Chapter 4
CHAPTER FOUR
Thayer
I touched the Mona Lisa with my bare hands. I took my first hit like an addict and now my blood pulses with the need for more.
I shouldn’t have kissed her. It was a stupid, foolish, dick move.
She tasted better than I’d imagined.
I want to kiss her again.
And again.
I want to kiss her until every nerve in her body’s on fire, until she sags against me, boneless and panting and wet.
That first taste of forbidden fruit might be the sweetest, but that doesn’t lessen the craving for more.
Fabien and Nicolette have made it clear: they don’t want Savannah to know anything about Le Luxe. She’s been kept in the dark up to now, and it’s my job to ensure I keep her safe without revealing too much about what exactly goes on at our club.
To the outside world, Le Luxe masquerades as a luxury hotel, and that’s all Savannah needs to know.
Hidden off the Ajaccio Coast, south of Paris in Corsica, the exclusive club is highly secured.
Only members and curated guests are allowed through the gate, and then only after passing rigorous screening and paying a premium fee.
In return, we offer luxury, state-of-the-art amenities, privacy, and top-notch security.
We don’t receive so much as a slip of mail without rigorous screening and documentation.
Masters and slaves, dominants and submissives, make up the bulk of our establishment. As the owner and purveyor, I have to be discriminating and selective.
But first, we have to get there, and now.
I keep Fabien and Nicolette abreast of every decision we make.
Me:
Lyam and Mario are going ahead to nail down security. But I’ll be the one that escorts her.
Fabien:
Thank you.
I let Lyam and Mario go ahead of us to make sure we have an impenetrable security system in place, but no one will escort her but me.
I tell myself it doesn’t matter, that I can do this job. I tell myself that I won’t sate my craving for her.
I can be a brother to her.
Motherfucker.
Savannah watches me with wide, curious eyes, but doesn’t say anything for long minutes. It’s unlike her. She’s usually a nonstop chatterbox. I wonder what’s going on with her.
I turn to her.
“Are you afraid?”
When she flinches, I realize my tone came out harsher than I intended. Maybe that’s a good thing. Maybe I need to keep her at arm’s length. I fucked up kissing her, and I can’t make that mistake again.
When she responds, her voice drips with sarcasm. “What gave you that idea?”
“You’re not talking. That’s unlike you.”
I watch as she holds her head high with her chin pointed upward, as if trying to steel herself against something. Proving herself. Ready to take on the world.
Jesus, that makes me hard.
Her eyes sharpen when I look at her, as if daring anyone to take her on.
Fuck if I don’t want to take that dare.
I can’t.
I don’t trust myself with her. I know that if I let myself loose, I’ll dominate every inch of her body. I’ll demand her submission. I’ll make her scream with pleasure and cry in pain. I’ve craved the submission of a woman just like her — strong and sexy, witty and winsome.
I can’t do that to her. She’s too young, too innocent, and practically family.
I have one and only one job: to protect her no matter the cost. Even if that means denying myself everything.
I’m tormented by conflicting emotions. I clench my fists and breathe in through my nostrils.
She doesn’t deserve my anger. She isn’t the one I’m angry with.
I tell myself I need to push her away. Savannah is too trusting.
Too innocent.
“Maybe I have nothing to say.”
“Unlikely.”
I snap my mouth shut in an effort to keep myself from snapping at her again.
“Okay, then, maybe I do have something to say but I don’t want to say it to you.”
I turn to face her this time. Her eyes meet mine—so gorgeous, my heart turns in my chest. She’s curious, and if I’m not mistaken, a little aroused.
I tamp down the urge to set things straight. To tell her my expectations. To discuss hard limits.
I’ll never be one to go for a modern relationship. It’s not who I am.
The first time I discovered I’m a dominant, I felt as if a whole world opened up to me. Fabien was the one who took me to a club in Paris. The first night there I knew. This was where I belonged.
I need to be the one in charge. I’m the one who needs to protect. To command.
Call it old-fashioned, but I know who I am. I know what I like. I know what I need.
My job is to protect her, no matter the cost.
Even if she hates me.
I open my mouth to respond, to tell her off. I snap it shut again.
She isn’t mine.
If Savannah was mine…
My phone rings. I glance down. Lyam.
“Yeah?”
“Coast clear. Let’s go.”
I jerk my chin at her. “Come here.”
I take a quick minute to send Lyam a text. I’ll need a few things for this trip.
“I really wish you’d learn to treat me half decently,” she snaps.
