When he’s emptied, he drops to his knees, breathing hard, smiling a little. He’s still got hold of me, but he’s not hurting anymore.
With his other hand, he pushes the hair that’s stuck to the sheen of sweat on my forehead back.
He just looks at me for a minute before kissing me, kissing my mouth that tastes like him, that’s just had him inside, that’s just swallowed everything he gave me.
And when he slides one hand into my panties and rubs my clit, I kiss him back, and I come. I come on his fingers, in the palm of his hand, and I’m pulling him to me when I should be pushing him away.
Wanting him when I should be hating him.11SebastianI’m up earlier than usual the next morning. Helena is fast asleep beside me, her arms hugged into her chest between us, forehead pressed against my shoulder.
It’s funny, no matter how far from me she starts on the bed, every morning it’s the same. She’s curled so tight against me that I’m afraid to wake her when I get up.
She doesn’t budge when I push the hair from her face to look at her. She looks younger than she is when she sleeps. It’s because her face is so relaxed. She’s always on her guard otherwise, and I understand that.
I get up, check my phone for a message I’m expecting. It’s there, but I’m not sure if I’m happy about it or not. It could save Helena, if it comes to that, but it would destroy Ethan in the process.
I type a reply. I’ll meet my contact in his Verona office the following day.
Helena doesn’t move when I slip off the bed to have a shower, but when I come back into the bedroom, she’s sitting up in bed, arms folded, her face like she’s deep in thought. She turns to look at me, and I notice that she doesn’t keep her eyes on mine.
“Good morning,” I say.
“Why were the payments different when my Aunt Helena was the Willow Girl?”
I toss the towel I just used to dry my hair aside and step toward her, take her chin in my hand, and tilt her face up.
“I said good morning.”
She looks at me, her forehead creasing. “Good morning.”
“That’s better. Why don’t you go have a shower and get dressed? You should come downstairs for breakfast. You can’t avoid my family forever.”
“No, thanks. I’ll lose my appetite with Ethan gawking at me.”
“He can’t help how he is, you know that, right?”
“What do you mean?”
“You must have noticed.” Although she’s had such little interaction with him, is it possible she hasn’t?
She shrugs a shoulder. “He seems strange. I just thought he was a jerk.”
“Oh, he is a jerk, but there’s something else. He had an accident when he was fourteen. There was some damage to his brain.”
“Oh.”
I glance away, remembering, but only for a moment. “And Lucinda manipulates him. Teaches him everything he knows.”
“Teaches him to hate me.”
“Not just you. I’m just saying there’s a reason he’s the way he is. And that doesn’t mean you should be alone with him, but just so you understand.”
“It doesn’t matter to me. He’s still my enemy, no matter what. What was the accident?”
I turn away before answering. “A boating trip gone wrong.” I walk into the closet to get dressed, pull on a pair of jeans. I have a T-shirt in my hands when I walk back into the bedroom to find her still on the bed.
She bites her lip. “So what happens when the year is up? I mean, do I just…do you… Do you stay here and I’m with him and…”
The thought of it, of handing her to him, of him touching her, makes my hands fist. Is it just her, or would I feel this way with anyone? I wouldn’t wish my brother on any of the Willow Girls because it’d be handing her to Lucinda and handing her to Lucinda would be like handing her to Satan himself.
“Don’t think about that now, Helena. There’s a full year. A lot can happen.”
“What does that mean?”
I pull my T-shirt on and go into the bathroom to comb my hair, but I’m really just buying time.
“You asked me about the payment when your Aunt Helena was the Willow Girl,” I say, coming back into the bedroom.
She nods, sits up a little taller.
I sit on the edge of the bed. “How much do you know about her time here?”
“Not much. Only that she survived.”
“She was here for two-and-a-half years. Not three.”
“Why?”
“Because she killed the firstborn Scafoni son.”
Helena’s mouth falls open, and her eyes go wide. “What?”
“Smothered him in his sleep.”
“How? I mean, she didn’t say anything about that to me. Are you sure it’s true?”
I nod. “Six months into her ordeal, she killed him, so she was passed on to the second. Then, after a year, to the third. That’s why the discrepancy in payment.”