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‘My girl’s tired.’ He knocks back a drink and comes to collect me, and I don’t murmur a word of protest as he gathers my useless body into his arms. ‘Time for bed, princess.’
My head hits his shoulder and my eyes are immediately heavy. ‘Thank you for letting her stay.’
‘No problem.’
‘You’re still in trouble.’
‘For what?’
‘Stalking me.’
‘Get over it.’
I sleepily snort and increase my hold around his neck. ‘And why is Price following me?’
‘I don’t think he was following you this time, princess.’
‘Then why is he following you?’
‘Like I’ve said, probably to see if I have any dealings with Lady Winchester.’
I stifle another yawn as Becker takes the steps and lets us into his apartment. ‘I don’t like him,’ I declare. ‘And if he comes poking around again, I’ll drop-kick his fat arse back to his office.’ He laughs as he lays me on the bed and I sink into the sheets, the scent wafting up making me even more sleepy. ‘I will protect you for ever.’
‘Yeah?’ he asks, smiling through his kiss to my forehead.
‘Yeah,’ I confirm. ‘He should be trembling in his scruffy boots.’
‘You’re crazy, woman.’ Becker’s hands stroking over my hair is hypnotic, and I sigh, rolling over and snuggling down, my eyes refusing to remain open.
‘Must be,’ I mumble sleepily. ‘After all, here I am loving you.’
Chapter 21
My eyes flutter open, finding a hazy darkness and an empty space next to me in the bed. I blink and gain some focus, looking down my body to find I’m still in my dress from last night.
‘Good fucking morning, princess.’
I look up and find Becker in a chair across the way, he, too, still in his clothes from last night. ‘What time is it?’
‘Five.’
My face bunches in disgust, and I fall back to the mattress dramatically. ‘Why am I still dressed?’
I hear him approaching, and then I feel him gather me up from the sheets. ‘I didn’t want to wake you.’
I curl into his chest as he walks us out of the bedroom. ‘Why are you still dressed?’
‘I didn’t want to disturb my time admiring you sleeping.’
‘You watched me all night?’ He just sat there and looked at me? Why didn’t he strip us down and get into bed, give us naked cuddles?
‘Yes.’ He says no more, passing his bathroom and heading towards the door, and I’m soon being carried down the stairs. ‘I was mulling a few things over.’
‘Like what?’
‘How madly in love with you I am.’
‘That’s because I’m a slave to your corrupt bones,’ I say, frowning into his shoulder as we pass the library and the kitchen, and then we’re at the double doors that lead into his grand hall. ‘Where are we going?’
‘I want to show you something.’ Shifting me in his hold a little, he rummages through his pocket and a few seconds later, the door is open and we’re inside the huge space. I’m detached gently from his body and placed on my feet.
‘What are we doing in here?’ I ask, wondering, worriedly, if maybe he’s going to point out everything and declare its authenticity. My sleepy eyes bounce across all of the pieces. It could take a while.
‘It’s all real,’ he says, grabbing my attention again. My cheeks flush a little when I find him smiling knowingly. If he thinks I’ve pulled a smash and grab on his heart, then I trump that with a breaking and entering on my mind. He can’t blame me for seeking constant reassurance. He’s a master forger. I’m dealing with situations and information that are wildly unbelievable.
Taking my shoulders, Becker holds them firmly and ensures he has my eyes before he goes on. ‘Awake?’
‘Barely,’ I grumble. ‘Why am I up at five o’clock?’
He smiles a bright smile, way too bright for this time. ‘Stay there.’ Releasing me, he wanders off across the room, weaving around the haphazardly stored pieces of art and antiques until he arrives on the far side opposite me. I follow his arse the entire way, but then he turns and I lose my view, so my eyes climb his torso to his face. ‘You looking at my arse, princess?’
I don’t answer. It’s pointless.
