I had wanted to claim her body but had walked away so she wouldn’t hate me more than she already did. I would undoubtedly destroy another part of her spirit in the coming days, and I had walked away. Stupid bastard.
I turned back toward my bedroom door, knowing I needed to go up to her room again to regain the control that had slipped away. Needed to show William I still had it before he showed up here again to check on us. The fact that he had at all—when it wasn’t allowed—was disastrous. But each time I turned around I saw the crushed hope in her eyes, and I knew I wouldn’t survive seeing them up close.
Yanking at my tie until it was loose, I pulled it over my head and tossed it on the bed, then made quick work of taking off the rest of my clothes when the need for her grew to be too much.
I stepped into the bathroom and turned the water on in the shower, stepping in immediately to let the cold water clear my mind. But nothing could clear my mind of those full lips parting, of the rise and fall of her chest as her breaths grew ragged, of the indecision and want in her eyes, of the perfect way she had looked clinging to me with her breasts exposed.
I changed the temperature of the water until it was too hot, and fisted my erection in my hand, welcoming the assault of all that was Briar. I moved my hand slowly at first as I thought about every part of her body I wanted to explore, then faster when I thought about that mouth. That mouth that could easily bring me to my knees. The need to feel those lips in place of my hand was nearly painful.
I rested my free hand against the shower wall, using it to hold me up as I pumped my hand faster, squeezed harder. A moan built in my chest and her name crawled from my throat. A flash of images flooded my mind, and my hand moved faster still. Briar on her knees with her face pressed to the bed. My hand fisted in her long, dark hair as I drove into her. Her face in a mixture of pain and pleasure.
Over and over again, claiming her, that beautiful face in ecstasy, and doing more for her than I was supposed to—and things I wasn’t allowed to. But God, I needed to. I needed to taste her. I needed to feel her body tremble beneath mine for a reason other than fear. I needed to hear her moans when she came. I needed it all.
I came with a low curse and dropped my head back to face the ceiling. My rough breaths curled the steam from the shower away from my face, and I tried to focus on that, focus on something mundane . . . but my blackbird was there in my mind.
I wanted to know what she was doing to me.
Yes, she was my first girl, but part of training with William had included “dating.” If it could be called that. I had never had a problem with remaining detached from those girls. I’d never wanted to hold or kiss them. I’d never wanted to please them. I’d never wanted to give them anything—I’d never wanted anything from them at all.
One look at Briar’s false bravado, and I’d needed her. A few seconds of watching her sing during an auction, and I’d been gone to her. It had been a mistake to buy her, but I would never be able to give her back.
As the hot water beat down on me, and with that thought in my mind, feelings of déjà vu washed over me. I stilled, struggling to force back memories I couldn’t allow to surface.
Not the same, I told myself. Not the same.
I called my driver and told him to pick up the personal shopper and lunch, then I dressed casually and went into my office. As I had every day since first reading the news article on my blackbird, I pulled up Facebook.
Briar’s profile was public but there wasn’t a reason for me to stay on it for long. I had already gone through it a dozen times before, and it only frustrated me to no end. Her profile picture showed her laughing and looking up at Kyle as she stood in his arms, an engagement ring on display on her left hand.
Throughout her profile, there were pictures showing exactly how loved and loving she had been. Over the weeks those had been hidden by the mass of comments from people praying for her safe return or begging her to come home.
Today, like recent days, I only stayed on her profile long enough to glance at the new comments, then clicked on the link to Kyle’s profile, since he posted every news update I could ever need to read on Briar.
I loathed the guy, but I was thankful he made it easy.
As soon as his profile flashed onto my screen, I noticed it. The large banner photo across his page had changed since yesterday, and the sight stilled me.
He was holding a long, rectangular sheet of construction paper. Painted on it were the words: Until we’re old and gray, and then long after.
I clicked on the picture and realized I was shaking while reading his caption. Come back to me, Briar Rose. I’ll wait for you.
“Goddamn it,” I hissed, shoving away from my desk.
It was probably better that I didn’t look at her updates. There was a reason I wasn’t supposed to look up the girls I bought, and I had learned that reason extremely well upon reading that first news article.
But it was impossible to stop.
If anyone found out I was keeping close tabs on her disappearance, I’d told myself they would understand if they knew she’d been taken by mistake.
The argument had been weak at best, even then.
No one could know I knew about her old life. No one in this world could know I hated myself for doing this to her. If you broke the rules, you were a threat to the way we lived.
We took care of threats.
I had only calmed down marginally by the time my driver arrived with the shopper and food.
I led them upstairs and had the driver leave the food on the kitchen counter and wait for us there as the shopper and I walked into Blackbird’s room.
She was sitting up in bed, covered in the sheet with an expectant look on her face.
“Briar, this woman will be your personal shopper for some time to come,” I explained, and gestured to the woman.
We didn’t learn the names of the people who helped us. They preferred it that way. It kept it impersonal and helped them feel better about taking our money and keeping their mouths shut about what they knew went on in these houses.
“I’m going to need you to stand up so she can take some measurements.”
Briar hesitated, but finally stood. Her eyes anxiously darted to the open door behind me before settling on the woman.
“Drop,” the woman said sternly, and she gestured to the sheet.
That conflicted gaze flitted to me briefly. With a slow, shaky breath out, Briar closed her eyes and dropped the sheet.
“Gorgeous,” the woman said in the same tone. “This will be easy,” she murmured to herself as she went about measuring. “Bodies like this look good in anything.”
“She likes to be covered,” I said gruffly.
The woman stopped writing down a measurement to send me an annoyed glare, and Briar’s eyes flew open.
I gestured to my blackbird and said, “Don’t make her uncomfortable in what you choose for her.” The threat in my words was clear.
The shopper tapped her pencil quickly against her pad of paper once the fear receded from her face. “I can do beautiful and modest. She will be gorgeous . . . alluring.”