I turn to her and imagine what it would be like to hold her down, strip her, and fuck her until she doesn’t have a single thread of resistance left in her.
I swallow the urge and reach for her.
“My job is to keep you alive,” I tell her honestly.
“I don’t care what the fuck I have to do to make that happen.
You’re not mine, Savannah, and we’ve covered what that would look like if you were.
” I close the mental door on that fantasy so quickly it splinters.
“But your sister and brother-in-law have asked me to take care of you. That’s exactly what I’m going to do. ”
“Maybe,” she seethes through gritted teeth, “I don’t want your protection.”
Without thinking, I take hold of her wrists and pin them to her sides.
Upstairs, a door opens. I hear the gentle padding of light footsteps.
“Lyam? Thayer?”
Maman.
She can’t see us from here, but she likely can’t sleep, either, knowing that Savannah’s in danger.
I yell over my shoulder, holding Savannah’s gaze. “We’re leaving now, Maman. I’ll fill you in later.”
Savannah’s eyes spark fire. “Tell him to be nice to me, Mrs. Gerard!” she yells. Of all the—
“Thayer doesn’t listen to me, darling!” Maman yells. “But you’ll be safe with him, I promise! Just do what he tells you, he’ll do anything to keep you safe.”
I give her a triumphant look.
“Her, too?” she says in a heated whisper.
I give her a look that says I told you so.
“You don’t have to be so rough,” she protests.
“Savannah,” I whisper in her ear. “If you think this is rough, lovely, you have no idea what I’m capable of.”
“Oh, bragging now, are we?” But the pink blush on her cheeks gives her away. She looks at me as if she’s too proud to admit she wants to know just exactly what rough can be.
Her torn clothing’s so thin and flimsy, I can see the outline of her breasts. When I touch her skin, goosebumps erupt, as if I’m drawing an uncontrollable reaction from her. I can feel her pulse pounding against my fingers.
She smells of roses.
The car’s waiting. Her pursuers may have discovered her identity, if not her whereabouts. We need to go.
“From now on,” I say in a slow, measured tone, “you’re under my protection. You gave up any control when you walked through that door.”
“What exactly is that supposed to mean?” I wonder if I imagine the curiosity that sparks in her eyes.
I pull her closer to me. “It means I expect you to obey me. Even though I don’t own you, your choice to seek my protection means there are consequences for disobedience.
” Heat flares between us, a fusion of anger and arousal, fury and need.
The reality of her situation seems to strike her all at once, as her mouth parts.
I stare at her lips. I want to lick them, bite them, stroke my tongue against hers until she moans.
“I want to make this very clear, Savannah. I’ll do whatever it takes to keep you safe. Do you understand me?”
Her jaw opens in protest. Closes and swallows. Finally she shakes her head and snaps, “You are so full of yourself.” She presses her lips together as she glares at me and likely weighs her options.
I have no more patience.
“I didn’t ask you your opinion of me. I asked if you understood. Now, either tell me you do, or we start over, and this time, we’ll have this discussion with you over my knee.”
This time, her outrage is unmistakable. Her breathing quickens as she apparently plays this all out in her mind.
She might hate me, but maybe she likes the idea of being over my knee.
When she speaks, her voice is low and throaty.
Angry, or… aroused?
“I’m not stupid,” she protests.
“I never said you were.”
“And yet you insist on treating me as if I am.”
I shake my head. “Not true. I never said you were stupid, and I wouldn’t think that.”
Jesus, I think she’s brilliant.
“Then why would you think I’d do something that put me in danger? You’re talking as if I have no concept of self-preservation. It’s why I came here.”
I draw in a breath and let it out slowly. Patience isn’t really my thing.
“Because you’ve never been where we’re going. You don’t know the people we’re dealing with.”
I can feel her breath on my skin. We’re too close. Too close.
“And you do?” she snaps.
“Yes. And there are a few things I know. First, the people who committed this murder aren’t the type to let this go. They will follow you. They already have a search party out, and they won’t let this go until they find you.”
She licks her lips and nods. I stifle a groan.
Why does she lick her lips? God!
“Second. If you report them, their leader goes to jail. There will be trials and interviews and you’ll be in a spotlight. It’s very much in their interest to make sure you don’t repeat what you saw, and they’ll find the most expedient way possible to make sure that doesn’t happen.”
“Alright.” Her voice trembles.
“We’re going to a place that’s not found on any map. You’ll be safe there.”
She eyes me warily. “Does your mother know about this?”
Why does she insist on bringing my mother into the situation?
“No.”
She gives me a look of disapproval I ignore.