He laughs under his breath, dropping his eyes to the floor as he slowly turns away from me again, revealing his wonderful asset. I swallow and imagine sinking my nails in, squeezing and following the sway as he rocks into me. I feel hot in this huge airy room. Then the bastard doubles my weakness when he takes the hem of his T-shirt and pulls it up over his head, exposing the beautiful art on his back. I have no problem deciding what to centre my attention on. His arse is a magnet for my eyes, but I can see that whenever I like – day or night, even when concealed by material. It doesn’t hinder the pleasure. His tattoo, however, can only be appreciated when his back is bare. Like now. It’s stunning. A masterpiece, even if it’s incomplete. I cock my head as I admire it, imagining it whole. The missing piece not missing any more. The key to locate Head of a Faun right there on his back. ‘Do you still think about it?’ I ask out of the blue, my mouth out of control. He flexes his shoulders, making every muscle beneath the ink undulate scandalously. I clench my teeth, watching in awe. ‘Yes,’ he admits, slowly turning around, painfully slowly, his face boyish but manly, his sleepy eyes tender but hard, his soft bristle scruffy but perfect. ‘Except when I’m thinking about you.’ His head tilts. ‘And you?’
‘Hardly ever.’ I will never admit my mind catches me off guard too often with wondering. But I think he knows.
He smiles. He definitely knows. ‘Take your clothes off. You can leave your knickers. For now.’
The tremors of need in me are instant, savaging my body. I’m wide awake now.
I start to strip down, my line of sight never straying from his. I unzip my dress slowly and pull the material away from my body, letting it tumble to the floor at my feet, but when I think his gaze might follow its path down, he chooses to keep my eyes. My hands go to my back and unclasp my bra and my already hard nipples turn to bullets once I’m free from the pink satin. But his sparkling eyes still don’t stray from mine.
I wait for instructions, but none come.
Then his hands move towards the waist of his jeans. Slowly. Torturously. I want to scream. On the inside, I am. ‘Becker, please don’t—’
‘Shhhh.’ He unleashes his sexy shush, silencing me abruptly, and I start to fidget, impatient. He smiles victoriously, cranking up the heat in the room to unbearable levels. Nimble hands work his belt leisurely, each motion – the pull of the buckle, the feed of the leather through his belt loops – undertaken to have maximum impact on my patience levels.
‘Struggling?’ he asks, dropping the belt to the floor. It lands with a thud as if to tease me, to emphasise the fact that I’m one step closer to naked Becker. I mildly nod and fix my eyes on the fly of his jeans. ‘Me too.’ He lazily unfastens the button, followed by the zip, and the red waistband of his boxers appears. Power red. It’s appropriate for the moment, because he is certifiably king of my world.
His jeans are pushed down his thighs, and I blink, moistening my eyeballs before I focus on the vision of his white boxers wrapped around thick thighs that could crush me. I concentrate, like if I stare long enough and hard enough, I might be able to burn the material away. Becker ups the ante when he cups himself over his boxers, his jeans halfway down his legs.
That’s it. He’s provoking me, pushing me. He’s gone too far. I move forward.
‘Hey,’ he barks, and like a robot programmed to obey his command, I stop. ‘You. Will. Wait.’
‘How long?’ I push the question through a tight jaw.
‘How long would you wait for me?’ he counters calmly, dropping his hold of his arou
sal and bending slightly to push his jeans to his ankles. He kicks them off and takes his hands to the red waistband of his boxers. ‘How long, Eleanor?’ He slowly drags them down his thighs, and his impressive cock springs free proudly. ‘How long would you wait for this?’ His palm wraps around it possessively.
I rip my enthralled eyes away from his groin and reveal the desperation flooding them.
He sees it, even from all the way over there. How long would I wait? My mind’s not my own right now, not functioning to its full ability, yet I sense there is more to his question than meets the eye. How long did his grandmother wait for Gramps? How long did his mother wait for his dad? While they were searching the world for that sculpture?
