by Celia Aaron
She squeaked beneath her hands. “And you’re a psycho.”
“I think we both know you love my psycho.” Shit, did I just say love?
Peeking through her fingers, she said, “You’re overselling it.”
“Don’t be shy now.” I licked my lips and noted her nipples hardening beneath the crimson fabric. “Not after our little understanding earlier this evening.”
“That was a one-time thing.”
“If you say so.” I smirked.
She whirled and retreated into the bathroom. “By the way, no more kissing. Not in the deal anymore, remember?” Her words echoed off the marble tile.
We’ll see about that.
36
Camille
He kept me at the penthouse for the rest of the weekend and made sure I had no chance for escape while he worked on Monday. Timothy shadowed my every step, and there were plenty of times when I wondered if he was going to enter the bathroom with me. I slept with Sebastian as required by our deal, but I fought off my desires and his. Being with him at the restaurant had clouded my judgment, but seeing Link brought a new clarity to my situation.
I had to get out and return to my life. Sebastian had warmed to me so much over the past couple of days—and if I were being honest, I’d warmed to him far more than I wanted to admit—that I felt the time was right to ask for my release. Or, at the very least, more freedom than I’d been given so far. I could make a deal with him. I wouldn’t tell anyone about what he’d done, and he’d give me more room to roam.
Time ticked away on Monday evening, and I paced the living room as Timothy read a men’s magazine.
“Do you think he’ll let me go?”
“We’ve been over this.” He turned the page and yawned. “Not happening.”
“You’re no help.”
He arched a brow. “I’m plenty of help, just not in that particular area.”
“I think maybe he’ll let me go.”
“After the restaurant, I would have thought you’d want to stay.”
My cheeks flamed hot, and I gave him an acidic glare.
He shrugged. “What? I couldn’t help but overhear.”
I wrinkled my nose at him and retreated to the kitchen where Rita was cleaning up. When she was done, I had no doubt the kitchen would look brand new. I grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge and plopped down on a bar stool.
When I heard the sound of a key in the front door, I laser focused on it. Steeling myself, I rose and met Sebastian as he walked in. His dark gray suit fit him perfectly, hugging every angle and giving him a debonair look that plenty of men would kill for.
“Hi.” I smiled.
His eyes lit, and he pulled me into a hug. “I missed you.”
I loved his scent. No point in lying to myself about it. His strong arms also had their perks. I’d missed him, too, but I’d never admit it. When he finally released me, I took a breath and blurted out my request. “Can we talk in the bedroom?”
“Sure.” He unbuttoned his jacket and whipped off his tie as he followed me across the living space. Timothy didn’t look up from his magazine, but I got the distinct impression he wasn’t reading a damn thing.
I closed the door behind us and leaned against it. “I want to ask you something.”
“Okay.” He sat on the bed and patted his lap. “If you have a question, I’m going to need you to ask it while you’re sitting right here.”
“Sebastian.” I crossed my arms over my chest.
He started to rise. “Fine, I’ll just go shower—”
“Wait!” I walked over to him and sat crossways on his lap.
“Not good enough.” He pushed me off. “Straddle me.”
“You’re insufferable.” I was wearing a knee length cotton skirt that was a comfortable favorite of mine.
“I’m dying to taste your pussy, but you’ve been cockblocking me ever since the restaurant. I’ll take what I can get.” He smiled, the look more predatory than anything. “And I’ll take it however I can get it.”
He killed in his dress shirt and slacks, the epitome of masculine beauty. My body heated, even though I was trying to stay focused on my request for more freedom. A man like Sebastian made it almost impossible.
“Come on.” He leaned back on his elbows.
“Fine.” I climbed onto his lap and placed my knees on either side of his hips, though I was careful not to scoot far enough forward for him to feel my pussy.
He put his big hands on my hips and pulled me to him, erasing the distanced between us as he sat up. “That’s better. And fuck, your pussy is so warm.”
His cock pressed against me, and I gripped his shoulders to try and keep myself grounded.
“Now what was it you wanted to ask me?” He slid his hands around to my ass, kneading me softly.
“Sebastian.” I grabbed his wrists. “I’m serious.”
“I am too.” His gaze flickered to my lips.
“Stop.”
His fingers stopped, but he didn’t remove his hands.
I’d just have to go with it. “I was thinking that we have become closer over the past few days.”
“Agree.” He dropped his mouth to my neck, hovering just along my skin, his warm breath spreading goosebumps all over me.
“And so I was thinking you could give me a bit more freedom.”
He leaned back. “Like what?”
“Like, let me leave the house, let me teach again, don’t fake my death. Things like that.”
“No.”
“But wait, hear me out. I won’t tell anyone about you or what you did. That’s between us. But I want to see my friends and—”
“That’s off the table.” His icy tone was like a slap.
“Why?” I struggled to free myself from his grasp, to no avail.
“I won’t lose you.”
“It wouldn’t be losing me.” I shoved at his shoulders, but he spun and pinned me to the bed.
