Earning Her Keep (Price of Love)

I let the oak leaf fall and gently touch is forearm. Muscles ripple beneath my palm. “I’m not lying. I liked it. I loved it.”

“Fuck,” he says, watching me close. “I just… I couldn’t help myself. I’ve wanted you for so long. And once I had you, I couldn’t stop.”

I feel my wetness thicken. My core tightens with the burning fire of wanting him all over again.

More than ever I want to give him what he wants. But I know that there’s something I need to tell him. Because even though I came here under false pretenses, I don’t want to lie to him any more than I have to. “But I have to tell you…”

He groans. “Here we go.”

I purse my lips and steady myself to admit the thing I’m so ashamed of saying. “About the reading to you at dinner. I can’t.”

“Won’t, you mean. Because I’m a fucking animal.”

I shake my head. “No. I mean, truly, I can’t. I have dyslexia. Even the simplest words are just so…” I clear my throat, trying to shift my emotion. But it’s right there, bubbling up. Tears sting my eyes. “I’m so ashamed but the fact is, I hardly know how to read. And so as much as I’d like to read to you at night, I simply can’t.”

His expression changes, shifting from smoldering to paternal. From lover to protector. “You have dyslexia? But your teachers taught you coping strategies, right? Figured out…”

I’m already shaking my head. “No, I…” I say quietly, not wanting to admit that I was never sent to school.

Home schooled, that’s what Judith used to tell the authorities. The truth was she only bothered with enough to satisfy their inspectors. A few tricks I could pull that made me seem normal, like some sort of trained monkey pretending to be a real human.

“I never learned to read, not properly. I can, but not much. Not a whole book. It exhausts me even to try.”

And my heart just about bursts.

He reaches forward and tucks a lock of my hair behind my ear, lingering there. Touching me. It’s all the gentler because I know just how rough he can be—how rough he wants to be. “Do you want to learn how?”

I’m so ashamed that I can’t even keep my eyes lifted. I stare down at a lightning bug pulsing gold on a blade of grass. “Of course.”

“Then let me help you,” he says, running the pad of his thumb down my cheek with such tenderness that my heart just about melts. “Have dinner with me tonight. No reading required. I’m having a dress sent to your room I want you to wear. For me.”

“Okay,” I answer, smiling so hard that it pinches my cheeks. He places his thumb on the edge of my jaw, drawing my face up again. I manage to lift my eyes, meeting his gaze.

He nods down at me. Studying me close. Smiling now, just a little. “I want you to be happy, babygirl. I want to give you everything you need and more.”

I feel dizzy with desire for him. And excitement, too. “What time should I be ready for dinner?”

“Seven. Sharp. Don’t be late.”

CHAPTER 7

Dane

She’s late. It’s 7:01 and 22 seconds and she isn’t here yet.

I’m fucking annoyed. At least, a part of me is. My anxiety monster is running in circles, wondering why I’m not losing my mind.

Yet.

For some reason, I have no problem giving her the patience and grace that I refuse to give myself.

7:02. Alright, fine, yeah, it’s pissing me off a little. Patience running thin. I pace around the dining room, whiskey in hand, making sure everything is set in my checklist in my head.

I set the dinner menu around what she loves to eat. When she started the job, I had Ethel ask her about six hundred questions, including allergies, food sensitivities, and a whole fucking page about her favorite foods.

So the menu tonight starts with arugula with candied walnuts and goat cheese, with a lemon vinaigrette. She just said she liked salad. Iceberg with ranch dressing, to be precise, but man, I just want her to have something better. Main course will be roast chicken with mashed potatoes—and asparagus. She didn’t mention asparagus. But I love asparagus and Ethel makes a mean fucking asparagus with Hollandaise.

Pure fucking heaven.

Well, no. Emily is pure fucking heaven but Ethel’s asparagus is close.

And for dessert is chocolate lava cake with cookies and cream ice cream. Not my usual, but I can deal. For her? For that sweet face and that cherry I’m taking very soon? Anything.

I glance back at my watch and it’s 7:03.

I’m about to lose my fucking mind when the door swings open. And there she is. In a forest-green satin dress I picked out for her. No bra. She’s wearing a thong I picked out for her too; the lace makes ripples in the satin. The dress hugs her curves just fucking right. On her feet are four-inch neon pink Jimmy Choo peep toe pumps that I picked out, too.