Hundreds (Dollar #3)

Shit. Shit. Shit.

I wanted her to keep her distance. I’d been cruel and cold to achieve that. If it was up to me, I’d have grabbed her the second I entered the suite and have her sitting on my face this very fucking moment.

But I wasn’t healthy.

My needs weren’t right.

She had to stay away for her sake and mine.

But I couldn’t stomach her pain or live with myself knowing I was the cause of it.

“Pim, wait.” Striding forward, I slammed my hand on the door, keeping it open.

Her lips parted. “What are you—”

I couldn’t concentrate on anything but her mouth and the delicate wings of her collarbones and the pinkness of her freshly showered skin. Screw her past, her mother, our future.

Pushing the door wide, I scooped her up one armed and shot forward to place her on the vanity. Her weight transferred to the marble basin, her legs dangling, eyes wild with uncertainty.

I hated that uncertainty.

I hated my uncertainty and the awful fucking knowledge I now carried. The debt of knowing something she didn’t and having to tell her when I would give anything not to.

“I missed you, too.” Cupping her face with both hands, I kissed her.

She melted into my touch. One moment hurting and untrusting. The next welcoming and liquid. She tasted of cool water and mint toothpaste, her skin damp and hot.

Her head tilted to kiss me deeper, her tongue a skilled serpent making my head swim and rules shatter and self-control fray at the edges.

I lost my grip on sanity and hooked my fingers around her hips. Dragging her toward the edge of the vanity, I slotted myself between her legs.

She moaned as I shoved the towel aside and rubbed my hard-on against her. Her lips parted faster than before, more sure and confident than our other shared connections. Her tongue fought mine before I had the chance to manipulate the kiss. Her exploration brave and bold, sending every drop of blood to my cock.

The pent-up aggression from holding myself back last night overflowed.

I ripped off the rest of her towel—past caring I might hurt her.

She wobbled on the vanity, her hands locking onto my shoulders. All I wanted to do was push down my jeans and enter her.

To ride her like she wanted me to.

To remind us that two broken things could become whole when bound together in bed.

Her fingers feathered over my chest to my belt. Her touch grazed my cock as she struggled to get the buckle undone while I wedged so tight against her.

I stood on the precipice—seconds away from leaning back, letting her strip me, and hoisting her up to slip inside her.

But one thing stopped me.

One thing I held onto to prevent myself from fucking this up even more than I had.

Her mother.

Pim was no longer mine. She’d never been mine. She belonged to a parent. A parent who’d done unspeakable things. A parent who didn’t deserve her but still had ownership over this incredible woman who was her daughter.

“Pim…stop.” Pulling away, I clamped hands on her arms, pinning her down, stopping her fingers from opening my fly. “I’m not doing this again.”

She blinked, dazed and heated. “But—”

“I told you last night. I would only sleep with you once.” I let her go, backing away and dragging hands through my hair. “It’s over.”

Damp chocolate strands clung to her collarbone as she shook her head. “But I thought—”

“You thought nothing. We had our fun, and now we’re leaving.” Turning my back on her agony—the agony I’d caused—I muttered, “I’ll drop you off at the Phantom. I have to return to the warehouse for a few hours.” Bracing my hand on the doorjamb, I didn’t let her see my back-breaking pain. How my guts lassoed my heart and hung me out to dry. How my body trembled to spin around and drag her to the tiled floor. To mount her. To kiss her. To fuck her until we both couldn’t survive.

In a way, I was glad Selix had given me such terrible news. I focused on that. It gave me a boundary I couldn’t cross. I used it now, replacing what I wanted with what was best for Pim.

I cleared my throat, still tasting her on my tongue. “Once I finish work, we need to talk.”

I’ll tell you something you won’t want to hear.

The sound of her jumping off the vanity followed by a soft groan of pain from abused bones tingled the back of my neck. Her electrical presence came closer. The softest flutter of her hand landed on my back. “If you need to talk…talk to me now.”

She thought I was the one who needed to spill things?

That I’d dump the rest of my heart out like I’d done the previous night?

Hell, no.

The next time we talked, every subject would be about her. I’d tell her what I knew and she’d better to all things holy tell me everything she knew in return. I wanted to know what school she went to. What her friends were called. What her favourite subject was. Her favourite movie, colour, smell, taste. I wanted to own her every memory, not because such things would solidify my feelings for her, but because I needed to make what was hers mine.

I needed it more than my next smoke or cello session.

I needed it too damn much.

Whirling around, I bared my teeth. “This isn’t about me. This is about you.”

Doubt filled her gaze, searching my face for clues on what the topic might be. “If it was about last night…”

“It’s not.”

Her eyebrows hung over her gaze in a wounded look. “Okay.” Energy filled her spine, inflating her to stand tall regardless she was naked. Once again, she was in the form of dress she preferred, and it looked fucking stunning on her. “Are we sailing somewhere new tonight?”

I fought the urge to close my eyes, so I didn’t drown under her perfection. So I didn’t stare at her nipples or the sleek lines of her belly leading to the one place I wanted more than anything.

“Tomorrow.” My voice was a scratch on vinyl. “In the morning, you have a few doctor visits. Then we’re setting sail.”

“Oh.” She looked down, her fingers darting as if she played an imaginary chord just like I did when I got stressed.

“Oh?” Every inch of me craved to capture her hands, to slip my fingers up her thigh and—

Goddammit, get it together.

“What’s wrong?” I huffed.

“Nothing.” She smiled bright, fake. Moving to push past me, she lowered her gaze, hiding her true thoughts.

I didn’t budge. “There’s something.” I crossed my arms, barricading her path. “Tell me.”

“It’s fine. Truly.”

“I don’t like liars, Pim. And I definitely don’t like people withholding the truth.”

Hypocrite.

Tell her. Right now. Tell her about her mother.

But I didn’t because I had fucking double standards and expected more from Pim than I did myself.

Bastard.