Kes stood taller, his arms locked by his sides. He didn’t look like he would back down. Seconds ticked past, the late summer sky filling with throbbing testosterone.
I waited for the kindling of a fight to erupt, but Kes rolled his shoulders admitting defeat. “Fine. But I’m not waiting until you tire. Fair’s fair, brother. I’ll catch you around.” Prowling away, he turned to wave goodbye. “See you soon, Nila. Remember, my quarters are always open to you.”
The moment he’d disappeared, Jethro rounded on me.
I huddled on my lounger, wishing he wasn’t towering above and blotting out the sunshine like the devil incarnate.
If he wanted to berate me for what happened the other night, then so be it, but I wouldn’t take his temper without drawing blood of my own.
But just like Kes had shed his animosity, Jethro managed the same.
His face settled from rage into normalcy. Bowing, he held out his hand. “Come. There’s something I’ve been meaning to show you.”
My jaw dropped to the floor.
I’d never seen anything so spectacular and perfect and inviting in my entire life.
Is this real? Or am I in a dream?
“What—what is this place?”
Is this what Kestrel meant when he said Jethro had something to show me?
Jethro placed his hand on the small of my back, pushing me forward. The double doors behind him closed. Leaning against them, he never took his eyes from my wonder-filled face.
“It’s yours. Your quarters. Your real quarters.”
“I—I don’t understand.”
He chuckled softly. “The buzzard room was a stupid idea I had to keep you in line. I’ve grown up a little since then.”
I had so much to ask, but all I could do was drift forward in awe.
The room was huge, completely open plan with arched walkways leading to a sitting room, dressing room, bathroom complete with huge shower and claw-foot bathtub, and a bedroom that looked straight from a Persian souk. Acres of divine beaded material hung in heavy swathes from the teak four-poster bed.
But it was the room we stood in that fascinated me.
It was better than any haberdashery I’d been in.
Far exceeding any priceless material market I’d travelled to with my father and brother on expeditions to find exclusive textiles.
The walls were decorated with floor-to-ceiling racks. Bolts and bolts of every colour fabric imaginable hung enticing and new. Ribbon spools, lace sheaves, threads of every style and width rested on huge tables groaning with scissors, needles, chalk pens, and tape measures.
In the centre of the room stood three sizable busts, two full-size models to design the perfect dress on, and a skylight above, which drenched the space in natural light.
Comfy couches, love-seats, and velour stylish chairs were scattered beside bookcases full of histories of fashion; there was even a fish tank in the corner with tropical fish glowing in pristine turquoise water.
My fingers ached to touch everything at once.
Then my eyes dropped to the carpet.
Deep emerald richness glowed with elegance and the repeating design of W.
“This is the Weaver quarters. They’re only shown and offered when the current Weaver fully understands her place.”
I couldn’t stop my smirk, turning to stare at him. “I haven’t learned my place.”
His face remained locked of emotion. “No, you haven’t. And my father won’t be happy that I’m giving you this so soon, but…things changed.”
My heart sprung into an irregular beat, waiting for him to continue.
But he didn’t.
Moving through the room, he stood out in his black shirt and grey slacks like a spot of ink or a stain on such pretty fabric. He didn’t belong.
I followed him. Finally seeing what I should’ve seen all along.
He doesn’t belong in these rooms.
He doesn’t belong in this house.
He doesn’t belong with this family.
Everything I knew about Jethro was wrong. And despite his task and our fates that were horribly entwined and shadowed with death, I wanted to know him.
Following him through the space, I slammed to a stop as he spun to face me.
His face twisted. “I don’t want to talk. I don’t want to discuss what’s happening or even try to fucking understand it.”
My stomach flipped over at the lust glowing in his gaze. “Okay…”
Closing the distance between us in one large stride, he captured my cheeks, holding me firm. “I want to fuck you again. So fucking much.”
I couldn’t breathe.
“You’re asking my permission?” I whispered.
His face contorted. “No, I’m not asking for your damn permission.”
“Then…just do it.”
The air solidified and for a second, I thought he’d throw me away and storm off.
But then his fingers dug into my cheeks and his mouth crashed against mine.
WHAT THE FUCK am I doing?
I’d spent the past week working for my father, having sessions with my sister, and running the latest diamond shipment—not to mention the frantic hour I’d had after fucking her and sneaking into the security room to destroy the camera footage.
I was playing with fucking fire. And instead of getting burned and becoming a puddle of melted ice water, I was stronger, better, firmer in my convictions than I’d been in…well, forever.
I didn’t understand how the direct contradiction to my world could improve me rather than destroy me.
I knew I should question it—find answers rather than keep going down a path I didn’t understand, but how could I stop when Nila was at the end, beckoning with a corrupting smile, spreading her legs in wanton invitation?
I wasn’t a monster, but I wasn’t a fucking saint either.
My willpower to stay away had snapped this morning when I’d seen her disappear into the gardens with a hungry haunt in her eyes.
I liked to think that look was for me.
But then she’d kissed my fucking brother.
Nila’s hands flew up, her fingers slipping through my hair. She moaned, sucking on my tongue, driving me mad.
