Page 19

FOUR

Maxim

“You do realize I am acquiescing under duress.” Seleme eyes me with contempt from the passenger seat of the Bentley. What she doesn’t know is, showing me her defiant, bratty side only makes her sexier to me.

“And you realize, although I care and would hope you would feel otherwise, it is not going to stop me from protecting you. In any and every way possible.” My voice is harder than I’d like, but my instinct tells me it’s what she needs right now. There’s no wiggle room allowed at the moment because I firmly believe if I give her an inch, she will take a hundred miles. “I would be protecting you right now even if your father hadn’t said anything.”

“Sure, you would,” she huffs, and I glance to see the rise and fall of her chest. Her tits rise with each breath, bulging from the corset of her dress as her blonde hair hangs over one shoulder.

This close, I can indulge in her scent. It’s unlike anything I’ve experienced before. I can’t identify the sweet flower, maybe something like oleander, but there’s this exotic twist underlying it, and I’d swear it’s dark chocolate and cherries.

Whatever it is, it’s driving me crazy along with the rush of adrenaline still pumping through my veins. The thought that I could have lost her weighs heavy on my shoulders, and if I ever find out for sure that what happened was intentional, I will use my last breath to find who put her in danger and show them a taste of what hell has in store for them.

Seleme clears her throat as her hands run down the billowy red satin skirt of her dress, and my cock is thick and full imagining the treasure that lies beneath. As if she senses my lust, she flips her head and glares at me, and I do my best to keep my attention on the dark road that leads down our street.

“You’re not my kind,” she blurts out, and I frown and cock my eyebrows at her. “Type. Not my type. Just for the record if you have some idea otherwise.”

I shrug. “Good to know.” It doesn’t matter. She could be telling the truth or lying through her perfect white teeth, but in time she will realize I am her type, and she will be mine, one way or the other. I stop the car at the end of her driveway. “What’s the security code?”

Seleme shakes her head. “I’ll enter it. My father might trust you with my life, but I’m not sure I do.” She pulls the handle on her door, but I grab her arm.

“I’ll come around and open it for you. You’re not leaving my sight.”

She rolls her eyes. “I’ll be right there outside the car. What could possibly happen to me?”

“Not going to happen.”

“Fine. Just be quick, I want to get inside.”

I put the car in park, come to her side, and let her out. She whisks past me on a huff, punches some numbers into the keypad, then takes her seat back in the car with forced indifference as I close the door again and get behind the wheel.

Once inside the gate, I ease the car down the drive and park in front of the massive oak front door that looks like it belongs on a fifth-century Austrian castle. Then I get out, open her door and lead her inside.

“Make yourself comfortable, Mr. Forsythe, but not too comfortable. I’m going to my room to shower and change, then I’m going to sleep. You can wait in the kitchen for my father to get home. It’s through there.” She points to a door, beside which hangs what I could swear is an original Picasso, then turns toward the massive curved stairway and stalks away from me. My mouth goes dry as I watch her ass move under the satin dress as she lifts the front, looking every bit like Cinderella as she takes each step in her delicate crystal-looking shoes.

It’s cold inside the house, almost colder than outside, but the thought of her naked in the shower sends hot blood surging down into my already hard cock. I’m sure she’s deliberately trying to be distant with me, and I have no idea why, but it’s not having the effect she’s going for. If anything, it’s only making me more intrigued. I watch her from behind until she disappears through a doorway at the top of the stairs, then I draw in a deep breath and wander into the kitchen.

Her family may not like to spend money on heating, but it’s not because they’re lean in the wallet. I know from the size of this place, the decadence of the party, and the Picasso hanging in the hall—and the rest of the house from what I can see is just as opulent. You could park twenty Bentleys in the kitchen and dining space. Its cabinets match the carving on the front door, and the surfaces are all white marble. The dining table glitters with crystal and porcelain, as if Gatsby himself, along with a party of fifty, is expected any moment.

My footfalls are nearly silent on the stone floor as I walk to the refrigerator and pull the door open, curious about anything and everything that touches her lips.

Inside, the appliance is nearly empty.

No ketchup and mustard. No bottles of soy sauce or balsamic vinegar. No milk or eggs. None of the staples most people keep on hand.

What I do see only adds to the low hum of confusion that’s building inside my head. In neat Cryopaks are pounds of fresh beef. The clear plastic sleeves filled with blood and red flesh line the entire bottom shelf in neat rows.

The remainder of the refrigerator is sparkling clean, looking like it’s never been used, and when I reach down and pull out the bottom drawer where most of us store our lettuce and tomatoes, the chill I felt entering the house is nothing compared to the shiver that runs down my back now. My muscles twitch and tighten as I extend my hand and trace a finger along one of the small bags labeled beef heart stored in blood, with yesterday's date.

