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CHAPTER SEVEN
SYLVIE
Ispent the next weekon my knees in Beau’s room, trussed like a turkey on display, though from the lust-ridden looks he frequently shot me, he didn’t see me quite that objectively.
My shoulders pulled back, tied in a pale pink rope that matched the color of my nipples, and I wondered if he procured it just because. This wasBeau Bennett.Anything he wanted, he got. And despite the oddness of our relationship, my heart was glad to have contact with him in a space where he could be both rough and nasty and yet still afford those tender touches that told me how much he cared.
Though the man himself might have almost unlimited resources, he didn’t have freedom of will, and I understood his need to disguise his emotions. If I could have changed anything about his life, it would be that, but such a simple thing was well beyond my meagre powers. And so I played his games, learning peace in silence, in the worshipful gazes he frequently lit on me, the reverant way he touched the scars I hated that I was certain he would hate too, as a reminder of who we were, but it seemed he didn’t.
All I learned was that the man who pretended he didn’t have a heart was the one who had the biggest of all. Maybe it was when he stooped to run a warm washcloth across my breasts, cleaning me when hisdecorationsbecame flaky and itchy, though I kept still as ordered, or when he cleaned my knees, placing a matching pink velvet pillow beneath them that I fell over the line of amused and a little addicted and straight into the heady realm of love.
Which left me wondering when this perfect honeymoon period would end, and I’d be left with a broken heart and a string of abusive relationships when I looked back. Not that it would be something new; my history was full of those.
“Come here,” Beau murmured softly. “Sylvie. I need your eyes.”
I blinked out of my stupor and raised up onto my knees, stretching the long still muscles. “Uh, sure?”
I’d become so used to being hisToythat I half forgot my own name when he used it. I sent a few messages to Raleigh for my clothes and Beau collected them from her. Her complaints of not seeing me or ensuring I was safe were audible along the hall before Beau pulled the door shut and pushed my things into his bathroom. He came back out to pull me onto the bed and tease me mercilessly with clever fingers and dirty words without letting me come. My moans and begging silenced Raleigh, if for a short period.
That was how my week passed and why Beau using my name was such a surprise.
“You know I'm a music major, right? I know next to nothing about economics and finance...” I trailed off as he gave me a hard stare.
“You’re far from stupid and if you don’t know, then I’ll teach you.” His hands cupped my arms and I curled on his lap, framed by the leather arms of his large desk chair. His hands curled around me as he wheeled the chair, leaving enough room for us both. “This isn’t working for me. Can you read those two paragraphs and tell me what I'm missing?”
My protest ofI know nothing about all thisdied on my lips when his head tipped back, his eyes closed, his hands gently stroking my spine and into my hair. One hand cupped a breast but his touch had no sexual connotations; I was on Beau’s lap because he wanted company.
From me.
This was the man I fell for, way too fast and far too hard. Or maybe I fell for him months ago, and this was simply the inevitable end result that was always coming about.
“Okay,” I murmured, blinking and refocusing. My tongue stuck to the roof of my mouth and I reached for his water bottle, drinking half of it without thinking before I could concentrate.
“I haven’t been taking care of you, have I?” he mused, his eyes still closed when I checked over my shoulder.
“It’s okay,” I mumbled, not used to being the center of his attention like this.
