“Please don’t tell him what you told me.”
His eyes didn’t look the least bit confused because he knew exactly what I spoke of. “He wants you to know, Melanie. I can’t hide it.”
“I understand that. Just…buy me some time?”
Now his eyes narrowed in disappointment. “You don’t feel the same way.” His resentment was palpable, that I had the love of a man he adored, and I didn’t want to treasure it the way he would.
“He told me he’s returning to the camp in two days. I just need to get Raven here first. Please, just give me two days. I can’t risk losing her, not when I’m this close.” My hands came together in front of my chest, silently pleading for him to betray his own boss and help me out.
He turned away slightly and released a long sigh, carrying the burden before he even took it. “Two days.”
I closed my eyes. “Thank you…thank you.”
“I’m only helping you for one reason.”
I looked at him again and lowered my hands.
“Because you better be prepared to say it back once I tell him.”
Twenty
Birthday Drink
Fender
I sat in my office and stared at the fire, a glass of scotch on the desk, my temple resting against my closed knuckles. My mind shifted from one topic to the next, thinking about the hour I would leave for the camp in the morning, imagining Raven’s face as she was taken from the cabin for the final time, Magnus’s reaction, the men’s reaction to my weakness. Then I thought about my other responsibilities that required my attention. And of course, Melanie, the woman I would leave behind.
I saw her face as I stared at the flames.
She’d been quiet and withdrawn for the last two days. Her sister had been on her mind consistently, which changed her behavior toward me. I hoped having Raven here wouldn’t steal all of Melanie’s focus.
She’d better have nothing but gratitude toward me.
Gilbert entered my office and didn’t draw my attention until he was in front of my desk. “Sir, is there anything I can get you before I retire for the evening?”
My hand dropped to the screen of my phone, and I tapped it with my finger.
It lit up, reminding me how late it was. “No.”
Gilbert gave a bow. “I’ll see you in the morning.”
“Gilbert.”
He straightened. His expression instantly fell, turning serious. At attention, he kept his gaze locked on my face.
“Melanie will not learn French watching TV. She will learn by what I say to her. Understood?”
Gilbert held my gaze for a while before he gave a nod. “Understood.”
“Her French better be flawless by the time I return.”
He gave another bow. “It will, sir.”
She was pinned underneath me, my arms hooked behind her knees, her body shaking slightly with my movements. Her head was on the pillow, her eyes on me, her beautiful face erotic when it was tinted red, when her lips were parted in her moans and screams. Her eyes never shone brighter than when we were together like this.
This was not the way I took my whores. The last thing I wanted to see was their faces. All I cared about was their asses and tits.
But Melanie’s face was her most beautiful feature.
It was the face in my dreams. The face in my fantasies. The face seared onto the inside of my eyelids. On the road through the wilderness, she was in the landscape, on the side of the mountains I passed. She was in a glass of scotch. In the flames that danced in the fireplace.
When we finished, I didn’t want to leave.
It was the first time I’d wanted to stay.
For the entire night.
But my eyes wouldn’t close. My heart wouldn’t slow. I had to depart in a few hours, and I needed to sleep before the drive. I lay there for less than a few minutes before I got out of bed and pulled on my bottoms.
I’d come to her bedroom so the sheets would be warm after I left, so she would fall asleep immediately and not realize the moment I was gone. But she was wide awake, as if she knew what was about to happen.
She sat up and moved to the edge of the bed, her large tits perky and proud, her long legs over the edge with her foot on the bed frame that surrounded the mattress. Hair messy, makeup smeared, she was gorgeous.
It was hard to leave.
I moved to the bed beside her, looking down into the side of her face, the thin line of mascara that had dripped with a previous tear. My hand moved to her thigh, my fingers surrounding nearly the entire thing.
“When are you leaving?” Her eyes were down on the rug, her features somber with sadness.
I loved that she hated my absence. I loved that she needed to sit in my office while I worked just to be near me. I loved the way she made me feel, like she’d be lost without me. “In a few hours.”