I swallow and close the refrigerator, stepping back and looking over my shoulder, then make my way to the door at the side of the room. I close my hand around the cool brass handle and pull it open to find a walk-in pantry as large as most bedrooms.

Empty.

Except along one shelf at the back, there are boxes and boxes of Cheez-Its. Fifty at least.

I shake my head, trying to process the odd clues about Seleme and her family from my kitchen snooping. I work my way through the dining room. Over the set table hangs a chandelier nearly as large as the one that fell at the party, only it is filled with candles instead of electric bulbs, and I wonder how the hell someone can get up there to light them all.

As I exit the dining room and enter the grand hallway under the curved stairs, I take in a wall of photographs of Seleme and her parents.

I step closer, inspecting them, and a thrill courses through me to see Seleme as a child. As stunning a child as she is an adult. Almost otherworldly in a way, but that’s not what makes me rub my jaw and squint closer at each photo.

Each photo is of one or a combination of the three but no one else outside of Seleme and her parents which seems a bit odd but that seems to be becoming a theme around here.

Her parents are unchanged over the years. There's a shot from their wedding day, Seleme’s mother already round with a pregnant belly but looking not a day younger than she did tonight. Her father is the same, perfectly persevered, and I make a note to ask them if their unique diet is the key to the fountain of youth.

Beef hearts and Cheez-Its. Who knew?

From over my shoulder I hear a thump at the front door. Then a second. Finally, a third, and I pull myself from the photos.

It didn’t sound like someone knocking, more like something being thrown against the door. When I open it, the chill I felt is gone, replaced by a wave of heat as my heart speeds and my protective instinct heightens.

Three lifeless white doves lie on the limestone just outside the entry.

I step out into the cooling breeze of the night and look around. There’s nothing. And the front entry gate down the long driveway is closed, with no cars in sight. I look up at the house and see a light in one room upstairs.

I don’t care that Seleme is convinced there’s nothing to worry about. Dead doves on the doorstep sure feel threatening to me, and the fact that her light is on right above where I’m standing worries me. Anyone could have seen it and used the doves to distract me.

Appropriate or not, I know what I have to do.

I race back inside, slamming the door and take the stone steps two at a time until I am on the second floor and see the stripe of light coming from under the first door.

I stall outside for a moment, wondering what the protocol is here. My Ranger training never prepared me for this kind of urban protection detail, and I’m not sure if I should announce my presence or just kick the door down. If there’s someone else on the other side, I don’t want to give up the element of surprise. I’m on edge. I know at least one person is behind the door, and while protecting her is my top priority, I can’t help feeling like an animal on the hunt.

My prey is within reach, and I only need to make one last move before I can drive my teeth into my victim’s neck and make her understand, good or bad, she belongs to me now.

And she will. Someday, some way, she will belong to me.

But right now, I just need to know she’s safe.

Every inch of me feels alive. More alive than I think I’ve ever felt, and the chill that’s cloaked me since I entered the house is gone. It is definitely warmer up here. By at least twenty degrees. But it’s more than just the temperature.

It’s her.

She’s close, and the warmth comes from deep down. As though there’s a fire sparked in my core that’s turning into a blaze of lust I doubt I can control much longer.

“Seleme,” I whisper, more to myself than as any kind of warning.

I lean my ear against the carved wooden wall as I slip my hand around the knob, but there’s no sound of movement, only a faint rushing sound. I try to tell myself that she’s fine. That’s the sound of the shower. If she was in danger, she would have called for me. What I’m about to do is unnecessary and wrong.

I shouldn’t.

This is her private space.

I shouldn’t.

This is her sanctuary.

I shouldn’t.

We barely know one another.

I should.

Because I know it’s what’s right.

With her name fresh on my lips, I turn the knob and swing the door open, falling into a crouch as I survey the room. When I determine there’s no clear threat, I step into the soft light of the bedroom, close the door behind me and take in the sheer size of the space. It could be a ballroom, with furnishings that look straight out of Buckingham Palace.

Only, there’s a lightness here.

Spots of modern art and playful, bright pillows on the bed and upholstered furniture speak of the girl…woman…that occupies this space.

It’s nearly two thousand square feet, I calculate. A self-contained apartment, complete with a living area, what looks like an office setup, a treadmill and a small kitchenette at the far end.

Everything one person could need.

Along with a blazing fire, this room has the only electric lights I’ve seen so far in the house. Her cat stands on the bed, stretches, then jumps down and slips past me, taking position seated next to the fire, licking a front paw.

I’m about to turn around and leave—and pretend I was never here—just as I hear the rushing water stop, then a moment later, the door on the opposite side of the room swings open, and she walks through.

Seleme’s gaze lifts and locks onto me as my cock lurches upward, my balls drawing tightly between my legs as a feeling of drunkenness overwhelms me.

