Page 29 of Stockholm (Angel of Mercy #1)

The Keeper

S he’s letting me lead her.

We’re back at her doorway before I realize that she’d held onto my hand silently, following me like such an obedient little thing. She’s probably so preoccupied by that bombshell of a dinner that she hasn’t recognized the wolfish energy rolling off of me.

Jesse was acting out for shock value, given it was her first day being exposed to whatever relationship he’s building with Bo. Probably thought shoving her face in it would be funny.

Or it was a test. If he had expected her to clutch her pearls, that was not the reaction she’d given us. Squirming in her chair, she’d watched, hazy-eyed as her best friend was made to crawl on the ground to Jesse’s enthusiastic praise.

She liked it, there was no question. And now, I want her to acknowledge that fact.

I drop her hand and place mine on her lower back, leading her inside her room and shutting the door behind us. She turns to look at me expectantly, her expression hard to read.

“You can start seeing Bo during the daytime,” I offer. “He’s been asking constantly, but as long as you two stay inside, I’ll start leaving your room unlocked in the morning.”

If I expected her joy, I’m let down. Her face scrunches. “Why has Bo been downstairs with you this whole time while I’m just locked in this room?”

I shrug. “It’s different. Bo’s not going anywhere. ”

She scoffs, crossing her arms. “That makes no sense. Why would you believe him? We’re both here against our will. Yet he’s being treated like the guest of honor while I’m just shoved to the side.”

“Like I said, it’s different . I think you can see Bo is happy.

That wasn’t the same case with you, right?

You were angry, understandably so,” I tack on when her eyes narrow.

“You wouldn’t have just sat on the couch, reading a book is all I’m saying, okay?

It would have been a problem. I’m just trusting that you aren’t going to do that now. Am I right?”

“That’s a lie. You treated me differently from the start. As soon as we got here, he was getting coddled by Jesse while I was getting totally humiliated by you.”

She’s working herself up and I can’t understand why.

Things were good downstairs, she had a good time with her friend and I’d thought this would be a turning point for her.

“Why don’t you cut the shit and tell me what your problem actually is?

Don’t play dumb like you don’t know why Jesse is treating him differently.

You can see he’s obsessed with him, right?

” I say, motioning for the door. “That’s not a game, he actually feels that way.

And your friend is fucking into it, before you start calling it some kind of Stockholm shit. ”

She rolls her eyes, but looks at the floor. Her arms are crossed across herself like she’s about to cry, looking at her feet so that her hair starts to fall over her face. I don’t like it. I want to see her expression.

“I just don’t understand why you’re doing this.

What’s the point? Why are you keeping me here?

” she starts, a tear falling and she wipes at her nose, sniffing.

“You’re trying to hurt Eric. So what, you keep me here…

forever? Jesse just keeps Bo forever? Or do you just wait for my husband to offer you some money and throw us back to him like nothing ever happened? ”

The way she calls Eric her husband pisses me off.

“Money’s not my motive, Emma, or I would have robbed the fucking bank when I took you.

Making your husband suffer is what I want, and I’m enjoying every god damn day of it.

He’s a piece of shit, an evil fucking monster and he deserves everything I give him. ”

She snarls, an intensity to her expression I haven’t seen yet, but I like it. I want to provoke her, I want to see more of this. Her unraveling will only come if I push her as far as I can.

“Maybe he’s not perfect, maybe I don’t know him as well as I thought I did.

But this is crazy, to think you’re not a monster yourself for what you’ve done to me.

I never hurt you, and you ripped me away from my life out of spite.

Don’t you think that makes you a bad guy too?

Don’t you think that might make you worse than him?

Even if he did cheat on me, he would never force anyone to do anything they didn’t want to, unlike you—”

My hand is on her throat, pushing her back against the wall with a force I should have reigned in.

At the last possible moment, I regret the impulse and thrust my other hand to the back of her head to cushion the impact.

Once she’s pinned, I exhale slowly, my chest shaking with the effort of calming my heartbeat.

When the red haze starts to fade, I study her wide, fearful eyes, and gently brush her bangs out of her face.

