My jaw ached from clenching so hard. I endured the pain while Elder played all because he’d commanded me, too. But also because I was strong enough. Brave enough to shatter the music’s hold over me and become entwined with better things.
His head swayed to the song, his body the perfect tuning fork.
As he lost himself to the notes, his limbs became liquid, drowning everything in its power with utter submersion. Faster and faster, more aggressive, more barbaric. He took classical and twisted it into a fantastical combination of metal, Mozart, and Madonna.
He was enthralling.
The fists and kicks faded as my attention switched from Alrik to Elder.
Watching him play was utter magic.
He was free like I wanted to be. Free to open the gates around his heart and live, to breathe, before the piece ended. He hung onto every strum, as if begging the note to take it with him when it faded so he’d never have to return to the world where Lucifer resided.
A few minutes. That was all it was.
A few awful, enchanting minutes where my ears screeched and my heart hid behind my ribs with earmuffs, but my mind ignored the fear and focused on his wizardry instead.
And then, it was over.
Elder stood, tenderly placed his cello and bow on the chair, and stalked toward me.
I couldn’t move. I jittered and shook and fully expected a fist to my gut because that was what I was trained to expect.
But Elder slammed to his knees before me, his eyes becoming level with mine where I perched.
Shaking a little, he cupped my face with both hands and pulled me forward. “Forget the past and only remember this.”
His lips crashed against mine.
The invasion and heat of his mouth ripped through my memories, forcing new ones to take hold. My hands flew up, bracing myself by wrapping my fingers around his wrists.
He didn’t growl at me not to touch him. He permitted me to clutch him like he clutched me—like we’d clutched each other at the white mansion.
His lips moved over mine, demanding but not commanding. My tongue teased the back of my teeth, wanting to lick and taste him again, to see if whatever voodoo he’d filled me with the last time was a fluke or true.
There was no fear to pull away or prediction of worse things. He’d successfully torn me apart to accept this new experience without prior condemnation.
My mouth parted just a little.
He sucked in a breath as he moved with me; the very tip of his tongue ran along my bottom lip.
I was hesitant. My tongue was healed. There was no reason why I couldn’t kiss him back. I wanted to kiss him back. I think. I was ready to take back this one thing that’d been stolen. But if I did, had he won? And if he did win…what exactly had he won?
My thoughts spiralled into a congested mess as he took the decision from my control.
His tongue speared into my mouth, automatically coaxing mine to meet his in a ritual so timeless we didn’t need to be taught.
His breath fluttered over my cheek as he exhaled hard, pulling my face deeper into his as our tongues tangled.
The kiss had no expectations, and that was what made it so heart-warming. Somehow, with the classical notes still hanging in the air, his kiss deleted one tiny memory of Alrik. I had a thousand and one more to go, but he’d taken a sliver and made it…better? Right? Different?
No, he's stolen it and made it his.
Because he was a thief, and that was what he did best.
And he would teach me to be like him.
All in the name of eventually becoming free.
THAT KISS.
Goddammit, that kiss.
I hadn’t meant to do it. Michaels would probably shoot me if he knew I’d had my tongue against hers, sharing saliva, running the risk of her healing being compromised.
But I couldn’t help it. Ever since she flashed me her tongue in blistering anger—doing her best to taunt me into admitting I wouldn’t be keeping her for long because her injuries were on the mend—I couldn’t stop thinking about her mouth.
Kisses and blowjobs and sinking inside her were the one-track playlist of my utterly obsessed mind.
I hated her being in my room. I loved her being in my room. Instincts clawed, whispering falsehoods that she’d come on her own accord. While she was in my domain, I was free to do what I liked to her.
I was a fucking wreck from keeping my hands off her and myself.
And when I played for her.
Fuck, it had been the biggest aphrodisiac.
I always got hard when I played. It wasn’t something I could control. It wasn’t sexual but more of a thrill that gave me pleasure. And that pleasure had compounded to supernova the second I pulled her lips to mine.
