Echo (Bleeding Hearts #1)(21)

“Well, you should eat,” he encouraged. “And take a break. I don’t want people to start thinking I’m a slave driver.”

There was a hint of a smile on his face now, and my heart did a little flip inside of my chest. Our eyes locked, and for a moment, I was transported back to five years ago. I was on my back porch, completely under his spell. And if he kept looking at me like that, then maybe he would kiss me too…

I bolted up out of my chair and nearly knocked over my paperclips again. Ryland frowned.

“I’ll take my break now,” I blurted. “Thanks again for the food.”

Ryland nodded, but he didn’t leave. I wished he would. I couldn’t stand there with him looking at me that way. Making me feel things that were no good for me. And yet my eyes wandered over his body, imagining what it would be like to have his hands on me again. To feel their warmth and their strength, and to know I had invited them. That it wasn’t something I’d been coerced into doing. It was a fantasy I could entertain, if only briefly.

For once Suffering Stacey appeared at a good time, popping up with a mug of coffee for Ryland.

“Mr. Bennett, I have those files you requested.”

He didn’t take his eyes off me as he jerked his chin towards his office.

“Enjoy your lunch, Miss Valentine.”



***



I woke to his breath skating over my skin, his scent surrounding me as the heat of his body pressed against mine.

It wasn’t any particular cologne that I could narrow down. It was a simple, clean scent. A faint hint of soap and laundry detergent. I wondered if that was intentional, so I couldn’t identify him later.

The blindfold was on, but judging by my sleepiness he was late. Very late. I must have been asleep for at least a couple of hours. He didn’t speak as I came to, he simply continued to worship my body with his lips.

Admittedly, it felt good. I’d been between the clutches of a dream and reality when I finally woke. Only, it was Ryland’s face in my dream, hovering over me as he kissed every inch of my skin. Traces of cinnamon and amber bathing my body everywhere he touched. I wanted it to be him. Oh God, how I wanted it to be him.

“Brighton,” he groaned.

It was such a simple word. Just my name on his lips. But the way he said it was different from every other word I’d heard him say so far. His voice was always tight, in control. But when he said my name, he lost that control.

His hands trailed up the delicate skin of my rib cage, and I shivered beneath them. How had he managed to take my clothes off without me feeling it?

“Where’s my dress?” I asked.

He didn’t like my question. His hand tangled in my hair as he brought his lips to my ear.

“Clever girl. You think I don’t know what you’re doing? That dress, as you call it, was cut off the moment I stepped in here.”

“Cut off?” I repeated, my voice trembling.

“That’s what I said,” he hummed. “You are a very beautiful girl, Brighton, and I like to look at you. But do I need to put something as simple as pride in your appearance in the agreement as well?”

Whether it was his intention or not, his words actually hurt me. I grew up being treated like trash, and anyone who saw the way we lived would have agreed. But I didn’t like to think it was true.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered. “I don’t have a lot of nice things, but I’ll do better next time.”

“You have a lot to be sorry for today.” He nipped at my ear. “Are you ready to redeem yourself?”

My entire body stiffened beneath him. He said he would punish me, but a part of me had secretly hoped he’d forgotten while he explored my body.

I bit my lip and waited, but he simply pulled it free with his thumb and kissed me. It was soft and gentle. Hesitant even. With the blindfold on, I was so attuned to his every sound that I could hear the change in his breathing. Was it excitement, or duress? What I wouldn’t give to see his face now. To unlock this mystery.

“It won’t be so bad.” He reached forward and tugged a lock of my red hair. “In fact, I think you may even enjoy it. I can tell there’s a little bit of darkness inside of you too, Brighton. Whether you like to admit it or not.”

His words were worse than a slap to the face. Was he insinuating I was like Norma-Jean?

“I’ve often wondered what your vices are,” he continued. “There has to be something. I didn’t believe the sweet and innocent act for a moment. Not until I was inside of you for the first time.”

He flipped me over on the bed during the middle of his little speech, positioning my body on all fours.

“But do you know what I realized that day, Brighton?” he asked. “I think you like to be hunted.”

His hands came down around my hips and squeezed the flesh of my ass. “You like the rough way I treat you, don’t you? Like to be used as I see fit.”

I whimpered beneath him but didn’t respond. I couldn’t. It didn’t matter what punishment he wanted to dole out, I would never admit defeat to this twisted son of a bitch.

He let out an impatient sigh, followed by the distinctive sound of a belt buckle being tugged from his pants.

My legs shook, and I was finding it difficult to keep my composure. Thinking I was strong was one thing, but when it came down to it, I wasn’t. I’d grown up in a rough neighborhood, and I’d been bullied more times than I could count. I was forever being called scum and teased for my red hair. They were just words, but they hurt all the same. If it wasn’t the kids, it was Norma-Jean slapping me around. I thought those things had toughened me up, made my armor impenetrable. I was wrong. Because right now, I was terrified.