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I can’t believe I’m even asking this.
I take a shaky breath and start again. “If Iwereto say yes, how long—”
“Six months.”
My core clenches.
“You’ll be my willing little fuck-toy for six months.”
My thighs squeeze the second he says it.
Fuck-toy.
It’s crude. It’s demeaning.
It’s also ridiculously hot, in a very confusing and fucked up way.
“For six months, I do whatever I want to you, whenever I want. And you don’t say no.”
A tingle traces down my spine.
“I—I have a…”
“Awhat,” he smirks. “A boyfriend?”
“A fiancé,” I lie, thinking about Brooks, as revolting as that is.
Gavan rolls his eyes. “No, you don’t.”
“I—”
“And even if youdid,” he hisses. “I wouldn’t fucking give a shit, nor would it change a thing about this arrangement.”
My face throbs.
“Tick-tock, Eilish,” he rasps darkly. “Do we or do we not have a deal? Six months, and when we’re done, I forget all about it. You have my word on that.”
“And what good is your—”
“Very,” he growls. “My word isverygood. And Iknowthat you know that.”
I hate that I do. But—yeah. Everyone who’s ever heard of him knows three things about Gavan: that he’s ruthless; that youdo notcross him; and that he is an absolute man of his word, for better or worse, come Hell or high water.
“And if I don’t agree?” I choke in a very small voice.
He shrugs. “War, hardship, lots of money being owed to me, your family finding out that you’re a killer. For a start.”
“You’re a bastard—”
I choke, gasping as he raises a hand and traces one fingertip up my thigh, which instantly has the effect of making my skin tingle and my core turn into a molten puddle.
“Correct on a technicality. I am a bastard,” he growls. “And you’rewet.”
My mouth falls open, my eyes widening at his words.
“Do we,” he murmurs, “or do wenothave a deal. Five. Four. Three—”
“Okay.”
