down on the bed and tie you there, so you couldn’t get off. You’d keep trying all night, this gorgeous body fucking the air, desperate for relief. I could watch you all night. It’s strange that he can make even torture a thing that I long for—that fact seems important. Momentous. Something about man and woman and the ways we break, but I can’t think about anything but the throb between my legs. And the hard look in Christopher’s eyes.
My purse must have fallen to the floor at some point. The cards are scattered across the worn carpet. And there is the hotel key card, the one I couldn’t find before.
Christopher is the one who bends to pick it up, gathering the rest of the contents in a broad sweep of his strong hands. He doesn’t bother handing the purse back to me, which is just as well since I don’t think I could hold anything. Instead he uses the key card to open the door, and holds it open for me.
How strange, that it should feel like a betrayal for me to be with another man when Christopher has rejected me for so long. And strange that he should still be bent on being the white knight.
My mind is too muddled to solve this, so I let him usher me inside. Let him pour me a drink of water from the minibar. Let him sit me down in a chair while he stands in front of me like some kind of strict professor, his eyes intense and a muscle in his jaw ticking.
I know I should be thinking about the trust fund and hospital bills, but all I can hear is Sutton’s voice saying, You’d fuck yourself against the bedpost all night long, but it wouldn’t be the same.
Wouldn’t be enough.
I’m used to the way Christopher distracts me, the way I can’t seem to stop thinking about him even though I shouldn’t. I’m less used to the way I can’t seem to stop thinking about Sutton. What are these men doing to me? Despite all their differences, they fit together as business partners. Both of them are ruthless and so complex they’re going to drive me insane.
“I know you hate me,” Christopher says, and I don’t bother to correct him. I’m not sure I could find the words. I hate you so much you consume me. And now there’s Sutton, doing the same thing. What will be left of me? “And I deserve that.”
“So you’re going to let me pay the hospital?”
He gives me a severe look. “I’m being completely honest when I say that Sutton isn’t good for you. Women love him and he loves them back… for about a week. Maybe two.”
“Then this shouldn’t be a problem for very long,” I say, even though my insides squeeze at the thought of being pushed aside. It almost seems worth it, to experience the wild power of Sutton, even knowing that heartbreak is on the horizon.
“You should stay away from him. Go back to New York.”
“Does ordering people around work well for you? Because I really want to do the opposite of whatever you say.” I would have done the opposite anyway, but now I want to make a point.
He runs a hand over his face. “I’m trying to look out for you. Sutton uses people.”
“You went into business with him.”
Christopher holds the bedpost, a carved wooden bulb that makes me think of dirty things. Maybe I’ll always look at bedposts differently now. “That’s exactly why I went into business with him. Because I’m going to succeed no matter what. No matter what some society thinks about my plans.”
I shake my head, remembering when I saw him in his cabin on the yacht, head bent over his textbook late at night. He’s always been driven. And clueless. “You really do need me.”
“I don’t need anyone.”
The words ring in the silence that follows, an explanation of what came before and foretelling of what happens next. It’s the heart of this man, his determination not to need anyone. Even the people who love him. That’s what I felt for him, once. It took me years to admit it to myself, the reason why I could never get serious with a boy after him.
“Well,” I say softly. “Regardless of whether you need me, here I am. I’m going to do the job Sutton’s given me, and then you’re going to pay for that butterfly garden.”
A notch between dark eyebrows. “Tell me why.”
“That