Page 49 of The Lies of Bryn van Doren

“This’ll only takea moment,” Khalohn informs Atzel as he steps out of the Maybach and smooths his hand over the crisp fabric of his pale-blue button-up. “Ten minutes.”

“Very well, Mr. Morgan,” replies his driver with a sharp nod.

Khalohn looks up at the store front of Clandestine’s Closet, wondering if he’ll have this view again soon, or if he’ll find himself on an indefinite hiatus from the underground bordello. Knowing better than to guess, he heads up the stairs toward the entrance, making the familiar trip through the store. After murmuring the password, he’s granted entrance, and he doesn’t hesitate when Stefano offers him his room key. He barely looks at the man, which is why he misses the careful stare casted his way as he passes by with hardly more than a glance. His mind is preoccupied. It’s been a busy twenty-four hours; and in spite of the hour, on the tail end of his weekend, he’s got more than a little business he needs to see to before the day is done.

When he approaches the door to his room, he forces in a deep breath, steeling himself for his next encounter.Controlis something he needs to keep in his possession. He’s not oblivious. He is quite aware the loft he’s in the process of purchasing, the proposal he’s about to deliver, the speed at which hisneedhas spurred him to act—it is proof thatBrynand the value she holds is enough for him to loosen the reigns he’s usually so careful to keep close. Before he opens the door, he reminds himself that while the choice will behers, the power is stillhis.

He inserts the all too familiar skeleton key, twisting the lock free before he opens the door and steps inside. Out of habit, he doesn’t look for her until he’s locked them inside and discarded the key on the antique table. That done, he casually slides his hands into his pockets before he searches the room. As soon as he lays eyes on her, his fingers curl into fists in a desperate attempt to keep hold of his restraint.

Utterly gorgeous,he thinks, keeping his mouth closed as he pulls in a deep breath through his nose.

Jessica’s hand grips the wing of the armchair fiercely in a desperate attempt to keep her balance as her knees grow weak. Not five minutes ago, she couldn’t sit down, too antsy to remain still. The second she heard him insert his key into the lock, she felt frozen in place—unable to do so much asbreathe. Now, as she watches his eyes take her in from head to toe, her whole body feels like it’s on fire simply from his perusal.

Her hair is loose, styled in big, wavy curls down her back. The lacey robe he’d gifted her a couple of nights prior seemed like an obvious choice. She wears it now over a matching, sheer, black panty and bra set. Remembering how much he liked her strappy sandals last time, she opted for the same heels. Her nails dig into the upholstery of the chair at the thought of his touch, and she can’t help but wonder if he’ll want her to keep her shoes on this time, too. When he doesn’t cross the room right away, she searches his face, wondering what he might be thinking.

She doesn’t have to wait long before he mutters, “I won’t be taking you to bed this evening.”

Jessica’s lips part open, but the “oh”she breathes isn’t audible—the sound strangled by a twisted sense of disappointment.

“It’s no secret I have a reputation here at Clandestine’s—a reputation I’ve marred given this is the fourth time I’ve requested you in my room.”

Jessica drops her gaze to the floor, every word he speaks robbing her of the anticipation which ushered her into the room. For a moment, she’s reminded of the shame that overwhelmed her Friday night. It starts to prickle at the back of her neck, and she wonders what’s wrong with her—wonders why she allowed herself to get so excited or why she feels so disappointed now. She’s so lost in her own thoughts, waiting for him to finish speaking, to put her out of her misery, she doesn’t hear it as he crosses the room.

When Bryn robs him of her eyes, Khalohn comes unstuck from his position at the door. He crosses the room, all the while allowing his gaze to roam over the figure his entire body remembers. Upon coming to a stop, he extracts a hand from his pocket and curls the forefinger on his right hand beneath her chin, easing her face up. She gasps softly, as if she wasn’t prepared for his touch—or, rather, the shock of need that shoots through her at his touch. He doesn’t have to be inside her to recognize her need. He reads it in her eyes. Moreover, he feels it at his groin—in one touch.

“I’m not finished with you,” he mutters, his voice low and gentle.

Bryn rocks toward him, as if she can’t help herself, and he knows he needs to spit out what he’s come to say before he does something he doesn’t have time to see through to completion. He removes his finger from beneath her chin and reaches back into his pocket. At the last possible moment, he shifts his gaze down at the device and opens his contacts. That done, he turns the phone toward her and brings his eyes back up to meet hers.

“I’ve a business proposition for you. The specifics will be discussed tomorrow, one o’clock, at an address I will send you no later than tomorrow morning.”

Jessica’s eyebrows come together in confusion. She can’t understand what he’s saying. Instead of trying to interpret his meaning, all she can focus on is the statement, which sounded more like apromise.

I’m not finished with you.

“Bryn,” Godrik calls, his voice both hard and soft.

It’s as confounding as it is sexy.

“What?” she manages on a whisper.

“I need a way to contact you.”

She jerks, suddenly aware he’s inviting her to put her contact information into his cell phone. Hesitantly, she takes hold of the device. When it’s in her grasp, she glances at it, then up at him, then back at the phone. She recalls Stefano’s warning thatgiftsare forbidden. Something tells her exchanging personal information such asphone numbersis probably also frowned upon.

I’m not finished with you.

Jessica shakes her head, as if to clear it. The only thing that seems to rattle free in her mind is her apprehension. She lies, typing inBryn van Doreninto the appropriate name fields. Then she clings to the truth, offering him her real number before she hands the phone back to him. In one swift, smooth motion, Godrik accepts the device and slips it back into his pocket, his eyes on hers the entire time.

“Tomorrow,” he states resolutely.

“Okay,” she whispers.

He moves so fast, all Jessica can do is suck in a sharp intake of air when he reaches around her, pulling her hair away from her neck to create an opening. Her eyes fall closed and her head tilts to the side involuntarily when she feels his tongue and then his lips as he tastes and kisses her in the sensitive spot just behind her ear. He doesn’t linger. When she opens her eyes once more, he’s halfway across the room, yet she can still feel the tingling sensation of his beard against her skin.

Khalohn doesn’t look back, taking up his key as quickly as possible when he reaches the door. He knows, given the state of his dick—standing at half-mast after a singletaste—if he looks back, he won’t leave.

Tomorrow, he reminds himself.Tomorrow.

---