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“Next time, you won’t come to me,” I decide. “I’ll come to you.”
“When?” And then, as if she thinks twice about her boldness, she lowers her head again. “Just so I can be ready.”
“It might be a better idea to keep yourself ready for me. When I decide to come for you, it will be a surprise. You’ll be given no warning. Be ready. I don’t react well to disappointment, Rowan.”
She nods. “Okay. I’ll be ready for you.” And damned if the thought of that doesn’t make my cock stir as I leave her, striding down the hall past rooms now much busier than they were when I first came upstairs.
It will be another busy night, and a profitable one at that.
And I know even before I reach my office that the rest of my evening will be spent thinking of her.
7
Rowan
Three days after my night with Lucian, and my thighs have finally stopped aching when I walk.
The shame, though? That hasn’t gone anywhere. If anything, the more I think about that night, the more ashamed I feel. There was no reason I should’ve gotten off on that. It doesn’t matter that my reaction was completely involuntary. I still feel like my body betrayed me, and I can only guess what he must think of me.
I even tried to stop it from happening, but it was no use. I still can’t figure out what that says about me. I should’ve been disgusted, horrified, and on some level, I was. I couldn’t tell how much he said and did was for show and how much was sincere. Maybe all of it was. Maybe the real Lucian is the one I saw in that little room when it was just the two of us.
The worst part is, I can’t even pretend I don’t want to see him again.
It makes no sense. And I’ve tried to figure it out. God knows I have. No matter how I try to distract myself with day-to-day life, memories pop up out of nowhere when I least expect them.
His hand around my throat. Smacking my ass. Forcing me to suck his dick, practically smothering me, almost choking me.
I should want to shove those memories away with both hands and turn my back on them.
So why does it always get me a little wet when I remember the way he handled me? Why does my heart start to race?
One thing is for sure: I’ve never taken such a level of interest in my personal grooming. Not while I was single, anyway. Even Eric didn’t expect me to be clean-shaven all the time, smooth and perfect. Hell, when he wanted me, it didn’t matter what condition or mood I was in.
Now, every day since I left the club, I make sure to carefully shave all over. I wear my best underwear, too, even if it might end up getting ruined. I’ve made sure to do my hair and put on a little makeup, even if I don’t expect to do anything more than sit around my crummy little apartment. Waiting. Wondering.
For all I know, he’s getting off on this, too. Knowing he has this control over me, that I bathe, groom and dress with him in mind. How much longer will it be before he comes for me? I have no idea, just like I have no idea what he’s going to do when he does.
Another fantasy like the one we acted out the other night? Maybe this time, he’ll break in and pretend to be an intruder. I guess he’ll want me to fight back again.
I can’t spend all of my time thinking about this. There’s so much more I need to do. At the top of the list? Finding a new job. At least there’s no real urgency now—the extra ten thousand is a nice cushion, a much bigger cushion than I’ve ever had. There’s more money in my bank account right now than there’s ever been at one time. I can’t shake the feeling that I’m rich, even though I know I’m not really. People like Lucian are rich. I only have a nest egg.
I would like it to stay that way. It would be good to keep a lot of that money where it is, just in case. So I never have to put myself in a position like this again, with somebody else holding all the cards. Controlling my life, my decisions. I won’t be weak anymore.
I remember so clearly being little and sitting at the breakfast table with my mom, with her spreading the classified section of the newspaper in front of her and circling jobs that looked promising. Even back then, people were starting to post jobs on the internet, but we didn’t have a computer. We couldn’t afford one.
Now I can sit on my sofa and scroll through ads for jobs using my phone. It’s funny how the world changes. I’m sure if Mom were still here, she would refuse to upgrade her old flip phone.
