“Another case of mistaken identity. It’s getting to be a habit.”
Despite the lightness of her words, when Avon rises from the seat, nervous energy pulses off her. The tall stacks on either side mean we’re mostly out of sight and as I shuffle a half-step closer, she folds her arms. Her lower lip trembles then she bites into its lush centre, peeking at me from beneath her lashes, frowning.
“What’s the matter?”
“How did you know my mother’s business was in trouble?”
Not the question I expected. “My father controls the rentals for half of Tiaki, home and retail. Your mother’s on a payment plan with her commercial lease.” A true answer, just omitting I got the information she was struggling from Avon’s counselling session.
“Thank you for asking Dahlia to post. It really helped.”
I cup her shoulder, my thumb caressing the divot near her collarbone. “You’re welcome.” I glance over my shoulder, then ease closer. “Did you want me to come and find you?”
She swallows, her throat working far harder than it should need to as she again shakes her head. “I didn’t want to spend lunch opposite you, pretending everything was fine.”
“Why not?” I tease, enjoying the way she tenses. “Don’t you like me?”
“Stop it.” A frown line forms a neat V above the bridge of her nose.
“Stop what?”
She presses her lips together, nostrils flaring, but never letting her voice rise above library soft. “Stop pretending you don’t know why I want to avoid you.”
Her breathing is rapid, her face creased with distress.
Guilt bludgeons me and I’m about to step away when a tear brims across her lower right eyelid. It swells until gravity drags it down her cheek to hover, quivering, on her jawline, begging me to capture it with the ball of my thumb, to suck it into my mouth and roll the taste across my tongue.
“I didn’t enjoy hurting you.” The words bubble up out of nowhere.
Her chin lifts. “What?”
“Last Monday. You said it’s obvious I enjoy—” I break off to swallow, her distress catching. “I want you to know, that was never part of it.”
She snaps her focus down to her shoes and I wait a second, then gently lift her chin with a curled knuckle, needing to see her eyes.
“Rose,” I tell her. “On Saturday, your safe word was rose or two long blinks, two taps if you couldn’t do either. Those were the signals I was watching for, listening for.”
My eyes drop, imagining how it would feel for my teeth to graze against the side of her neck. How my mind would turn feral as she pants in my ear, unravelling my self-control.
The images are so strong they make me shake with need. “But next time, you’ll know.” I raise my hand to cup her cheek, whispering in her ear. “And the next orgasm I give you will be so much better.”
Avon freezes for a second, then savagely digs her nails into my wrist, tearing my hand away. Her gaze is bright, cheeks flushed, chest panting. A perfect storm of emotion, flashing at me for all the wrong reasons.
“There’s no need to be shy,” I tease, watching the flames of irritation take hold.
Her whisper is vehement. “There’s no need to be an arrogant prick but I don’t see that stopping you.”
“If I were being a prick, I’d remind you there’s a video I could show your friend.” The words land without even a flinch. Her eyes are so deep, so open I could fall into them. I lean my body into hers, inhaling the scent from her hair, sweeter than any perfume.
Then every inch of her hardens. “Do that, and I’ll go to the police.”
I should have expected the pushback. The threat is no longer a surprise sprung on her first thing on a Monday morning. Afew weeks isn’t enough time to recover, but it is enough time to regroup.
“We’ve been through this,” I whisper, lowering my voice until it’s barely audible, my fingers ignoring the danger signs as they play with the hem of her kilt. My hips push forward until my pelvis is flush against her, driving her harder against the shelves. “The police might have cared if you reported it on the night but nobody’s going to believe you now.”
“They don’t need to believe me about the assault,” she whispers, her eyes turning liquid as they lock to mine, briefly pressing her lips together to stop them trembling. “But I think they’ll be able to track down a pink-haired sex worker. I think they’ll find that easy.”
“And what?” I tease, becoming a bigger bully than the one I reprimanded on her behalf. “She’s not going to say a word. Not with her bonus.”
