Total pages in book: 65
Estimated words: 62966 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 315(@200wpm)___ 252(@250wpm)___ 210(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 62966 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 315(@200wpm)___ 252(@250wpm)___ 210(@300wpm)
“That’s just a part of the business.” Taking my hand, he says, “We’ll unpack your sewing machine later. Walk with me to the beach.”
I’m eager to please him, not because he gave me a gift or is willing to let me study at his expense, but because he showed me he’s capable of true kindness, that not everything in his heart is dark.
We take the path, using the steep steps to climb down. I’m wearing a summer dress and sandals, even if the days are not yet warm. Maxime is still wearing his business suit. On the sandy part, the cliffs shelter us from the wind. Nevertheless, he removes his jacket and hangs it over my shoulders before taking off his shoes and socks. We sit down close to the edge of the water. The sun sparkles on the turquoise surface. A seagull calls from close by.
The smell of salt is stronger here, and the sun is warm on my back. It’s nice. Peaceful. Pleasant. But the weather and the view aren’t alone in creating this feeling of contentedness. It’s sitting beside him in silent harmony. It’s being something other than an object, someone with a purpose in life that doesn’t revolve around my brother and Maxime’s mysterious reasons for keeping me.
“What are you thinking?” he asks in his sensual accent.
I turn my face toward him. His features are as sharp and unattractive as the day we met, but after all these months, I look at him differently. There’s a term for that. It’s called sex appeal.
“Zoe?”
I look away from the face I shouldn’t find handsome in the slightest, digging my fingers into the soft sand. “I was thinking about Damian.”
He covers my hand with his. “What about him?”
“I miss him.”
“He’s doing fine. You don’t have to worry about him.”
I turn my head back to him quickly. “You have news?”
“I’m keeping tabs on him.”
I frown. “You didn’t tell me.”
“It goes without saying, doesn’t it?”
I search the gray depth of his eyes, the secrets he keeps from me. He still hasn’t answered the question I posed on the night I jumped into the sea. “Why are you keeping me, Maxime? Why are you threatening me with Damian’s life?”
His gaze turns flat. My heart sinks. He’s not going to let me in.
Letting go of my hand, he drags his fingers through his hair. “Stop asking questions I can’t answer.”
“Can’t or won’t?”
He rises. “It’s time to head back. I have work to do.”
Not yet. I don’t want this to end so soon. If there’s one lesson captivity has taught me, it’s to make the most of the good moments. You never know when there will be another one, if ever.
Reaching up, I close my fingers around his to hold him back. His eyebrows snap together as he looks at me. I think back to our picnic, to how he pushed me down onto the blanket in the open, and how it aroused me.
“Oh, my little flower.” His voice is deeper, his gaze sharper. “You’re taking a risk showing your lust so openly.”
Yes, it must be showing on my face. I yearn for him to stretch and fill me. Pulling on his hand, I drag him back down beside me. Every time he takes me, I open up my body, making myself vulnerable, but he makes himself vulnerable, too. That’s why he keeps on pushing me as hard as he’s pulling. He’s scared. Just like me. The revelation filters intuitively into my mind as our gazes remain locked in a heated stare.
This time it’s me who shoves him down with my hands on his shoulders. His pupils widen. He resists a little, as if he’s uncertain about submitting to me, but then lets me push him flat onto the sand.
I unbuckle his belt and pull down his zipper. He’s hard already, his cock bulging in his underwear. I don’t look up to see if there are guards on the perimeter of the cliff. I’m too scared to break our fragile eye contact, too afraid he’ll reject me. This is different. He’s always done the taking and set the rules. With the exception of the night of the auction, he’s always taken care of my pleasure, but sex happens on his terms. Even the times I’ve craved release, he’s given it by using the signals of my body to predict and fulfill my needs. I’ve never asked for it, not like this, and it’s so damn scary because deep inside, in a hidden part of me, I hunger for more.
I crave affection.
True affection.
My body is sated, but my heart is so empty. I have no one else to turn to but him. He’s made sure of that. He’s the only man who can give me anything as long as I’m locked up in his house and he owns my life.