never happened with anyone before. When I touch you, I feel it. It hurts my heart and turns me hard. And no matter the tricks I employ or the code I use to blind…that chemistry can never be hidden.”
Smiling sadly, he added, “Oh, and the diamond was from me. I pretended it was from Grammer because how the hell was I supposed to admit that I’d fallen for you so quickly? I was jealous of myself. Jealous of the memory of being with you. Jealous of the freedom we’d found together. Jealous that I couldn’t have you in reality.”
Tears glossed my vision, making him dance and blur.
“Don’t cry.” He tutted under his breath, wiping the droplets away with a thumb. “Please, don’t cry.”
Pressing his forehead to mine, he swallowed hard, and murmured, “I created Euphoria from a dream. I had computer hackers and tech gurus transform a hare-brained idea into something that traded mundane into magic. I’d never used it until you. I’d never wanted to be tricked into feeling something I couldn’t afford to feel. But…I fell for you in the same way. I dreamed about you, Jinx. I dreamed of a brown-haired goddess with silver stunning eyes, and I fell in love with a figment of my imagination.”
He chuckled with awe, pulling away to look at me. “Imagine my surprise when you turned out better than my fantasy. When you overshadowed my dream girl. When you made me realise how much I fucking love you.”
Taking my hands, he slowly pulled at the sticky sensors on my fingertips. Deep in the illusion, I couldn’t see anything existed on my hands. I couldn’t feel the sticky sensors. I couldn’t pull them off on my own. But as Sully systemically removed them, I gasped as they appeared in his touch. The oddness of him peeling something I couldn’t see off my own body and then witnessing them appear out of thin air made the power of his creation even more dangerous.
What he’d created with Euphoria could be used for the greatest pleasure and for the worst kind of nightmare. What if his program fell into the wrong hands? What if it was used for torture instead of orgasms?
The poor person trapped inside it would have their mind scrambled until it trickled out of their ears, mentally broken forever.
Sully halted my fear, placing my sensor-free fingertips on his chest.
I instantly moaned at the contact.
Not because our skin once again ignited with fire, but because I touched Sully, not a blond stable boy. I ran my hands over hair and muscle. I felt power and heat and a body I recognised over the one I’d never seen before. It was so strange to touch a smaller man yet feel a larger chest. To trust what my fingers told me, rather than my eyes.
He shuddered as I dropped my hands lower, tracing the hard ridges of his belly, teasing the soft flesh above his belt.
His voice thickened with harsher gravel as he continued, “The illusion tonight…the guest you think wore my body?” He waited until I looked up, needing me to concentrate and not ruin both of us with need. “There was no guest, Eleanor.”
I frowned, my fingers stopping their exploration. “But how—”
“It was a computer program.” He bent and kissed me, licking my lower lip once before murmuring, “Do you honestly think I’d be able to let some man touch you now, when I wasn’t even capable of that at the beginning?”
“While learning how to write the cypher for fantasies, I wrote a code for myself. I copied my attributes and uploaded an avatar into the system. I’ve never used it…until now. It can be run without a host. I just type dialogue…and allow the program to interact with you.”
“So…it was you. Just…”
“It was empty. A hollow hologram.” He nuzzled into me. “Precisely what I was before I met you.”
“I…I don’t know what to say.”
“You don’t have to say anything. It’s my turn to speak.” His hand skated up my back, cradling my nape and pulling my hair until I tipped my head back. “Keep your eyes open.”
I sucked in a breath as his fingers loomed over my eye. I fought the urge to shut him out, straining as he carefully pinched the lens obscuring what was real and what was not.
I winced as he removed it.
Tossing the first one to the ground, he smiled.
I flinched.
My brain boycotted the imagery. One eye was free to see Sully on his knees in the stark villa of Euphoria. The other was programmed to view a blond farm boy with hay in his hair. The two images overlapped, flickering and giving me an instant headache.
I recoiled backward, shaking my head at the scrambled input.
“It’s okay. Don’t fight it. Come here.” Sully captured me again, carefully touching my pupil and removing the other sensor.
For a second, I kept my eyes closed, willing my head to stop pounding.
Sully waited patiently, his hands falling from my hair, not touching me at all.
With a heavy inhale, I stiffened and opened my eyes.
Sully.
In his shirtless, island glory.
Dark hair with their rebellious bronze tips. Sculptured body with its faint silver scars, so many stories from a past he refused to tell. Pressed trousers instead of jeans, kneeling on the tiled floor.
His lips glistened from our previous kiss. His chest rose and fell with hesitant breath. His exquisite blue gaze crashed with waves of blue and worry. Lines bracketed his mouth as if afraid I’d climb to my feet and bolt, and his forehead never unfurrowed, the strain of being honest painting him in a harsh, unforgiving light.
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