Page 94 of One to Watch

“You did the same thing today! All that talk of sex, letting your friends think I was another addition to their little club. You say this isn’t a game to you, but you’re treating it like one, Luc—like I’m a chess piece instead of a human being.”

“Yes, of course! You are a prize, and I must have you.” He grinned and tugged her hand, pulling her close—she shoved him away.

“You’re not listening!” She exhaled in exasperation.

“Bea, yes I am.” He pulled her back in. “I am sorry I made Asher jealous. After Ohio, he walked around every day with his little smirk, like you are his already. So I let him know, he is not the only one who has your affection. I did not think he would cry to you about it.”

“Don’t blame this on him,” Bea chided. “He was really upset.”

“Alors, perhaps I was too.”

Bea frowned at him. “What did you have to be upset about?”

“Now who is not listening?” Luc asked.

Bea regarded him skeptically. “You were jealous of Asher? Seriously?”

“In Ohio, I met your family, we talked with your brothers, I am thinking, Wow, this is good, yeah? Then I see you in tears, you are running off to the woods with Asher, you are more passionate with him than you have ever been with me.”

“And you wanted to get back at him.” Bea shook her head, understanding. “But Luc, why would you do it by revealing something that could make me look bad? Especially since you were the one who came to my room to talk—I didn’t invite you there.”

He took her hands in his, lifted them so he could kiss them. “For this, I am really sorry, Bea. I did not think he would say something to you, let alone in front of the cameras. That was a little cruel, no?”

Bea sighed—she hated to admit that Luc had a point.

“And today?” Bea asked. “You weren’t trying to make me feel—I don’t know. Envious, or inferior, introducing me to those beautiful people you’d slept with?”

“Bea, these are just my friends,” Luc entreated. He put her hands behind his neck, bringing her body to press against his. “I promise, they are not who I was imagining in my bed today.”

“Oh?” Bea felt her body warm as his lips brushed her cheekbone, her hair. “And what makes you think I’d get in your bed after the way you’ve behaved?”

“Mm,” Luc murmured. “If I’ve behaved badly, perhaps you should punish me.”

“What?” Bea looked up at him, not sure what he was getting at.

“You are angry,” he intoned. “With me, with Jefferson, with others, maybe. You feel we have all the power. The control. But in this show, Bea, you are the one controlling me—controlling all of us.”

Bea shook her head. “It doesn’t feel that way to me.”

“Really?” Luc looked surprised. “You do not think of us, sitting in that mansion, or the hotel in Ohio, or the riad in Morocco, hours on end, dying with boredom, always talking about you, thinking about you, waiting to hear the next time we will see you? And then after we do, it is excruciating, replaying every moment, wondering what could have happened differently, if you will decide to let us stay or send us home. We are all enthralled to you, my Bea. And what is worse—I find that very much, I like it.”

Bea laughed uncomfortably. “Luc, be serious.”

He pulled her closer, and she pushed him back, but he pulled her in again, stronger—the struggle sparked with an erotic charge.

“I am serious.” His eyes bored into hers. “It is so frustrating, watching you push this power away. I want to shout at you to take it, to feel it, to use it. To remember that you’re the one in control.”

“How?” she asked, her voice small. “How do you want me to use it?”

He held her gaze for a long moment, then took her right hand and brought it to his cheek, slowly moving his face against her palm so she could feel the heat of his skin, the rough scratch of his whiskers.

“Hit me,” he whispered.

“What?!” Bea yanked her hand back. “You’re insane.”

“You have never done this before? A little slap?”

“Um, no, Luc. I haven’t.”