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“I know it’s not, but you have one foot in the door with Parker, and the other with me. And I’m too stubborn to let that slide.”
“That’s not true.”
“It is. I saw how you looked at him. You’re not just stuck on him, but on some inadequate sense of who you are. I believe in all your potential, and I’m not afraid of the work it takes to pull it out from you.”
Gemma’s cheeks radiated pink. I was getting closer, pushing her to the edge. “Don’t say that,” she begged. “Parker and I… we have nothing.”
“If you can’t accept that simple truth, then how can you accept mine?”
“Stop.” Gemma tried to cross her legs, but I forced them apart, causing her head to pull back and her chin to tilt up. I pressed my thumb right into her cheek, correcting the direction of her red, open lips towards mine. The other side of Gemma was in there, somewhere, begging to be pulled out, and like a splinter, it would hurt to do so, but the immediate relief she’d have would be incomparable.
“I won’t stop till you know it, till every inch of your body snaps like a whip: loud, strong, quick. A correction that’ll make you know who you are and where you belong: a goddess shackled to the post of my bed.” I ear fucked her, admiring the goosebumps that appeared along her neck and collar bone, teasing them with the delicate graze of my soft lips.
Strikethree.
As soon as I met her eyes, I saw the most beautiful fear I’d ever seen. She was scared, not for her life, but with the possibility of forever being transformed. Each push was another click to the wheel of an old wooden coaster, one where Gemma peaked at its summit. The harder I instigated, the more uncertain she was. Would she collapse, or would she plunge towards the most thrilling existence yet?
“I don’t know what to say,” she cocked her head, obeying the firm control I held.
“I’ll ask the questions… I’ll get the answers.” I hissed, watching as her hand fell to her thigh, reaching for my wrist. She struggled to decide, either to push me away, or to lead me inside her dress.
“We’re here, Mr. Rivers,” Charles announced, placing us into park. Gemma glanced at the Cassowary sign out the window, looking up at my high-rise penthouse at the top. She pushed me off, still resisting the need to explore who she was and who she could be.
The moment she walked out of the car, I knew she begged to be chased.
Someday she’d be able to handle my truth—the full truth—but right now she wasn’t ready. I didn’t want to be her monster, I wanted to be her angel, and that required her walls to be broken. And I’d fucking do that for her.
I’d leave this car and test her, over and over again, until she was prepared, until every atom of her being was saturated with the immunity of ever being afraid of me, exposed to the same exhilarating fear she displayed as I kissed her on the rooftop.
And in those moments I’d ask…
Do I scare you, Gemma?
And as soon as she’d say no—honestly and fullyno—then I’d believe she could accept me for who I am. No more codes, flowers, or secrets. Just us.
Chapter10
Gemma
As much as I wanted to walk away from Alejandro, I couldn’t. The persuasiveness of my body and the ability to yield its direction became weak as he followed close behind. His eyes watched every bit of my movements, their sensation indistinguishable from the hot summer rain that peppered my skin.
Not a single word was spoken, only felt, as the spell of his penthouse pooled between my legs. Up there, alone, felt like the meeting point for all the actions we craved to take, but only fantasized about. What would I do once I was there? Stand in the foyer like the night I measured his sweaty body? Nervous? Excited?
When Alejandro threatened to shackle me to his bed, it terrified me in the most spectacular of ways. Wanting to be vulnerable was different from being vulnerable, and the possibility of him ever doing that wasn’t just hot, but intimate; an idea that produced a Parker-level fear: thinking I was desired, but really never was. And if I believed that, then what else would I believe? That everything would be ok, that I wouldn’t be the next mystery girl as Camilla described; caught in the lawsuits, the fame, the crowds, the hurt, being the woman Claire warned me of.
I marched ahead in the hallway, pressing the button to Alejandro’s private elevator as it opened immediately. I walked in, clutching my purse to my side, attempting to ignore him as he entered. I barely had a moment to think, as he smashed the button, forcing the doors shut.
My obsessive carrousel of fears—both from Claire and Parker—all competed with the swirling heat of anxiousness I felt. That heat, thatbubble,splashed into my chest like a wave as Alejandro took hold of my wrists, shoving me against the wall, meeting my skin with his.
“Look at me,” he demanded.
“What are you doing?” I gasped,forcedto face him, the tip of his straight nose brushed against my ear.
“What I fucking need to,” he inhaled my neck, stretching my hands further above my head. “Why are you so brave with Parker? How can you be so confident withhim, but so shy with me?”
“I don’t know.” I lied, but he knew better.
“You do know, but you’re choosing not to tell me.” He pushed into me, keeping me still with the weight of his strong hips. I felt all of him, the cotton of his expensive suit a facade to the rock-hard torso and chest that enveloped my shaking body.
