Page 28 of Final Cost

“Oh?”

“She’s very grateful.”

Now he looks bored. “She is?”

“You saved her from the trouble and expense of putting her house on the market. It was very kind of you.”

I feel a surge of inner satisfaction as he leans forward, eyes narrowing. Now I’ve got his interest in this conversation, which is exactly why I invoked the K word. And I can’t say I didn’t know what I was doing when I took my sharp little stick and poked the bear. “Did you forget the first rule of dealing with me? I’m not kind.”

“Then why did you do it?” I say, knowing there’s only one answer he can give.

“You know why,” he says, giving it.

I shrug. Scoff. Pause what I’m doing to myself below. “You think I’ll forgive your cruelty because of a real estate transaction?”

Crooked smile from him. “Not at all. But I plan to make it impossible for you to continue hating me at full strength.” He pauses. Absently runs his tongue along his lower lip as his attention drops to my pussy. “Come here, Ms. Scott. Think twice before you sayno. Unless you want me to use this on you.”

He reaches back and picks up something to show me. Oh, God. It’s the riding crop.

You’ll be proud of me. I hesitate for a full half a second. Just to make it look good before I stand, climb down from my bench, walk across the way and up to his bench, where he’s already dropping the crop and reaching for me, his hands rough. He palms my face, trying to bring me down for his kiss, but I’ve got to deny him one thing he wants tonight. My pride demands it. So I jerk my head back, turning it away and keeping my lips well out of reach. He scowls, but there’s plenty of the rest of me available to kiss and touch and he does. He presses his face to my sweaty neck, tunneling his hands through my damp hair and biting my shoulder’s tender curve. He gets a hoarse cry from me in response. He drags his hands down my back and over my ass, thighs, breasts and hips. He wraps me inside the slick strength of his arms, holding me there while I slide against him and scratch my nails up his back hard enough to leave welts.

He makes an incoherent sound and surges to his feet. The next thing I know, he’s behind me, bending me over the bench and wedging one of his heavy thighs between mine to widen my stance.

“You want me to take it?” he says, and he sounds raw now. Guttural. He drags his lips down my back and zeros in on my ass, biting a good hunk of one of my cheeks with his sharp teeth. I cry out. In pain. In delight. Then he shifts lower, pressing his face between my two halves, nuzzling there. Licking this virgin part of me and resisting my scandalized efforts to squirm away. My breath turns strangled as exquisite nerve endings I never knew I possessed spring to life and demandmore. And that’s before he finds the crop again and delivers a stinging smack to both halves of my ass that elicit shrieks of shocked delight from me. “You want me to take it so you can pretend you’re not dying for it just like I am, Ms. Scott? But you’re dying for this crop just like you’re dying for this dick to fill you up, aren’t you? You want me to fuck you as long and hard as I can, don’t you?” Two more stinging smacks. “Answer me.”

“Yes.” Who is that sobbing? It’s notme, is it? “Yes. You know I do.”

“Glad you’re being honest. Good girl.”

He makes a sound. Half growl. Half roar. All victorious. Then he tosses the crop aside, reaches between us, grips himself and thrusts deep inside my slick folds. He’s not gentle, thank God. He fucks me hard, sharp and fast, our wet bodies, slapping together and my breast jiggling in my face as I brace for dear life with my palms on the bench. There’s some hidden spot in me that he knows and finds every time we do it doggy style like this, as unerring as some French pig rooting for truffles. The spiraling pleasure crowds into my most sensitive spot and hovers there for one endless plateau before violently overflowing. I don’t come so much as get consumed by a cataclysm of strangled cries, spasming hips and blinding ecstasy. He’s right there with me, stiffening and shouting my name as he wears himself out and eventually loses his rhythm as the pleasure overtakes him. At some point we sort of collapse together, still joined, with me bracing my hands on the bench and him holding me tight around the waist with his head resting on my back. We’re drenched and breathless. When it’s all over, he pulls out and uses his towel to swiftly wipe me down and dry the wet spot between my legs. I submit to his tender ministrations, wrecked if not ruined, cursing myself for letting him cum inside me when we’re not technically together. I should have denied him that, too, but it never crossed my mind.

We don’t look at each other.

I make the long walk back to my side of the sauna and wrap up in my towel. Then there’s nothing left for me to do other than watch him fold his towel, lay it on his bench and resume his seat. His face is still. Downcast. Unreadable.

I dismally wonder if he plans to sweat himself away into nothing—if I’m hot, sticky and uncomfortable now, he’s got to be dying— but that’s none of my business. I can’t forget that. I need to retreat to the safety of my room. He’s letting me go. He’s giving me that gift. Too bad I’m too foolish to take it.

“The interview.” My voice barely works. “Were you able to stop it?”

It takes him forever to answer. “No.”

I nod, edging closer to the door, but never quite getting there. “This is bad, isn’t it?”

“Yep,” he says, his hard gaze fixed on some indeterminate point on the floor in front of him.

“Lucien…”

“Let’s talk.” His head comes up. I’m in no way prepared for the hopeful vulnerability in his expression. “I need to explain why I did what I did. We need to get through this.”

There it is. No manipulation for once. Just a straight request from him. Exactly what I’ve always asked him for. And God knows we need to address the elephant in the room before it tramples us both. But it’s late and I’m hot and tired. I’m still too hurt and way too angry. And after the way he just fucked me, I know I’m not thinking clearly. I certainly don’t have my defenses in place like I should. Worst of all, my throat and eyes are burning and I’m afraid there’s a volcanic eruption of tears in my near future.

So I dodge and weave again. I’ve gotten pretty good at that lately. “Not tonight.”

“When?”

I open my mouth and the truth zooms out so quickly there’s no time to block it. “When I can trust myself not to sob through the whole conversation. I keep hoping I can hide how wrecked my heart is. So you’ll never know how badly you hurt me.”

He makes a broken sound. His features twist. His chest heaves. “Tamsyn.I’m sorry.”

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