And when the kiss ended? Pimlico didn’t look as nearly as wild. Shit tons of adrenaline ran through her system from my music, and if I was honest, I shared the same shaky high from her kiss, but when I’d pulled her from my bed and guided her to the door, she hadn’t disobeyed. She’d floated as if a tiny piece of the chains holding her down had been snipped.
It took every inch of willpower I had left to kiss her forehead and send her back to her room.
I deliberately kicked her out so I couldn’t give into temptation. It would’ve been too easy to strip the robe and push her backward on the bed. Too simple to spread her legs and lick her; to climb on top of her and take her.
I wanted to sample her so goddamn much.
But sex between us would never be simple. It would be pleasurable for me and pain for her. She’d never been taught how to find enjoyment in fucking. According to her notes to No One (to me), she’d been a virgin. The only sex she knew was with bastards trying to destroy her.
I refused to be yet another one of those.
Sex with Pim would be a labyrinthine of complications, and that reason alone gave me the courage to get rid of her.
If I took her, she’d have to want it too—just like she’d wanted that kiss, even if she hadn’t known it until I pressed my lips to hers.
Her gaze when I pulled away hadn’t been tear-filled or vacant but soft, as if wondering what the hell happened but no longer afraid of new.
Drawing my mind from yesterday, inhaling deep against the lust I hadn’t been able to shed, I turned off the shower and waited as warm droplets cascaded over me. The pounding in my cock hurt and the urge to self-pleasure got harder and harder every day. I hadn’t relieved myself since she got on her knees and gave me a blowjob I hadn’t asked for.
And now, we’d kissed?
I didn’t know how much more self-control I possessed to keep my distance from her.
But today is a new day. Today is teaching time.
I was her master; she was my pupil. There were boundaries in that relationship that couldn’t be crossed.
Slinging a towel around my waist, I headed into my suite that was three times the size of Pimlico’s and strolled into my walk-in wardrobe. There, I selected a pair of beige shorts and white t-shirt, slipping my feet into simple flip-flops.
My phone said the time was nine a.m., and for the first time since I’d carried Pimlico on board, I wanted to see her. I didn’t want to avoid her because she was too complicated and frustrating. I wanted to work with her to earn another break-through because, Christ, it was rewarding.
Pocketing my phone, I left my quarters and headed down a deck to hers. Stupidly, my hand shook a little as I knocked on her door.
She answered promptly as if she’d been waiting for me.
Once again, she was naked.
No shame or apology.
Her hair hung over her breasts, wet from her shower, her stomach shadowed with muscle, swiftly returning from emaciated to toned.
When she’d first arrived, I was attracted more to her inner beauty. I didn’t see the beaten slave or bruises, I saw a worthy adversary.
But now…
Holy fuck.
Now, I saw a woman becoming more and
more stunning every day. Her body slowly shed its illness and pain, remembering how to fill out in all the best places. Her breasts were fuller, her hips less sharp. With no jewellery or tattoos or makeup, she was the epitome of natural, and shit, she took my breath away.
“You can’t do that much longer, Pim.” My gaze refused to unglue from her body. I couldn’t stop staring at every exposed inch.
Her head tilted as she held the doorknob, a knowing smile on her face. For a woman who’d been forced to endure sex, she acted as if she enjoyed my eyes on her. As if it gave her redemption as a sexual creature.
I got it.
Having me stare was an exchange of power. I had no way of hiding how my hands balled or throat clenched with desire. She controlled me completely.
Without authority, my hand swooped up, so damn close to cupping her breast and pinching her nipple.
Fuck.
Taking a step back, I growled. “You can’t be naked around me anymore.”
Her eyes narrowed as if daring me to either touch her or yell at her.
I did neither.
Backing farther away, I commanded, “Dress and meet me in the dining room. We’re having breakfast together. And then, we’re going to work.”
