Chapter 5
The way her face lit up when we walked in was unreal. Walking through the bookstore with her? Priceless. She radiated, and it was captivating. I couldn’t pinpoint the sensation running through me.
It was like I was face to face with a puzzle that didn’t have a simple solution. I tried rationalizing it, chalking it up to the nature of my profession. I was trained to empathize and connect with people, and I was damned good at my job.
Her pain was something I understood. Even if I made assumptions about the exact source. Normally, offering support within boundaries was enough. With her, I wanted to throw those boundaries out the fucking window.
There was something so different, something that defied anything I’d encountered before. I’d racked my brain all day trying to dissect it. I couldn’t tell if it was her vulnerability speaking to me or the fact that I hated Cameron.
It wasn’t a factor I could ignore, so I leaned into it being the latter option. I wrestled with my emotions the entire way back to the hotel. So much so, I didn’t even realize we’d arrived at our suite. Confusion set in, and I wondered if I’d made the right call.
Maybe I should have done what Ivan suggested and had Bash step in. He would have the clarity that I seemed to lack. But the thought of her lying in bed with him made me uneasy. Hell, jealous, even.
What was happening here? Was I really experiencing true jealousy again over someone I held as closer than a brother? I raked my hand through my hair.
“You okay?” she asked, stirring me from my thoughts. She set her bag down on the table.
“Never better,” I lied as I glanced at her sexy lips. I wanted to kiss her again, to feel her mouth give way to mine.
“So…where is this poetry reading? Are we going there next?” she asked nervously.
A faint grin tugged at the corners of my lips. “It’s actually at the teahouse where we first met. They have several evening events throughout the week. Tonight, it’s open mic.”
Her eyes brightened with genuine interest. “I’ve missed the tea there. It’s my favorite, you know.”
I chuckled softly. “I didn’t. But why don’t you rest and then change? We’ll head out in about an hour?”
She hesitated for a moment, as if something was weighing on her. Then, a hesitant small smile spread across her face. “Alright, is there anything specific you’d like to see me in?”
A pretty pink spread across her cheeks. Taking her hand, I pulled her into the dressing room. She smelled so good. Her perfume drifted up, and my pulse quickened. I pulled the soft yellow dress from the closet.
“This one,” I said, my voice coming out gravely and thick with emotion.
My cock ached to be buried inside her, and I couldn’t get the image of having her long legs hooked around my waist or, even better, around my shoulders, out of my head. I had to stifle a groan as I remembered how good she tasted on my tongue.
“Yes, Sir,” she murmured, bowing her head.
I wanted to scream at her not to call me that, but at the same time it did something entirely wicked to me. My dominant nature was screaming to assert itself. Submission looked delicious on her. It was unlike the night at the auction house.
While her form was breathtaking then, the forced and frightened demeanor to it was missing now. The difference was night and day, or in this case, a difference between willing and not willing.
The vision of her on her knees, dressed in nothing but heels and lingerie, ran through my head. It expanded, and I could almost feel my hands intertwined in her hair as she looked up. Tears would stream down her face, making her mascara run while my cock moved in and out of her mouth.
“You’ll look amazing in this.” My eyes roamed her body once more, taking it in. “Wear your hair down for me, please.”
“And knickers, Sir, would you like me to wear them or not?”
I groaned, not even caring that she could hear it.
I recalled how well her round ass fit in my hands.
If this woman were mine, really mine, she wouldn’t ever wear any, so I could play with her whenever I wanted.
Which would be often. I stupidly wondered if she’d let me. I shook my head to clear my thoughts.
What the fuck was wrong with me? Tell her to wear the goddamn things, my brain screamed. Hell, maybe send Marcus out for a fucking chastity belt while you’re at it.
Her eyes lowered, and she clasped her hands beautifully in front of her. I grabbed her chin and pulled her gaze up. Desire laced her eyes.
“I’ll leave that decision to you, angel. I can’t guarantee what might happen though if I check and find you don’t have any on, so you might want to factor that in.”
Not the right response, Counselor.
Another blush greeted me before she once more bowed her head, shivering. “I understand, Sir.”
“I’ll leave you to it,” I murmured.
Forty minutes later, she stepped out of the bedroom, and my eyes slowly drank her in. The dress was perfection. It flowed around her beautifully. It cinched her waist, emphasizing her full hips, and swayed as she moved toward me.
