common,” he said. “I didn’t go to prom either.”
“Why?” Stupid, stupid Ellie, who wanted to know everything about this guy that her body longed for.
Something flashed in his eyes for a second. Something bleak, before he shook his head with a smile. “It’s a long story, Jenny, and I’m still asking the questions. Favorite food?”
“I don’t think I have one.” A memory brushed to life; my friends and I at a Fourth of July barbeque in Amber’s back yard. There’d been ribs and potato salad and sweet, juicy watermelon for dessert.
“Tell me. You thought of something right then, didn’t you?” His hands stroked my arms. Up and down, a soothing motion that made me want to bury my head in his chest and never let go. I felt calm, yet turned on. Safe, yet my body prickled with anticipation.
I should have been afraid about how well he could read me. On one level I did feel fear. I had no illusions that if Alexander Hamilton discovered who I really was, I’d be killed or worse.
But another part revelled in the connection, in the awareness that we both had of each other. “There was a barbeque once,” I replied. “In Cleveland. I must have been fourteen.”
“What did you eat?”
“Potato salad and watermelon.” I’d been going through a vegetarian phase. My mom had been in one of her rare dry spells, and I had driven her insane by quoting horrifying statistics about the meat industry. Finally she’d thrown up her hands in disgust and told me to cook my own damn food.
His lips twitched; his hands stayed on my arms. “Did you sneak beer from the adults when no one was watching?”
I laughed. “I was too much of a chicken.” My voice was rueful. Lisa had taken a sip, but by then, my mother had realized that the best way to ensure good behaviour from her introverted teenager was to threaten to take away her book. I’d been in the middle of reading Dune. I would have died if my mother had confiscated the book and so I’d declined the beer. Lisa and Amber had teased me relentlessly about it for years after. “Did you?”
“I grew up in Provence,” he replied. “The French have a different attitude to drinking. I didn’t need to sneak beer from the adults; they were happy to offer it to me.” His hand wound around my hair, pulling it back to expose my throat to his lips. He nibbled and bit, and I groaned as I felt his erection graze my ass.
This was insane. My body responded to him the way it had in that bar in Paris. Need boiled in my blood and I whimpered and tried to rub my body against his. But I was met with a swift rebuke. “Tsk, tsk,” he chided. “Hold still, cherie .”
It took all the self-control in the world to obey. To stay still as his lips caressed every inch of my neck and his hands kneaded at my breasts over the t-shirt. Just when I was ready to take any punishment, any punishment at all, if only I feel his lips on mine, the car stopped.
We had arrived at our dinner destination.
***
Alexander:
I was a fool, but I was trying to recreate Paris.
In that bar in Saint Denis, it had taken her some time to relax around me. We’d talked first. Laughed and shared anecdotes as we sipped wine, and slowly, she had grown more comfortable. I’d seen her body language change from wary to open, then to aroused.
Aroused had been a very, very good state.
I could have taken her to an expensive restaurant. Bangkok had plenty of them. But that would have been what she would have been prepared for. I didn’t want that. She wore her cover story over her like it was a security blanket. At this moment, I didn’t care what her agenda really was. I just wanted her to soften a little, so I could get another glimpse of the woman underneath.
Because two years after that one night, that woman was still on my mind. And I knew just the place to take her.
***
Ellie / Jenny:
He had said it wouldn’t be fancy. But he was also incredibly wealthy and had paid a million dollars to possess
“Why?” Stupid, stupid Ellie, who wanted to know everything about this guy that her body longed for.
Something flashed in his eyes for a second. Something bleak, before he shook his head with a smile. “It’s a long story, Jenny, and I’m still asking the questions. Favorite food?”
“I don’t think I have one.” A memory brushed to life; my friends and I at a Fourth of July barbeque in Amber’s back yard. There’d been ribs and potato salad and sweet, juicy watermelon for dessert.
“Tell me. You thought of something right then, didn’t you?” His hands stroked my arms. Up and down, a soothing motion that made me want to bury my head in his chest and never let go. I felt calm, yet turned on. Safe, yet my body prickled with anticipation.
I should have been afraid about how well he could read me. On one level I did feel fear. I had no illusions that if Alexander Hamilton discovered who I really was, I’d be killed or worse.
But another part revelled in the connection, in the awareness that we both had of each other. “There was a barbeque once,” I replied. “In Cleveland. I must have been fourteen.”
“What did you eat?”
“Potato salad and watermelon.” I’d been going through a vegetarian phase. My mom had been in one of her rare dry spells, and I had driven her insane by quoting horrifying statistics about the meat industry. Finally she’d thrown up her hands in disgust and told me to cook my own damn food.
His lips twitched; his hands stayed on my arms. “Did you sneak beer from the adults when no one was watching?”
I laughed. “I was too much of a chicken.” My voice was rueful. Lisa had taken a sip, but by then, my mother had realized that the best way to ensure good behaviour from her introverted teenager was to threaten to take away her book. I’d been in the middle of reading Dune. I would have died if my mother had confiscated the book and so I’d declined the beer. Lisa and Amber had teased me relentlessly about it for years after. “Did you?”
“I grew up in Provence,” he replied. “The French have a different attitude to drinking. I didn’t need to sneak beer from the adults; they were happy to offer it to me.” His hand wound around my hair, pulling it back to expose my throat to his lips. He nibbled and bit, and I groaned as I felt his erection graze my ass.
This was insane. My body responded to him the way it had in that bar in Paris. Need boiled in my blood and I whimpered and tried to rub my body against his. But I was met with a swift rebuke. “Tsk, tsk,” he chided. “Hold still, cherie .”
It took all the self-control in the world to obey. To stay still as his lips caressed every inch of my neck and his hands kneaded at my breasts over the t-shirt. Just when I was ready to take any punishment, any punishment at all, if only I feel his lips on mine, the car stopped.
We had arrived at our dinner destination.
***
Alexander:
I was a fool, but I was trying to recreate Paris.
In that bar in Saint Denis, it had taken her some time to relax around me. We’d talked first. Laughed and shared anecdotes as we sipped wine, and slowly, she had grown more comfortable. I’d seen her body language change from wary to open, then to aroused.
Aroused had been a very, very good state.
I could have taken her to an expensive restaurant. Bangkok had plenty of them. But that would have been what she would have been prepared for. I didn’t want that. She wore her cover story over her like it was a security blanket. At this moment, I didn’t care what her agenda really was. I just wanted her to soften a little, so I could get another glimpse of the woman underneath.
Because two years after that one night, that woman was still on my mind. And I knew just the place to take her.
***
Ellie / Jenny:
He had said it wouldn’t be fancy. But he was also incredibly wealthy and had paid a million dollars to possess
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