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“Sure.” Nope.
“Executed.”
Double no.
But I shrugged—feigning nonchalance. Not that he could see it in the dark. “Sure.”
He chuckled. “You’re not a good liar, princess. But thank God, you’re not. Because if any of that were true, I would need to tell your dad what a fucked-up lowlife he is, you know—apart from being a fucking Irish mobster—and what a piss-poor job he’s done in shielding you.”
I snapped my mouth shut and stared at him.
Somehow, in a very twisted way, he sounded gallant and protective despite his worldview being slightly misogynistic.
Also, my dad might’ve shielded me from those things but not because he cared.
Exactly the opposite, really.
“So, back to the bondage thing,” I said.
“Yes, back to that.”
“Hemp?”
He chuckled. “It’s soft on the skin.”
I nodded. “And we all know that’s the main concern if you’re tying someone up for work.”
He laughed now. “Okay, cards on the table. Sexual preferences. Bondage, yes or no, princess?”
I paused for a second. Being tied up was something I’d enjoyed. But that was before. I had no idea what would trigger my memories even though they never tied me up—they didn’t need to since I went willingly.
“Eyes on me.”
His dominant tone of voice cut through my spinning thoughts. My eyes snapped to him.
“Calm your breathing.”
I did as he told me and gained back control.
“How did you know?”
“I heard your breathing pattern change,” he said.
“I actually don’t know,” I whispered.
“Don’t know what?”
“My sexual preferences.” My voice cracked. “I don’t know anymore.” I looked through my window at the blackness outside.
He grabbed my hand and intertwined his fingers with mine, then squeezed. We rode the rest of the way like that, holding hands, which was strangely comforting.
And sweet.
And weird.
And definitely not fake.
What exactly was happening between me and Alex? Or within me, to be more precise?