I extended my arm, and she took it, her breath hitching. As we walked side by side, making our way through the corridor of the hotel, I couldn’t help but be hyperaware of every damn thing about her.
The sweetheart neckline hinted at her sensual breasts. The long, sheer lantern sleeves billowed. With each step she made, the dress’s hem flared, creating an ethereal quality as she moved. Modest yet captivating.
“I was right. You look amazing. I really love that dress on you.”
“Thank you,” she breathed.
We walked out the double doors, and Marcus had the car ready. He handed me the keys and smirked in my direction. Victoria took in the exchange and cocked her head to the side.
“Is Marcus not joining us?” There was the slightest hint of fear in her voice.
I stepped up to her and caressed her face. “Are you suggesting I won’t be able to keep you safe? Think long and hard before you answer that.”
“N-n-no, of cou-cour-course n-n-not. Damn it all to hell. Go away,” she whispered.
I raised an eyebrow in amusement. “Pardon me?”
“Not you, the stupid stutter. I worked for two long, agonizing years to get rid of the thing, and it wants to show up suddenly all these years later. To be fair, it only happens now when I’m really nervous.”
“I make you nervous?” I asked, amused by her confession.
“A little. I’ll let you in on another secret of mine. I’ve never really gone on a proper date before.”
“Seriously?”
“What? You think it’s odd?”
I frowned. Yeah, it was odd. She was married. Did they not go out on dates? I drew in a breath.
“It’s a little strange, but I’m not here to pass judgment. Tonight is about getting to know you deeper. How about we table the discussion of your husband until later?” I paused, realizing my voice had taken on a hard edge and she was withdrawing.
I opened the passenger-side door of the black Bentley and waited for her to climb in before shutting her door. After adjusting my cock, which had made a very obvious appearance at the sight of her in that dress, I walked around to the other side. I climbed in and buckled up, straightening.
A rush of surprise hit me when Victoria’s beautiful face was inches from mine, too fucking close. I had to fight the urge to kiss her, and the night hadn’t even begun. I started the engine, and the car filled with classical music. I put my arm around the headrest and backed out.
“Rachmaninoff’s Second Piano Concerto?” she squeaked and twisted her hands.
“You know his work?”
“Yes, it’s actually one of the more difficult pieces to play. Well, if you have small hands, it is, anyway.” She held hers out in front of her, examining them.
“So you do play the piano. They mentioned it at the auction. I wasn’t sure,” I remarked, trying to keep it casual. One way or another, I was bound and determined to get this woman to open up.
“I don’t play anymore. It’s been a really long time actually, but I used to play daily when I was younger.”
She shrugged and looked out the window, becoming withdrawn almost instantly. She was shutting down on me once more. Why? I desperately wanted to keep her talking.
Trying to keep it light, I teased her. “Yes, because you’re so old.” She gave me a wry look. “Why don’t you play anymore?” I asked.
“It’s a long story.”
She once more took to looking out the window. There was an intense longing inside me that wanted to know every last detail of this long story. Call it the therapist in me.
“You could tell me about it,” I whispered, glancing her way.
“Andrew, even if I wanted to, I don’t think it’s possible to put into words the depths of both my desire and fear of touching a piano again.”
I wasn’t expecting that answer. I doubled down. “I see, so this long story—care to share a condensed version of it? I’m dying to know, especially since you’ve hinted at layers of emotions behind the desire and even fear. You’ve got me on the edge of my seat.”
“Okay, I’ll give it a try.”
She took a deep breath, and I clenched the steering wheel tighter in my hands to keep from taking at least one of hers into mine. The urge to touch her was overwhelming.
“I once played, then I stopped.”
A pretty grin tugged at her lips. It was slight, but there. A flicker of something real, something unguarded. It was the first glimpse of her that wasn’t weighed down by fear. She had a sense of humor. Her tone was teasing, and I wanted more.
“Well played, that’s short and sweet, not helpful in any manner,” I remarked.
“I can’t reveal everything about myself all at once. It’s best to trickle it in naturally. That’s what the experts say, anyway.”
She admitted it so earnestly, like it had never crossed her mind to be embarrassed about it. There was something impossibly endearing about that.
It was refreshing, unfiltered in a way I hadn’t expected. For the first time, she wasn’t guarded or calculating. Just her. And damn if that didn’t make me want to pull the car over and kiss her senseless.
“Experts?”