Pennies (Dollar #1)(64)

No.

Yes.

Who the hell are you?

“You’re confused by what we did together, but you didn’t mind it as much as you think you should.”

Stop putting words in my mouth.

My toes clutched the carpet as I dropped my gaze, hoping he wouldn’t be able to read me.

“Seeing as you won’t tell me your thoughts, I’ll tell you mine.” He shifted a little on the stool. “I entered into this deal with Alrik because he has contacts I want. However, in my research, I found he’s a sick f*ck who’s killed four other women he claimed were his lovers and has never been prosecuted. He’s also dispatched a few men, but that’s none of your concern. When I dove deeper into the autopsy reports, claims of long-term abuse were prevalent yet still not avenged.”

His hand flashed out, curling around my hip. “He comes from three generations of money. His great-grandfather was in steel manufacturing, his grandfather gambled the stock market well, and his father died young, leaving all of it to him. He’s swindled most of it away, and I did my part in taking a fair chunk off him. However, I knew nothing of you. He kept you hidden. And f*ck if that doesn’t piss me off. In my line of work, I need to know everything there is about a person. Now, I know more than enough just from spending time with you.”

He looked at where he touched me.

My skin crawled and heated, utterly confused if it should find some margin of joy from being touched or throw up at being held.

“I came here tonight wanting to f*ck you. But I see now that I’ve got all I can out of Alrik. I won’t screw you over too because as idiotic as it sounds, I feel something. I don’t understand it, and it doesn’t make a f*cking difference, but there is something between us.”

My nostrils flared.

He felt it, too?

Holding his palm away from my hip, he hovered a few millimetres from connecting. The longer he hovered there, the deeper the tingle from my flesh to his became.

“Feel that?” His eyes captured mine. “Because I do. And it makes me so f*cking mad because I can’t seem to resist you.” His hand clamped onto my side again, dragging me into the prison of his spread legs. “The moment I saw you and knew what you were, I wanted you. I don’t care that you’re locked here against your will. I don’t care that I should do the right thing and free you.” His fingers dug harder. “Know why?”

Because you’re just like them.

“Because I’ve lost everything that made me human a long time ago. I shamed myself. I have no f*cking honour. I take and take and take. I steal. And when I steal, I find something worth living for. So you see, silent mouse, I’m not here to be the gentleman. I want my answers, and then I’ll leave and never look back.”

His fingers bit into a swirling orange bruise from Master A’s shoe. “I want you out of my mind. Out of my head. Do I make myself clear?”

Wait…you thought about me?

Those three days since we met, I’d been in his mind like he’d been in mine?

My lips twitched to think we’d both thought about each other, not with affection or desire, but with hate for different reasons. He hated the smidgen of power I had over his body. I hated him for the end he represented to my life.

I fought a shiver as he brought me forward with biting pressure, pressing my bare * against his tattooed chest. “I’d planned on giving you something in return. So at least I wouldn’t have stolen everything; that I would’ve paid in some small measure. I wanted to give you an orgasm. But I see now…you won’t let me.”

It’s not that I won’t…it’s that I can’t.

The expensive material of his trousers tickled my legs as he tightened his knees, keeping me trapped. “You truly are the worst sort of woman, Pimlico.”

What?

I jerked back, fighting his grip.

He chuckled. “Don’t be offended. I meant it as a compliment.”

You suck at compliments.

“Want to know why you’re the worst?”

My forehead furrowed.

No…

Okay, fine.

“You’re the worst because you’re an addiction. You have so many secrets that all I want to do is rip them out. You have secrets even you don’t know. It takes all my f*cking willpower not to do what he does and hurt you to pry them free.”

For all his pompous judgement of Master A’s murdering escapades, he was as bad, maybe worse, than the monster I belonged to.

That hurt more than I thought.

Men are all the same.

“That surprises you, I see.”

You saw nothing.

“Are you more surprised that I have the urge to beat you, that I fight the desire to f*ck you, but I’m going to walk out that door without laying a finger on you? Or are you more surprised that I’m honest and told you how obsessed I’ve already become with you?”

His touch spread from my hip to my belly button. Never looking away, he pressed his fingertip into the indent in my stomach, pushing hard, somehow activating a thread of pleasure I never knew existed.

I hated sex.

I only knew pain when it came to f*cking, and pain did not turn me on. Even the one instance where fumbling fingers and sloppy kisses had conjured any sort of desire was overshadowed by the fact that Scott (my first and only two-week boyfriend) had used me just like any man.