Page 21 of Auctioned

“James.” Her rough, breathless voice is going to ruin me. It’s as if she’s still kissing me.

She won’t win. I take another step away from her, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand.

Her taste remains on my tongue. Highly unlikely that it’ll ever go away.

“James. Please.” Ophelia comes closer.

Her expression is torn. Eyebrows lowered. Forehead scrunched.

Her swollen lips part as though she were going to say something.

I have no use for her words. I see what’s going on in her head; I see it perfectly clear.

She hates what we’ve done as much as I do.

We both resent how much we liked it.

“Please.” Her chest expands. Is she breathing in hope? She fucking shouldn’t. “We can leave here. We can have that, this, somewhere else. You and I.”

She’s too close. Ophelia raises her hand.

She absolutely shouldn’t.

In a moment, her fingers will brush the skin of my jaw.

I slap it away.

She tries again. I’m done fucking around, catching her wrist like the bastard that I am.

We stare at each other, fire burning in our eyes.

A million miles between us won’t lessen my need for her, it seems like. The realization is a blow to the chest.

It’s a rude wake-up call.

Because after tonight, I’ll have to let her go. For the sake of the plan.

For her sake.

I won’t risk her life because she fucks so goddamn well with my head.

A line has to be drawn between us.

My hand around her wrist feels dangerous. Like I might snap it.

I fucking might. Break her to pieces just to put her back together again.

No.

“Lose your clothes.”

“James, if this is about Topher.” I’m curious, so I listen. Fuck me, I listen. “He’s a good man, deep down. Your only son. I get that you want to please him, but surely, he doesn’t want to do this, right?” Her free hand gestures at the cell. “Not really. Or he might, but you could talk him out of it.”

“Was I unclear, Sonnet?”

“Sonnet?”

“I said.” Ignoring the slipup, I stalk forward, forcing her back until the backs of her legs hit the bed. My lips are inches from hers, my eyes watching the terror in hers. My hand wraps around her throat. “Lose. Your. Clothes.”

---