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I go to push at his chest, but he clasps my hand in his, his other hand stroking my cheek as he kisses me again. “I want to be inside of you,petit.I need it, after so long. Say yes—”
His hand is drawing mine down, down to the thick ridge of him, pressing against his fly, and my fingers unconsciously close around it, stroking him lightly as my head tips back for his lips to skim across my throat. It feels almost impossible to stop, impossible to tell him no. I feel as if I’m being ripped apart, a voice in my head screaming that I have to stop, that I’m being unfaithful to Liam in every way that matters, that I can’t let this go any farther, that in another few minutes I will have gone so far that I can never take it back, and I’ll lose Liam for good.
And another part of me wants to pull Alexandre down atop me, to devour his mouth with mine, spread my thighs for him and let him sink into me, feel the pleasure again of losing myself in him, of knowing that I don’t need to do anything other than please him, anything other than be his, and that will be enough—
I’d run from Liam’s mistake tonight and fallen straight into Alexandre’s arms. It’s either fate or terrible luck, and I don’t know which, but I know one thing for sure. There’s no other woman for Alexandre. There is no one for me to compete with, no one for me to feel guilty over, no one for me to compare myself to. No one else.
What about Yvette?
He doesn’t love her—
The memory burns through me, sharp and cutting, of Yvette with a gun to my head as Liam miserably took his place between my thighs. Her evil smile as she watched Liam make me come, knowing that it might mean my death,hopingthat it would. And Alexandre standing there, letting it happen.Encouragingit even, to a point.
“You betrayed me,” I whisper it at first, then louder. I pull my hands away from his cock, reality crashing in over me as I shove at his chest, trying to push him away from me. “You said you’d protect me, and youlied. You gave me to Liam, you almost let Yvette kill me, you—”
“Mistakes were made on both sides,petit.” Alexandre looks flustered, his dark hair falling messily over his face. It always makes him look younger, more innocent, more like the boy he’d once been before his father’s cruelty had warped him. “I’m sorry, I should never have let you go—but you’ve come back to me, Anastasia. You’re here, now, and I need you—”
“No.” I push at him harder, trying to squirm out from under him, and real fear shoots through me as I consider where this could go. “Alexandre, please, let me up. I don’t want this. Please get off of me, please—”
He pulls back slightly, confusion written across his face. “Petit,no. Don’t do this. Let me love you, let memakelove to you, please—”
“Let me go!” I shove at him, my eyes widening with fear. “Alexandre, don’t hurt me again, please. Please let me go—”
We’re both begging each other for different things. He realizes that, I think, his face going very still as he suddenly pushes away from me, kneeling between my open legs, my skirt tangled around my thighs. He’s hard as a rock, his erection nearly bursting the fly of his pants, but he seems momentarily unaware of it.
“Petit—”
I scramble out of the bed, fixing my dress hurriedly and grabbing for my fallen shoes and clutch. “I have to go, Alexandre. I never should have let you bring me here—”
“No! Don’t go, Anastasia, not again.” Alexandre crawls off the bed, coming towards me, but I back up in a rush, holding my hands and clutching my things out in front of me as if I could ward him off with shoes and a purse. “Stay with me,petit, please.”
“I can’t. I’m sorry.” I bolt for the door, praying that it will be unlocked, and it is. I don’t know if he’ll follow me as I rush out into the hall, but I run towards the elevator, grabbing my skirt up in my hand as I make a mad dash for it.
I don’t hear his footsteps behind me. It’s as if, now that I’ve told him no once again, he’s actually listened to me. I look back once as I slam my hand against the button for the elevator, and my heart drops as I see him standing there outside his door, his shirt still unbuttoned and open, staring after me.
But he doesn’t come after me. He stands there, watching me as I step into the elevator, and he doesn’t say a word. He doesn’t move, and as the elevator doors close, I wonder if that will be the last time I ever see him.
ELEVEN
ANA
Icalled Liam.
There was nothing else I could do. Out on the sidewalk, my hands shaking, barefoot in an emerald green gown that I would have bet cost three months rent on my old apartment, I didn’t have a cent to my name. No cash, not even the card Liam had given me to use. We’d been going out together tonight, so I’d assumed I wouldn’t need it.
Every footstep, every sound of a door opening behind me makes me jump, certain that it’s Alexandre coming down to drag me back up to his room to finish what we started. I can’t even blame him entirely for it—I’d participated, too. For just a moment, I’d lost myself in it, in what we’d used to have, and I’d almost made a horrible mistake.
One that I’m sure I would have regretted forever because it would have cost me Liam.
I don’t know how to reconcile what happened earlier tonight. I’m not sure if I overreacted or if I was right to be upset. I can’t help feeling that heshouldhave known, that he should have thought better of taking me to the ballet, when all I’ve ever told him about it has been laced with pain and hurt.
But the one thing I know for certain is that I shouldn’t be here. I shouldn’t be with Alexandre. Not now—and probably not ever again.
When Liam’s car pulls up to the curb, and he gets out, my heart lurches in my chest, my stomach knotting as he wordlessly reaches for my elbow, helping me into the car. He’s absolutely silent, but I can see the hurt written across his face, and I’m dreading everything that’s to come, everything that I have to tell him.
Was it really just earlier tonight that I went down on him here, on our way to the second half of our date?It feels like an entirely different night, like it happened to someone else. Like I watched it in a movie.
I sit in silence, as far from Liam as I can get on the opposite side of the car, and he makes no effort to reach for me, touch me, or move closer. The quiet of the car feels thick and oppressive. It doesn’t break until we’re all the way into the penthouse, not in the elevator or the hall, not until Liam has unlocked the door and ushered me in, closed and locked the door behind him, and turned to face me.
