“Okay,” she murmurs, eyes still closed and a contented smile on her face.
Yeah, I’m going to hell, but it will be worth it for all the moments I get of heaven right here.
Imogen is almost asleep by the time I finish cleaning her with the soft washcloth. I toss it into the hamper and then lie on her bed beside her, pulling her into my arms. Not ready to let her go just yet.
She sighs contentedly and I drop a kiss on the top of her head. Her eyes snap open, a clearly automatic response, and I realize that gesture usually signals I’m leaving. Her green gaze finds mine and she stares at me for the longest time before she seems to summon the courage to speak. “W-will you stay with me tonight, sir? Not just while I fall asleep?”
I should, because I just fucked her the way I did. But if I spend the night with her... then I’m done for. There will be no going back from this. If I get used to waking up with her in my bed, then I might never be able to let her go. And she deserves so much more than me. She deserves everything, and especially a man who doesn’t hide who he truly is from her. A man who doesn’t lie to her every single day. Not letting her sleep in my bed is the last line of defense we have, and I feel it crumbling into dust as we speak. “I’ve been away for four nights, angel. I really want to sleep in my own bed.”
As good as she is at hiding her feelings, she can’t mask the disappointment. And I feel like shit. I know how much it costher to ask me that—to let me see her vulnerability. But I do want to sleep in my own bed. I brush her hair back from her face. “So will you stay with me?”
The smile she gives me in return makes any doubt I had about asking her dissolve faster than salt in hot broth. And that’s how I find myself carrying a naked Imogen to my bed, tucking her beneath the covers and then falling asleep with her in my arms.
Chapter 45
Lincoln
Imogen is lying on her side, drinking me in when I wake up, her green eyes sparkling and a pink flush rosy on her cheeks.
“Good morning.”
“Morning, sir,” she purrs seductively.
I roll on top of her, pinning her flat to the mattress. “Why are you blushing, angel?”
She wrinkles her nose and looks even more adorable doing so. “I was watching you sleep, and I thought...”
“Thought what?”
“You’ve been hard since I woke up and I thought about how good it would be to take you into my mouth, or to slide myself onto you while you were still sleeping.” Her blush spreads to her ears and nose.
“That would have been the best way to wake up ever, angel. It’s nothing to feel embarrassed about.”
She gives a single shake of her head. “No, I mean like I thought about how it would be to have you finish inside me, while you were still sleeping. Is that messed up?”
“No.” I dust my lips over hers. “It’s called somnophilia. Wanting to fuck someone while they’re sleeping. And still, it’s nothing to be embarrassed about.”
“I didn’t realize it had a name. So, do you think about that too, sir?”
I shake my head. “Not exactly that, but I would like to wake you up by sinking my cock into you, or burying my face between your thighs. I would very much like you to be awake when you come though, angel. But you have my consent to suck my cock, or sink your hot pussy onto me while I’m sleeping anytime you please. I can’t promise I’ll stay asleep once you do though.”
That adorable, sexy flush races down her neck. She makes embarrassment look so hot. “Thank you, sir.”
“And as we’re discussing consent, do I have yours? Can I wake you up in the middle of the night by sinking my cock into you?”
She blinks, confused. “My consent?”
“Yes. Your permission to do that, Imogen.”
“But, sir...” Her face is etched with confusion. “You own me.”
Her words are the equivalent of being doused with a bucket of ice water, or a kick to the balls. Either of those options would be more appealing right now than facing down the truth of her words. And I know she hasn’t said them out of spite or malice. There was no intention to hurt, just the mere stating of a fact. Her truth. Her life. And as much as I can tell myself that she wants this, what other fucking choice have I given her? The princess locked away in this tower with only a monster and a butler for company.
I rest my lips against her forehead, drinking in her scent for the final time. This is wrong, no matter how right it feels. I have taken away her free will and the power imbalance between us will always be there. No matter how confident or assertive she becomes, to her, I will always be the man who holds her life in his hands.
And that’s why this has to stop. I’m no better than the men who sold her, or her grandfather who willingly handed her over to those sick fucks. She deserves better.
Reluctantly, I push myself off and climb out of bed.
