Page 105 of A Secret and a Lie
Her pupils widen a fraction, her fingers abandoning my chest as she backs away. I step forward, playing right into her cat-and-mouse hand, and she smiles, but the expression doesn’t quite meet her eyes.
Before she leaves my space entirely, my hand encircles her wrist, stopping her. She spins back to face me, and I gesture toward the kitchen sink with my chin. “What happened in there?”
“Oh,” she starts, her fingers brushing over her mouth. A rare blush pinkens her neck and touches her cheeks as she bites her lip, shrugging one shoulder sheepishly. “I got up early so I could make you breakfast. Waffles and eggs. The kind that aren’t freeze-dried or powdered. I got interrupted before I was able to start the waffles, but that’s probably for the best.”
“Gen,” I breathe, taking a step closer, pulling her into my body.She remembered my cravings.
Truthfully, I haven’t had scrambled eggs since I got out of the Marines, but I don’t tell her that. Had they not ended up charred, I would’ve enjoyed every bite because she made them.
“I forgot just how bad I was at cooking. It’s been a while since I was in the kitchen to do something other than reheat food,” she admits, her nose scrunching as she steps back again. “But now I remember why I’ve never managed to make anything remotely edible.”
I chuckle. “Go get dressed, and I’ll make us some breakfast and tidy things up here.”
“Thank you.” When she smiles at me this time, it’s genuine. “Oh, I also left you something in your study.”
She winks before disappearing, piquing my curiosity. I move to turn on my state-of-the-art coffee machine. With a steaming mug of coffee in hand, I stride to my office, deciding to make the waffles later.
The stark-white piece of paper seems to glow like the full moonagainst my dark mahogany desk. Dropping into the wing-backed chair, I reach for the pages that are stapled together in the corner and smile.
It’s a completed list that’s familiar to me, but this time, it’s not my own preferences that stare back at me in black ink, but hers. I scan the items, noting all the things she’s into and even a few soft limits.
It’s not until I reach the second page that I find her first hard limit. She’s marked any variation of group activities in red and my heart aches a little, thinking of what she went through.
When I reach the fourth page, entitledPraise and Degradation,my brain perks up. She’s indicated that she’s interested in nearly everything on the list. The next page is filled with various types of impact play that she seems to be into as well, and I think about how much fun it’d be to touch her this way, implementing the things we both crave.
I can’t help but read this as a permission slip of sorts. It must mean that she’s finally accepting of us, of me…right?
Genevieve
Once again in the wolves’ den, I prowl past the hostess and the dark wall where the sconces cast an eerie, moody glow. Beasts beneath me on the food chain gather in small packs to gossip and laugh, filling the bar with a low, warbling hum that drowns out the ambient music.
Prey of varying sizes and shapes take stock of me as I make my way to the bar, their gazes prickling my skin. While the news of my arrest and subsequent release has quieted, I’m not naïve enough to think these patrons aren’t aware of the apex predator now sitting among them.
Maybe I should’ve taken Corinne up on her offer to be the one to do this tonight, but I couldn’t stand the idea of putting her in danger. Besides, my bloodthirst is something I must quench myself.
After speaking to Henry, it took me two long days of planning and digging for information. The nights have been late and the mornings early, getting organized and prepared for this evening.
Then there’s those little scars Ford is sporting. Something about them troubles me, but I can’t quite figure out why. All I know is I’ve spent far too many hours thinking about them.
I’m anxious to get this over with and get home. Not just because I’ve begun to look forward to eating the food Ford leaves for me, but because I miss him. I’ve come to love the sight of hisbriefcase resting on the bench in the foyer and the way the penthouse always seems to smell like black pepper and tobacco, though I’ve never seen him smoke. I even like the rock music that blares from the gym in the wee hours of the morning.
Not wanting to wake him, I haven’t slept in his bed since the night of the gala, and I crave the way his body nestles perfectly against mine. What’s worse, I’ve hardly seen him long enough to ask him about the kink list. We never got to have that breakfast together that morning, since he was on the phone with an investor before I left. Even more tragic, we haven’t been able to act on any of those things I’m growing desperate to experience with him.
Exactly where I was told I’d find my target, I perch myself on the vacant barstool, and purr, my voice like warm chocolate. “Is this seat taken?”
His head flicks toward me, the white flecks in his salt-and-pepper hair like lightning streaks amid the warm light as his eyes visibly widen when recognition sets in. I’m not surprised to learn that Ford’s intel was right, especially after discovering that heownsthis bar.
According to the paper trail of his receipts, Scott Moorland is at this bar every Tuesday at five o’clock, sitting in the same spot, drinking the same cocktail. I’d need a cocktail, or ten, if I were Percy York’s Chief of Staff, too.
“I know who you are,” he states by way of greeting, his tone carrying an edge.
My lips curl, but before I can respond, the bartender appears. I order an extra dirty martini with four olives and turn my attention back to the man next to me. “Not in the same way you know Audra, though.”
I savor the way his throat bobs, memorize the flare of his nostrils, and delight in the manner in which he tosses back the rest of his Negroni at the mention of one of my girls.
It was actually Marcus who suggested combing through my client list to confirm he wasn’t on it. It wasn’t until I found aSeth Moorewho met with Audra twice seven years ago that I realized I had anace to play. According to my records, they only had penetrative sex once. I have no idea what they did during their other meeting, but it wasn’t sex, and he paid for the time. No one’s required to share with me what transpires. Since Audra doesn’t work for me anymore after having moved back to Lithuania, I can’t ask her. Although, I don’t need to. RemindingSeththat I know his dirty little secret is enough.
This city is a ruthless jungle. The top dogs are consistently eaten by hungrier, more unscrupulous alphas; the hunters become the hunted as the rules evolve and the cycle repeats like a wheel that never stops spinning. The thing that’s constant is the threat camouflaged against the jungle floor.
