Holy shit, I really took her there, didn’t I?
And I know what comes after is every bit as important. Gods, she’s gorgeous when she’s like this. As magnificent as she was howling in the heights of her pleasure, subdued and limp in the aftermath, she glows with a purity that stabs me through the chest.
This is Daphne. My Daphne.
The woman who knocked me off my ass the first time she came strutting down the beach in a red bikini. The woman who laughed with me and teased me and splashed in the water with me all one glorious summer. The woman I held in my arms after her mother died and her world fell apart.
This is Daphne.
The woman I—
The woman I love.
Terror chokes me even as I gather her into my arms like the precious thing she is. She curls into me and her fingers brush my bare face, her touch making me harden all over again. The softest butterfly brush and then her hand drops as if she’s too tired to hold it up.
What is she doing to me?
She could destroy me. She’s proved it. Over and over and maybe I’m a fool for never learning.
Or maybe I’m finally opening myself to the best thing of my life.
Me and Daphne, finally together. Like we were always meant to be.
My chest feels so incredibly warm as I carry Daphne upstairs to take care of her, wash her, and tuck her in close by my side for the night.
I never want to let her go.
Twenty-Two
Present Day
Daphne
There’s a warm wall at my back—huge and unyielding as a mountain. I roll and gently collide with a muscular chest dusted with dark hair. The mountain stirs. I throw an arm around him, hugging him close.
“Careful.” Logan eases me back, frowning at my nipples.
“You stayed.” Happiness rolls over me, a warm blanket. It feels like a dream.
“You need sleep,” he says gruffly. “If you get sick, your piercings can get infected.”
I’m smiling so hard my skin might crack. The corner of Logan’s mouth hitches up in response to my giddiness. He stayed. He cares.
The fire is out and the room is chilly. Logan bundles me up carefully in a blanket and carries me to the bathroom where he performs the piercing aftercare himself. He washes the rest of me so thoroughly, my knees wobble, weak with arousal.
I’m panting by the time he’s done, hoping he’ll bend me over the tub and fuck me. But no. He leads me out and dries me off, then steps back into the shower and soaps up his massive body while I watch. Rivulets run in the grooves between his insane muscles. His hands are huge as they swipe soap over his delectable abs.
I lick my lips. I’m staring. I can’t help it. When he lathers up his palms to wash his cock, my pussy pulses with a mini-orgasm. He shoots me a wicked look.
I take a step towards him and he shakes his head. “Stay.”
He turns his back to me to wash his hair under the spray and the eyeful I get of his chiseled back and ass makes me drop to my knees. I’d crawl to him right now and beg for him to let me take him in my mouth. I’d grovel for a chance to touch him, kiss his feet.
He could have reacted so differently when I made my request yesterday. But he was gracious, kind, the perfect Master playing my body like a prodigy and taking me further than I’d ever been— so deep, so high, so excruciatingly intimate together with him, and that’s not even to speak of the pleasure—
I want to worship him back. I’ve never wanted anything more. And he knows it. When he exits the shower and slings a towel around his hips, I groan.
“Such a needy little one,” he murmurs, nothing but affection in his tone.
I look up from my knees in pure reverence.
He bends down and lifts me, setting me on a towel spread on the marble vanity top. Then he kneels.
“What are you doing?” I ask as he bends his dark, wet head and kisses the inside of my thigh just above my knee.
“Something to remember me by,” he rasps, easing my legs open. And then….oh...his mouth… He licks me all over, adding scratchy kisses courtesy of his unshaven face. There’s no mask between us.
It feels like years since I’ve seen his beloved face. The scarred portion on his left cheek is just a feature of his face to me now. All I see is Logan. My Logan, more dear to me than anyone else on this earth.
I cum as our gazes lock, my head flying back and hitting the bathroom mirror almost hard enough to crack it. Logan picks me up and brings me to a chair in front of the fire. He bustles around, dressing and building up the fire while I sit, still floating.
