He goes still.
“Whyyou?” he repeats, like the question offends him.
He shifts into me, until his chest brushes against my breasts.
My pulse stutters.
“Because you’ve brought me back to life.”
His hand lifts slowly and deliberately, like he’s giving me a chance to move away. But I don’t. I’m mesmerized, even as his knuckles brush the side of my jaw, sending molten lava down my spine.
He shakes his head, his voice rough. “Because I just offered you the world, but you didn’t grab it and run—you questioned it.”
My lips part and his thumb traces the curve of my cheek, slow and reverent.
“And because, I’ve stood in rooms full of men who wouldkillfor what I control. And none of them have made me feel half as exposed as you do.”
My breath catches and he presses his forehead to mine.
“You think this is gallant? It isn’t. It’sselfish. I want you where I can see you, where I can protect you. Where I can wake up and touch you and have you, whenever the fuck I want.”
His hand slides to the back of my neck, his fingertips setting electrical currents through my veins.
Then his voice drops to a devastating depth. “To be clear, if you walk away, I’ll let you.”
My heart skips several beats.
“But if you stay…” His thumb presses under my jaw, tilting my face up. “I will love you in a way that makes you forget the person you were before.”
The words land like a vow and a threat and a salvation all at once.
“I don’t need you to want my money,” he whispers. “I need you to wantme.”
My hands are on his chest now, but I don’t remember putting them there.
His heartbeat is steady, but mine is a damn riot.
“Why you?” he murmurs against my lips.
My lids flutter closed, completely and utterly lost in the dark promises he’s making.
“Because, Erin, I would burn this place to smithereens before I let you think you’re just another transaction.”
Erin
I wake up with a start and jerk out of Augusto’s arms. He stirs a little and tightens his hold on my arm.
It’s light outside. I check my watch and it’s seven a.m. already.
My skin is sticky from the hours of writhing beneath a heavy body.
Peeling myself from Augusto, I step into the shower and freshen up. As I lather myself in lychee scented foam from the onsite spa, I marvel at how luxurious skin can mask the dirtiest of souls.
And I’m not talking about my own.
When we first arrived at Winter Pines Lodge, I thought I wasn’t good enough. I watched the women draped in designer clothing strut past me like New York Fashion Week was their second home. I cowered secretly from the wait staff accustomed to and comfortable amongst East Coast high society. I couldn’timagine myself ever belonging. But now I know how ridiculous that notion was.
Now I know what kind of seedy dealings take place behind the many closed doors, and the lies that slide so easily through the lips of the many women drawn here as alternative versions of themselves, I finally feel something I haven’t felt in a long time: I’m better than this. I’m worth more than this.
