When he bent toward her, she tilted her head back and gazed into his gleaming eyes.
“If you’re trying to goad me into allowing your scheme, it won’t work. I do have an alternative proposition, however.”
A proposition. Now that sounds promising.
“What were you thinking?” she asked coyly.
He leaned closer, his spicy scent filling her senses. Anticipation quivered through her when his lips brushed the curve of her ear.
“We make a trade. A favor for a favor. I agree to let you pursue this Bloody Thom business, and in return, you give me something that I want.”
Her nipples tightened into throbbing points, and her pussy dampened. “What do you want?”
“I want…”
When she wetted her lips, his gaze followed the path of her tongue. She recalled the wicked delight of taking him in her mouth. Would he ask her to do it now? Would he command her to kneel while he took out his big instrument and pushed it between her lips?—
“I want you to tell me something about your family.”
She blinked. “Um, what?”
“A few details about your parents, whatever you wish,” he coaxed.
Although she thought about denying him, she wanted to grant his small request. To share more of herself with him—the sorts of things that a normal person could share without a second thought.
What harm will a few details do?
She sifted through her ignominious past and settled on a few safe facts.
“My papa was a musician who taught me to play the piano. He was also an excellent storyteller.” She smiled wistfully. “Since we traveled a lot, we didn’t have a place of our own, but wherever we ended up, he made it feel like home. He had this laugh that rumbled out of him…that made everyone around him laugh too.”
“His passing must have been difficult for you,” Ethan murmured.
You have no idea.
She remembered her father’s hope that last week they had together. When they’d believed they had escaped Mama’s clutches and would be starting a new life, a good life. He’d talked about her going to school and making friends, never living in fear again. She remembered him saying, “You’ll be all right, poppet”and his agonized cries before he was killed.
Fifteen years of living with the loss—with the grief and guilt of her papa’s sacrifice—allowed her to say quietly, “It was.”
“And your mama?” Ethan prompted.
Nothing about her mother felt safe to share. Long ago, when she was a child, she’d yearned for her mother’s approval…but that desire had died the day her papa did. Anger, resentment, and even hatred had smoldered in its place. Eventually, though, even those emotions burned out. After Mr. Trelawney’s death, she’d recognized the truth: the woman who’d birthed her was not her mother in any meaningful sense. To her mind, she was an orphan…one who had the misfortune to be the only offspring of a heartless female cutthroat.
When she’d chosen to be Xenia Loveday, she’d emancipated herself emotionally from her mother. If only she could be free of the woman in reality as well. Yet her mama refused to let her go, was determined to control and punish her—to turn her into a cautionary tale.
“My mother and I never got along,” Xenia said neutrally. “I left home when I was sixteen and haven’t looked back.”
Except in fear…always in fear.
Ethan stroked his thumb across her cheek. “Now I understand where your resourcefulness comes from. You’ve been taking care of yourself for a long time, haven’t you?”
All my life, it seems.
A lump rose in her throat, and she couldn’t speak.
“But now you have me, Xenia. Trust me. Let me in.”
Her heartbeat accelerated, but she couldn’t give in to her dangerous yearning. When she tried to protest, he swooped down. His kiss was scorching yet intimate. The urgency of their passion transported her into another realm, one where she felt safer than she ever had. When he broke the kiss, she was pressed against him, her arms wound around his neck as if she never wanted to let him go.