An alarm goes off somewhere in the room. Distantly I hear it, but don’t recall what it is. Not until Logan lays my phone down next to me. I set an alarm earlier, reminding me to pack. For my engagement ball.
“You need to go,” Logan says.
I open my mouth to protest, and I realize he’s not kicking me out. He’s letting me go...again. To deal with Adam.
Logan kneels again in front of me. In his palm is a ring. My heart flutters a second in blinding joy, and then I realize it’s the gaudy diamond Adam picked out for me. My throat squeezes. I don’t want to touch it.
But Logan plucks it and pinches it between thumb and forefinger, holding it in front of my face. “I know you need to go back.”
I swallow and nod. Logan sets my phone and the ring on a side table.
“You’ll return to me,” he says. His finger traces a wide circle around my pierced nipples. “You’ll remember me.”
“Yes.” I cup his face. “I can do this, Logan. You can trust me.”
An hour later, a familiar car pulls up. I’m dressed warmly. My nipple piercings are carefully bound, but they chafe. A constant reminder of the one I’m leaving. The one I belong to.
He’s trusting me. I won’t fail him. Not this time.
Twenty-Three
Present Day
Daphne
In the car I grab my phone and dial my dad. The call doesn’t connect until we’re out of the hills and forest and on the road to New Olympus. But then it rings and rings for a while until a nurse picks up.
“Is my father all right?” I ask after we exchange greetings.
The nurse hesitates. “He’s sleeping now. I’d wake him but--”
“Oh, no, it’s fine. He needs his sleep.” He’s been sleeping more and more lately. I give instructions for the nurse to call me when he wakes. I’m sure Adam pestered him about coming to the engagement party. I add that to my list of things to confront my ‘fiancé’ about.
Can’t wait. Not. If I could, I’d tell the driver to turn the car around.
But no. The new Daphne doesn’t avoid conflict. Still, all too soon the car is pulling up to one of the first high rises built in New Olympus, a grand old building repurposed into an event space. I order the driver to pull around back to avoid the caterers and crew setting up in the ballroom downstairs. Hopefully I can get my dress, hair, and makeup done before anyone sees me.
Rachel is pacing in a fancy private parlor on the second floor. “Daphne,” she breathes and I rush to give her a hug. Wow, I’ve really missed her. So much has happened. I could use a friend to confide in.
“You okay?” she draws back to study my face. She looks worried but I just give her arm a squeeze.
“Yep. Let’s do this.” I strip quickly out of my clothes.
“Holy shit. You’re pierced.” Rachel’s mouth hangs open.
Oops. “Yes.” No use feigning a shyness I don’t feel. I’m not ashamed. I go to the mirror to inspect the piercings.
“When?”
“Logan did it.”
Rachel shakes her head, but says nothing as I pull my saline spray from my purse. I ignore her, sharing a shy smile with the woman in the mirror.
Thank you, Logan, for marking me. Just seeing them reminds me of who I am. Of my strength. Warmth pools in my lower belly as I care for my piercings as he ordered.
“Um, I got a few dresses, but w
ith those,” Rachel waves at my chest, “This one might be the best option.” She holds up a gold dress with a sweetheart top.
“No,” I say. “I ordered something myself. It should’ve been delivered with the rest.” At Rachel’s skeptical look, I smile and add, “No tree costume this time, I promise.” I go to the roller rack of dresses and rummage until I find the green sheath. “Here.” Green reminds me of Logan, and I need all the reminders I can get.
Rachel pauses as I hold up the dress against myself, eyeing me.
“What?”
“Nothing,” she says, but then she crosses her arms over her chest. “There’s something different about you.” She rolls her eyes. “Apart from the obvious.” She gestures at my boobs but then gets serious again, obviously waiting for my answer.
There are a thousand things on the tip of my tongue. I want to tell her about all of it. About Logan and how amazing and electric he is. About the future I’ve only begun daring to hope for with him. About how screwed up everything is with the company and Adam, complicated even more by how much Logan hates him and—
I reach out and grab Rachel’s hand. “Let’s just get through tonight. This week, you and me. We’ll go out for coffee or stay in and have a movie night and download everything going on in each other’s lives.”
