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“I’m trying to picture you as a kid,” she said. “It’s hard. You have a very serious way about you.”
“Is serious okay?”
“Well…” She pretended to think. He tore off a piece of bacon and threw it at her. It felt like progress. “Serious is okay,” she relented, smiling. “But kids shouldn’t be too serious.”
“I was responsible,” he said. “My dad was not reliable, and he’d leave for periods of time. I kind of became the man of the house.”
“You said he was French? Did you ever live there?”
“For a summer when I was seventeen. He went there on one of his stints and God knows why, but I asked to go with him.”
Lola put down her fork. “I had the impression you grew up without much—like me.”
“I did. He was an artist, and he insisted he couldn’t work in America, so he’d go back to France when he could. My mom didn’t travel. She’d get on his case so he’d pick up a job for a few months, but he could never keep it. Basically we lived on her secretary’s salary.”
“He must’ve really loved you guys to keep coming back when he didn’t want to be here.”
Beau looked up from his plate. “I ask myself that a lot. Why he even bothered coming back.” He cleared his throat.
“He probably missed you,” Lola said, chewing. “It’s nice to be missed.” Her heart sank as she said it. She was probably being missed that very moment. She had to look away from Beau, who was the reason she hadn’t been missing Johnny as much as she’d thought she would.
“Have you been to Paris?” he asked, calling her back.
“No,” she said. “Vegas is the farthest I’ve been from here.”
“Perhaps a trip is in order.” He drank his orange juice, looking at her over the rim of the glass.
She shrugged. “Not right now. This is a chance for us to turn things around.”
“Us?” he asked, furrowing his brow. “Me?”
“No, me and Johnny. Owning our own business is a lot of responsibility, and I don’t want to mess it up. I—” She paused at the shadowy look in his eyes. “What?”
“I’ve already told you,” he said. “Tonight is about you and me only. If I were your boyfriend, would you keep bringing up your ex?”
“I just thought since we were—”
“The rules haven’t changed just because we screwed.”
Lola’s mouth fell open. It was as if a switch had been flipped from a few minutes earlier when they’d been as playful as two new lovers. “Do you realize how you sound?”
“Inform me,” he invited with a gesture of his fork. “Please.”
“Like I’m your puppet or something. I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone so controlling.”
He shrugged. “You didn’t seem to mind my control earlier. In fact…I think you said it was not repulsive.”
Lola stood from the bed and crossed her arms.
He looked up. “What?”
“Don’t throw my honesty in my face like that. Do you think that was easy for me to say? That I enjoy being with someone other than—”
“Don’t you dare say his name,” he said, setting down his silverware.
“I’m sorry, Master,” she said. She was pushing him, and from the look on his face, he didn’t like it. She was too worked up to care. “Why don’t you just go ahead and tell me what I should say.”
“Is it too much to ask that you don’t talk about your boyfriend when you’re here with me?” His body locked up as his spine straightened.
“Fine. I won’t talk about him.” She instinctively took a step back. “Doesn’t mean I won’t be thinking about him.”
“Now you’re deliberately testing me. I don’t want you talking about him, and I certainly don’t want you thinking about him while you’re in my bed.”
She pointed a finger at him. “You think money gives you the right to do anything. You pay me, and I’ll do whatever you say. You know what, though? You can’t control my thoughts.”
His face closed, just as she’d expected would happen if she threatened his control.
“How does that make you feel?” she prodded.
He got up from the bed. “Lola, I’m trying to be patient—”
“Muzzle me all you want,” she muttered, moving to walk around him, “but there’s nothing you can do to stop me from thinking about him when I’m with you.”
“Where are you going?”
“I need a minute.”
He blocked her with his entire body. “You don’t get minutes unless I give them to you. Understand?”
She bolted to the right, but he caught her waist from behind and lifted her. They struggled against each other until Beau had her front pinned up against the window. He grabbed at the lapels of her robe, pulling it open and pressing her bare breasts up to the shockingly cold glass. One hand went over her mouth. He pushed his pelvis into her so her hipbones met the window.
“Take it back,” he said in her ear.
Cityscape lights poked holes in the night. Her back was warm with Beau’s heat, but her nipples hardened with a chill. She whimpered, unable to speak.
“If I take my hand away, not another fucking mention of him unless I bring it up.”
She nodded. He released just her face.
“People might see us,” she said, ashamed by the obvious thrill in her voice.
“I don’t give a fuck.” He pushed up the fabric of her robe and entered her from behind.
She moaned, so completely filled with him.
He stilled. “Tell me the truth. Were you thinking of him earlier?”
She gritted her teeth. As if she could think of anything else when Beau had her where he wanted her.
He thrust once. She braced herself against the window with her palms. He grabbed her wrists and held them there as he slid in and out quickly, impatiently. “I’m going to bend you over and spank you so fucking hard if you don’t answer.” It was not an empty threat. Before she could even begin to formulate a response, he let go of one of her arms and slapped her ass.
“What are you doing?” she cried. It was a slap intended to punish her, and that made her thighs quiver outside her control. She was going to come already.
“Answer me, or I’ll turn that sweet, white ass flaming red, Lola. Tell me the truth.”
She sucked in a breath. The threat did nothing but make her wildly hot. “What do you want me to—? I-I love him—”
He smacked her again, harder this time, with a swift, delicious sting, right on the outside curve of her behind.
