Chapter 11

"Then, I'm all yours."

Those words seemed to be a trigger for something, the way Esmé's eyes flashed a dangerous blue even under the shade offered by my body.

He said,

"That's a dangerous thing to say, Marcella."

Oh, there were so many more dangerous things I could do.

I wanted to tell him so, but I knew better than to break the mood with hints on my background. "How so?" I smiled, moving a leg up, then two, to straddle his lap and sit on him. The way he placed his hands on my ass for support felt instinctive at this point, like he was just meant to touch me at all times. "You're going to have to explain to me, Esmé."

"What was that, about not being a fool?"

I laughed. The smile on his face and the flicker of concern in his eyes made sure that I wouldn't feel much offense at his teasing words. "I'm not. And I'm not naïve, if that's what you're concerned about." I looped my arms around his neck then, tucked myself close into his heat with a pleased sigh. I was used to the physical intimacy of family, but this kind of closeness? This kind of nakedness, the kind that allows me to be vulnerable in someone else's arms?

It was novel to me, just enough that I found myself greedy to learn more, and more.

"I know what I want." I used my hand to stroke that defined cheek of his, tracing the edges of his hard jaw. Again, he leaned into the touch like it was only typical, as though he was used to this from years of experience; even though we both knew the truth was far from it. "And I want you to have me."

The responding look on his face was indefinable. Had I known him longer, perhaps I'd know what it was that had his face twisting in the way that it was—if it was a good thing, a bad thing, or both.

For now, all I could read was the conflict on his face. There was desire there, certainly, but it was almost as if he wanted to hold himself back from something. From himself? From me? I couldn't be sure.

What I was certain of, was that I wasn't enough of a nice person to be understanding, or patient with him.

"Esmé."

He looked up into my eyes—or, rather, I urged him to with my hand to his chin, my fingers tipping his head up until he had no choice but to see me. Something told me that he was seeing me in an odd light, perhaps believing I wasn't that different from him regardless of my strength. That I was a person running on the high of our escape, and clinging to life the way any other person would in a high-tension situation.

But I wasn't that kind of person. I'd already had my brushes with death, and the kidnapping we'd gone through was child's play at best—if I were the type to be so easily swayed by animal instinct, I wouldn't have stayed single until this very moment.

Yet I did. And now I found the one Alpha I wanted to choose after decades of waiting, the one Alpha I'd ever want.

I'd be insane to back off now.

"I know how crazy it sounds, saying this when we've only just met," I began to say. I shifted where I sat, making sure to watch his face as our chests pressed against each other. Though his expression faltered, he didn't succumb; part of me felt unreasonably pleased at having such a determined Alpha. "But."

The smile on my face was sure to be deceiving, perhaps making him think that I was a lot kinder than I appeared. Soft, and sweet—the kind of smile meant to give the wrong impression. It seemed to be working going by the softening corners of those sleepy eyes of his, so I dared to push a little more when I brushed my thumb against his lower lip.

"I'm allowed a bit of crazy after what happened to us, right? And..."

I dug my thumb into his slightly open mouth, prying those plump lips open so I could toy with his wet tongue. Though he made a surprised sound at first, he didn't complain, nor did he pull away.

Like before, he was a sweet Alpha for me. Pliant, submissive, obedient...

Perfect, just for me.

I said,

"Who says I'm not asking for all of you back? I'm not so selfless that I'd give everything without receiving something of equivalent value in return."

Silence followed. I couldn't be sure if it was the right call to say something like that so soon, but something told me—my instincts? My Alpha?—that being honest in this moment would get me what I wanted.

Then Esmé stood up, making me huff out a surprised breath as I clung to him: both arms around his neck, legs around his waist, with my ankles locked over each other.

"I've done my fair share of one-night stands," he said, looking straight into my eyes like he wanted to brand his gaze, his very being, right into my core. "But I'm not doing that here. You say you'll give me everything? Then I'll take it all."

The way he talked made it seem like his words were a threat. As if I should be scared of the streak of possessiveness in that voice, as if I could ever be shaken by the thought of being owned completely.

But it was exactly what I wanted. For him to take all of me, accept all of me, so I could have all of him too.

I ended up giving into a smile, resting my forehead against his. Whatever the reason was for suddenly being swayed into my whims, I'd take it, regardless of the risk. I had built my family's empire up with such fearlessness, so why would I hesitate now?

Sotto voce, I said, "Please."

"Bloody hell."

He kissed me then. He kissed me until I had to relearn how to breathe, until I was gasping against his open mouth. His lips, even when they left my own, still found a way to make me breathless when he tasted every inch of me. I didn't even know I could make such sounds—those breathy moans, those little cries, that commanding voice of mine reduced to nothing but bitten out swear words and whimpers.

In the middle of us kissing each other like this, touching each other like this, I dared to say, "Wait."

He paused with no hesitation.

It wasn't even a test, but if it was, he'd already pass just from that.

"Your pants," I said, grinning at him. "We're supposed to take a shower, aren't we?"

"...again, you must be taking the piss."

"Not at all."

He stared incredulously at me, yet all I did was raise an eyebrow back. As if to say, "So? What are you waiting for?"

"I'll put you down—"

"I can stay right here."

Again, he looked at me like I was being ridiculous, with my naked body pressed against his bare upper half, my limbs clinging to him every which way.

"Your own pants are still on," he said dryly.

"Give me a second."

Silently, disbelievingly, he watched as I hung on to him with one arm while I used my free hand to tug my panties down my hips. Once I'd wiggled it down my thighs, I hefted myself up to cling harder onto him, forcing him to have a faceful of my chest as I treated him like a pole—one leg still clinging on, while the other dangled loose to kick itself out of the hole of my panties.