My stomach swooped as my cock instantly thickened.
If she was hungry, then I was fucking ravenous.
Her cheeks were pliant beneath my fingertips. Our tongues meshed and parried. Her soft moan echoed in my chest, and I couldn’t stop myself from walking her backward to the bed.
Countless evenings Cut had told me how I was to fuck her the first time. A game plan of pain, torture, and no pleasure permitted for her. That was part of the Third Debt—amongst other things.
But here I was again. Disobeying.
Fucking disobeying everything I was, just for one little taste.
My cock wasn’t supposed to go anywhere near her for months. How did this happen? How was I so weak when it came to her?
Nila cried out as the back of her legs crashed against the bed. She tumbled from my grip, her cheeks pinpricked with red from where my fingertips had dug into her flesh.
My dick had never been so hard as she clambered onto her knees and looped her arms around my neck, jerking me close.
I should stop this. I should walk out the fucking door and lock it. Better yet, I should strike her and make her cry—instil a healthy dose of fear into the woman who was supposed to be my toy. Not my master.
“Jethro—please…stop thinking. I can hear your thoughts; they’re so loud.”
I reared back. “What?”
If she could hear my thoughts, why the hell wasn’t she running? Couldn’t she see the danger? Didn’t she understand the nightmare this could turn into?
I not only played with my life but hers, too. Death wouldn’t be given lightly if Cut found out. He’d make her beg for it. He’d tear her apart piece by piece for every delicious feeling she invoked in his firstborn son.
Every kiss, every touch—I
was sentencing her to worse than any debt she could repay. And all for what? Because I was fucking weak. Weak. Weak.
You can have today.
I’d premeditated this—that was how addicted I’d become.
‘Someone’ had spilled something sticky onto the security hard drive; a new part had to be ordered before the cameras in the Weaver quarters would be operational.
I calculated two days, possibly three, before it was replaced.
Two or three days to fuck her as much as I could, before going cold-turkey and forgetting that this ever happened.
“Kiss me,” she murmured, her black eyes glittering with lust.
A smile tugged the corner of my mouth. “Aren’t those the two words that got us into this mess?”
She grabbed the front of my shirt, her expert fingers undoing the buttons in record time.
My head fell back as her tiny hands splayed on my chest and tickled their way around to my spine.
She pulled me close, sealing her lips over mine.
The second her taste entered my mouth, I snapped again.
I couldn’t help it.
She was a fucking drug.
Grabbing the diamond collar, I shoved her hard. Toppling from her knees, her nails scraped my ribcage as she fell backward on the bed. The moment her ballerina legs spread, I pounced.
I couldn’t resist anymore—it was futile.
Ripping my shirt off my shoulders, I kneeled on the bed and grabbed her hips to drag her body beneath mine. Pressing myself over her, we both shuddered in delight.
Her belly fluttered like a dying creature; while her heart pounded so hard, it rearranged my own beat.
I’d never enjoyed kissing anyone as much as I enjoyed kissing Nila. I felt her tongue in my mouth but felt it stronger on my cock. I’d never been high on the taste of another person. It wasn’t just chemistry sparking between us or the battle of willpowers or even the knowledge of how this would all end.
It was different, and I had no urge to put a description on it. The moment I knew what it was, was the moment I would have to run from it.
Her tongue stroked slow and inviting with mine, dancing like liquid silk.
My hand fell between her legs. The jeans she wore were my worst enemy as I attacked the button and zipper.
She giggled against my mouth, shoving my fumbling fingers away to release it with one twist of a single hand. “Now you can get rid of them.”
My stomach clenched at the need in her voice. “Thank fuck for that.” Rolling off her, I yanked the offending material away and bent my head over her hip to tear at the black lace knickers she wore. Ripping them off, a groan echoed in my chest.
“Hey! You keep doing that and I won’t have any underwear left.”
My cock lurched at the thought of her spending the rest of her days walking around with nothing on beneath her fancy skirts and dresses. I liked the idea way too much.
An image of her dressed in that gorgeous black and feather gown when I’d stolen her from Milan filled my mind. I wished I’d brought it with us, instead of leaving it on the sidewalk, tattered and dirty. Nila was the type of beauty who deserved to wear decadence every day.
I couldn’t deny I liked seeing her in shorts and regular clothing, but there was something overwhelmingly sexy about a woman in corsets and garters.
Fuck, stop thinking about that.
I was hard enough to kill someone with the weapon in my trousers; I didn't want to come before I’d even filled her.
Her hands landed on my belt buckle. I blinked as she magically undid both my belt and jeans. With feisty hands, she shoved them, along with my boxer-briefs, down my thighs.
I groaned as her fingers latched around my cock.
The fire she conjured in me was too fucking strong. My psyche did what it had been trained to do and retreated instantly, protecting itself, hiding the truth.
I went frigid.
Nila paused, panting. “What—what’s wrong?”
Everything.
“Nothing.” I pulled back, sitting up and swinging my legs over the edge of the bed.
This is so bloody dangerous. You have to stop it.
