Page 72 of Moonlit Thorns

“What does this mean for us? You said we were only going to have sex in the basement, but that’s obviously not the case now. Does that mean it’s open season?”

At least she didn’t ask me what it means for us as far as a relationship goes. Being each other’s fuck buddies and sometimes-confidants is one thing, but a relationship… no. It’s too risky.

“What do you want it to mean?” I may be the one who controls the scene while we’re fucking, but it’s not like she gets no say.

“You know what I want. I want to be able to sleep with you whenever and wherever we want.”

I hold back a laugh because she doesn’t want to say the word fuck, though she says worse when she’s heated. “Just sleep?”

She throws her hands in the air. “Fine, I want you to fuck me. I want you to tell me what you want me to do, and I want to please you by doing it. I want to be your little pet.”

It takes every bit of my restraint not to lunge at her and take her right here after that statement, and based on the grin on her face, she knows what she did.

“Fine then. Our physical relationship is no longer just for the basement. Satisfied?”

She sets her food aside and crawls toward me. “Not yet, but you can help with that.”

This woman will be the death of me. I’m going to become an addict if I don’t practice some restraint.

I gently push her back with a hand to her shoulder. “Eat. There’ll be plenty of time for that later.”

She pouts but does as I ask.

While we eat in silence for a few moments, I ponder the change in the rules and wonder if I’m making a mistake. We’re already fucking, so what’s the big deal if we do it more than we planned? It’s not as if we’ll be spending every night in each other’s bed.

Sleeping together feels too intimate. It implies more than I want this to be. Sure, she slept in my bed last night, but that was due to extenuating circumstances. It can’t become a regular thing.

The lines are already blurry enough. I don’t need to take an eraser to them.

Chapter

Thirty-One

ANABELLE

Inever would have thought that a nightmare would bring Asher and me closer together, but ever since that night, he’s been impossible to resist.

We’ve been fooling around in his room, in mine, in the library—wherever the mood strikes us—but we never spend the night together. Not since the night I found him in the throes of a nightmare and woke him. When he confessed the hell he’d been through as a child.

I tell myself it’s fine for us to sleep apart, that I knew what I was getting into, but my heart doesn’t seem to get the message.

There’s so much more to the man than the front he puts on for the world. I hear him on the phone when he’s doing business, and he’s every bit the hardened billionaire encased in a fortress of steel. But there’s so much pain underneath, a drive to protect those he cares for, a thoughtful and considerate man. Just last night, he took me around the library and showed me where some of the books he thought I might really enjoy are. When he fucked me up against one of the bookshelves, it was just an added bonus.

Today he had to take his private plane to Voss Enterprises’s head office. I guess something was going down that he needed to be present for. No big deal. Except that it feels like it is.

I miss him, and I feel miserable and alone here without him. Which is not good. Because I cannot get attached to this man. He’s become the only thing that brings me happiness here at Midnight Manor, and when I’m apart from him, the minutes feel like hours.

I need to get my head right because I’ll either be leaving here when my contract is up or when he tires of fucking me and sends me packing back to the staff quarters. Either of those outcomes will be unbearable if I allow myself to develop feelings for him.

Perhaps a little distance is a good thing. I’d considered not leaving the manor on Saturday night to visit my family because Asher is due back around dinner time, but I think maybe now it’s better if I do.

Friday evening, I venture to the kitchen where the homemade fertilizer I found in Asher’s mother’s book has been sitting for a day as her handwritten note in the margins instructed. Mrs. Potter thought I was mad when I asked for all the ingredients to concoct it, including apple cider vinegar and a copper penny.

But I’ll try anything. I really want to bring this rose back to life for Asher.

Once I’ve borrowed a watering can from the grounds crew, I venture into the maze. I don’t know the way to the center by heart, but I can find my way there—eventually. The same with the way out.

It takes me the longest it ever has tonight, though, because I’m carrying this heavy watering can. When I reach the center, I set down the can to catch my breath. The sticky summer heat clings to my exposed skin, and I take the elastic band from around my wrist and pull my hair back into a ponytail.

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