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Pride fills me. Something about Riggs saying that to me hits me hard. "Thank you."
"You do. So why do you think you haven't gotten an agent yet?"
"Who said I don't have one?"
He arches his eyebrows. "Do you?"
I wince. "No. I need a demo tape. I've been saving, but it's expensive if you do it right. And you definitely want to do it right so they take you seriously."
He studies me for a while, then says, "I'm sorry about your father."
"What do you mean?" I ask.
"He drove you away. I'm sorry you got a bum deal in the father department."
I shrug, then yawn again.
Riggs kisses me on the forehead, then says, "Get some sleep, pet."
I reach up and touch the collar. "Can I take this off to sleep?"
"Is it too tight?" he asks.
"No."
"Then why do you want it off?"
I shake my head. "I don't know. Why do I need it on?"
He slides his hand under it and curls his fingers around the gold.
My pulse quickens. I squeeze my thighs together.
His lips curl, and a sinister expression fills his face. "Because of that, right there."
"What?"
He slides his hands between my legs and slowly circles my clit with his middle finger. His other hand pulls on the collar, adding more tension to it.
I shift my hips, and my breath shortens.
"You like it, pet. You enjoy knowing who you belong to. And when this collar is on, you're mine. So your collars will stay on at all times until our year is up, understand?" he states.
More surprise fills me. "Collars?"
His lips twist, and butterflies ignite in my belly. In a low voice, he adds, "You'll soon understand. Go to sleep, pet." He releases my collar and removes his hand from my thighs, then comes toward my face. I hold my breath, thinking he's going to really kiss me this time, but he gets an inch from my lips, stares at them, then turns away from me.
Suddenly, I'm no longer tired. All I can think about is what it'll be like to kiss Riggs. And my mind is racing with too many questions that only Riggs or time can answer.
6
Riggs
It's still dark when I wake up. I've barely slept, but I never require a lot of sleep. I blame it on my childhood. I always had to be aware of what was happening in my household.
My mother had me when she was fifteen. Prostitution was how she put food on the table. When she brought her johns home, I was supposed to stay in my room. Many of them were violent, and I'd often hear and see them beating my mother. So I never really slept well. When I got old enough to jump in and fight them off, it only pissed my mother off. She didn't like me defending her. She saw it as losing clients, which would only anger me further. It still haunts me when I think about it.
Today's no different. I had maybe an hour of sleep. I lay next to Blakely, turned away from her, listening to her breathe. It took her longer to fall asleep than I anticipated. When the pattern of her breaths changed, I slowly turned over and stared at her.