I sucked in a breath as Nila’s graceful arms wrapped around my neck, pressing her now naked breasts against my back. The swell of soft flesh and pinpricks of hard nipples almost undid me.
I curled my hands, drawing blood as I bit hard on my lower lip. “Let me go.”
“No.”
A small flare of anger shot through my blood. “Christ, woman.”
“Nila. My name is Nila.” She pressed a kiss on my shoulder. “Try it…it won’t kill you.”
You’re wrong. You’re already killing me.
“Jethro—if you’re pulling away, then you should know if you walk out that door and leave me for days on end…we’re done.”
The very word implying I would never be allowed back inside her welcoming body was blasphemy. My anger increased, thickening my blood. “You’re forgetting that you’re mine to do with as I see fit.”
“I’m yours to torment, I agree. But somehow I think your father wouldn’t be pleased with us doing this.” Her lips grazed my shoulders again. “You can’t lie about that. That’s why you told me to keep it a secret.”
I slumped forward, trying to dislodge her hold.
Silence fell awkwardly between us. I battled with doing the right thing by leaving and the wrong thing by spinning around and thrusting my aching cock inside her.
Nila murmured against my skin. “Sex is meant to strip us back. It’s meant to show the truth of what we keep hidden. Don’t be afraid of something that could ultimately save you.”
My heart froze at the thought of revealing my innermost secrets.
I laughed coldly. “I don’t want saving, Ms. Weaver. And sex is the opposite. It’s a projection of nothing more than animalistic need.”
“You don’t believe that. Not what we have.”
“What we have is so far out of my comfort range, I’m hanging on by a fucking thread.”
What. The. Fuck?
I snapped my lips closed at the awful confession.
Nila stiffened, her heartbeat tapping against my back. “See, you can be honest when you don’t censor yourself.”
I sighed. “You want honesty? Fine. I’m used to living my life with an iron fist of control. You undermine that control. I can’t let that happen. I don’t handle things well when I’m not…”
“Cold.”
I nodded. “I’ll admit that you’ve gotten under my skin in a way I didn’t think was possible. I’m feeling things I’ve never—” I cut myself off. What the hell was I saying? I sounded like a fucking pussy. “I won’t deny, now that I’ve had you, that I want you again and again and fuck, I doubt I’ll ever want to stop, but it has to stop.”
It has to stop before I do something worse.
Nila pulled away, moving to sit beside me. “Something this good shouldn’t have to end, Jethro. Screw family. Screw the debts. We want each other. Let’s just give in to that and forget about tomorrow.”
If only it was that easy. If only we had unlimited tomorrows.
But we don’t.
“What—what do you want from me, Jethro? You’ve taken everything—either by force or by allowing me small glimpses of who you are. What are you so afraid of?” Her voice lowered to a curse. “What do you want?”
I want…I want…
Fuck, I don’t know what I want.
My body ached with frustration, confusion, and need. How did this go from sex to revelations?
Everything I’d ever wanted in my life had turned me into this…mess.
Everything I’d ever let myself crave was used against me and taught me to hate rather than love.
It was easier to run from compassion and empathy when they were the very things that had the power to steal everything I’d worked so hard for.
I would continue to fuck Nila, because I was done depriving myself of everything good
. But I wouldn’t let her get inside my head, and I definitely wouldn’t let her climb inside my heart.
Bracing myself, I snapped, “I want you to understand that you will never know me. You’ll never have any power over me, nor will you have any hold on my loyalties. No matter what goes on between us, I will never release you, never take your side against my family, never bow to any demands you make. Nothing has changed in that respect.”
Breathing hard, I finished, “If you can handle that, then I’ll fuck you and grant us both some happiness. But if you can’t, then I’m walking out that door and won’t be back until it’s time for the Second Debt.”
She cupped my cheek. Her hand was steady; her eyes clear from vertigo or stress. It seemed the truth from me didn’t upset her nearly as much as when I locked myself in ice. “I want to keep feeling this. So I’ll agree…for now.” Her gaze dropped to my lips, anxiousness and passion pinking her cheeks. “Enough talking. Kiss me.”
I groaned. I’d never hear the command ‘kiss me’ again without wanting to devour her.
This was a steep learning curve for both of us. We just had to make sure we didn’t fall off the edge and plummet to our deaths.
She fell backward on the bed. My body took over, intolerable need ordering my limbs to follow. Kicking off my jeans from still around my thighs, I planted my elbows by her ears on the mattress and settled between her legs.
My cock twitched, dying to enter her.
Lowering my head, I bit the soft vulnerability of her neck.
My mind ran riot with everything I wanted to do. Resting between her legs was enjoyable…but it wasn’t what I wanted. It wasn’t what would keep me sane.
If I let myself fuck her again, the next time I took her—it would be very different. It would have to be. I had no choice.
She gasped, writhing beneath me, pushing her hips upward.
She was eager—ridiculously so. And I was damn near desperate to fuck her again. I wanted to pour inside her. I wanted to look into her eyes as I let loose and filled her.
Nila’s hands grabbed the back of my neck, guiding my face to hers. Licking my bottom lip, her warm tongue was searing torture.
My stomach clenched.
First Debt Page 22
