Reaching for the expensive soap that my maid stocked, I slowly washed her chest.
She purred as I massaged her shoulders, touching her all over. Ungluing her head from my shoulder, she looked lazily into my eyes. Without a sound, her tiny hand disappeared behind her and wrapped around my cock.
What the hell is she doing?
“Cleo—” I hissed as she held me tighter. “You heard the doctor; you need to stop.”
She would have to be the one to pull away.
I couldn’t make her. I had no willpower. None. My life as well as my dick was in her hands.
She didn’t let me go, nor did she stroke me either—just continued to hold me as if I were a possession. “I have a point to make.” Her fingers squeezed. “Hopefully, I have your utmost attention this way.”
My balls twitched. I swallowed hard. “You have my undivided concentration.”
I groaned as she tightened her fingers again. “I’ve always belonged to you, Art. Only you.”
My blood pressure pinged, screaming like a kettle about to explode.
“I know.” Blissful sensation gathered stronger. My head thickened. “And you know I’ve always belonged to you. But by Christ, Cleo … you. Have. To—”
“Not yet.”
I gritted my teeth.
I couldn’t stop her. Even though she didn’t move, her grip felt too fucking good.
“Shit … it’s too much.” The room went dark. “You have to stop.”
“It’s always too much with you,” she breathed. “Everything about you is too much. Your size, your love, your generosity, your wealth.” She tilted her chin, her lips grazing mine. “But no matter how much I get of you, it’s never enough. I can’t even stay mad at you because I understand the way you think. And I can’t punish you even when you hurt me so much by hiding.”
Her other hand rose from the water, raining droplets over my chest as her fingers twined into my hair. “You terrified me, Art. You cut out my heart when you passed out inside me and I’ll never forget the feeling of losing you in my embrace.” Holding me hostage, her lips pressed against mine.
I grunted with pain. My vision went completely black. I had no idea where I was or how to fucking stay sane. “Goddammit, Buttercup. Stop.”
My hips twitched. My cock wanted every squeeze and stroke she gave, even as my brain wept at the thought of passing out again.
I hoped she’d ignore me and straddle me.
I hoped she’d obey me and grant me mercy.
I hoped for so many things.
And I ached with bitter disappointment when she finally surrendered and let me go.
Blood rushed into my balls; my vision stuttered into pieces.
“Consider that a warning, Art. Hurt me by hiding important things again and I’ll make sure you know firsthand how it felt.”
My heart struggled to calm.
In that moment, I saw the firecracker teenager who I fell so fucking hard for. I remembered why I’d been equally enamored and terrified of her. She turned me on, excited me, but ultimately ruled me with just one touch of her tiny hands and one reprimand of her perfect voice.
I understood why she’d ignored the parameters I’d been set. I knew why she’d done what she had and I didn’t blame her.
I hurt her. And she needed me to see just how much.
“I’m sorry.”
Her hands fell away; a single kiss lingered on my lips. Her voice wrapped around me as gently as the steam from our bath. “I love you, Arthur Killian. I would do anything for you and I promise to adore you forever. But if you ever cut me out to protect me again. If you keep secrets or hide, I won’t be the sweet girl you remember.”
I know.
Her green eyes sparked. The atmosphere changed to electric. I didn’t need to ask who she’d become if I hurt her again—I recognized the fiery girl from my past, now transformed into a woman in my arms. But I wanted her to know I took her seriously. That she’d proven her point rather eloquently. “Who will you be?”
She stroked my thighs beneath the water, her nails skating threateningly. “I’ll be the woman who will make you pay.”
Her words echoed in my heart, heavy with warning.
How did I think I could continue to live a singleton life? How did I think I would ever get anything past this woman?
I’ve been a fucking fool.
Hugging her close, I vowed, “No more hiding.”
Her body melted into mine. “No more hiding.”
Her head turned, her mouth inviting.
A kiss sealed our vow.
She was mine. I was hers.
Our problems had to be shared.
Our successes equally celebrated.
I would have to tell her … everything.
Chapter Fifteen
Cleo
Were love and hate the same thing?
They must’ve been because I had no other explanation for how I felt about Arthur. One moment, I wanted to smother him in kisses, the next I wanted to steal my father’s gun and shoot him in the leg. He was so strong but sometimes so stupid. Couldn’t he see what I was offering? Couldn’t he see what his father was doing? His mother saw it, but she was too frail to intervene. Well, I wasn’t frail and I wasn’t afraid. And I wouldn’t put up with idiotic behavior any longer. —Cleo, diary entry, age thirteen
Three days.
That was the allotted prescription that Doctor Laine advised.
Three days of rest and recuperation.
Needless to say it wasn’t easy to get Arthur to submit. He kept growling about time frames and battle dates. Mo and Grasshopper were constant visitors, locking themselves in a room with their president, cooking up plans and discussing war.