BREAKFAST CONSISTED OF freshly baked croissants, home-made jams, and every exotic fruit imaginable. A small serving of scrambled eggs with hollandaise sauce was our main affair, and by the time we pushed aside plates in favour of steaming coffee mugs, a comfortable silence wrapped us in a bubble no one else could enter.
Not the staff to-ing and fro-ing with dishes. Not the captain when he came in to give the brief on the night cruising and the plan of today’s journey.
Elder might look at other people, he might smile and speak to them, but his entire focus remained on me. I sensed him watching, felt him calculating.
The kiss between us lived on my lips, tickling me every time I took a sip of coffee or brought a fork to my mouth. His music corrupted my mind, strumming at odd times, robust in my memory. Whenever I recalled his cello-eloquence, I wanted to silence every note—to ignore he wasn’t as gifted as he was; pretend he could delete melody from his life because after that kiss…wow.
That damn kiss proved how naïve I’d been even when I believed I was wise.
I didn’t want him to love music because it was my enemy. I wanted him to hate the things I hated. To loath the things I loathed.
I was selfish.
I didn’t want to have to face my idiocy or for him to take it upon himself to break me by showing me music wasn’t a sentinel being but purely soulful.
He didn’t play fair, and his talent spawned so many reactions—emotional, physical, psychological. I never wanted to hear his cello again but at the same time…that was a lie.
I’d been pushed to the brink and managed to stay clinging to the cliff—the next time he played, I might fall.
I didn’t want to fall.
I want to fly.
With him.
The liquid in my belly, the hummingbird in my heart—it all equalled one thing.
I like him.
I liked his company, his protection, his friendship. With him, I didn’t feel the urge to write every moment to No One. I didn’t have the need to curl around my secrets and keep them close.
Elder knew who I was. He’d seen where I’d come from, he’d mingled with the men I’d belonged to. He knew more about me than I would ever tell another stranger, and because of that, there was nowhere to hide, no room to lie—not when we’d met in bitter truth.
But that bitterness is slowly evolving into sweetness….
I was glad when the food was cleared away because I needed fresh air. Needed to be further away from him than sharing a table.
But when he stood and held out his hand, as if expecting me to take it, nerves coiled and rattled in my belly. Despite my willingness to accept my feelings toward him, I wasn’t ready for more.
If he wanted to use me, he could. But I couldn’t allow myself to like him if he did.
Giving him a hesitant look, I didn’t take his hand, but I did follow as he guided me from the dining room through the stately lounge, complete with a piano locked in place. We passed the open-air bar with a Jacuzzi tub set in the polished wooden deck, right to the bow of the boat where a black sail had been strung across the space like a triangle cloud, blocking out the intensity of the sun.
The heat of the day didn’t disperse, and the grey dress I’d slinked into did its best to cling to my skin as sweat beaded on my spine.
Elder didn’t criticise my wariness or bark commands to come closer. His black gaze pooled with kindness, unable to fully hide the glitter of desire.
My tummy flipped, remembering when he’d come to my door. The way his eyes locked on my nakedness and his body tensed as tight as his cello strings. His raw need ought to have sent me running. Instead, it did weird things to my insides.
Part of me had wanted to slam the door in his face because I knew that look. That look meant having a man inside me against my will. That look meant being used at their leisure and mercy.
However, when Elder looked at me that way…I liked it.
He didn’t strip me of power. He made me gather more of it. He became weaker the more desire drenched his blood, while I became stronger, having control to deliver what he wanted or deny it.
It was a dangerous game to make him lust for me. Lust was just another word for evil. But there I was, doing my best to entice him even though I didn’t want him to touch me.
Liar.
You do want him to touch you.
Fine.
I wanted him to kiss me again. The kissing was nice. The rest I wasn’t ready for. So you keep saying…
But a kiss…I could kiss him all day if it meant he’d let me off whatever task he was about to set up.