Rachel squeezes my hand back. “I’ll hold you to that promise. Now, get your ass in this chair so the stylist can do her wonders. She’ll be here any sec—” Right then the doorbell rings and Rachel springs up to go answer it.
An hour later, my hair and make up are done and I’m in the sheath dress. The neckline is high enough to keep my nipples in a full coverage bra. Rachel pleads and I change into red lingerie she brought, tags still on. The bra is simple but the thong is lace. She looks so relieved, I have a thought.
“Why do you want me to wear this so badly? Did you buy it?”
She hesitates, obviously torn.
“Wait, Adam bought me this, didn’t he?” Part of me wants to take it off and put back on my own on principle, but my cotton briefs show a panty line. And besides, it’s not like Adam’s ever going to see me in the lingerie set.
“It’s okay,” I wave a hand. “Zip me up?” I bow my head and Rachel obliges.
“I’m sorry, Daphne,” Rachel says softly. “Adam’s been insistent on certain things. I know you’re my boss but…”
“But one day he might be too.” Guilt flushes me. I’ve been thinking of myself, considering my options, but I’m not the only one affected by the Belladonna merger. And Rachel isn’t just my friend. She’s my employee. “It’s fine. I put you in a tough position, and I want you to know that I appreciate having you in my corner.”
She gives me a thin smile. There are lines on her forehead and around her eyes that I’ve never noticed before. This whole ordeal has weighed on her.
“Hey, I know,” I say on impulse. “After all this is done, let’s just get away together. You and me. Not just for coffee. We’ll have a girl’s spa weekend. The full pampering treatment.”
“Okay,” Rachel says, but she doesn’t look at me. “I’ve got to go change.”
“Of course.” I drop her hand and head to the mirror to check out my ‘do. The stylist worked wonders, but there’s a flush to my cheeks that’s more than makeup. I’m glowing.
“So how’s tonight going to go?” Rachel asks from behind the screen where she’s changing into her own gown. “What are you going to say to Adam?”
“What I should’ve said in the first place.” I raise my chin at the woman in the mirror. She looks strong, determined. Game time. “I’m going to break off the engagement.”
Rachel is silent until she emerges. She’s wearing a sheath in a floral pattern.
“Oh you look so great,” I gush but she doesn’t smile. Her face is pale.
“How? The board and everyone will be here.”
“I’ll be discreet. I don’t want to cause a scene.” I shrug. I haven’t let myself sweat the details. It’s enough that I’m here and that I’m not leaving without this engagement being broken. “I’ll pull Adam aside and tell him. Honestly, he’s the one who planned this party. I’d have told him no, if he’d consulted me.”
Rachel looks so suddenly panicked, I catch her hand again. It’s cold as marble.
“Sheesh, you’re freezing,” I chafe her hand. “You look a bit pale. Are you feeling okay?”
“Fine. I just haven’t eaten all day.” She draws up her cheeks in a forced smile but there’s still worry in her eyes. “Come on,” she says. “Adam and the guests are waiting.”
* * *
I have to credit Adam; he has great taste in everything but engagement rings. And he knows how to throw a party. The building is gorgeous. The foyer is dripping with floral displays. I stop on the grand marble staircase and take in the sea of about a thousand roses. One display is smaller but more tasteful. I recognize the blowsy blooms as pink Edens, a climbing variety of garden rose.
Rachel pauses beside me. “Your father sent those.”
Shit. Dad. I never called back to try to catch him after his nap. “He’s not coming? He’s been resting a lot when I call but the nurse said he’s been feeling better lately.”
“Adam told him about the engagement party,” Rachel says. “Dr. Laurel was pleased.”
Of course he was. Dad always did like things neat and tidy. “I need to call him.” Tell him I’m breaking my engagement to his favorite surrogate son. Dad will be disappointed. A pang goes through me at the thought, but I shake my head.
