He listens to me patiently, his dark brown eyes solemn and deeply interested. “Aye. Those things do happen. But they’re not going to happen to you.” His forearms flex in the waning sunlight. “Not as long as I’m with you.”
“Yes…” Even though it’s rude, I can’t help staring at his sizeable chest, the giant trunks of his thighs. “Yes, I do think I’d be safe with you, but you can’t be with me forever.”
A muscle leaps in his jaw, something unknown flickering in his eyes. “I could be a test run of sorts. Maybe the next time, you’d be brave enough to do it yourself.”
I’m already shaking my head, my skin clamming up around me. My uncle’s voice is as clear as if he’s standing at my right. The outside is a cruel, wicked place. It lures you in, makes you feel secure, then rips off your head. Your parents are of the world, Thea, and look what they’ve done. Abandoning their only child. Do you want to be like them? Inflicting hurt on people? “My uncle told me I would become wicked if I left. A sinner. That I would eventually have to assimilate and…” I push up from the bench, rubbing my hands down my arms to rid them of goosebumps, the trepidation and panic. “I’m just going to stay here. He left the property to me, so I don’t have to leave. All right?”
He’s quiet so long, I’m not sure he’s going to say anything. Then, “What do you think he meant by you becoming wicked, Thea?”
Why is his voice so soothing, so grounding? It makes me want to tell him things. To confide in him. Or maybe it’s the fact that I’m totally alone in the world now that makes me whisper, “He meant I would give in to the thoughts inside me. He must have sensed them.”
Duncan pushes to his feet, the massive breadth of his shoulders blocking out what’s left of the sun. “What thoughts are inside of you, angel?”
My breath catches when he calls me angel. Not because it’s so unexpected, but because it feels so natural. Why? We’ve only just met. Never mind that there is something about his presence that feels familiar. Like I’ve been inside of it before.
Do I dare tell him what thoughts I have inside of my head?
This courtyard is where I come to feel reckless. Late at night when I’m the only one awake in the gallery and I can truly be myself. This is where I unburden myself, and this man, he makes me want to confess even more because none of what I’ve said so far has caused a hint of judgment on his face. It’s like he already knows the answer, he’s just waiting for confirmation from me. About my wicked thoughts.
I crook my finger to bring him closer and swallowing audibly, he does as I ask, lighting a fuse deep, deep inside of me. When he reaches me, he props his hands on his knees and stoops forward, dropping his head down to my level, my mouth in the perfect position to tell secrets at his ear. How easy he made it for me.
“I have thoughts about…sex.” A knot starts to unravel inside of me, making me feel loose and languid everywhere. “But I don’t think it’s normal…the kind I think about. I think of odd things, like…denying a man his…his…”
“Pleasure?” he rasps against my shoulder, his breath singeing me there.
I lick my suddenly-parched lips. “Yes. Is such a thing done out in the world?”
“I assume it is done, Thea.” Is he panting? “But I’ve never had it done to me.”
“Oh.” I like that too much. The fact that he’s never lived out my specific fantasies with anyone makes my nipples pearl inside my black dress. “You’ve n-never been…”
When I start to lose my nerve, he pushes his mouth up against my ear, his labored breath sounding like a tumultuous ocean. “Keep going. Don’t stop.”
Oh my goodness. Oh my goodness. We’re touching. Heat travels south in my body, gathering beneath my navel. My toes curl into the grass, digging into the dirt beneath. “You’ve never been ordered t-to make yourself naked. Just so someone can look?”
“No,” he says raggedly, his teeth scraping my earlobe.
I take a big breath, squeeze my eyes closed and summon a reserve of bravery. “Never been ordered to touch yourself…there? Or stop touching it?” My own breath is beginning to become thin, my thighs trembling from being pressed together so tightly. “Over and over again until you are in agony and begin to beg—”
“Thea, my God—”
“I told you I was wicked.”
“No, you are perfect.”
I try to back away from Duncan, but I’m hauled up against him like a rag doll, my feet leaving the ground to dangle several inches above it. And I don’t know where it comes from, but my voice unfurls like a whip, clear and precise. “No, Duncan.” I pinch his ear between my thumb and index finger. “Keep your hands to yourself.”