“That’s exactly what it would be.” He shook his head. “Don’t you see? That moron would come sniffing around you, thinking you’re his. I can’t have that.”
“I’d tell him we were over.”
He barked a harsh laugh. “You think it’s that easy? To just let you go? No man in his right mind would ever let you walk away.”
“He’d have to.” I yanked, trying to free my wrists from his iron hold.
“No, he wouldn’t. He’s not the white knight he pretends to be. He’d do everything in his power to keep you. And then I’d have to kill him.”
“You promised.” The more I struggled, the more weight he rested on me.
“I did. But if he ever touched you again, I’d have to kill him. Promise or not.”
“He won’t touch me.” I bucked, but got nowhere. “Get off.”
“I will, but you need to understand that you aren’t leaving.” His intensity was back, no veil covering the darkness inside him. “I can’t let you go.”
“Then we have nothing more to discuss.” I turned my face away to hide the sting of tears.
“Fuck.” He growled and eased off me, then opened the top drawer of his nightstand.
The glint of gold told me what was next.
“Please don’t.”
“I have to.” He knelt and slid the cold metal onto my ankle. “For us.”
In that moment, I knew what I had to do.
37
Sebastian
Fucking silence. It wormed its way into my brain until everything inside me was blaring a warning despite the total calm all around me. The only noise in the car was the sound of the wind as Anton drove us back to the house. Camille sat against her door, her eyes affixed to the passing scenery as we sped away from the city.
The moment the metal hit her ankle, she’d shut down. All the progress I’d made over the weekend leached away by the thin band of gold. When she’d talked of freedom, all I could see was her in his arms. I didn’t even care if she went to the police about me or tried
to ruin my business. All I could think of what it would feel like to lose her, or to see her in someone else’s embrace.
She made me feel, but the problem inherent in that is that she made me afraid of the hurt I’d suffer if she left. Losing her would be a mortal blow. So, I’d wrapped the shackle around her ankle and promised to make it work this time, to make her understand how keeping her was the best thing for the both of us.
“Camille?”
“Yes.” She didn’t look at me.
“What are you thinking?”
“You don’t deserve an answer to that question.”
Fair enough. I pinched the bridge of my nose and tried to decide between letting the silence steep even longer or trying, once again, to explain to her why I was doing this.
“Have you ever put a puzzle together?” Her low voice had a chilly note I’d never heard there before.
“Yes.”
“Did you force the pieces to make it work?”
“I see where you’re going with this, but if you’d just let me—”
“No. If you intend to tell me why this is the way things have to be, save your breath.”
Everything I’d done boiled down to the simplest desire. “I just want you.”
She finally turned to me, her eyes like hard aquamarine stones. “What if I told you this isn’t the way to get me? What if I told you this is the surest way to lose me?”
“That doesn’t make sense. You felt it in the restaurant. I know you did.”
“So what if I did?” She pointed to her ankle. “This erases all of it.”
“It doesn’t have to.”
She turned back to the window. “I’m done with this conversation.”
We rode in silence the rest of the way home.
I tried to make conversation with her during dinner, but her responses were no better than one or two syllables at most, and she didn’t engage me any more than necessary.
Frustration pooled inside me until I itched to yank her into my lap and force her to talk to me, to be herself. But I had finally learned that the more I pushed against her defenses, the higher she built them. Patience and pressure were the surest ways to get to her.
After the excruciating dinner, she strode toward the library. I followed, but she closed the door in my face.
“If you want to stare, do it from your camera.”
I could have stormed in, thrown her over my shoulder and carried her upstairs. Fuck, I wanted to so badly that I rested my hand on the doorknob and thought about it for a few minutes. In the end, I gave in to my logic instead of my boiling blood, and I took her advice. I poured myself a large glass of bourbon and headed upstairs to my surveillance room.
The screens woke up, shining a harsh light that took a while for me get adjusted to. I sat down and flipped on a view of her. She sat at the table, a pen in one hand as she flipped through a book with the other. I couldn’t see what she was reading, but she seemed engrossed in it. Link’s apartment flickered to life on one of the smaller monitors. He was on the couch with a woman, his arm slung around her shoulder with his hand at rest on her tit. Maybe if I showed this to Camille, she’d trust me again. Or it would only hurt her. Fuck.
I sat back and sipped my bourbon. Veronica’s apartment was dark. She’d started seeing a man and seemed to spend more time with him than at home. It didn’t matter. Watching her held zero interest for me unless it involved Camille. She was the star of my show, and I hoped one day I could be the star of hers.
Doubt crept in as I watched her work. Was she right? Would I lose her by keeping her close? Dad certainly seemed to think so. I moved from sipping my bourbon to taking larger swallows that burned on the way down.
My phone buzzed. Dad was calling. I hit ignore, a rare occurrence for me. But I already knew what he’d ask. I didn’t want another go-around of the same argument with a different person. The one thing I wanted—no, the one thing I needed—had slammed the door in my face. So I would sit and drink until she came up to bed.
And then I’d hold her. The thing I looked forward to most every day. I didn’t care if she wore her pajamas. I took another swig. She could wear a goddamn winter coat with gloves and a hat for all I cared, just so long as she was close.
My phone beeped with a voice message. It could wait till tomorrow. Dad was a smart guy, but he was wrong about this. Wasn’t he?
“Yes.” Fuck, now I was talking to myself.
Camille stood and walked to the table Timothy had set up near the door. She leaned over and adjusted the microscope, then left the room and headed to the greenhouse. I watched as she inspected the plants. She’d pick leaves off here and there, pruning as she went. Nothing escaped her gaze when she perused her greenhouse kingdom.
Another gulp of bourbon, but this one didn’t burn at all. Maybe it was smoother than I’d first thought. She continued her inspection, and I thought about our future. Christmas was only two days away. Dad would come by for dinner. Maybe then I could explain to both of them how all of this was working as intended…mostly.
My plan made so much sense. The most nonsensical thing was that they didn’t see it the way I did. They were wrong. Not me.
I finished off my drink and stumbled down the hallway. The floor flipped like a see-saw, and the walls wouldn’t stay still. Thank god the bedroom door was open or I’d never have gotten past the keypad.
I collapsed onto the bed not even bothering to take my clothes off. Snagging her pillow, I inhaled her scent. It quieted my mind. I resolved to stay awake until she came to bed, and then I’d tell her I loved her. Because I did. So much so that the thought of losing her was the one thing that pierced through all my cold calculation and caused a slow bleed deep inside. Without her, I would die.
I would tell her all of it.
38
Camille
He was out when I crawled into bed. I watched him for a long time, traced the lines of his face into my memory. His brow clenched at one point, as if he were having troubled dreams. I reached out and ran my palm down his cheek. The tension disappeared, and he’d calmed. My heart ached as I watched him, but my plan was in motion, and I wouldn’t turn back.
Even though I saw a spark in him that echoed inside me. Even though his touch made me feel more alive than I ever had. Even though I wanted him. It could never work while I was a prisoner. No matter how many ways I tried to tell him that, he doggedly insisted that this was the only way we could be together. I fell asleep with the thought that the only way I could show him he was wrong was for us to be apart.
I awoke before he did, the slanting rays of sunlight shining in his hair as he rolled toward me and pulled me close. He sighed with contentment, and I didn’t have it in me to push him away. Besides, part of my scheme was to draw him closer today. I snuggled up to him, not because I loved the contact. It was necessary for everything to work correctly. It wasn’t because I knew this would be the last time.
His eyes fluttered open, and he winced at the light streaming through the windows. “Fuck.”
“Good morning to you too.”
He buried his face in my hair and ran his hands down my body. “Damn pajamas.”
Sliding his hand beneath my shirt, he flattened his palm against my lower back. “Better.”
“You smell like a whiskey bomb.”
“Good bourbon.” His muffled voice was scratchy and sexy as hell.
“I drove you to drink?”
He smoothed his hand higher up my back. “Yes.”
“Good.”
“Vixen.” He slid one knee between my thighs, entangling our bodies in the same way I feared our souls twisted around each other. “Are you still mad at me?”
“Of course.”
“No.” He groaned and pressed his lips to my throat. “Please don’t be.”
I let him kiss me, and I ran my hands through his hair. He was so dark, had so much raw intensity to him, that he easily eclipsed every other man I’d known. But in moments like these, he
was stripped down to the simple desires inside him. He wanted me to be happy, especially with him.
“I’ll put it aside for the next two days. It’s Christmas and all. But we’re going to have to talk about it.” My core heated as he kissed lower, his teeth nipping at me. “I’m not okay with this.”
“Thank you.” He eased his hand around and cupped my breast.
“Sebastian.” My warning tone turned breathy as he pressed his thigh against my pussy.
“Let me make you feel better.” He slipped his fingers over the stiff bud of my nipple. “Just for this moment.”
I bit my lip as he pulled my t-shirt aside and kissed my collarbone. He sensed my indecision and took full advantage by sliding down my body and capturing a nipple in his mouth.
A fiery tingle of arousal shot through me as he sucked hard enough to bruise and palmed my other breast. I ran my nails along his scalp. He slid his palms beneath me, cradling my back as he sucked first one nipple, then the next. It didn’t take long for my mind to blank, for it to fill with thoughts of him, his cock, his aggression.
He dropped light kisses down my stomach and continued them along the waistband of my pajama pants. With a deft movement, he pulled my pants and panties down my thighs, then shucked them all the way off.
“I’ve needed this.” He kissed my pussy and flicked his tongue along the folds. “Your pretty pussy spread before me like a feast.” He opened my thighs. “Only cunt I ever want to taste.”
I let him, even if it was wrong. The matching darkness inside me wanted everything he had to give. He licked me slowly, and I gripped the sheets. His low groan vibrated through my hot flesh as he flattened his tongue against me, then dove down and pressed inside me.
When he returned to my clit, his tongue giving pressure and then rapid strokes, my legs began to shake.
He laughed against me. “My damsel needs a release.” His tongue swirled as he gripped my ass, pulling me to his face as he sucked and licked.