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This…this is all Hendrick.
The fixtures are a muted brass, that brushed metal instead of polished gleam finish. The stone is gray, not like the creamsfrom downstairs. The rest of the place up here’s generic, except, I suspect, the study.
I’ll bet this is where he sometimes works and gets away, where he entertains women. And that last one twists sharp inside me.
The idea of Hendrick with other women…
With Lili…
And there it is, that sharp little flare of jealousy for a dead girl.
As for Jac and my complicated feelings for him…yeah, there’s a small lurch in the same area because a week’s a long time when it comes to him. He’s a walking fucking erection, and while I know women throw themselves at both Hendrick and Jac, Jac’s going to take them up on it over Hendrick, because he can. Because the pool he gets to pick and choose from is endlessly hot and full of gorgeous girls willing to do anything he asks.
And I can’t fucking believe I’m in this predicament thinking about my feelings and sex.
What the hell’s wrong with me?
I know what Harry would say, and she’d be right. Stop thinking with my clit and focus on the important stuff.
Like getting the fuck out of this mess.
It’s going to take her help. Shit, it might take Jac and Hendrick’s help, trust, and resources, and a possible betrayal.
“Except…” I turn on the tap and wash my face, and then I bury it in a soft towel that has a hint of Hendrick with the fresh laundered smell. I breathe it in.
Except if betrayal means their deaths, I can’t.
If it comes down to me and them? Harry or them? The latter’s the easiest. I don’t like it, but I need to admit that my sense of self-preservation means I’ll pick me, too.
They’re built to survive, though.
I put the towel down and raise my head.
Jac.
Leaning against the wall behind me.
I turn slowly.
“Want to know what I fucking think?” he starts.
“Do I have a choice?” I ask as I approach him.
He slides his hand around my waist, and he turns us so I’m against the wall and all that hot, solid Jac flesh is pressed light against me. “Not really. I don’t kill for people. For me? Absolutely. For Lili? You bet. Anyone else? No. Except for you.”
“And you think what, exactly?”
He pushes his hand into my pants and a small shudder passes through him as his fingers slide through that wet slickness he left. He shoves four fingers into me and starts to finger fuck me. Hard.
I grip his arm.
My body reaches tingling overload almost immediately, and he grins and then he stops, pulling out, rubbing me to make me ache so deep my knees threaten to buckle. He’s a fucking sadistic bastard.
“I think,” he says, coming in, biting my bottom lip so hard I yelp, “you’re in a world of trouble and while you need our help, I’m not sure we should trust you.”
“We?”
“Necessity.” He pushes back into me and kisses me with a gentleness that undoes something in me, unsettles and turns me on all over again. Jac lifts his head. “Don’t confuse anything that happens as something sweet and new. It isn’t. I still hate him. He hates me.”
