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“I’ll get the notes from you when I come back. It’s just a week. It’ll be fine.” School feels like the last worry on my mind right now—there’s no telling what’s waiting for me at home when I get back. But that’s just another reason to delay it as long as possible.
“You’re going to keep living it up here, and you want me to take notes for you?” Claire clicks her tongue, shaking her head teasingly. “What do I get out of this?”
“My undying gratitude?” I look at her pleadingly, hoping she won’t ask too many more questions, and she laughs.
“Of course. I wouldn’t want you to miss out on this. Now come on,” she says, looping her arm through mine. “Let’s get back out into the sunshine.”
When we’ve had our fill of laying out in the sun and fruity drinks, I go back to the hotel room to get my things. There’s a small pang of regret in my chest as I pack up, knowing that the part of this vacation that’s spending time with my best friend in paradise is over. I question, once more, if I ought to just tell her the truth. But it feels like that time has passed, and I meet David back at his car, letting him know that I have dinner plans with Claire and her friends. “I assume you want to come too?” I glance at him as I slide into the car, and he smirks.
“Were you planning on sending me off to dinner alone? Or maybe you thought I’d sit in my suite and wait for you?” His hand squeezes my thigh under the thin linen dress that I threw over my bikini. “I plan to enjoy every second with you that I’ve bought this week, Amalie. And I promise, you’ll enjoy it too.”
At first, I’m not entirely sure that he’s wrong. Getting ready in his penthouse suiteisan experience. I have the huge, luxurious bathroom all to myself, and while I don’t feel comfortable scattering my things around like I had in the room I shared with Claire, not jockeying for counter space is a pleasant change.
The look on David’s face when I step out of the bathroom sends a shiver of desire through me. I picked linen shorts embroidered with red flowers and a silky red camisole for dinner tonight—the neckline of the top low enough to show the edge of the cream-colored lace bralette that I have on underneath it—and high-heeled wedge sandals. I curled my hair, leaving it thick and loose around my shoulders, and the shorts are brief enough that I see David’s gaze lingering on my legs. It makes me wonder if he’s imagining them wrapped around him.
He steps forward, his hands landing on my waist and curling against the silk of my top as he pulls me in for a kiss, his lips hot and soft against mine. “Youhavebeen a very good girl,” he murmurs, his palms sliding down to my hips and pulling me closer, letting me feel the swelling shape of his cock against me. “I think I might reward you, when we get back.”
“You could reward me now.” I can’t help the words as they slip out, and I can’t help the way my hips arch against him, teasing him the same way he’s teasing me. I’ve beenachingever since he brought me up here earlier, and every hour laying out in the sun and looking at his tanned, muscled body in nothing but black board shorts just made me feel it even more.
“Good girls are patient.” He kisses the tip of my nose, lightly, and takes my hand, pointedly ignoring the tiny whimper that I can’t help but let out. “Let’s go.”
Dinner is at a beachside restaurant that Claire said she was dying to try out, and after just the appetizer, I can see why. The food is delicious, and the pitcher of sangria that she ordered is better. All of it combined with David next to me, his hand sliding along my thigh, makes it feel like a perfect evening.
Until Claire—innocently, I’m sure—mentions what happened this morning.
“That was quite a coincidence, you running into Amalie this morning,” she says with a teasing smile. “Unless you’ve been keeping tabs on her. I wouldn’t blame you—I don’t think anyone else here could measure up.” Her tone is sweet, but I wonder if she’s testing him a little—making sure that he’s someone she thinks is safe for me to stay with for another week. It’s a gesture I’d appreciate, if it wasn’t for the fact that it might mean she finds out everything I don’t want her to know.
Which is, of course, exactly what happens.
“Oh, I wasn’t keeping tabs.” David smiles, taking another sip of his sangria. “But I saw a damsel in distress, and I like to think of myself as a gentleman. How could I not help?”
Claire frowns. “I don’t know what you mean. Amalie said everything was fine.” She looks at me confusedly.
There’s that twitch of a smirk on his lips, the one that always makes me want to slap it away. “She was most definitelynotfine,” he says with a laugh. “But it was an easy enough problem to fix. And worth it, considering the fact that she’s all mine for a week now, in exchange. I can already see how much she likes being spoiled by me, don’t you,bellisima?”
His hand squeezes my thigh, his voice teasing, but I feel the heat burning through me that has nothing to do with desire. It’s mingled rage and shame instead, feeling all of my friends’ eyes on me as David tells them in so many words that I needed help—a sort of help that they can probably guess at—and makes it very clear what sort of arrangement we’ve made.
For one awful second, I think I’m going to burst into tears in front of all of them. I wrench away from David, nearly knocking my chair over in my hurry to get up, and rush away from the table.
The tears start almost as soon as I turn away, and I rush towards the bathroom, needing a moment of privacy. I hear Claire call after me, but I ignore it. The moment I’m inside, I go straight to the sink and turn on the cold water, splashing it over my face as I try to breathe normally.
A moment later, I hear the door open.
“I just need a minute.” I grip the edges of the sink, not looking up. I assume it’s Claire, and normally, I’d be happy to have her here to talk this out with me, but I don’t think I can stand it under these circumstances. She’s going to have questions, and I don’t want to answer any of them.
“That was rude.” David’s voice is low and flat, and I gasp without meaning to. I hadn’t expected him to follow me in here, and I look up sharply.
“Getout,” I hiss, glaring at him. “You’re not supposed to be in here.”
“I don’t see anyone stopping me.” He smirks at me, walking closer, and I can see the hungry, predatory gleam in his eyes. He’s angry with me, but he still wants me—and that excites me more than it should. “What, are you mad that your friends out there know what this really is? That I’m spoiling you in exchange for getting to use your body however I like?” He steps up next to me, reaching out and pushing a lock of my hair behind my ear. “I could have told themeverything, but I didn’t. They don’t know about your money problems, or how your mother abandoned you here.”
“And I’m supposed to be grateful for that?” I glare at him, seething, and he laughs. It’s a low, dark sound, deep in his throat, and it sends a ripple of desire down my spine that I tell myself I don’t want.
“Youshouldbe grateful for what I’m offering you. You might be embarrassed about our little deal, Amalie, but you embarrassedmeout there by storming off. And I don’t appreciate that one bit.” His gaze darkens, and my breath catches in my throat. “Pick your skirt up,cara mia.All the way to your waist.”
I stare at him, feeling my cheeks flush hot. “Someone could walk in,” I whisper, and he shrugs.
“And if they do?”
