Page 7 of His Pretty Little Duet

The fire in my abdomen billows into my veins.

A tickle caresses the inner flesh of my cheek, a gentle stroke that moves up and down inside me, the action and sensation forcing a tiny mewl from my throat. A zap of awareness rushes between my legs. I curl in, squeezing my eyes tight, squeezing my thighs together, fending off the warmth making me want to rock my body.

The Q-Tip leaves my cheek.

His hold on my jaw softens. Fingertips caress my sore cheek muscles in a soothing way, making small circles around the harsh dips his thumb and forefinger left, completely replacing the discomfort with... I don’t know, but I think a soft smile plays on my lips at the sensation, an action so incongruous with the weight of indecency in the air.

“Good girl.” In my dazed state, I barely hear him say, “Stand. Go back to your seat.”

I place my palm in his, the size comparison instantly dragging me back to a place of sanity. And while I have it, I use his hand to stand and then drop it quickly, as though something may happen if I feel its warmth a moment longer.

Needing to shift my focus, I grab the sandwich as I slide onto the cold iron chair. Taking a huge bite, I swallow the bacon and chicken, along with the feel of him inside my mouth. Chewing, I ignore the way my body prickles and swoons beneath his gaze.

“Does Dustin know about you?” he asks, his voice taking on a gravelly timbre, a more virile edge. I shake my head, still chewing to avoid anything else. “Fawn,” he warns. The demandfor my words, not a simple nod, sails through the air between us and rattles my resolve.

I swallow chunks of the sandwich, finding his gaze again. “No. He doesn’t know.”

“Why now?”

Dread finds a place amongst the fire in my stomach. I wince, glancing at my ankle boots to avoid the perfect blue gaze scrutinising me so thoroughly I feel bare. “That’s private.”

Silence prickles the air between us, and when I look back at him, a slow smile moves across his lips, both daring me and warning me not to be disrespectful. “I asked you a question, Fawn. I expect the right answer.”

Shifting, I work my lower lip between my teeth. I don't want to lie. I'm a terrible liar. But I don't know him. And he's not the person I came to see... I decide to tell him a half-truth, admitting, “I’m pregnant." A heavy exhale leaves me, and I meet his eyes, seeing his jaw respond with the slightest of tics. I'm not sure why, but that twisted truth seems to annoy him. And I don't like how I now care about how he perceives me.

Not that it should matter what he thinks.

Not wanting to make this about money, I follow this half-truth, pressing, “I don't want money. I just thought that maybe Dustin would want the baby. His grandchild."

Another tic from him.

Another sinking feeling for me.

Why do I care?

Why do I care that he's now looking at me like a silly girl for having gotten knocked-up, for not having a home, for being so vulnerable?

The quiet is painful, stretching between us for too long. I can’t handle it. With a nervous chuckle, I blurt out, “I can’t keep it. I’m eighteen. I’ve got very little money. Nowhere to go. I'm... I just can't look after a baby."

I'm not made of the right stuff.

It's not a lie. But it still hurts. I feel my eyes pool, my composure slip, but keep them on him as he asked, keep them submerged in his calculating blue gaze that is somehow unreadable no matter how intensely I feel it tunnelling beneath my skin.

“Good,” he finally says, and I gape at him. “If you’re Dustin’s daughter, then you will stay here.” He stands, smoothing down his black tie. “Until Dustin arrives to collect his property, that is."

As he turns to leave, I shoot up. “Wait. Here? In this house? How long for?”

“Logistics, Fawn. Your father is a busy man. A...” He considers his words. “Tiresome man to track down. Bolton will show you to your room.”

Then he disappears through the grand French doors to the mansion that is now my place of residence, flanked by his emotionless henchman.

Fuck me.

Not what I was expecting. I want to exhale with the utter relief I feel about having a free place to sleep for a few nights, for being that much closer to my dad and answers, but I'm also acutely aware that nothing in this life comes without certain expectations.

And kindness usually has a cost.

Fawn

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