Page 21 of Whispered Desire

“Oh my god.” She drops her head in her hands. “Those were my coworkers, and they came to the hospital after you left.”

“They should have been by your side from the start,” I retort. “You gave yourself to me, remember? My job would beimpossible with hundreds of miles between us. In Boston, I can make sure you’re properly taken care of.”

“So… what? I remain holed up at a hotel for the foreseeable future?”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” I scoff as a text vibrates with confirmation for the evening's meeting time. “I’m not stashing you in a hotel. You’re staying at Blackchapel Manor with me. And it’s not like you’re a prisoner. You have two million dollars in your bank account. Figure out what you want to do, and do it.”

“This is too much,” she groans. Her knee bounces, bumping into the door with a rhythmic thump, until I drop a hand over her lap to stop the movement before she bruises herself.

Our driver unloads the trunk and gives Allie’s suitcase to Kurie, the flight attendant, who rolls it to the undercarriage storage. The pilot greets us at the bottom of the short staircase leading into the fuselage, and soon we’re buckled into the large leather seats as the plane speeds down the runway.

Once we’re airborne, I signal Kurie for snacks.

“Have you eaten today?”

Allison’s curious gaze roams around the cabin before landing on me. “Yes, of course.” She says it like it should be obvious, but there’s a shift in her demeanor, and immediately, warning bells go off in my head.

“Let me rephrase: What exactly did you eat? And don’t lie to me.”

She fidgets uncomfortably in her seat, so I reach across the empty space between us to unbuckle her seatbelt and drag her into my lap. It’s an awkward tug of war as she wiggles beneath my hands in protest.

My fingertips dig into her soft love handles hard enough to leave marks.

“Enough,” I command. “If I want you in my lap, then that’s where you’re damn well going to be. Perhaps it’ll make you think twice before trying to lie to me, either outright or by omission.”

She freezes in my arms, her lush body conforming to my sharp angles, and I fight the temptation to forget my plan for food and skip straight to devouringher. It’s been a while since I last fucked a woman—I’ve been too busy brokering the Petit deal to bother with sex—but Allie’s generous weight in my lap, her sweet scent teasing my nose, has me ready to break months of celibacy.

“I’m not your roommate or whoever else required kid gloves. I’m the man you’ve relinquished control to. Ineveryaspect of your life, Angel, and I don’t do anything in half-measures. Something you ought to learn quickly unless you’re ready to face the consequences of disobeying me.”

Despite the warning, one of these days, she’ll do exactly that. It’s inevitable, and I can’t wait to see the red imprint of my hand on her ass.

Today, Allie is too raw and fragile from what she’s been through. She needs time and space to adjust to her new circumstances.

But there’s a limit to what I’ll accept, and Allie lying to me is a hard one.

"A frozen breakfast burrito and coffee."

"And lunch?"

I can tell she doesn't want to tell me. It's in the way she tries to curl into a little ball as if making herself smaller will ever be able to hide her from me.

“Lunch?” I repeat more firmly.

"A handful of trail mix," she mumbles. "I was in the middle of emptying the sink and didn't want to mess up my groove by stopping. Then I got distracted because the dishwasher was already full which meant I needed to put those dishes away first.And... I couldn't bring myself to make lunch. It felt like too much work."

My palm cups her jaw, and the anxious clenching of muscles there is a beacon for my thumb as I gently massage the area. A woman as soft as Allison shouldn't be consumed by tension. Shouldn't be rigid and strained.

She should be languid and relaxed because of how safe and content she feels.

And that’s exactly my goal.

I’ve fantasized about having something of my own. Growing up with six other boys in a strict prison-like environment, it was one of my favorite dreams to pull out and examine before stuffing the desire deep inside.

The problem with owning something—or someone—is the worry over losing it.

Conrad refused to let us get attached to anything. Even the brotherhood that formed between us had to be carefully concealed with apathy and nonchalance.

I don’t have Conrad waiting in the wings to snatch Allison from me, but I do have enemies. All of the Blackchapel Bastards do, yet I took her anyway.

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