“Stand here.” Elder pointed at the deck in front of him. As I moved into position, he glanced over my shoulder. “Thanks, Selix. Just put it over there.”
Selix threw me a half a smile before doing what Elder requested. Placing a black velvet bag on a table bolted to the deck, he left as quietly as he’d arrived.
Strolling toward the table, Elder said, “Lesson one on how to pilfer pockets.”
Oh, God. He’s serious about that?
I shuffled on the spot.
Reaching into the bag, he drew out a wallet. Unfolding it, he pulled out a hundred dollar note and waved it at me. “This is yours if you can take it from me without me noticing.” His teeth flashed. “But fair warning, once a thief always a thief. There’s a reason why we don’t get robbed ourselves. We know the tricks. We feel the con. You’ll have to be sly if you hope to win.”
Sly I could do. Sly was just another word for self-preservation: watching and waiting for weakness. I’d become an expert at that.
Light touch, fast movement—those I might need help with.
“Come closer.” Elder beckoned me with the wallet as he tucked the hundred dollar note inside. “It’s in my right back pocket.” Slipping it into the beige shorts he wore, he spun to show me the slight bulge.
My eyes should’ve noted how high the wallet was, how tight the material, and figure out a way to get my fingers between him and the shorts to steal it. However, all I could look at was the tightness of his ass and the way his left cheek clenched as he bent to look over his shoulder. “Got it?”
My mouth turned dry. But I nodded.
He grinned, brighter and more care-free than I’d seen. “Fuck, I don’t know what I’ll do when you finally talk to me, Pim.”
My body stiffened.
“Even a simple nod from you feels like the biggest bloody reward. I’ve never focused on a person’s voice or lack thereof so much before. It’s driving me insane, but I also get why you haven’t given it to me yet.”
He spun to face me, his hands loose by his sides as if poised to steal. “You’re making me work for it. Just like I’ll make you work for what I want. It’s fair,
I suppose.” He lowered his face, watching me from beneath his brow. “Another warning, though. You’ll break first. And when you do, I’ll savour your voice. I’ll command you to speak over and over. I’ll finally learn what I’ve been waiting for.”
That’s what you think.
I smiled, letting mirth mix with a challenge.
We’ll see who will win.
He chuckled. “A bet then?”
I nodded again.
A bet to see who would break first. It didn’t escape my notice that he’d already broken me to the point where talking nonverbally was now permitted. I willingly wanted to answer because he spoke to me as a normal man spoke to a normal woman.
Elder stroked his chin. “What do you want to bet on?”
I shrugged, giving in to his questions, allowing myself to do more than just nod.
He noticed, of course, his grin growing bigger. “How about one night?”
I jolted.
What?
“One night. The night I arranged before I decided to steal all the nights. One night where you agree to let me do what I want. Where the ultimate thing I want from you is your trust.”
Trust?
Well, that was terrible for him to bet on because he’d never earn that. No matter if he gave me a thousand nights. Trust wasn’t something I could give.
And he must know that, but he’d asked for it anyway.
Why?
Why ask for the impossible?
I raised my eyebrow, pointing at my chest, breaking all my rules and communicating completely. And what do I get?
His eyes tracked my hand, the same look of desire coating his features. Not from my body hidden in a sack-shaped dress but from the fact I’d willingly engaged in conversation.
“You?” His voice cracked. “You get to choose.”
My eyes widened, wafting my hand like a bird in flight. I can choose freedom?
He nodded. “If want to put your freedom at stake, I’ll honour that. One night with me, trusting everything I do and giving me your pleasure if you manage to pickpocket a civilian—”
I jolted as my future plans unravelled. I could go home to London. I could find my mother, my friends, my life.
My mind raced. I could do it. I could find a silly girl with her handbag open and slip my hand inside. How many times had I looked at my friends’ purses and thought how careless they were?
Dollars (Dollar #2) Page 23
