Page 29 of Provoked

Her brown eyes twinkle with delight. “I know. And they know all your childhood secrets and you don’t want to be there. So, ergo, it’s neutral enough for my purposes. Something tells me you’ll yell a lot less in that particular location because anyone who overhears you is likely to spread it everywhere.”

She’s not wrong. Just one of many reasons I hate small towns. But maybe if Ingrid sees what a pain it is to be surrounded by people that want in on all your business, she’ll reconsider the benefits of the big city. “Fine. Do we have a deal?”

Ingrid’s smile slowly fills her face. “Seriously? I was prepared to offer pie but if…”

I growl and use the hand she extends for a businesslike shake to pull her down and seize those perfect lips. She tastes of ketchup and a sweetness all her own. “What kind of pie is it?”

“Cherry?“ she whispers, her pink tongue swiping over her full lower lip.

“You aren’t sure?” I tease her before sucking gently on that tempting bit of flesh. Her little gasp reminds me just how innocent she is. Something both protective and predatory swells in my chest. Like a dragon needing to hide her in the back of the cave, but only so he can be the one to make her smile with delight.

“I’m sure,” Ingrid answers sweetly, and I’m no longer sure we’re discussing dessert.

I lead with that anyway. “If you bring me some pie, I’ll tell you a bedtime story.” I leer at her wolfishly.

Ingrid, ever suspicious of my motives, isn’t buying it. “What kind of story?” she demands with narrowed eyes.

“The kind that will have you begging me to let you cum. But if you’re not interested…” I let my words hang in the air.

Ingrid stands and stares at me with uncertainty. She hesitates and then takes one step back. “Fine. But only because I don’t really believe you know any stories like that, and I want you to prove it.”

I lie back with a chuckle when she’s gone. I’m beyond baffled by the way her brain works and now I have to come up with something that won’t shock her too much, but just enough. Maybe I should tell her my own version of the duke? Naw — that guy is a loser, too bound in propriety to seize the sweet armful right in front of him. I’d better stick closer to home. An evil grin spreads over my face despite my eyes being closed. I always love being efficient and this might accomplish two things at once.

Ingrid returns in just a few minutes, preceded by the heavenly scent of cherry pie fresh from the oven. Or at least that’s what I’m assuming, since it’s warm and luscious. I sit up to better do it justice when she hands me a fork.

“Damn good pie, Ingrid,” I congratulate her when I can manage not to stuff the next forkful in my mouth.

She blushes with pride. “Thanks. I’ve booked a flight to Vancouver for the day after tomorrow. Rose says that’s closer than flying into Seattle.”

I nod. “Probably better that way. If Margot is attempting to keep track, she’ll assume you’re staying in Canada and she won’t want to risk customs, anyway. But I still want Fred to take you to the airport, make sure you’re not being followed.”

She frowns. “But that will leave you here on your own. That doesn’t sound like a good idea.”

“I can manage, sweetness. Plus, she doesn’t have any real reason to come for me. Not now that the money is yours.”

Ingrid looks ready to argue, but then she shuts her mouth abruptly and sighs. “I’m going to call and check in at every opportunity, then.”

I smile at that. It’s rather a novel concept having someone worry about me, particularly now that I’m well enough to appreciate it. “You let me know when you’re ready for bedtime. That pie deserves an epic story.”

The look she sends me is full of derision. “You’ve got nothing, Wilde. I can tell because you’re overselling it big time.”

When I don’t yell or retort in any fashion, she suddenly looks nervous. “I’m going to go clean up the kitchen. I’ll see you later.” And she beats a hasty retreat down the stairs.

I’m wary of this new flirtatious Justin. It’s not that I don’t like him, but I can sense the dangerous undertow that could just pull me in and pummel my unsophisticated heart. However, my body wants to lean in eagerly like he’s become magnetic.

So I force myself to tidy up the kitchen with methodical care. When I’m out of excuses and Fred has checked in to say goodnight, I float back up the stairs.

Justin is reading in bed, his glasses perched on his elegant nose, making him even more intimidating than usual despite the casualness of being in bed. His smile borders on a smirk.

“If you’re going to insist on wearing clothing to bed, make sure it provides easy access,” he warns me without looking up from his tablet.

My footsteps falter on the way to the bathroom to brush my teeth. My body floods with awareness and my belly clenches. Ipretend to ignore him and continue, but his words stay on repeat in my brain. It takes me an inordinately long time to decide on what to wear to bed. I have no doubt if he deems it not to have ‘easy access’, he’ll simply strip me without a word. I’m feeling entirely too vulnerable to open myself to that. So in the end I choose a long t-shirt style night gown. It reaches to my knees and I’ve always been in the airing out camp when it comes to wearing underwear to bed. Then I take three deep breaths and open the door.

Thankfully, Justin has already dimmed the lights, so my flaming cheeks are less obvious. I hope. I still don’t really believe he can deliver on something hot enough to make me beg. I mean, come on, I’ve been reading steamy romance from far more experienced storytellers for years. But it may be excruciating watching Justin attempt it.

Lying stiffly in the bed, I wait. I can sense Justin hesitating. Then he reaches for my hand and brings it to his mouth, placing a soft dry kiss on my palm. “Relax, Ingrid. This isn’t meant to be torture. At least not the kind you need to dread.” His voice is dry and full of self-deprecating humor.

Some of the tension flows out of my bones. “Then why are you waiting? If it’s that easy, surely you would just dive right in?” I ask sweetly.

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