What does it matter what my dad thinks? It’s my life. I get to choose who to marry and I deserve to be happy. Why does that feel like such a rebellious thought? It’s absurd that choosing my own happiness should have to feel like such an act of courage. But it only makes me more determined to stand firm in my new truth.
As Rachel leads me down a side hall so we can slip into the back of the ballroom, an image of me marrying Logan, dressed in a slave collar, jeweled piercings and nothing else flies through my head. I grin at the ridiculous thought, but then sigh. Dad would have a fit if I even mentioned the name ‘Logan’ and ‘marry’ in the same sentence. Better break it to him gently.
Then my eyes fly open wide at the thoughts so casually running through my head. Not that Logan wants to marry me. It’s too soon to be thinking about that. Ridiculous. Completely ridiculous. I need to sort out my life first and he’s never even said—
“Here we are,” Rachel says, breaking into my thoughts as she pauses before a back door to the ballroom. Beyond the white and gilt doors, the crowd murmuring is a dull roar.
“One sec.” I check my purse and pull out my phone. No missed calls. Nothing from dad. Or Logan. Am I happy or sad about the latter? “The nurse said she’d have Dad call when he woke up. She must have forgotten--”
“Shit, Daphne,” Rachel interrupts. “do you have the ring?”
Right. Almost forgot. I pull it out of my purse. “Right here.”
A bevy of servers, dressed in black tuxedos with gold cummerbunds, stream by. Rachel pulls me into an alcove.
“Are you going to wear it?” Rachel’s eyes are wide.
“No.” Rach looks so shocked, I take pity on her. “I have a plan.” I dig in my purse and pull out the long green opera gloves I ordered along with the dress. I tug them on and drop the ring back in my purse, then waggle my fingers at Rachel. “See? Doesn’t go with the outfit.” She looks doubtful, but I pull out of a pair of white gloves for her. “It’ll make sense when we match.”
I check my phone again as she pulls on her own pair of gloves but no texts or calls have come in in the last minute and I put it away.
“Ready?” I ask.
“I guess. You seem eager.”
“I am.” I can’t believe it, but I am. I’m ready to get this done with and prove to myself once and for all that I have changed. I place a hand on the fancy gilt door, ready to push it open. Nervousness flutters in my chest, but I expect it, emb
race it.
For the first time in my life, I’m owning what I want. And I’m going to fight until I get it.
Twenty-Four
7 Years Ago
Logan
I flip through the secure notes from the investor meeting while standing in the lab. I had to do some finagling to even get my hands on these but there are still some people in the company who know how closely I work with Dr. Laurel and respect me.
Ha. That’s a joke if I ever heard one, but I’ll take what I can get while I can get it. I haven’t talked to the great Professor in weeks and I barely even caught a glimpse of him at the funeral. I was far more concerned with Daphne, whom the great Dr. Laurel barely took note of. His own daughter.
I used to think he was a great man doing great things.
Now I think he’s just…lost. And he never treated his daughter right. But if he’s not careful, his company is going to get stolen out from underneath him by his board, headed by that blond bastard, Adam Archer.
I flip to a third page and my eyes scan the first few lines. “What the fuck?”
I slap the papers down, disbelieving, before lifting them back up and continuing to read. “That son of a bitch.” I knew Adam was a slimy opportunist, but I didn’t realize he was this slimy.
Footsteps have me looking up, and there he is, the son of a bitch in question.
He’s got a shiny apple in hand and he takes a big, obnoxious bite. “Miss me?” he asks through his mouthful of apple.
I point at him. “I see you. I see what you’re trying to do to this company.”
“What?” He throws his hands in the air. “Make it profitable? Bring out the firing squad for such a horrible offense.”
Jackass. “I know what you did. I know you took credit for all my innovations in the lab. Anyone with eyes can check the lab logs and know it would’ve been impossible for you to have discovered what you said you did. You haven’t even been here.”
Beauty and the Thorns Page 11
