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“I don’t want to have to marry one of these people as my only means for freedom,” I whisper, and I feel my throat tightening as frustrated tears rise. It’s not often that I cry, but when I do, it’s usually out of frustration. “What do we do next?”
Laurence sighs, rising from his seat. He comes around the table to be at my side, kneeling down to look at me. I turn in my seat so my legs are in between his. Placing a hand on my knee, he runs his palm up my thigh in a comforting way. “We’ll figure something out.” He places his hands on my hips. “I promise.”
“Laurence…”
“Do you trust me?” he asks, repeating the note I got this morning. There’s a knowing look in his eye as he waits for my response.
“Yes, I do,” I breathe.
He squeezes my hips. “Good.”
“But I want to have a plan by the gala.”
His brows pinch together. “That’s in two days. Theres still over a week left in the games. We have time.”
I shake my head. “I need to know something. I need to have something, Laurence. Sitting here twiddling my thumbs isn’t helping. I trust you, but… I need to know what I can do.”
Laurence stands, nodding. “I understand.”
Following him, I rise from my seat and press my body against his. I trace the line of buttons on his shirt, my finger grazing the soft skin of his chest. “Thank you,” I sigh, continuing my task of being mesmerized by his chest. I undo one button. “I mean that, Laurence.”
He grabs my wrist, but doesn’t stop me from undressing him. “I won’t let anything happen to you.”
I undo two more. “I know.”
Releasing my wrist, he runs his hand up my arm, the touch igniting a fire deep in my belly, waking up the ache I feel only for him. With every button undone, I slide his shirt down his arms until it falls to the floor. I take my opportunity to admire his physique, running my fingers down his chiseled torso.
“For now,” I say, “you can do one thing for me.”
“What’s that?”
I meet his gaze, my fingers falling to the button at his pants. “Make me feel good.”
Laurence doesn’t hesitate to oblige. He pushes the straps of the simple dress I put on off my shoulders, letting the flowy garment fall to the floor alongside his shirt, exposing my nakedness. “You are so beautiful, Blue.”
A part of me is warming to the nickname he picked out for me from day one. He runs his knuckles across my collarbone, down my sternum, and then to my nipple, pinching the delicate skin between his fingers, tugging gently.
I gasp, arching my back, heat pooling in my belly.
Laurence looks down at me. “Good girl,” he whispers, thumb caressing over my nipple while his other hand slides between my legs, where his fingers start their torturous assault.
As he guides me to bed, there was no denying how good he made me feel. As he pushed me down atop the comforter, there was no denying how much I enjoyed being with him. And as he flipped me over, pulling my hips up to meet him, his erection pressing into my entrance, I tried to cast aside the remorse I felt for planning to betray him.
Chapter Twenty-One: Lily
The Forfeiting
The rumpled sheets hug Morticia’s sleeping form with an elegance I don’t think I could ever grasp myself. She’s like a Renaissance painting brought to life, art incarnate. Even now, I can’t resist trailing my fingers along her curves, forming the softest shapes beneath the thin fabric.
If I could paint, I would paint this scene.
Moonlight streams in through the window, bathing her black hair in silver light. When she first came to me in the games, I wasn’t sure what to expect when I finally got to see her face to face. She was more beautiful than I imagined. Long, dark lashes framed rich brown eyes, her tanned skin smooth, the long waves of her dark hair. She doesn’t look any more than thirty, but her demeanor is deceiving. She could be older.
I have yet to find out many details about her. As soon as I parted ways with Heathe, who was disappointed, but did not lash out like I thought he might, I entered the arms of Morticia. As soon as I entered my new rooms with her, the draw was undeniable. Words didn’t need to be exchanged. The desire that flooded off her was palpable enough to drink. And drink it I did.
We spent the first afternoon naked in bed.
Every question I had about myself for my entire life became clear as soon as I got to kiss her without a blindfold. Even with a blindfold, I knew. Women were my chosen poison.
