Page 90 of What You left in Me
Instead of asking the questions swirling in my brain, I stare at my plate and pretend green beans are fascinating. Something is breaking between them… something more than the usual frost. I want to ask what happened. I want to know why his voice sounds like it’s made of glass. I don’t ask. The grown-up in me wins for once.
Richard clears his throat. “Ariane, did you ever fix the filter?”
“I threatened it with litigation,” I say. “It’s considering a plea deal.”
He smiles. “Good girl.”
Finn’s eyes flick to me at that. There’s heat and something darker there, a private echo of last night that makes my pulse trip. I take a sip of water to calm myself down. Now’s not the time to fantasize about my stepbrother.
We finish without incident, which is a miracle and a disappointment. After, I help clear plates and wipe the table and arrange leftovers in what Mom calls “an efficient manner,”which I translate as “don’t be a raccoon.” I know Mom hates it when I do anything that the servants can. It probably reminds her of the time when she used to promise me that we’ll someday get rich and have as many servants as we liked. But clearing the table has always been the chore I enjoyed the most. After Mom married Richard, I was grateful for the boring chores I didn’t have to do thanks to the many servants Mom could finally afford. But this? Clearing the dishes and looking at a clean table after everyone created a mess has always felt therapeutic. It makes me feel like I can clean up any mess.
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Upstairs again, the house returns to its evening routine: lights dimmed, voices lowered, the TV murmuring something British two rooms over. I stand in my doorway and listen to the quiet choreography of other people’s lives. The anklet is a small weight but enough to be a reminder of claim. I touch it, just once, like one might touch a locket and keep a vow warm.
I’m not brave enough to knock on his door first. Not tonight. But when the soft, deliberate knock comes to mine, two taps, a pause, the rhythm of a secret, I don’t hesitate.
I open my door and there he is. He looks perfect with his tousled hair and black sweats. Finn doesn’t bother shutting the door as he enters my room and before I know it, he crosses the distance between us.
Immediately, Finn grabs my hips, positioning me in front of him. His breathing grows harsh as his eyes travel over my unsexy ensemble, raking me like claws.
He frowns and I can see the thoughts flickering across his face like storms. He slips a hand into his back pocket andwithdraws something small and black. When he turns, a lacy G-string dangles from his middle finger. My throat works as I gulp.
“Stand by the bedpost.” His voice drops even lower, intention gritted into every syllable.
I don’t move, fighting too many complexities to command my legs. Trying to find out what he’s do if I defied him.
Grinding his teeth, he grabs my arm and tugs me down the bed until I stand in front of a white lacquered bedpost. “Put your arms above your head.”
He’s so close; a heavy cloud of sandalwood and spice buffets me, turning my knees to water. I stretch, arching my back against the pillar, deliberately forcing my breasts to brush his chest. He startles, one eyebrow flicking up, before reaching up and securing my wrists with the G-string. The lace bites into my skin, but it’s nothing compared to being tied with ropes. At least my feet are on carpet now, grounding me.
Finn lowers his head, leaning his length against mine. His hips press hard, dominating.
I tilt my chin, positioning my lips for him to kiss me. He never closes his eyes, and his gray irises make me feel as if I’ve wandered into a dark forest where dangerous men take advantage of lost maidens.
I swallow hard as he comes within a fraction of kissing me. But with a crooked smile, he pulls back. “You want me to kiss you, slave. That’s not how this works anymore.”
Reaching again into his pocket, he pulls free a pair of silver scissors. Fear widens my eyes. I know he wouldn’t hurt me but…What the hell?
“You don’t get to choose what I do to you. You want me to kiss you. I won’t. Not today.”
I moan, then flinch, wishing I could slap a hand over my traitorous mouth. God, Ariane, way to sound desperate. I don’t want to be tied up and used. So why do I ache for it? Shit. Maybe everything with Julian broke me, turned me into some danger-seeking whore. But that’s a lie. The only thing that happened was Finn. He controls my body like a puppeteer… I have no will to disobey.
I close my eyes, trying hard to tap into calmness. Anticipation swells instead. If I don’t stop these desires now, I might slide down a slope so slick I’ll never climb back to normalcy.
Maybe I was never normal. I purse my lips, feeling lost and confused. How can I want two things at the same time? Roughness and gentleness. Both mock me with agonizing temptation.
Finn takes my chin between thumb and forefinger, hypnotizing me with his gaze. “Don’t let your thoughts get in.”
I shake my head, dislodging his fingers. “What gave me away?”
He rolls his shoulders as if reining himself in, dragging his energy back to heel. “I sense you in ways you can’t even begin to fathom.” Toned muscles stand out beneath his black t-shirt and I can’t look away from the bulge straining his trousers.
“Now, stay still and present.” His face remains stoic and cool as he advances with the scissors, running the cold kiss of metal along my neck, dipping to my throat. His breathing quickens as the blade nicks my collar.
With perfect care, he cuts my t-shirt right down the center. Each snip undoes me, thread by thread, until I’m sure he’s opening my chest, revealing all my secrets. I hold in a gasp as I look across from him. The door is wide open. Anyonecould come. The thought only ignites me, building torturous anticipation between my legs.
Everything he does means something. Finn relishes in playing me with unsaid words, every piece of him a mystery. He swallows when he snips the hem, splaying it wide, showing bare breasts and my rapidly breathing stomach. With perfect control, he runs the pinpoint of the scissors from my lower lip, down my neck, between my cleavage, to the top of my cotton shorts.