“Angel. Angel ,” I croon, knowing how much she hates the nickname from me. “I never said I wasn’t a monster. I never said I wasn’t the bad guy. You should fear me. But—” I get right in her face, our eyes an inch apart. “You don’t know your husband. And I’m fucking tired of hearing you defend him.”

She swallows, but attempts to keep her voice strong. “Then tell me! Tell me why you hate him, so I can know what’s going on. So I can try to understand. Please .”

The word reverberates from my ear straight to my dick, and my eyes fall shut for a moment, soaking it in. It makes me so fucking hard to hear her plead with me, and I want to tease her until she’s a mess in front of me, begging for more of whatever I’m willing to offer her.

“What will you give me for it?” I ask, trailing both hands to hers and gathering her wrists to pin above her head.

Her breaths turn shallow at the change in position, watching my face as I press her to the wall with my hips, forcing her to feel how hard she makes me.

“What’s it worth to you to know the truth? ”

Her voice is breathless when she responds. “I don’t know. I don’t know what you want from me. I want to know, though. I need to know.”

“That’s right, you do need it,” I confirm, locking her eyes with mine and nudging one knee between her legs.

Her sharp intake of breath shoots through me and I grin.

“Just too innocent. If it makes it easier for you, pretend I’m forcing this.

You can pretend you have no choice but to give me what I want, yeah? ”

She’s biting so hard onto her lip, I’m surprised it’s not drawn blood. I want it. I want her mouth for myself. I want that nervous habit to rise in her whenever I’m playing with her head.

“Kiss me,” I say, looking down at her. “And I’ll tell you what you want to know. That’s all you need to do.”

Her mouth falls slightly open, and I can see the conflict playing out on her face. I love it. I love to be the cause of her moral dilemma. I want to take her simple little worldview and shatter it to pieces, leaving nothing behind but her need for me. Her desire to please me.

“I—I don’t...” She’s shaking her head but watching my mouth. She’s not aware of the tiny roll of her hips against my knee, pressing closer and closer to her center. She’s been desperate since dinner, the ache inside her surely growing stronger.

“I know, Emma. You don’t have a choice,” I say, and lean down, taking her mouth with mine.

For a moment she’s frozen, but when my tongue flicks across her bottom lip, a small noise escapes her that makes me feral.

I want all of them, every sweet fucking whimper and moan. I need them like I need air to breathe.

Her hands still as she hesitates, going from their place on the wall to brush along my side, like she wants to touch me but can’t make herself decide to do it. I grind against her, forcing a gasp, and she finally locks her hands onto me.

Maybe to hold me back. Maybe to try and keep me from doing that again. But maybe to keep me from stopping.

The reason doesn’t matter at all.

Her kiss feels like I’m robbing an angel. Corrupting a saint. I revel in the way her hesitance slowly melts away, and her hands start gripping my shirt instead of forcing space between us. I get off on how she opens up for me, her tongue joining mine, experimenting. Playing.

I don’t want it to end. Releasing her wrists, I reach down and grab under each of her thighs, pulling her up to wrap her legs around me.

“Oh, fuck,” I moan when her hot center meets the place my cock is straining against my pants. That’s right. Jesse had so hilariously not placed any underwear in her bag. All of her is open and accessible to me.

Opening the door, I carry her down the hallway to my office, one hand hooked around her to hold her to me, the other tugging at her hair, pulling on it then holding her head in place as I devour her.

And she lets me, she’s not focused on where we’re going or what I’m doing with her. She just gives and gives.

She lets me take.

I kick open the office door and grab the file from the desk, releasing her mouth as mine moves to her chin, her jaw.

I bite her earlobe and she cries out, the prettiest noise I’ve ever heard.

Her head falls to the side as I carry us back to her room, sucking on her collarbone as her hips start to roll against me.

My self control slips away with each step, the need to fuck starting to become more important than my plan.

Fuck , no. Not right now. I try to pull back once we’ve reached her room. My need for friction overpowering everything else as I lower her feet to the ground. Her face flushes again, as her swollen lips leave mine.

She takes a step back, trying to slow her breath.

I stare at her for a few moments, fighting back that fucking haze that’s screaming for me to bend her over the dresser and fuck her until she’s screaming.