The truth is, I would wait, for however long it takes him to find what he’s looking for. But I won’t confirm that. I mustn’t confirm that.
He widens his stance and relinquishes his hold of his erection. He looks so magnificent. Tall, powerful, defined. He’s art personified. ‘How quickly do you think you can make it to me?’ His lips pucker, making them look even more plump and lush than usual. It distracts me for a moment.
I gauge the distance between us, seriously considering my answer and being quick about it. If I run, and I’m willing to, not long at all. ‘Five seconds.’
His head nods agreeably. ‘That quick?’
Is he testing me? Challenging me? ‘Yes.’ I’ll sprint if I have to. I watch him crouch and go to the pocket of his discarded jeans, all the while looking at me. ‘What are you doing?’ I ask.
He finds what he’s looking for and rises slowly, looking pleased with himself. He has something small in his hand, but I can’t see what. He holds it up, and my curiosity gets the better of me. ‘What’s that?’
‘Five seconds?’
‘Yes.’
I catch the most roguish, boyish grin forming, just as the room falls into darkness. ‘And now?’ I hear him ask in the blackness. Oh, he’s playing all right.
‘Ten seconds,’ I answer cockily, visualising the Grand Hall in my mind. I’ve been here long enough to know my path through the art and antiques.
I start to move forward, remembering the large Victorian table to my left, the Rembrandt to my right, and the Louis XIV chair up ahead, but the odd sound of a surge of energy halts my progression. ‘What’s that?’ I ask, starting a futile spin on the spot, searching for the source of the noise. It’s a constant whirring sound, like something is charging up. ‘Becker?’ My hands come up in front of me, feeling at thin air. I don’t like this. The blindness, the exposure, the vulnerability. ‘Becker?’
‘Shhhh.’ His hush invades my ears, but he’s not close. Nowhere near. I spin again, now disorientated, unsure of what direction I should be heading in. ‘Stay still, Eleanor,’ he tells me firmly, and I do.
Blue light springs from every direction, and my eyes slam shut, my hands coming up to my face for extra protection. That wasn’t normal light. It was bright and blue and sharp.
‘Open your eyes.’
‘What will I see?’ I ask, nervous. Nothing Becker shows me should be a surprise any more, yet he’s constantly surprising me.
‘You’ll see your saint, princess.’
My hands drop from my face and my eyes open without hesitation. It takes a few seconds of blinking and adjusting my sight, and then I see it.
‘Oh my goodness,’ I whisper.
Chapter 22
He didn’t lie. Becker really is the first thing I see, still all the way across the room, but there’s something else – something that I have to look through in order to see him. He smiles and then looks around the room himself, giving me the silent instruction I need to do the same. My hand comes to my mouth when they all register. Hundreds of them, everywhere.
Light beams.
They’re not as bright any more, now that my shocked eyes have adjusted. Now they are glowing softly in the darkness. The Grand Hall is a maze of blue shards of lights, all criss-crossing, spanning one wall to the other, floor to ceiling. My mouth is slightly agape as I gaze around, slowly turning on the spot and looking up into the rafters before returning my sight to the space before me. There are only two small spaces free from lights, and I’m standing in one. Becker is in the other. I smile in wonder, remembering Mrs Potts chuckling when I questioned security in the Grand Hall.
‘Are they activated?’ I ask, trying to ignore his nakedness and focus on what I know will be my task.
‘Only in maintenance mode. You’ll hear a sharp chime if you breach a beam.’ It looks impossible. There are too many of them, all randomly crossing. ‘You get one spank for every sensor you activate.’
‘What?’ I gasp, stunned. My arse will be black and blue!
‘One spank, Eleanor. Now hurry up. I’m getting impatient.’
The fucker. This is a win–win for him. If I make it to him quickly and without error, he gets to fuck me sooner. If I make a hash of it and activate any one of these hundreds of beams, he gets to spank me silly, and then fuck me. My arse is still sore. I’m not up for any more thrashings this week. I just want to be violated.
