Dollars (Dollar #2)(39)

Fuck.

It took all my strength to shove her away from me. “Goodnight. I trust you can find your own way back.”

She sucked in a breath as I relinquished her to the ocean. For a moment, she frowned, then shook her head with a scowl.

I chuckled. “Is that disappointment, silent one?”

Her scowl turned into a snort.

“Despite what you think, you already look at me differently. You might hate the thought of what I’ll one day do to you. You might fear the thought of my cock inside you and my body smothering yours, but a small part of you wants me to do it.”

She jolted; a small splash from her fingers decorated the blackness.

I cocked my head. “Why is that? So you can stop wondering who I am and label me the same as your previous master? Or…” I rubbed my lips in promise. “Is it because you’re sick of pain and want pleasure instead?”

She scoffed, her arms spreading wide to swim away.

I should shut my mouth and let her go, but I liked making her uncomfortable. Words wouldn’t leave scars, but they could slice open old ones. “Beware of what you wish for, Pim.” I lowered my voice, thick and heavy over the waves. “Next time I kiss you, you’ll be wet and feel pleasure you’ve long since been denied. You’ll come. I won’t tolerate otherwise.”

Her head tilted up in defiance coupled with the tentative hope that I could achieve what I’d promised. That when I took her, it wouldn’t be rape but entirely consensual and mutually enjoyed.

Ducking underwater, she vanished.

I didn’t panic, counting the wet thuds of my heart in the eardrum created by the sea. A few moments later her head broke the surface by the Phantom.

Grabbing the bottom ladder rung, she hauled herself from the depths and shimmied up the side of my yacht—broken hand and all.

Fuck, what a woman.

Her naked ass as she climbed was as perfect and inviting as the moon.





WHAT THE HELL is he doing?

What the hell am I doing?

What the hell happened to me last night?

First, I’d jumped off the damn yacht.

Second, I didn’t shut down when he gathered me against his wet, naked body.

Third, I didn’t blush when he spoke about sex and coming.

And fourth…and this was the worst one…

Fourth, when he’d pulled me close as if to kiss me, I’d wanted him to. For a split second, I forgot how much I hated sex and remembered how good he’d made me feel at the white mansion.

I wanted to feel that again.

I wanted to feel that way all the time because then I wouldn’t have to feel everything else. Every bruise. Every bone. I could…forget.

But then he’d pulled away and growled rules and regulations—warning me I wasn’t a slave he wanted, yet he wanted the woman I could become.

Only…I don’t know who that is.

All I knew was that while in his care, I’d had the gift of sunshine and travel and wind. I’d wished upon stars not hidden behind glass, and my skin became honey-kissed from being outside rather than pasty, sickly white.

I wasn’t stupid.

Every gift would have to be paid back. I just expected him to demand payment now—while I was still subservient and very aware of my place as a pleasure toy. Why would he want me to be any different?

If he let me continue gluing my shattered pieces together, I’d be like normal women.

I’d have opinions and rules of my own. I might not let him sleep with me. Was that what he wanted? The challenge? The chase? A girl to fight him rather than a slave to submit?

But why?

If he wanted a relationship, why hadn’t he met someone in a bar, or however free people met these days? Why me? Why piss off my dead owner for one night with me—with the intention of f*cking me with force, only to let me sleep unmolested then bring me back to life?

It doesn’t make any sense!

I clutched my head.

Stop it. Focus on the present, remember. The future does not matter. It can’t matter. Not when you have no control over it.

Breathing hard, my fingers slipped from my skull to my lap.

Whatever Elder’s end game was, I had to admit, he’d started something between us that terrified me. Whenever he was around, my insides twisted and liquefied. Mostly from intense awareness in case he snapped, but partly due to that damn kiss between us.

What had he done? How did he switch the frigid ice in my blood to a cosy fire?

I didn’t know, and as much as I tugged on teenage memories of chatting with girlfriends about which pop stars got us wet and what fantasies made us hot, I still struggled with hating sex.

I shouldn’t want sex.

I didn’t want sex.

But Elder…he was different.

I want him.

Not in the physical sense, but his disappearance the past few days had shown me I wanted to be near him. He terrified me, yes. But he terrified other people too, and while he was around, I was safe.

Aren’t I?

Am I safe?

Oh, my God. Stop.

Maybe I should’ve kissed him last night?

Perhaps, I should’ve closed the distance between us and took what he wouldn’t.

But why would you do that?

Because I’d treated him with suspicion and rage? I didn’t trust him or his word but it didn’t mean I shouldn’t apologise.