Duncan grips my chin, tilting my head until he’s all I see.
“Did he?”
“Yes.”
“Hmm.” His expression is equally furious and hurt. “And you believed him?”
“What was I supposed to think? You never came back.” Between frustration, need, and confusion, I struggle to convey how thoroughly he wrecked me. How humiliated I’d been. My breath is ragged. My cheeks burn. “It’s not like you were totally wrong to leave. I—I was kind of your stepsister for a while. And besides.” I gulp. “I couldn’t help thinking you could’ve done so much better. You could’ve had a less complicated relationship with someone else. Someone as pretty as your ex. I figured you’d have that without me there to confuse you.”
“Someone else? Like my ex…?” He grinds his teeth, his jaw clenching. “Oh, for fuck’s sake. I don’t even remember her name, Elowyn. I wasn’t in love with her. I could tell what we had meant nothing when a switch flipped, and you stopped being Barclay’s sister. When I realized that all this time, I was meant to be yours. For a full year before I kissed you, I couldn’t even look at other girls.”
My heart slams so hard against my rib cage that I worry it’s going to crack.
He wasn’t lying when he told me he’d been celibate for eleven years. But it was more than that. He’d been just as obsessed with me as I’d been with him.
“Not as pretty as her. Jesus.” He pinches his eyes shut, shaking his head. “You…”
He grips my chin tighter, and my whole body lights up at how rough he’s being. How he takes control.
But I can’t lose myself to desire. “I, what, Duncan?”
“Come here.” He manhandles me, lifting my body as if I were a ragdoll.
I’m limp in his hold, letting him turn me to face him. His eyebrows lower on his forehead, an emotion close to anguish flashing in his eyes.
One blink of his eyes and he’s no longer with me, hiding his pain behind a brick wall.
And though his expression is impenetrable, Duncan tends to me.
He sets me on top of his desk, closes my robe around me, and ties it, his touch careful instead of cold or cruel.
When I’m all covered up, he watches me intently, his hands curled around the sides of my neck.
Minutes pass, maybe hours, of us staring at each other. Just like we did that day on my parents’ sofa.
By being in his presence, the pain of my denied orgasm gradually fades. All that remains is his claiming touch and his glare that’s growing heated and fast.
I wish we could stay like this forever.
Duncan doesn’t. He releases me and takes a step back.
“The gallery. Midnight.” He gestures toward the door, and no, I won’t cry at being dismissed.
I can’t help that my shoulders slump as I hop down to the floor, though.
“Goddammit.” He grabs my chin, forcing my eyes on his. “We’ll talk. Really talk.”
He might be lying. Then again, he might be telling the truth.
Maybe something I said got through to him.
“Okay.” I rise onto my tiptoes, kissing his cheek.
I guess I don’t need the whole day to recover after all.
15
DUNCAN
