Chapter 18
Maxime
Zoe is nervous when I let her into the apartment. Her small body is tense. She should be, seeing that I’m about to strip her naked and fuck her until she can’t walk. It’s been too long. For too many months, I haven’t felt the shape of her breasts under my palms or the warm tightness of her body sucking me deeper. I’ve seen her naked for three torturous days. I’ve punished myself, abstaining from the release of a hand job in the shower. I won’t last much longer.
I know her. If she’s to enjoy this, I have to put her at ease. I have to go slowly. I can’t jump on her like a tiger and hold her down with my teeth while ramming my cock into her body until she’s accepted every inch of me.
I drop the parcel on the table so I can take her coat. “Tea?”
Her shoulders sag with visible relief. “Please.”
After hanging both our coats on the stand, I go to the kitchen and boil water.
“How did you find me?” she asks in an uncertain voice, rubbing her hands together as she takes baby steps toward the island counter where I’m putting out mugs and a mix of organic raspberry and rose petal tea leaves.
“Your phone.” Picking up the remote, I turn the heat up a notch. “I wanted to make sure you were safe.”
She slips onto one of the tall chairs. “You can’t follow me around forever. I’m sure you have lots to do at your new job.”
I flash her a smile, my eyes meeting hers briefly before I scoop the leaves into the teapot. “I have enough to keep me busy.” I dust my hands and make eye contact again. “But you always come first.”
Her cheeks flush pink. It makes me want to grab her face between my hands and kiss her, but I miraculously succeed in focusing on the task at hand, which is switching off the kettle before the water reaches boiling point and not kissing her before I’ve brought us back to a place where she can be naked and comfortable with me.
“Talking about phones…” She wrings her fingers together like she does when she’s nervous. “I’d like to call my brother to let him know we’ve arrived safely.”
I pour the water over the leaves. “Then call him.”
“But…” She takes her phone from her pocket and looks at the screen.
“I’ve already spoken to him just after we arrived so he wouldn’t worry about his baby sister, but you can call your family any time you like.”
“You mean…” She looks at the phone again.
“Yes.” The word is curt. Reminding her of her previous limitations isn’t where I want to go right now. “You can dial anywhere in the world.”
“Thank you,” she whispers.
I don’t say she’s welcome. It’s not a novelty she should be thanking me for. Having access to communication is a given in any normal person’s life. I don’t want her caged. It’s no longer necessary. I’ve effectively clipped her wings with my ring on her finger. Which reminds me of a subject I shouldn’t bring up, not ever and certainly not now, but I can’t put it out of my head. I can’t stop calling up images and allowing my imagination to torment me in every waking minute of my days and every dream-filled hour of my nights.
“Did you move on in South Africa?”
She gives me a startled look. “What?”
My voice is surprisingly even when I pour the tea. “Did you sleep with someone?”
“No,” she cries out. “I told you so.”
“Just making sure I don’t need to have you tested for STDs,” I lie.
Her mouth tightens. “How about you, Maxime?”
I push a mug and the sugar pot toward her. “No.” Meeting her gaze squarely over the too-far distance of the counter, I say, “There’s only you. There will never be anyone else.”
Questions bounce around in her blue eyes. She wants to know why. She wants to hear the things I can’t tell her. She asked for my honesty, but honesty cuts so much deeper than lies when it comes to love. I love you could’ve slipped so easily from my tongue. It’s just three little words, but even before I promised her no more games and lessons, I couldn’t bring myself to tell her that particular lie. Love has always been the foundation of her dreams. Deceiving her with that ultimate untruth seems simply too cruel.
“All right,” she says, adding two spoons of sugar to her tea. “But tell me something.” The spoon rings out as she stirs it around the mug. “Can obsession last a lifetime?”
Leaning closer, I give her the conviction that runs in my very veins, the knowledge that comes from a higher place than reason or logic. “You better believe it.”
She cups the mug. “People grow old.”