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Stopping in front of me, he looks down at my face and I feel bad for already having removed my makeup. The Bryce’s don’t like seeing me without it, they say I look basic like the rest of the tarts but Bram doesn’t seem to mind. He seems to appreciate knowing that my lashes aren’t naturally black but a dark brown and that my lips don’t have a naturally red color but a rosier one.
He seems to appreciate the real me.
I feel my pulse race when he takes a handful of my hair and lets the tresses fall between his fingers and something that looks like a mixture of anger, longing and relief crosses his face. The fuzz on the back of my neck stands when he touches me like this and I feel my chest heaving.
If anyone walks in on us like this...But I don’t want to stop him.
“You’re the most beautiful girl I have ever seen, dove,” he says in a low voice that sends tremors down my spine. “Never, ever cut your hair.”
“Why?”
“Because it would kill me.”
My throat feels dry at his words but I whisper, “You like it that much?”
Bram nods and his eyes are so grave and something seems to be swirling in them. Like he’s withholding a secret. It’s a secret that I want to know too but I’m scared to ask in case it would make him cagier.
“Then I won’t cut it,” I assure him and he grabs my brush.
“Will you brush it for me?” he asks and I look at him in surprise but I take it from him and start pulling it through my hair in quick strokes. “Slower,” he requests and my hand freezes, before it starts moving again, slower this time.
Putting his hands in his pocket, he walks over to the edge of my bed and sits down. It creaks slightly under his weight, makes a sound that I with my tiny frame have never been able to make and I throw an anxious glance at the door.
But it stays closed. For now we’re alone and it’s just the two of us. My eyes go to Bram again and he looks at me as if I’m the reason why life is worth living. If I hadn’t already been sitting, it would have slashed me by my knees.
This feels and is forbidden but it’s too good to give up. The rest of the house is moving around, I can hear Miss. Pattie sing to herself downstairs and the maids and butlers are running around, getting everything ready before bed.
None of them know that Bram is up here with me. And none of them know just how bad I want him to stay. I don’t want him to withdraw to his own chambers. I want us to be together and the notion that we can’t makes my heart feel heavy.
Taking a steadier grip of the brush, I move it slowly through my hair like he asked me to. It calms me down but it excites me too because Bram is the one watching. His eyes have gone hooded and he seems unable to stop watching.
I sit straighter, stroking my black mane to the side and it falls over my breast and exposes half of my neck. Bram leans forward, fidgeting a little and one of his legs is juddering like he’s getting restless. The air between us has changed, it’s not just loaded with lust and possessiveness anymore but it’s sultry and magical.
It feels like that time in his chambers when the clocks seemed to have stopped like the two of us had gone lost in some fairy land. My limbs begin to go drowsy but I don’t want to stop with what I’m doing.
It seems to have an effect on Bram, similar to opium. I know because Mr. Bryce and his friends sometimes smoke it in his office and when they come out they look dazed and tranquil, like their worlds have finally fallen into place.
Is that what I am to Bram? Am I that piece of the puzzle that has been missing his whole life? I swallow because I can’t be. He barely knows me. Why would I be so important to him? I push my hair over to the other side, continuing with the brushing and I’m starting to feel tender. Mostly between my thighs and I’m growing so aroused that I’m scared it will show through my thin robe.
The window is still half open, cold air blowing into the room and it makes me pant little clouds whenever I breathe but my temperature is running hot like there’s a raging fire somewhere close. I look at Bram and he’s opened up the two first buttons in his shirt.
When he leans forward, the veins on his neck protrude, his eyes shining like two bottomless pits that want to see me disappear into him.
“I want you,” he rasps, his voice strained, “I want you so fucking much that I’m afraid of what I might do if you don’t let me have you.”
6
Bram
I want her so much it tortures me. Everything about her lures me in, thatmidnight hair, those silky legs that despite her height seem to go on for days; her pinched waist that I want to hold on to when she rides me sweetly.
My dove has been caught by my hand and I don’t intend on letting her go. Not now when I finally have her.
The girl stop with the brushing and her hair is now shinier than glass and I watch her swallow and her delicate, pale throat undulates.
“Forgive my crude language,” I say and she nods, hesitantly biting her lip and I try not to stare at her nipples that harden against her robe. It’s somewhat cold in here and the right thing to do would be to close the window.
But there’s a feverish tint to her cheeks that tells me she wouldn’t want me to.
