The Perfect Gift
“I’m not a virgin,” I lie in a rush.
His tie is off now and he trails the silky end of it down my belly and over my mound, tickling me in places I didn’t know I could feel ticklish. “You’re as innocent as the day you were born, little fairy.”
Failure settles heavily on my shoulders. I’ve screwed up and let everyone down. And it only took me fifteen minutes. “Does that mean you don’t want me?”
His gaze flies to mine, then cuts away, lines forming on his forehead. “I don’t want or need anyone. I despise being touched.”
Shock replaces my sense of failure.
I should be distressed. Disappointed. After all, there is no way I can get pregnant without him touching me. Thus, my method of saving the restaurant and making my family proud is ruined. But there is something in his tone that cuts through all those worries. Absorbs me. Straightens my spine, makes me look deeper at this man who—until now—has given off such an air of invincibility. “Not even hugs?”
“Especially not hugs,” he scoffs, still not looking at me. “What use are those?”
“To make someone feel safe and wanted.”
Lincoln shakes his head, laughing without humor, but the sound cuts off abruptly. “Who gives you hugs, little fairy?”
“Nobody. Not anymore.” My chest twists. “It doesn’t mean I don’t want them.”
My words seem to hit him like a missile strike. Why? He remains very still for long moments before pacing away, an agitated hand in his hair. “Well you won’t be getting them from me.”
And that bothers him. It’s plain to see. There’s something fierce, almost protective, inside me that wants to look deeper, to find out what makes him dislike being touched. Would my delving bother him, though? It’s been so long since I had anyone to talk to. Maybe I’ll do it wrong. Maybe I don’t know how to be a friend, especially to a man as obviously tortured as this one. “Do you want me to leave?” I whisper.
“No.”
Some of my tension ebbs, though I don’t know why. There’s something inside calling on me to remain. “If you don’t like to be touched, why did your friends hire me?”
“They don’t know.” He turns with his arms crossed. “They know nothing about me, clearly, or they wouldn’t have sent me to an island for a week to relax.”
He says that last word as if it tastes like week-old trout.
“You don’t like relaxing, either?” I giggle. “What do you like?”
“Being productive. Working. Making deals.”
I flop backwards on the bed. “I’m tired just thinking about it.”
The softness of the bedspread on my bare back is so nice, I close my eyes and luxuriate in the sensation, rubbing myself on it like a kitten. When I lift my lids again, there is Lincoln, staring down at me. I angle my head and consider him, noticing his strained jaw and the bulge at the front of his slacks. I know what that means, because my sisters told me several times throughout the course of the week. It means he’s horny, girl, and you’ve done your job.
Lincoln is aroused, but doesn’t want my touch.
I don’t know how to make him happy. And…I want to, I realize.
Something inside me says he hasn’t been happy in a very long time.
“You’re fucking exquisite,” he says hoarsely, raking a hand over his open mouth. “I’ve never seen anything or anyone that comes close. I’ll give you that.”
“Thank you,” I whisper, not knowing what else to say. “Lincoln?”
His throat muscles shift. “Yes?”
“I can’t satisfy you physically, but what if I could help you relax in other ways?”
His skepticism is obvious. “Oh yeah? How?”
I shrug a shoulder. “This is my island. I could show you places so beautiful, you won’t be able to catch your breath.”
“I can’t catch my breath right now,” he says in a raw voice, seeming to surprise himself. That slip-up annoys him and his demeanor changes, going from exposed to commanding. “You’re mine for the week, Nova. I’ll be deciding what we do.” He hooks a finger in the waistband of my panties, somehow avoiding a brush with my skin, and before I can ask his intentions, the only remaining clothing on my body is stripped away. “Right now, I want to watch you come.”
In an instant, my heart rate is sprinting a thousand miles an hour, the fear of the unknown bearing down on me once again. “M-me? But…”
Lincoln holds my panties to his nose and inhales deeply, a groan rippling in his chest. “But what?”
“I don’t know how,” I admit, heat clinging to my neck.
Disbelief rearranges his features, struck through with anger. “I’ll going to kill my business partners. Sending you to a stranger for your first fuck. Your first orgasm. I’m sure they offered you so much money, you had no choice but to come here, didn’t they?”