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I laugh, and Daphne lifts her chin. “Yes.” He looks at me over her head. “You can touch them, if you’d like. If you keep—”
“Her value in mind. Of course.”
Daphne doesn’t quite know what to do with this development. A new tension comes to her shoulders. I take her bound wrists in my hand, then bend down to speak into her ear. “He understands your value. You’ll show him that you know your place, little painter.”
She turns her head and brushes her nose against my cheek.
The night nearly ends here, with me carrying her upstairs in my arms, never to return.
Instead, I frame this feeling and hang it where I can see it every second for the rest of my life.
And then I pull her wrists above her head and hold her in place for my brother.
Will curses under his breath and stalks over to the sitting area. He levers the arm of a chair. I hear a muffled fuck and he spins it around to face us, then throws himself into it like someone’s holding him hostage.
Sinclair drags a fingernail over the bite marks, then over Daphne’s nipple. First one, then the other. She shivers, gasps, but doesn’t tell him to stop.
“She likes that,” I tell him. Daphne makes a quiet whimpering sound. “She’s pulling harder at my hand because she wants more.”
“There’s depth to the texture,” he comments, glancing down to the soft skin at the peak of her thighs.
He traces those marks, too. Daphne strains against the rope but doesn’t move her feet.
My brother nods, and I drop Daphne’s hands. He tests more of her flesh with his fingers now, circling slowly, step by step. He pays careful attention to the marks from the rope. It left its imprint on her waist, and Sin inspects it with the same care he used on the bite marks.
He takes his sweet time working his way down her ankle. Sin kneels down on the floor in front of her.
“You know what he wants,” I tell Daphne. I’m memorizing the way her hair falls over her shoulder. “Show him how you look when you’re enjoying yourself.”
Daphne takes a small step backward, closer to me. It takes her three deep breaths before she can bring herself to move her feet apart for Sin.
I know the moment he touches her because she presses back, tipping her head against me like I’m the wall behind her frame.
“She’s very pink,” Sin says. “Have you ever seen this shade, Will?”
“I’m not coming over to look.”
He wants to, though. My younger brother isn’t bothering to hide how much this turns him on, the fucker. He’s also still in the room.
Sin shrugs. I angle my body so I can see around Daphne. He’s scanning her face for something while he delves his fingers between her legs, stroking her there. “Have you made her sorry? I’d be interested to see how it changed the piece.”
Daphne goes still. I toy with her hair. Run my fingers through it and watch the light play between my knuckles. Sin stands up while he waits for my answer and touches her face. The line of her jaw. Her neck. Her shoulder.
I’m fucked, honestly. Because this game is blurring into reality. She’s my acquisition, but she has a tactile dimension. Every breath she takes is imprinted on my mind. The gentle pressure of her body against mine as she tries to stay calm fills infinite galleries. I’ve never been less able to keep my hands off an item in my collection.
“You want to see regret?” Her hair slips between my fingers.
“No. Apology.”
“For something specific?”
“For trying to escape.” Sin takes her chin in his palm and turns her head one way, then the other. “You could have lost a significant investment.”
“No. I haven’t seen that on this piece.”
“Do you want to?” Sin’s eyes darken for a split second. I know what he’s asking. My little painter is made for what he’s suggesting. I don’t know if now is the moment.
“At some point, yes. Why? Are you interested?”