For a split second, she opens her mouth as if to scream, then a moment later she closes those still perfectly red lips and narrows her eyes.

Her body is dripping. A towel is loosely pulled around her, exposing one breast, her long legs and her face — somehow even more beautiful fresh out of the shower than any other time I've seen her.

Everything inside me pulses, and a voice thunders in my ears, telling me to stomp over, drag her to the bed and sink as deep into her as is possible. To fill her with my cum, over and over, until she knows she is mine, now and forever.

Into eternity. As long as that may be.

“Aren’t you presumptuous,” she says. She runs her tongue over her bottom lip, her eyes lighting up, and I wonder how she keeps that blood-red lipstick on even through a shower. Her skin is flawless in the steamy light from the bathroom, and there is no doubt she is the most gorgeous woman I’ve ever seen.

“Maybe,” I agree. Before today, I would have never walked into a woman’s room without an invitation.

And even in the past, when the invitations have come, I never walked through. It never felt right. I know most men wouldn’t understand, but for me the idea of sex without commitment, without any sort of connection, just never appealed.

But walking through this door on this night, with or without an invitation, is completely right. She may not understand it yet, but I’m committed to her. Absolutely and completely.

Her lips part just slightly, and she tilts her head to regard me for a long moment as I step forward, closing half the space between us as the light behind her creates a glow around her nearly naked body.

I clench my jaw until it pops, trying to restrain myself from rushing to her and licking the droplets of water from her skin, knowing it would barely begin to quench the thirst she’s awakened inside of me.

Her blue eyes widen as they drop down my body, as though she can see the effect she’s having on my dick. A sly grin curves her lips, and I wonder if my fly is down and my damn cock is in full view.

I see something else in her eyes, too, not shock as I would have expected but a knowing. A wisdom that exceeds her age. The connection I feel to her only grows with each beat of my heart.

Her skin is so pale, so flawless, it’s as though she’s a painting, not human flesh and bone. Her cheeks flush dark pink, and I see the fingers on her hand tremble slightly as she pushes her wet hair from one cheek and takes a step back, shaking her head. It’s as if a battle is raging within her.

There’s a rumble in my chest, the same one that’s been near constant since I first set my eyes on her that night, and she meets my eyes.

Her smile grows, as though she’s heard the nearly inaudible sound coming from me, and I wonder if she feels as connected to me as I do to her because she seems to be able to sense what’s happening with me even before I do.

“What is it you want?” Her teeth nip her bottom lip, her gaze flicking down my body.

I hesitate, trying to remember why I came here in the first place, trying to remain civilized. “Something happened.” I jerk my head toward the window. “Outside the front door. Strange. I wanted to check on you.”

“So, you thought you’d barge in uninvited? There’s this thing called knocking.”

“I thought you might be in danger.”

“What a hero, breaking into a woman’s bedroom while she’s in the shower.”

Her words are disapproving, but there’s a spark in those ice-blue eyes. Without warning, I get a vision of her dropping the towel and giving me a different sort of invitation to enter.

“Not a hero.” I struggle to keep my voice even, the way she’s looking at me nearly pushing me over the edge. “But what I am is thorough. I agreed to protect you. I intend to do that, whether or not it makes you uncomfortable.”

Her breathing quickens, her chest rising and falling as my cock turns to steel between my legs. When she steps forward, closing the space between us, her gaze traces down to the floor, then back up, before locking eyes with me.

“Who said I’m uncomfortable?” Her voice is tipped with the tease I see in her eyes, and for the first time in my life, I know I'm looking at the woman to whom I will give my all.

She’s innocent but seductive. A touch of vamp mixed with the sweet girl I see behind those blue eyes and both of them are driving me crazy.

The parts of me I’ve never allowed another to see. Or touch. The thing I didn’t know I was saving until this moment. My own virginity. Not that I ever thought of it as this precious gift to be saved, but now I’m sure I was saving my first time for her.

“Well, then, maybe I’ll have to try harder.” The words tumble out, as if they’re coming from someone else’s mouth, someone who knows how this dance is supposed to go.

I reach out, my hand falling on the one she's using to hold the towel in place. Gently, I pull it away, pressing her palm to my lips, kissing it as the towel drops in a heap to the floor, and I hear a small whimper.

She tilts her head up to my ear as I draw one of her fingers into my mouth, her breath warm and sweet, and her words nearly drop me to my knees.

“I’m not so sure you could get much harder, Maxim.”

My other hand sweeps up her back, clutching a handful of her wet hair and tugging, arching her back into me. Her tits press to my chest as I set my own lips to her ear and reply. “We’re going to find out, my little vamp.” I trace my tongue around the shell of her ear, my pulse pounding. “Right now.”