A Debt Owed(55)

“What do we say, kids?” the lady says.

“Thank you, Mr. Van Buren!” the kids say.

“Don’t mention it,” he says. “I’ll be back soon with more.”

One of the kids hugs his legs again, and he’s having trouble shaking them off. I giggle when the last one’s finally off his shoulder as he approaches me.

“What?” He lifts a brow.

I shrug. “That was nice of you to do.”

“Thanks,” he says.

He eyes me from the side, and I do the same to him, neither of us speaking the words we obviously want to say. It’s too embarrassing to admit that for a second there I actually liked him and that I could actually see the humble, generous man behind the rough fa?ade. The true gentleman he can be when he isn’t trying to be a depraved bastard.

And I think he knows that too.

He showed me something sweet and kind … His weak spot.

Something I could use as a weapon … but choose not to because I won’t stoop to his level. I’d rather admire the realness and keep it in my heart to remember for rocky times.



Easton



When we get home, she seems anxious to get out of the car. Luckily, the door only opens from the outside, so she always has to wait until someone comes to pick her up. I open the door and take her hand as she steps out, and I take her back into my home. For the first time ever, she doesn’t release my hand as we step inside the main hallway. Maybe she’s warming up to me. After showing her the charity work that I do, she finally saw some humanity in me after all.

Or maybe she’s learned that opposing me is futile. Whatever the case, I’m positive she’s adjusting well to her new status as my wife.

She turns toward me, and says, “Can I … look around the house a little?”

Such a strange request. I’m a bit befuddled by it.

“I haven’t had the chance,” she adds. “And I want to get to know my home.”

How could I deny her? “Of course. You can explore as much as you like, but …” I raise a finger. “My study is off-limits.”

She nods. “I just wanna see …” She bites her lip and glances over my shoulder at the closed door to my study.

“What?” I mutter.

“The cameras.” She gazes straight into my eyes as her tongue swipes across the top of her lip, and it immediately makes my cock hard. “Where you watch me.”

“Hmm …” A lopsided grin forms on my face.

“Can I see them?” She cocks her head and continues to bite her lip in that seductive way that makes me want to pick her up and bang her against the hardwood door.

“I only wanna take a peek. That’s all,” she adds.

I narrow my eyes at her. When did she learn to use her attractiveness as a weapon? She sure drives a hard bargain. I like it. “As long as you don’t touch anything.”

Her eyes glow brightly. “I promise I won’t.”

I firmly grab her hand and take her toward the door, unlocking it with the key from my pocket. She walks inside and marvels at all the books. The last time we were here, she was running away from me while we were arguing. There was no time to appreciate my collection or the aesthetics of this room. It’s my favorite place in the house … after her bathroom, of course.

She inspects some of my collectibles, such as a statue that came from Egypt and an old handcrafted globe from the 1800s. Then she walks up to my desk and slides her hand along the wood as though it hides a million secrets she can’t wait to unravel.

“So this is where you sit?” she asks.

“To view the cameras? Yes,” I reply as I approach her from behind.

“But there’s only a laptop,” she says, opening it. Obviously, it’s locked with a password so she can’t see anything I don’t want her to see. And if she ever did manage to unlock it, this laptop is stationary and has no connection to the internet, only the intranet. I don’t want her sending out calls for help. Besides, I doubt she’ll ever find my trusty work laptop hidden in a secret compartment in my room.

“You don’t need much more than that,” I muse, standing right behind her as she closes the laptop and arches her back when I place a hand on her waist. My cock presses against her ass as I whisper in her ear, “But where’s the fun in that?”

She sucks in a breath while I lean forward, but instead of kissing her on the back of the neck, I press a tiny button underneath my desk. She gasps as a huge screen appears in front of us, sliding out of the top of the windowsill.

I give a voice command. “Show cameras.”

The screen immediately shows about a dozen or more live feeds from several cameras around my home, along with the one situated in her bedroom and bathroom … and the room we’re currently standing in.

I don’t even have to look at her to know she’s impressed because I can feel her breath faltering from where my hand is resting. Her finger lifts toward the screen, pointing at that one camera filming us right now. She cocks her head and waves, then she checks the room to find the camera above the door.

“Found it,” I mutter, smiling as she’s spun around in my arms while she was searching.

I place both hands on the desk behind her, trapping her. Her cheeks turn red as she leans back against the desk, and there’s a definite sheen of sweat right above her chest.