When they’d been dating, she’d had a never-ending bouquet of yellow roses. He’d brought them from their store then too.His store. It’s his store now.In case the loneCs on the tissue paper weren’t enough of a reminder. “What’s this for?”
Nicholas rubbed his finger over his nose. “Why does any man bring a woman flowers?”
“Because he wants to get in her pants. Or soften her up. Or impress her. Or because he knows she really likes flowers.”
His smile was faint. “I know you really like flowers. I also want to soften you up.”
He didn’t say anything about wanting to get in her pants or impress her, she noticed. “For what?”
“My sister sends her apologies. She told me what she said to you, and I’m mortified. I apologize as well. She said she’d be happy to tell you this in person, if you ever wanted to meet with her.”
Oh. This was about his sister. “No big deal. She needed a target.”
“You shouldn’t have been her target.”
Livvy shrugged. “She’s young. She’ll learn. Is that all? That’s not really rose worthy.”
Nicholas frowned and rocked back on his heels. “You don’t think—” He stopped, his frown deepening.
“Yes?” she prompted him.
“You don’t think I ever used you as a target, right?”
Livvy cocked her head. “Are you asking if I thought you were hate-fucking me all these years?”
He glanced away, his gaze lighting on everything and nothing. “Yes.”
“No. Were you?” She was proud of how measured her voice sounded. As much as it ached to only get the physical crumbs of his affection, she’d rather be an object of lust over an object of rage.
“No, never.”
The ever-present knot in her stomach unraveled at his immediate rejection. “Oh. Good.”
“Was it penance?”
She blinked at his brusque question. “What?”
“When you fucked me.” He looked down at her. “Did you sleep with me only because you felt guilty? Like you owed it to me for what your father did?”
She jerked back. “What kind of question is that?”
“A valid one, I think.” He swallowed. “I don’t want to be a guilt-fuck any more than you want to be a hate-fuck.”
“I never slept with you because I felt like I owed you my body. It was always because I wanted it.”
“I know I was rough last week.” A muscle in his jaw clenched, his eyes dipping over her face and body. A trail of fire followed in their wake.
“Rough... physically?” Because she’d felt totally abraded mentally and emotionally too, not that she was about to tell him that.
A dull red flush covered his cheeks. “Correct.”
She squinted at him. Did this need to be said? “Uh. I guess I didn’t make it clear enough when Imoaned every time you spanked me, but I enjoyed myself quite a bit.”
“I’ve never...” He tunneled his hands through his hair. “I’ve never raised a hand to a woman in my life.”
“You were pretty good at it.” Amusement crept through her disquiet. “Ten out of ten at spanking, I’d say.”
“You ran out. I thought maybe I’d traumatized you. I wanted to call or text you, but I didn’t want to know if you’d already changed your number like all the other times I’ve—”