‘And what do I get if I make it to you without setting one off?’
‘You won’t.’ He’s egging me on, and that is the only reason I’m going to make sure I do this. I could run through those beams, set off a hundred and accept my fate, then enjoy being violated. But I want to succeed in my challenge more. Prove to him that I can do this. But . . .
I’m constantly proving myself to him, constantly running his gauntlet and coming out the other side relatively unscathed, doing him proud. When will he prove himself to me? He has, Eleanor! I scorn myself a little, listening to my subconscious. He’s given me his heart, and that’s the grandest gesture of all. Probably even more significant than him sharing his secrets with me. But still. Becker gave me his heart without even really realising. ‘I want to know what I get in return,’ I reiterate.
‘Me,’ he says quietly. ‘Every wicked, corrupt, vulnerable piece of me.’
‘I have you already.’
‘Do you?’ He smiles as I frown, my eyes narrowing in question. He has more to give? Or more to share? ‘Get that sweet arse over here so I can show you.’
Is there anything more tempting than that? I eye up the glowing beams before me on an unsure smile as I tie my hair into a ponytail. There are five horizontal stretches of light to consider within my height range, each a foot or so apart. Studying the one nearest my feet, I lower to my knees as I tuck the loose strands of hair behind my ears. My palms meet the floor and I drop to my tummy, all the while assessing the height of the beam from the floor. Taking only a small intake of air so as not to expand my chest too much, I close my eyes and roll onto my back, waiting for any sound that will tell me I’ve breached the light. It doesn’t come. I open my eyes and see the ceiling of the Grand Hall through the beams above me. I grin. I feel far too proud, and maybe a little cocky, because that’s only one beam down. I have a way to go yet before I can claim my victory, and my prize. What’s my prize? I look left and right, then above me, seeing I’m now closed in from every direction. I’m in the centre of four beams that form a square around me. The beam nearest the floor is lower than the one I just rolled under. I won’t clear it, so I weigh up my other options. I need to step over it, while ducking the one above. ‘Okay,’ I whisper, carefully rising to my feet, holding my breath.
‘Breathe steady.’ Becker calls. ‘Breathe through your moves.’
I watch the beam as I bring my knee up to my chest, angling it so I don’t trigger the beam above. Keeping my arms close to my body, I dip and place my foot on the other side, straddling it.
‘Clever girl,’ he praises with sincere pride.
My breathing has now fallen into a calm, steady rhythm, and my muscles are no longer tense. I find I can roll under the next two beams, step over another three, and bend
my body to clear two more, but when I make it over halfway, I find I can do none of those things on my next move. The beams are spaced more tightly and there’s a huge dresser blocking the other way. If I try to move it, I’ll trigger a sensor. There’s no way past. I look from side-to-side, searching for another route. There must be one, unless Becker has purposely set me up to fail. But no. Whatever he wants to give me, he really wants to give me.
‘There’s a way, princess,’ he says, distracting me from my search. He nods, affirming what he’s told me. I shouldn’t have looked at him standing there waiting for me, beautifully bare.
I close my eyes and fight to relocate my focus. ‘How many more beams do I need to clear?’
‘Just three if you go the right way,’ he answers. Three. Just three? I’m over halfway and it’s taken me nine moves to get here. How? I open my eyes and re-evaluate my position. I’m definitely not going forward, and if I go back, it’ll take way more than three moves to make it to him. The dresser. I gaze up to the top of it, estimating it to be roughly four feet taller than me. That has to be it. It’s almost impossible to determine whether there’s a way forward from there, not until I reach the top, but it’s my only option. There are three drawers at the bottom and shelves spanning the rest of the way up. And there is only one beam hitting the wood, halfway up to the right. I open the middle drawer and rest my foot on it, applying only a little bit of my weight, testing the stability. It’s a Georgian dresser. