Читать книгу One Night: Sizzling Attraction: Married for Amari's Heir / Damaso Claims His Heir / Her Secret, His Duty - Annie West - Страница 16
ОглавлениеTHE GALA WAS a glittering affair. From the high-gloss marble floors to the pristine white pillars, to the chandeliers dripping with crystal hanging low from the ceilings. But nothing glittered brighter than the woman on his arm. Charity was the loveliest thing he had ever held in his possession. And he only realized as he walked into the crowded ballroom, filled with other people, how desperate he was to take her back home and lock the door. To put her up on a shelf in his home for safekeeping, so that no one and nothing could touch her.
He had recognized her value. And now that he had put her on display like this, so would everyone else. So would every other man here. And that made him feel... It made him feel as though something that was his was under threat of being stolen. And there was nothing on earth that filled him with greater anxiety than that. Even as they walked deeper into the room, it grabbed him by the throat like the jaws of a hungry wolf and shook him hard. Because it took him back. To helplessness and empty rooms. And the loss he could never quite recover from.
No, that won’t happen. That’s the whole point of gaining power.
The ballroom came back into focus, and it was only then that he’d realized darkness had been crowding around the edges of his vision. He tightened his hold on Charity’s waist, moving his hands down around her hip, drawing her closer to him. She turned her head to look at him, her expression questioning.
She was so sensitive. Always looking for things in him that weren’t there. Though, in this instance, he supposed they were. But, he was hardly going to confide in her. He was barely going to allow the thoughts to take hold in his own mind, let alone speak them out loud.
“Are you all right?” he asked, because turning it around her was infinitely preferable to examining himself.
“I’m fine,” she said, her dark eyes moving to search the room. She was exquisitely made up tonight, compliments of the hair and makeup person he had brought in to help style her for the evening. She had been shocked, and slightly offended, but ultimately she had agreed, and the results were beyond anything he had imagined they might be.
Charity was always beautiful. Whether dressed in clothing sent by him to humiliate, or in her waitress uniform, with her face bare. But tonight, she was somewhere beyond beautiful. He had told her yesterday that she was expensive. Had added priceless in order to make her understand. But that had been closer to the truth than he’d realized. She was beyond price. Something a man could sell all of his possessions for and never hope to buy.
The makeup artist had used shades of gold and orange around her eyes, the color enhancing their deep brown. Her cheeks seemed to glow, her lips looked slick, the color of juicy citrus in the sun. Begging him to take a bite. Begging him to allow them to satisfy his thirst.
Her black hair had been tamed into sleek waves, left loose around her shoulders, one diamond pin keeping back a few curls, sparkling beneath the lights.
And that was to say nothing of the golden dress. It looked like solid metal that had been melted down and poured over her curves, conforming to her skin, moving with her, the skirt billowing around her legs, the slit baring a tempting amount of tanned, toned thigh. All he wanted to do was grab her and pull her into a darkened corridor so he could take the gown off her and undo all the expert hair and makeup.
But, he supposed that ran counter to coming here in the first place.
Damn it all.
But he did need to stop her before they went out into the center of the room. Because he had one more thing for her. He almost didn’t want to give it to her now, because she was perfect as she was, and he was afraid that adding to it might ruin the effect. Or worse, steal what was left of his control.
All the more reason he had to give it to her. To prove that he had not, by any stretch of the imagination, ceded any of his control to her.
“I have something for you,” he said, bringing them both to a halt.
She looked up at him, surprise and something unreadable moving through her dark eyes. An answering emotion echoed in his stomach, and even while he felt it, he found he couldn’t put a name to it. “You have something for me?” She looked down. “Don’t I have enough from you? You’ve bought me all these clothes. You’re paying for the medical care...”
“I’m not keeping a tally,” he said, his voice harder than he would’ve liked. “At least, not beyond the million dollars your father stole from me.”
“So, you are keeping a tally?”
“Only that one. This is not on it. Neither is the dress. And certainly the health care that you’re receiving for the pregnancy, for our child, is not. Stop making me out to be more of a monster than I am.”
She looked up at him again. “More of a monster? That seems to imply that you are a bit of one.”
“You know as well as anyone that I am. A bit of one, anyway. And I have a gift for you.” He reached into the interior pocket of his jacket and took out a slim, long velvet box. Charity’s expression morphed from surprise to concern. “It is not a venomous serpent of any kind,” he said.
“I didn’t think it was.”
“Then why are you looking at me like that?”
“No one has ever given me a gift before. And no, the lingerie you had sent to my house back in New York does not count.”
“I would never have suggested it did.” He frowned. “Surely someone has given you a gift before.”
“Who would have?”
He had nothing to say to that. He had spent much of his childhood lonely. Without a mother. But he had had one for a while. And she had certainly given him presents. Yes, a great many of them had ended up being taken from him. But the act of her giving them to him... That could never be taken. Long after the things were gone, the gesture remained.
Charity had never even had the gesture. And so she was forced to receive it from him. A man who was not qualified in any way to be responsible for the emotional well-being of another person.
His stomach twisted, and he opened the box quickly. “It’s just a necklace,” he said. He wanted to minimize the gesture now, so she would stop looking at him that way. Expectantly. As though she expected him to know what to do now. As though she expected him to know what to say, as though she expected him to have some sort of remedy for the things that hurt her.
“It’s beautiful,” she said, her voice a whisper, her eyes soft.
He wanted to tell her to stop doing that. And yet, at the same time he wanted her to look at him like that forever.
None of it made any sense. And he didn’t have the time to sort through it now, in a crowded ballroom.
“You should wear it,” he said, taking it out of the box and undoing the clasp.
“Okay. If you think it goes with my dress,” she said, wringing her hands in front of her as though she were nervous.
“I chose it to go with the dress,” he said. “Of course it goes with the dress.”
He turned to face her, holding the necklace out and placing it gently around her neck. He kept his eyes locked with hers as he worked on the clasp until he was certain it was secured.
He had chosen a heavy, teardrop-shaped emerald, one he had known would settle perfectly between her breasts once the dress was removed. He had lied about it being chosen to go with the dress. He had chosen it to go with her body. With her skin.
He had chosen it because of how she would look later, wearing only that.
But he had a feeling if he said that, the look of wonder and gratitude would slide right off her beautiful face, and he didn’t want to see that happen. If he mentioned it, he would wait until it was dark. Until he couldn’t see. Or, he would wait until he had her mindless with pleasure.
He reached out and slipped his fingers beneath the gem, testing its weight in his palm, before placing it gently back against her skin.
“Perfect,” he said, taking a step back.
She was. Indescribably so. Of course, now he had ensured that he would not be able to think of anything else but her, bare and wearing only that necklace. But then, the odds were high that all he would have been thinking about was her naked whether or not he had given her the necklace.
“Thank you,” she said. She was so sincere. And he wasn’t sure what to do with that. Sincerity usually skimmed right over his hardened veneer of cynicism, but hers had managed to find cracks he had not realized were there. He didn’t like it. But his liking it didn’t seem to be a factor.
“You’re welcome,” he said, knowing he sounded less than gracious. “Shall we?” He extended his arm, looking away from her and at a crowd of people at the center of the room.
He felt delicate fingers curled around his forearm, and he swallowed hard, using every bit of his strength to keep from looking at her. He led them both down the stairs and into the center of the room. And it didn’t take long for the devils in suits to notice that he had dropped a particularly beautiful angel in their midst.
But she was not for them. None of the assholes in here were worthy of her. Hell, he wasn’t worthy of her. But if anyone was going to defile her sweetness it was going to be him. Because she belonged to him.
He tightened his hold on her as they moved deeper into the crowd.
Leon Carides, a businessman from Greece who Rocco had had vague dealings with in the past, locked his eyes onto Charity, then looked back at Rocco, a slow smile spreading over his lips as he separated himself from the group he was talking to and made his way toward them.
“Amari,” he said, his focus now firmly back on Charity, “nice to see you here. And you’ve brought a guest. You normally come to these events alone.”
“Not tonight,” Rocco said.
“Clearly. Leon Carides.”
“Charity Wyatt,” she returned, holding out her hand as she had done to the woman in the boutique yesterday. Really, the only time he had ever seen her betray any signs of weakness was with him. And he was under no illusion that initially she had been using it to try and manipulate him. But later, when she had come to tell him about the pregnancy, when he had gone to see her in the doctor’s office, she had shown him her vulnerability. And he was only just now realizing how rare that was.
“Pleasure,” Leon said, holding on to Charity’s hand much longer than Rocco would have liked. In fact, he was contemplating separating the other man’s hand from his wrist when he finally released his hold on her.
“Did you have business you wanted to discuss, Carides?”
“Not particularly,” the other man said, his eyes still fixed on Charity. “Though, I must say, I’m surprised that you brought a date. You seem to prefer stealing mine at the end of the night to bringing your own.”
For some reason Rocco bristled at the mention of his past behavior. He didn’t want it brought out in the open in front of Charity. Which was stupid. Especially since she knew exactly what manner of man he was, both because of his own words and because of the deeds he had committed against her.
Still, he didn’t appreciate Leon trotting it out for her examination.
“If you think you’re going to return the favor, Carides, think again.”
“That would be up to your guest, don’t you suppose?” Leon asked, his eyes glittering as he appraised Charity.
“His guest who is standing right here,” Charity said, her tone crisp. “And thank you for the offer, if it was indeed an offer. I’m flattered.”
“Oh, it was,” said Leon. “Do you have an answer for me?”
“No,” Rocco said. “Her answer is no.”
He felt Charity stiffen beneath his touch. But he didn’t really care if she was angry with him. All that really mattered was that Leon understood that Charity belonged to him and would be going home with no one else.
“I can speak for myself,” she said.
“You didn’t speak fast enough,” he said, his voice hard.
“Rocco...”
“Trouble in paradise—a shame,” Leon said. “If you have a different answer than your minder here,” he said, directing the words at Charity, “do come and look for me before you leave.” He turned and walked away, leaving Rocco standing there vibrating with rage.
“I don’t need you to answer for me,” Charity said, her voice low.
“I gave you a gift, I can do whatever I like,” he said, knowing he was being unreasonable and not caring at all.
“I will give it back if that’s how you see things. It was my understanding that gifts came without strings attached.”
“How would you know, as this is the first one you have ever received?”
For a moment, he saw hurt, deep and raw flash through her dark eyes before she put her mask back on, leaving her face smooth, unreadable. “I regret telling you that,” she said.
He wanted to tell her not to regret it. He wanted to apologize. But he didn’t know what that would accomplish. Only a few moments ago she had looked at him as though she wanted something from him, something emotional and deep. And just now he had proven he was not the man to give her that. It was for the best.
Decadence he could give her. Pleasure he could give her. Clothing, jewelry, he could give her. As for the rest? He didn’t even know what the rest was.
“I wish I could give you something more substantial than that regret,” he said, and in this instance he was being truthful. “Sadly, I feel if you’re looking for anything more than physical satisfaction with me, regret is all you will find.”
“I’ll keep that in mind. I wonder if it’s the same for Leon. Something to consider, as I seem to have an open invitation.”
Rocco slid his hand up her spine, taking hold of the back of her neck. “Tell me, cara, do you want the father of your child arrested and sent to prison for murder?”
Her eyes flared wide. “No.”
“Then do not tempt me to kill Leon Carides.” Charity opened her mouth to speak, but he decided he was done talking. “Shall we dance?”
“That is...not what I expected you to say next.”
“Does it matter what you expected? Come and dance with me. It is not a request. Or have you forgotten that I still hold the power in this arrangement?” He was being an asshole, and he knew it. But he couldn’t seem to moderate his own behavior at the moment, and that was disconcerting.
“How could I forget, as you’re so good at reminding me?”
She was angry with him, but she allowed him to lead her to the dance floor. Allowed him to pull her close, so that her breasts were pressed against his chest. She even wrapped her arms around his neck, feigning compliance. But he knew that it wasn’t real. Knew that she was only pretending to be brought to heel. Probably so she could get close enough to him to strangle him.
He slid his hand down the curve of her lower back, to her ass, pushing her more tightly to him, allowing her to feel the arousal that was coursing through his body in spite of his anger. He was hard for her. But then, he was always hard for her.
She drew her head back, anger glittering in her eyes, even while her pupils expanded, her desire for him evident, as evident as her anger. Fine. He didn’t care if she liked him. He only needed her to want him.
“You don’t seem to care,” he said, moving them both in time with the music.
“Of course I care. A prisoner can never forget she’s in jail.”
The light of challenge in her eyes spurred him on. “But you are not in jail, my dear, or have you forgotten? You could be. But you are not.”
She lifted her chin, her expression haughty. “Am I supposed to get on my knees and thank you?”
“It all depends on what you intend to do while you’re down there.”
“Ensure that you’re incapable of fathering any more children?”
“Oh, we both know you won’t do that. That part of my body is far too valuable to you. As you have proven over the past week. Repeatedly.” He leaned in and pressed a kiss to her lips. “You might not like me, Charity. But you can’t resist me.” He was driven to push her now, to strike out at her because the whole experience with Leon had burned him deep down in his chest and since he had no idea how to heal that pain, he had decided to keep on burning everything until he went numb.
“Keep talking. A few more well-placed phrases and I bet I’ll be able to resist you permanently.”
“We both know that isn’t true. If you couldn’t resist me that day at The Mark, you won’t be able to resist me now.” He said it as if it was a certainty, but really, it was a question. And he hated himself for feeling the need to ask it.
But he needed to know that he had her. That no matter what, she wouldn’t turn away from him. That he was as irresistible to her as she was to him.
“You seem determined to push me until I can.”
“Does it seem that way? That is not my intent.” Or perhaps it was. Something, anything to get a handle on his control.
Why did this woman test it? Shatter it?
“Then maybe you could try being nice for a while,” she said.
“I don’t know how to be nice,” he said. “I’ve never had to be.”
“You can start by not making death threats to men we meet at parties. And then you can finish by not behaving as though you have the right to control my actions.”
“I don’t think you understand, cara. You are mine.” He raised his hand and cupped her cheek. “And when someone tries to steal what is mine I do not respond kindly. Leon was treading on dangerous ground.”
“But I’m not an object, Rocco. He isn’t going to just pick me up and make off with me.”
“He might. He is a wealthy man. He would have a lot to offer you.”
“I thought I was priceless, Rocco. Why are you acting as though I can be bought?”
“You seemed interested,” he bit out.
“I’m not. Not in a man who won’t hold my hair when I throw up the morning after he’s spent the night holding me in his arms. And I’m insulted that you would think I might be tempted to go with him.”
He looked past her. “Why would I ever think differently? I don’t know you.”
“That’s insulting,” she said, her voice soft. Wounded. It touched him somewhere down deep, and he realized he was not yet numb. No matter how much he wished he were. “You know me better than anyone.”
Her words hit him with the force of a slap. “Do I?”
“How can you ask that? You’re the only man I’ve ever been with. You know that.”
“In my experience sex has nothing to do with how well you know someone.”
“Maybe not to you. But it does to me. I already told you why I was never with another man. I told you...I feel like you’ve been standing by watching as I discover who I am. How could you not know me?” Her eyes were luminous, filled with emotion.
Her words grabbed ahold of something inside of him and twisted hard. “I want to show you something.”
The open emotion transformed into a near-comical scowl. “If it’s your penis I’m going to go ahead and say no thank you.”
He laughed, somewhat reluctantly. He wasn’t sure how he could be so angry, aroused and amused all at once. He was not sure how he had wound up here, feeling like this, with a woman he had intended to hate. “Well, I will probably offer to show you that after. But that is not what I meant.” He didn’t know why he was making this offer, except perhaps as some kind of desperate last attempt to undo the damage he had done over the past half hour. To try and recapture the look on her face when he had given her the necklace. The look he had never deserved, the look he had proved he didn’t deserve only moments afterward.
Truly, feelings made no sense. And he was getting tired of having them.
“Okay, you can show me something,” she said, her expression softening. “Anything.”
Her words flooded his chest with a burst of warmth. “We’ll just finish this song then.”
And for the rest of the dance, he held her close. And they didn’t say anything. And for a few moments at least, he thought she might not just want him, but she might like him, too.
* * *
Charity wasn’t sure what had transpired between her and Rocco at the gala tonight. Yes, they had fought, but in some ways she felt closer to him now than she had before they had left the house. He had given her a gift. He had insulted her. He had made her feel things. Had made her angry, had made her happy, had made her sad. Like a miniature relationship ecosystem all contained in the ballroom of a hotel.
And now they were back at the villa. And she wasn’t sure what was going to happen next. There had been something strange in his tone when he’d told her he had something to show her. Strange enough that she’d been an idiot and tried to defuse the tension with humor.
Because she was still uncomfortable when things got close to the bone. When things got real, authentic. She was so accustomed to slipping on different masks, using them to shield her from anything unpleasant, that she seemed to default to it easily.
“What is it you want to show me?” she asked, pausing in the vast entryway.
“My things,” he said, the bland note in his voice betraying more than outward emotion. Because he was like her. He put a mask on most especially when he was feeling deeply. And that was what he had done the moment they had walked inside.
This was important to him.
She frowned. “What things?”
“All of them. Of course, you’ve been living in my home for the past week. So you have seen some. But...just come with me.”
He walked on ahead of her, down a hallway she had never gone down before. Because she had had no reason to. She wrapped her arms around her waist to try and keep herself warm. Because for some reason she felt an unaccountable chill.
Rocco stopped in front of a set of double doors. He turned to face her, a muscle ticking in his jaw. There was a keypad by the door and he entered in a series of numbers quickly, and she heard a lock release.
“Internal security?”
“Yes,” he said. “I told you, no one steals from me.”
Of course, that was very like her father. To rip off a man who clearly had more than just your average issue with being stolen from. But on the heels of that thought came another one. One that ripped through her like a ravenous beast. There was a reason for this.
She flashed back to what he had told her about when his mother died. When they had taken him from his home, when they had taken all of his things... She looked up at him, a wave of horror washing over her. He looked away from her and pulled the doors open.
She moved behind him, wrapping her arms around his waist and resting her head between his shoulder blades. She was shaking, and she hadn’t even seen what he was about to show her. “You don’t have to,” she said, her heart thundering fast now.
She wasn’t sure if she was trying to spare him, or her.
Because when she saw, once all of the pieces that she had been collecting of him were complete, once she was able to fit them all together, the vague yearning that was in her chest would be complete, too. Would turn into something else. Something she didn’t want to think about.
“I want to show you,” he said, his voice rough.
He released his hold on the door and stepped out of her embrace, walking into the room.
There was framed art on the wall, figurines in glass cases, vases. Coin collections, swords mounted onto the wall. Basically anything that could be considered collectible was here, except for cars. Though, she knew he had his share of those in his garage. She wasn’t sure what she had expected, but it wasn’t this.
“I collect things,” he said, “expensive things. Any expensive thing really. I told you already, when my mother died I lost everything. I spent most of my life with nothing that belonged to me. My bedrooms were shared with other children. And more than that, they were temporary. I had no family. I had nothing. I felt helpless. Like there was nothing keeping me from drifting out to sea. As I became more successful, I realized that I could fix that. I bought myself a house. Now I own four houses. And I have my own bedroom in all of them. And nobody sleeps in them but me.”
Charity realized then that she had never spent time in his room. Always when they slept together it was in her room. Her stomach twisted. And he continued.
“And I began to collect things. Things to replace what I lost. To make me feel like I was here.” His dark eyes met hers. “I protect what belongs to me.”
She kept thinking of what he had said at the gala. That she was his. That she belonged to him. It had seemed offensive, dismissive and minimizing. But she could see now that to him it meant something much deeper than it would to anyone else.
These things, these things that belonged to him, he protected above everything else. He prized them.
She turned in a circle, trying to take in the vast collection. “It’s amazing,” she said.
“Is it?” he asked. “I confess, I don’t enjoy what I have in here very often. Though, I frequently check to make sure it’s all still here.”
His words made her feel as if someone had reached into her chest, grabbed her heart and squeezed it tight. She could barely breathe. She looked at the far corner of the room and saw a pedestal, with a glass case over the top. But she couldn’t tell what was underneath it.
She took a step forward, her breath catching when she recognized what was beneath the glass case. Army men. Little green plastic army men that had no value. At least not monetary value.
“Rocco...”
He looked away, color staining his cheeks. “They were my favorite. They were the things I missed the most. Except for my mother. But...they were what I missed the most that I could replace.” He looked back at her, his dark eyes hollow. “So, now you see.”
“Yes,” she said.
And she was certain they weren’t just talking about the collection.
“Rocco...”
He closed the distance between them, his expression fierce, pulling her hard up against his body, cupping her cheek with his large warm hand. “Don’t.”
“Don’t what?”
“Whatever you were going to do. Kiss me instead.”
So she did. She rose up on her tiptoes and kissed him with everything she had in her. He sifted his fingers through her hair, holding her tightly to him as he kissed her deep, hard. He was shaking, and she was sure that she was, too. He moved his hand down to cup her chin briefly, then trace the line of her throat with his fingertips, before they came to rest on the jewel at the center of her necklace.
“Perfect,” he said, his tone intense. “And mine.” And she realized, through the haze of her arousal, that he didn’t mean the necklace. “If only I could keep you here as securely as I do everything else I possess.”
Her heart fluttered in her chest, fear joining the desire that was roaring through her. She had a feeling he was sincere. That he would lock her in a glass case if he could, and yet, she didn’t want to run from him. Because that would mean being without him. And she didn’t want that, either.
She had been right about understanding him. Had been right about what it would make her feel. Or rather, understanding him had given her a name for her feelings.
She was afraid that she loved him. And worse than that, she wanted him to love her back.
She was a stupid girl. She had wanted her father to love her, had wanted the love of her mother, a mother who had never even been there. Wanted too the love of a grandmother who had only ever taken her in sporadically so that she wouldn’t end up sleeping alone on the streets.
For so much of her life, she had craved the love of people who wouldn’t give it to her. And now, she was adding one more to the list.
Rocco.
The father of her child. Her lover. The only man who knew her at all.
Her heart suddenly felt too big for her chest, her eyes stinging with tears she refused to shed. Her head ached, her body ached.
Maybe none of them love you back because you don’t deserve to be loved back.
She gritted her teeth and closed her eyes against the insidious voice that was shouting loudly inside of her. Finally putting into words what she had always believed in her heart to be true.
Surely if she were lovable, someone would’ve loved her by now.
She was a thief. She was guilty. She had stolen from this man who prized his possessions above all else. This man who had lost quite enough.
He could never possibly feel the same for her as she did for him, not knowing the extent of what she was.
No. She wouldn’t think of that now.
Anyway, this moment wasn’t all about her. This was about him. He had given her so much of himself in this moment. And she had to honor that gift.
“I’m sorry,” she said, words pouring out of her now. “I’m sorry I stole from you. I had no right to take anything from you. And I have no excuse. I can’t hide behind my father. I can’t hide behind my upbringing. Because I knew it was wrong, and I did it anyway. I’m sorry,” she said, repeating the apology over and over again.
She didn’t care if he could use this against her. Didn’t care if she was giving him evidence to put her in jail forever. All that mattered now was that she make it right. In the only way she could. She couldn’t return the money, but she could admit what she’d done. Could confess it all to him, lay herself bare, as he had just done for her.
“I know it was wrong,” she said, more for her now than for him. “And I’m not going to do it again. I’ve changed. I really have.” She had to believe it. She needed to say it, because she needed it to be true.
“I know you stole the money,” he said, his dark eyes meeting hers. “It doesn’t matter.”
“Yes it does,” she said.
He cut her words off with a fierce kiss, still holding the gem on her necklace. “No,” he said, resting his forehead against hers, “you are not a con woman. You have done dishonest things. I believe that you have conned people. I believe you conned me. But those cons...they are just things you’ve done. They are not you.”
She swallowed hard, her throat so tight she could barely breathe. “I don’t deserve that.”
“Life is nothing but a series of things we don’t deserve. Both good and bad. I say we take the good when it comes, because God knows the bad is never far behind.”
“I don’t...”
“Just accept it. Accept this,” he said, kissing her again.
She squeezed her eyes shut, kissing him back, drowning in him, in this. In the atonement that he offered. He was right, after all. Nothing of life was fair. She had accepted that in terms of the bad, and this was good. So she should take it. While it was here. Touch some of the brightness before it all slipped back into shadow.
Rocco gripped his tie and loosened it, and she helped him pull it through his collar, casting it down onto the floor. Her fingers went to the buttons of his shirt, clumsily undoing two of them, her hands shaking.
She didn’t know what the future held, but she knew she wanted this. She knew that she loved him. And she knew that she wanted this moment. Beyond that, she didn’t care.
He lowered them to the rug that covered the marble floor, not breaking their kisses as he did so. He settled over her, her skirt falling back, the split parting, revealing her leg. Rocco placed his hand on her thigh, the warmth of his touch burning through her skin, through her entire body.
“I have a fantasy,” he said, “of seeing you wearing nothing but this necklace.”
His words heated her body further, filled that empty place inside of her that was so hungry for someone to care. For someone to want her. She was his fantasy.
You’re mine.
And she knew now what that meant to him. Knew now that it was not meant to lessen the connection between them, because she had seen for herself just what a claim of ownership meant to him.
“It’s an easy fantasy to see realized,” she said, kissing him just below the line of his square jaw.
He reached behind her and tugged on the zipper of her dress, pulling the garment that would have cost a couple months of her waitressing wages down and discarding it in a molten gold ball on the floor. She wasn’t wearing a bra, nothing other than a black thong that was little more than a sheer whisper of lace, framing her body more than it concealed it. He curled his fingers over the waistband of her panties, rough skin brushing the most sensitive part of her as he dragged them down her legs.
“Yes,” he said, his breath hissing through his teeth, dark eyes intent on her body. “This is exactly what I wanted.” He reached up and touched the necklace, weighing it in his hands. “This is exactly how I thought it would look.” He let it fall between her breasts, the jewel warm from his touch. “I like having you here, with my collection. You are mine, Charity.”
She lifted her hand and pressed it to his chest, over his shirt, and she could feel his heart raging beneath her palm. “Mine,” she said, the word even more feral on her lips than it had been on his. “If you think you can take possession of me, then I will damn well take it of you.”
“You have it,” he said. “Though, I’m not sure why you would want it.”
“Is that a gift?”
“Yes.” He kissed her neck, the curve of her breast. “It is.”
“I’m up to two then.”
He straightened, undoing the rest of the buttons on his shirt and discarding it. Then he put his hands on his belt, working it free as he took his shoes and socks off, making quick work of his pants and underwear, so soon he was as bare as she was. “All of this is yours, if you want.” She looked at him, his broad shoulders, his hard, well-defined muscles. His dark, intense eyes. “Say you want me,” he said, a note of desperation in his tone.
