I let out a groan.
He scrapes his teeth against my thigh. “You like being watched.”
“No.”
“You want men like me to watch. Men who will hurt you.”
I shake my head.
He stands. Flips me onto my stomach. Presses his palm into the space between my shoulder blades, pinning me to the bed. "Admit it."
I do.
I like being watched, I like being hurt, I like everything about this.
"Yes," I breathe.
I expect him to break, to gasp, to show some surprise. But he doesn't.
He lets go, gives in to the scene.
Ty pins me harder. He brings his knee to the back of my thigh. Holds me in place as he unzips his jeans and pulls me in position.
He lifts his knee.
Replaces it with his hands on my hips.
He pulls me onto him.
He slams into me so hard and fast I groan.
I reach for something, but I'm bound.
He presses down, pushing me into the bed and drives into me with steady strokes.
Too hard.
Too fast.
Too deep.
It hurts.
But still, I want more.
I let my eyes close for a second, then I force them open.
I soak up every ounce of sensation.
The camera in the corner.
The sharpness of his nails on my hips.
The earthy scent of his shampoo.
The rough edge to his groan.
The sweet pressure of his cock inside me.
Again and again.
Until I'm there.
Groaning as I come on his cock. Pulsing so hard and fast I can barely breathe.
It pulls him over the edge.
He rakes his nails over my ass as he comes. He works through his orgasm, letting out low deep groans as he spills every drop.
When he's finished, he pulls back. Sits next to me. Undoes the bindings around my wrist.
Helps me out of my dress.
Pulls me into his arms and holds me like he'll never let go.
He is mine.
Here, he's mine.
I'm the only one who gets this part of him.
Whatever else happens, I have that.
Chapter Forty-Seven
Indigo
For a long time, I lie there in his arms. He helps me wash and dress. Makes dinner. Sits with me on the balcony.
We talk about nothing as we watch the moon bounce off the Hudson.
We stay in this beautiful, perfect place for hours.
Before we go to bed, he takes the tape from the camera, wraps it in a purple gift box, slips it into my purse.
It’s mine.
This recording that could destroy him, destroy the reputation he’s paying me to fix, is mine.
He trusts me to keep it safe.
He trusts me.
I fall asleep in his arms. Wake to the smell of coffee and tea and a note about meeting me at the engagement party.
It's easier than I expect, stepping into my role.
Listening to Sienna gossip as we dress, sit through hair and makeup, take a car to the party.
Watching her bounce around the room, discussing soccer with anyone who will listen.
I hold Ty's hand. I smile at his co-workers. I laugh as Cam and Ian tease him about my bachelorette party.
They're going to buy me strippers.
And record the whole thing. To make Ty jealous.
They're invited, right?
I laugh. I sip champagne. I circulate.
The blushing bride.
Then the air in the room changes.
I know before I see her.
Rory. In a designer sheath and pearls. Sweet smile, long hair, French-manicured fingers wrapped around Ty's heart.
Chapter Forty-Eight
Indigo
"That's a beautiful ring." Ty's coworker goes on about the curving silver adorning my left hand. "Modern."
"I'm a modern man." Ty's voice stays strong, but his eyes wander to her.
It's fast, a second maybe, but I still feel some pull between them.
I'm the only one who gets that side of him.
I repeat the mantra again and again.
It fails to soften my shoulders.
His coworker laughs. "Do you go Dutch on your dates?"
"We trade off," Ty says. "I pay for pizza. She pays for dinner at Le Cirque."
He's teasing. I'm supposed to laugh. But I can't.
His attention is with her. That part of him that wants to be a nice man who likes nice things—
It's with her.
That part of him will always be with her.
Ty presses his palm into my lower back. "Let me get you something to eat."
"I'm fine." I pry my eyes from Rory and her perfect black sheath.
"I remember when I got married," his coworker says. "My wife wouldn't touch carbs. She nearly starved herself to fit into her dress."
That's ridiculous, but it's filling Ty's head with ideas.
I can see it in his eyes. That other part of him. The one that needs to take care of me.
He nods goodbye to his coworker. "If you'll excuse us…"
I open my mouth to protest, but his coworker is already walking away. Ty is already leading me toward the table of appetizers.
He fills a plate with crostini. One is topped with shrimp and mango. Another with goat cheese and raspberry. A third with mozzarella and basil.
"I'm fine," I say.
"When's the last time you ate?" He pushes the plate into my hands.
"Breakfast."
"Indigo…" His eyes flit to her. Rory. She's chatting with Ian.