Chapter Fifty-Seven
Phoenix
Her eyes opened right as I got out of bed to leave.
“Sleep,” I ordered, pulling on my pants.
“Why?” Her voice rough from sex and sleep, she absently slid a hand across where I’d been lying. “So you can sneak out again?”
“Not sneaking.” Putting my watch back on, I glanced at the time.
Judas had an assignment. He’d be leaving the house any minute.
Not that Lincoln couldn’t be alone for a few, but I didn’t want him to be.
Neither did I want to leave my little intruse alone, which was why Tauk was already here, a floor below us.
Her hand coasted across my pillow. “Then what do you call it when you come for sex, wear me out until I can’t keep my eyes open, and walk out once I’m asleep?”
Success. Fucking. “Gratification.” Circumstances. I stepped into my boots, then picked up my Sig and checked the magazine out of habit.
She laughed. “Glad it was good for you.” A wink followed, but it was off. “The penthouse view is incredible, by the way.” Her gaze skated across my chest and abs, then landed briefly on my tattoo before she rolled over and gave me her back as she looked out at the still-dark ocean.
Shoving my 9mm into my holster, then throwing on my shirt, I walked around the bed until I was blocking said view. Not touching her because I wanted intel without the influence of my dominance, I waited.
With feigned laziness, she lay back and looked up at me. Then she dragged a finger across her lips and down between her breasts.
I ignored it. “I’m not walking out on you.” I’d given her four orgasms.
“You are.” Abandoning the suggestive posturing to go full sub, she raised her arms above her head and rested her crossed wrists on the pillow. Then she gazed up at me without any pretense. “But I never had expectations otherwise. Not in general or from a forty-eight-hour affair.”
My defenses went up. “I already told you I want more than forty-eight, and this isn’t an affair, Isla.
” It was uncharted waters, and she had no idea what was coming at her.
“We already breached casual, and so we’re clear, you’re only having sex with me.
” I was only fucking her. “Why don’t you have expectations? ”
“Because.” She looked back at the ocean. “It’s not… something I can explain.”
“Try.”
“No.”
This time, I did touch her.
Palming her throat, grasping her jawline between my thumb and forefinger, I turned her back to face me and repeated myself, this time with more force. “Try.”
Her voice turned quiet, vulnerable. “Nothing is permanent.”
“Nor guaranteed. Understood. But that’s broad strokes. I’m openly talking about us.” She was holding back. “There’s something more you’re not saying.”
“There’s a whole lot you’re not saying, Nix.” Her voice still soft, quiet, she wasn’t throwing an accusation. She was giving me insecurity.
Unwilling to tell her about Lincoln until it was measurably safe to do so—and we weren’t there yet—all I could do was acknowledge and address what she was feeling.
“I understand you have reservations. I told you I need time. For now, you’re in my suite.
You’re taken care of. I’ve expressed my intent and wishes. What about that isn’t clear?”
She wrapped her hands around my wrist, but then my intruse did something she’d never done with me. She went silent.
Out of time, not wanting to leave things like this, I directly aimed. “What do you need from me right now, Isla?”
It was her trigger. Instantly reverting to my little trespasser, her expression went south, and she shoved my hand away. “I don’t need anything from anyone.”
She needed a hell of a lot—dominance, sex, attention, communication, validation, power-exchange dynamics—all of which spoke to me on a deep level.
The sex I was handling. My attention divided, the rest I was still wading through.
The dynamic, though, I fucking had that.
“I fill a need for you. You fill a need for me. Part of that exchange is me taking care of you, relieving you of decisions, and you enjoying the freedom of it. Whether or not you want to admit that to yourself, it’s there. ”
“I don’t need to be psychoanalyzed.”
“I was stating fact.” Bracing a hand on the headboard, I leaned over her.
“Fact. I take care of your sexual needs. Fact. I’m currently taking care of your financial needs.
Fact. We have a mutual attraction that goes far deeper than the norm.
Later, when I have more time and you’re not arguing for the sake of pride or defensiveness, we’ll discuss your emotional needs.
Which you also have.” I kissed her temple.
“So yes, you have needs. Don’t mistake them for weaknesses.
” Standing up to my full height, taking in her naked breasts and wild hair, I turned to leave.
“Nix?”
Will, I silently corrected.
“I have a fact,” she taunted.
I glanced back.
Finger at her lips, legs spread under the covers, she smiled. “Two, actually. You’re bossy.” Her voice turned to pure sex. “And I don’t need you for my sexual needs.” Her hand slid down her chest.
“Give yourself an orgasm, and you won’t get any from me tomorrow.” I walked out before I couldn’t.