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She bites her lip, nods again, and fuck, I want to punch a hole through the car window. Motherfucker who did this to her ought to be dead or rotting in prison for life.
“Will you let me?” I ask her, and she blinks those dark, wet eyes at me.
“Let you do what?”
“Help you. Take away your fear.”
“Riot…” A shudder goes through her body. “I tried.”
“You tried the hard way. You tried to relive it all, didn’t you?” Dammit, it’s all falling into place now. “At the hotel. And it only scared you more.”
“And what can you do?” This time she does rip her hand out of my hold. “Huh?”
“Like I said. Take it slow. A step at a time. Show you I won’t hurt you. That it can be good, Pax. So good, and so liberating.” I stare at her, will her to look back. “I’ll let you tie
me up, if that’s what it takes.”
Her gaze flares, her brows draw together. “You would?”
“Yeah, that’s right. Damn right I would. For you.”
Can’t mistake the interest in her eyes. She likes the idea, or likes the thought of having me under her power—maybe punish me for what happened to her?
What am I doing? Jesus.
And yet...Never had any girl or woman tie me up, and the thought of Paxtyn doing it has me hard in two seconds flat.
Right now, I’m not sure who’s more fucked up: her or me.
“You really think you can help me?” There’s hope in her voice, and God, I wish I could promise her it will work.
“You won’t know until you try, right?” Like with everything.
“I need to think about it.”
“Of course.” Because this isn’t just a leap of faith for her. It’s also a matter of money. “I could ask the agency if they can do a discount for you.”
Bullshit. They don’t do that. But I’d pay the difference.
See how fucked up I am? My protective instincts are up like red flags. They’ll be my downfall someday. They’re the reason I’m in this line of work in the first place—and sleeping in a dump, living out of cans and ramen noodle packages.
“Don’t,” she says, and my stomach twists.
She won’t let me in. She won’t let me help.
Fuck.
“As you like, Pax. It’s your decision.” I turn to open the car door. I shouldn’t feel so sad, so angry and helpless. I barely know her, for fuck’s sake, and she’s only a client.
“Don’t ask for a discount,” she says from behind me, and I still. “Money’s not the problem.”
Licking my lips, my heart pounding like a machine gun in my chest, I turn back to her. “Yeah?”
“Let’s give it one more try.” She lifts her chin, and Christ, I want to crush my mouth to hers, kiss her until we pass out for lack of air. “At the same hotel. I’ll leave your name at the reception.”
“When?”
“I’ll call the agency. They’ll let you know. One hour.” She lets out a small huff. “Same price?”