When I finished stripping like this, Esmé looked a cross between wanting to laugh, and like he couldn't believe what he had just witnessed. Eyebrows twitching inward, smiling eyes, trembling lips—

Adorable.

"What did I say?" I teased, crossing my ankles over his back again. I made sure to rub against him as I did so, eliciting a pleasure-filled shudder from my own body as skin met right with hot skin.

"You," he mumbled, leaning in to take a nip at my jaw, before nuzzling a kiss into my skin, "are ridiculous."

"Aha. But you like it?"

He smiled up at me. There was no logic, no history, no long-term relationship between us for him to look as fond as he did, and yet, fondness was something he wore well as he set his gaze on me.

"I doubt I'd still be here if I didn't."

"Is it not the British standard to not voice your displeasure against someone, regardless of how intolerable you find their behavior to be?"

"You'd stereotype me to my face like this?"

"Tell me I'm wrong."

He gave me a long, hard look. It was a struggle not to laugh considering how he was holding my naked body up against himself while we'd been in the middle of something intimate and heated, and we were now arguing about something so petty.

"...perhaps you aren't. But that's not always the case."

"Then I'm special—"

He kissed me before I could even finish closing my mouth against the last syllable of "special". This guy...

"You're special."

Well. With him looking so serious while saying something like that, even I would be hard-pressed to reject him.

"As are you," I said, smiling. "Can you take your pants off now?"

"Rather impatient, aren't we?"

I raised a hand up behind me, before settling it on the knob for the shower. "Are you willing to get wet with your pants on?"

He stared at me for a moment, then heaved out a sigh as if my teasing were a great hardship. This cute bastard. "Hold on tight."

With that warning, he removed one hand from my ass to reach for his zipper, pulling it down with that one hand before tugging and wiggling a bit to kick his pants off.

He was breathing heavily once he was done, making me laugh. "You struggled so mu—"

My words were swallowed into a harsh kiss before I could finish, though the press of my back against the bathroom wall wasn't as hard as it could be. I had expected that he'd lose his patience by now, that he'd have his way with me and allow his Alpha, his rut, to rule over all reason, but he didn't.

This sweet man, how was he real?

"You're so hard already," I said, laughing breathlessly still as I reached down, feeling for that hard cock of his. He was sizable, but not so much that it was terrifying. I couldn't deny my curiosity either, feeling out the burning heat of this throbbing length in my hand. "Excited much?"

"Yes," he hissed, pressing hard, nipping kisses against my jaw. I shivered at his ministrations, at the mix of gentleness and raw desire, and found myself melting into his hold far, far too easily than should be safe.

I didn't know this man, but god, I wanted to. I wanted to keep him, wanted to be kept, wanted to be held like this forever.

"I'm glad." I curled into him, let him rub his hardness against my mound to give fuel to what was already a feverish heat. Esmé, seeming to think that this wasn't enough, slipped a hand in between the press of our bodies to pinch at a sensitive nipple, making me moan. It was too much, and yet, it would never be enough. So I said, "I've never been this wet before. Never wanted something this badly before, but then—"

"Your mouth," he rasped out, catching my mouth in a kiss before I could say more. "Stop, or you'll make me blow."

"Can't help it, hah." I removed my hand from his cock, set it back on his shoulder, before beginning to grind down on him with full intent to make myself cum. I felt all too hot, felt like I could really melt, but I wasn't melting fast enough. "No one's ever touched me like this, not until now. Not until you."

He groaned like a man punched in the gut, head burying itself into the crook of my neck and shoulder. "Stop it. You don't need to say that, not when I'm already hard enough as is."

"But it's true."

I reached back, turned on the knob to the shower, and laughed just as he started sputtering at me in disbelief. Was it because of my words, or the sudden pouring of water?

"What do you mean, it's true?" he asked, shaking his head against the light trickle of warm water on his head. "You can't expect me to believe you've never been touched before."

"I'm a virgin."

He choked.

"No, really," I said, laughing as I bowed my head away from the pouring water. I couldn't see his face like this, but I'd rather not make a fool of myself by choking on the water I'd turned on myself. "I've never had anyone touch me like this before. You're the first."

He didn't say anything, as he did just reach out to turn off the water.

When I looked up at him, it was to the vision of him staring at me. What I thought was an intense gaze before felt like a lie now, because the way he was looking at me in this moment?

It felt like he wanted to devour me. Eat me whole, leaving nothing behind.

I shivered, and he tucked me closer into him.

"You could've said something."

"I just did."

He frowned at me. "Let's take this to bed."

"Oh come on, it's more exciting in the shower—"

"I'm taking my time with you in bed," he declared, taking no notice of my complaints as he heaved me right into him, carrying me out of the shower stall, out of the bathroom, and right into the large bed of our motel room. As he set me down, he said, "You said that you're mine, so why don't you act like it?"

I watched as he went back to the bathroom for a towel. When he returned, it was to kneel at my feet and towel me dry; as if it were only expected of him, as if he was a faithful servant meant to take care of me.

For a man who spoke like I was a personal belonging instead of a person, he certainly acted like I was more precious than life. A smile played across my lips. "Oh? And what does that mean?"

"I'll take care of you."

"I don't mind if you give it to me a little rough."

"I'd mind. Anyway..."

He pressed a kiss to my knee, right where a scar lay from an old wound.

"I'll give it to you rough for as much as you like once we're done with the first round."

The first round.

I swallowed, watching as the smile on his face grew into something smug, something entirely unlike the concern he'd been initially trying to express.

This man, he really wanted to ruin me, didn't he?

"Deal."

And I'd let him, over and over again.