Page 46 of We Are the Match
“I—I am sorry,” she says, a hint of tremble in her voice. “You must know. I had no idea he would ... well, I suppose it doesn’t matter that I didn’t know. But I think I have bought your safety now.”
I arch an eyebrow at her. “And how is that, exactly?”
Her flush deepens, her eyes flicking downward. She clears her throat once and then again, studiously avoiding my gaze. “We should talk about how to approach today’s meeting with Hana,” she says, evading my question with much less grace and tact than she usually commands. “I have a basket of specialty imported fruits and cheese and—”
“Helen.”
Her body reacts to the sternness in my tone, whether she wants it to or not.
The blush has crept to the tips of her ears now. “I told him we were having an affair.”
The laugh that rips out of me is so sudden my wounded hand aches at the sudden jar. “Well done, Princess,” I tell her. “And are we?”
“I—are we—what? It’s a good cover,” she says rapidly. “And we will need to plan away from prying eyes and ears.”
“Show me, then.”
Helen twists her hands together, still flustered, but there is that look in her eye I first saw the night of the party. Stubborn, all the way through. “Are you asking if I am committed to our cover?” she asks primly.
“I’m asking if you mean it, yeah.”
Mine,the hunger in my chest says.All mine.
“So ...” Her eyes dart to the bed, and she clears her throat, but that determined look remains in her eyes. “I have never consummated a business partnership in quite this way,” she says finally, but there is steel in her eyes—and something playful beneath it, something hungry and excited. “But I am happy to prove my commitment to this partnership.”
I grin at her, wolfish and just as hungry. “Get on the bed.”
Helen, who had looked so at ease and in control earlier, stagger-stands before she realizes she has done it. “Very well,” she says, shruggingoff her dress and looking back at me defiantly, as if expecting I will call this before she does.
“I have never been afraid to own what I want, Helen,” I tell her calmly, letting my eyes sweep her head to toe. She is everything. Perfect round breasts and full nipples, smooth curves that narrow at her waist just a little and then widen at her hips, forming a perfect V—
“And—what is that?” she asks. “What is it you want, Paris?”
“You, Helen,” I tell her. “At my mercy.”
The negotiation about what she wants is a longer conversation—with a lot of fumbling on Helen’s part. But she obeys me, Helen who is used to being obeyed.
I guide her onto my bed.
“Are you—are you sure—” Helen looks so embarrassed to be asking that I almost reconsider my plan.
“Very. You will tell me ‘red’ if this gets to be too much,” I tell her as she settles back on my bed. “‘Green’ means good, continue. And I’ll tell you the same.”
Helen’s eyes flicker to my bedside drawer, cracked open. “At least make it interesting,” she says, before blushing at her own boldness.
“Oooh.” I stretch the word out longer, looking down at her without bothering to mask my hunger. “I should have guessed you liked it rough, Princess. Fine, then. Wrists, too.”
Helen gapes at my words, face furiously red.
“What is it?” I know my grin is mocking, but it is unsurprising that the princess is both inexperienced and intrigued. “Are you telling me youdon’twant this?”
“I—no,” Helen says, and then I forget everything else because she unclasps her bra and lies back on my bed, holding her wrists out for me to restrain. “So long as you know how to tie a good knot.”
She is delicate and dangerous and cruel. She is afraid of me and drawn to me. She is letting the power slip into my hands, and it is a heady, endless thing.
Almost enough to make me forget whose daughter she is.
Almost enough to make me want to stay.
