Thousands (Dollar 4)

Pinching a pen from the desk, Pim skim read whatever the statement said then scribbled a signature that looked suspiciously like Pimlico and not Tasmin.

Perhaps, just like me, she hadn’t traded one name for another yet—even though others had.

Nodding in approval, Carlyn headed to a large floor printer and scanned a duplicate. Passing those to Pim, she waited for yet another signature beside an already messy one at the bottom.

“And just like that…it’s like it never happened.” She smiled conspiratorially at Pim.

I knew what the damn cop was doing—doing her best to make me snap and give her a reason to lasso cuffs over my wrists and take Pim away from me all over again.

I was angry.

But I wasn’t stupid.

I let her have her moment because in exactly two minutes, we’d be gone, and Pim would be far, far away from her.

“It’s done?” Pim stroked the pages. “Just like that?”

“Just like that.” Carlyn beamed. “No more stealing, though. You hear me?”

Pim shot me a look beneath her lashes. A look that said ‘tell that to him. He’s the one who taught me.’ Then she lowered her gaze and nodded demurely. “No more stealing.”

“In that case, Mr. I Don’t Need To Know Your Name…” Carlyn skirted around the desk, throwing a judgmental look my way before clipping to the exit in high heels. “If Tasmin, or as you like to call her, Pim, wishes to go with you…she’s free to leave.”

Tasmin.

That damn name again.

All this time, I’d wanted to know her true identity.

But now that I did, it didn’t suit her.

She was Pim.

Would I have to start calling her Tasmin? Would everything have to change all because I sailed away when I should’ve fucking stayed?

Crossing my arms to hold my thundering heart in place, I glowered at Pim and asked the unthinkable. “Do you want to go with me?”

It was a question I hadn’t even considered. A question I should’ve asked myself before storming in here as if I was once again her knight in dinged-up armour when really, she’d helped herself better than I ever could.

The question hung between us, unanswered and lonely.

Pim slowly folded the paperwork and tucked it into her palm. Coming toward me, her eyes softened, searching mine with a silent intensity that made my skin crawl under her scrutiny and my cock harden under her sexuality.

How had I not seen how stunning a creature she’d evolved into? No wonder I broke under her will. No wonder I didn’t stand a chance.

Look at her.

She was no longer a prisoner—she was my jailer, and I would happily remain sentenced to her for the rest of my godforsaken life.

Her feet stopped in front of me. Biting her lip, her face turned sad as she reached with delicate fingers to cup my cheek.

My knees almost buckled beneath her touch.

Locking my jaw, I fought every lust and addiction and instead focused on how warm she was, how sweet, how delicate, how beautiful.

Her fingers kissed my skin then fell away.

I lashed out, catching her wrist with a hand that wanted to squeeze not caress.

She sucked in a breath at my possession, her eyes heating with the same mixture of forbidden lust I felt.

Her voice wobbled. “That isn’t the right question.”

I struggled to remember what I’d asked.

All I could remember was her and me and us.

“The question isn’t if I want to go with you, Elder.” Her eyelashes hooded over molten eyes.

I swallowed the thick wash of desire. “It isn’t?” I forgot we stood in a police station. I forgot we had an audience. I forgot about everything—the Chinmoku, my family…every stupid, inconsequential thing and hyper focused on her.

Her.

Pim.

Tasmin.

The woman I needed to prove I was worthy of because, fuck, she was ten times the person I could ever be.

My lips tingled to touch hers.

My tongue ached to dance with hers.

Every inch of me burned to possess and taste but for connection rather than empty satisfaction. I needed to be inside her to feel her, not to rip into her only to finish quickly and start all over again.

That mindless addiction was overshadowed for a moment. A moment where I wanted the best for her above all things—no matter the cost.

“What is the right question?” I murmured as she slotted herself against me and kissed right over my heart as if I was something to be worshiped and not the other way around.

I couldn’t win with this woman.

I didn’t stand a fucking chance.

I was completely, utterly, undeniably hers until time stopped ticking or the world stopped spinning—whatever came first.

I’d never felt that before.

Never wanted to be so irrevocably tied to another that I was willing to do anything to make it possible.

“The right question is…do you want me?” Her eyes glistened with memories of the hotel room, her letter, and my subsequent reply by leaving.