Page 39 of Sinful
He runs his fingers lightly over the back of my hand sending a shudder through me. “I never said you were.”
“You imply it every time you move my hands to where you think they should be.”
“Don’t you want me to touch your hand again, Lucy?”
That name again. I wish he’d stop with it. I hate being called Sin, but Lucy is personal. Much more personal than I want him to be.
“Answer me, Lucy.” He puts his finger under my chin and angles my face up. He wants me to look at him. For once, I’m glad I can’t see. If I had to look into his eyes, I wouldn’t be able to speak. “Do you want me to never touch you again?”
Mortification fills my soul. “No,” I admit.
“That’s what I thought.” His hand leaves my chin and I hear him moving away. My mutinous heart drops. What is wrong with me? He’s sick. They all are, so why do I want his touch? Why do I want anything from him? Oh, yeah, because I’ve spent my life being starved of human affection and this is like my first ever meal. I remember the brief flash of light I saw last night after he made me come and a thrill of excitement hits my heart. I saw something. Nothing tangible. Only light, but I actually saw it. Maybe that’s what my heart wants, and it’s turning my desire for sight into desire for Dacre? I’m so confused.
I jump, dropping the toast from my hand when he moves my hair back from my neck. He’s managed to move round the kitchen island and behind me without me hearing. I’m losing my touch, or I’m too wrapped up in the thoughts racing through my mind to hear what’s going on around me.
He drops a light kiss on my neck. My whole body wakes up. I lean into him, willing him on. He snakes his hands up under my pajama top and cups my breasts as he pushes his chest into my back. My head lolls back as he circles my nipples and trails kisses round my neck to just below my earlobe.
I let out a low moan and rub my thighs together. My body is no longer my own. He’s taken a hold of me again. I almost fall back off the chair as he pulls back abruptly.
“Could have left some for me.”
Nix’s voice has me sitting up straight. The desire that was coursing through my body stills.
“We weren’t doing anything,” I lie.
His footsteps are heavy as he strides across the room. When he next speaks, he’s right next to me, taking up the space that Dacre has just vacated. “I was talking about the toast, not your filthy body. You were always so up yourself that everything was about you. I see that nothing’s changed.”
I shiver from the malice in his voice. “But seeing as you like to share yourself amongst my friends, you won’t mind sharing your breakfast, eh?”
He leans across me and, I assume, grabs the toast that Dacre had made for me, because I hear him crunching it in my ear.
“Don’t be a dick,” Dacre says. “We were just having breakfast. I can make more toast.”
“Don’t need any now. Sin has let me share hers. We like sharing here, don’t we?”
I hate the implication. I haven’t shared myself with anyone. HIs friends took, I didn’t give. Not that I expect Nix to understand the difference.
“Tonight is the last night in the old house,” Dacre says, sounding much lighter than I feel. “I’ll finish putting everything in storage and bring Mercier back with me tonight. Do you think you’ll be able to handle that?”
“Yes!” Both Nix and I speak at the same time.
“I’m sure we’ll have lots of fun, won’t we?”
I swallow back my fear. A whole day alone with Nix is more terrifying than anything else that’s happened this week. Dacre said he’d be back with Mercier. I don’t know if that’s a comforting thought or if it makes it worse. Will having them together mean they’ll behave and leave me alone or will they sort out their shit and gang up on me? One on one, they are terrible. All three of them together is a horrifying thought. I remind myself that they didn’t touch me when they were last together. It was only when Dacre and Nix left that Mercier touched me. And Dacre only seemed to notice I existed a couple of nights ago. I’m probably worrying about nothing. I wonder why they are packing their old house up? I want to ask, but I daren’t. I’m sure they won’t tell me, anyway. I finish the cereal and head to the TV. I need something familiar. A world where no one wants to hurt me, and no one tries to control me. I press down on the remote and find the channel with the shows I like. The familiar voices don’t drown out the panic I feel about spending a day alone with Josh. I press my thumb into my palm three times and it calms me slightly. It’s only a day. Not even a full day. I can do this. I can get through a day with Joshua Nix. Whether I can do it without him finding ways to hurt me is another thing entirely.
32
NIX
The whole world is looking for Lucinda fucking Waldgrave and I have her. I have her to do whatever I want with her, and yet I can’t even look at her. She’s inside watching TV while I sit on the terrace like she’s the one that owns this goddamn place. Okay, she’s not watching TV, but she’s listening to it. It’s really fucking hard to reconcile the world’s most famous party girl with the woman in there. I can only see the back of her head from where I’m sitting, haloed by the shit she’s watching. Some crappy soap opera that only bored housewives watch. The Sin I knew never watched TV, let alone the soporific shit she’s listening to now.
She had the entire world wrapped around her finger. Adored by the masses for no more than looking like a goddess on the covers of magazines. A princess. But she was never a princess. Not to me, and yet I fucking adored her. Then I hated her and then I obsessed over her. Now I don’t even know what to think. She’s no more a party princess than I am, and she’s not the girl I used to know, either.
I run my hands through my hair and try to calm down. I can’t think when she’s around. Even now, when she’s nowhere near my personal space, she takes up the entire fucking room. She’s like a ghost that silently walks around, but it’s impossible to keep my eyes from her. I hate her. I really fucking hate her to the darkest depths of my soul, but I’m caught in her orbit, the way I always have been. I pull out a cigarette and twirl it between my fingers. The urge to light it up is strong, but I don’t. I’ve not spoken to her once in the hours since Dacre left. I’ve spent the entire morning on the terrace.
I cast a look back at her. She hasn’t moved. She never does. It’s like the people in the TV are real to her. It’s fucking weird. I down a shot of brandy I found in Nix’s father's drinks cabinet. Nix will blow a gasket when he finds out, but if I’m not going to smoke, I need something to take the edge off.
Dropping the cigarette, I pick up the remote control and begin to twirl that instead. Frustration is eating me up, and I know I’m going to do something I’m going to regret, even before the idea fully forms in my mind. I switch the TV off to see what she will do.
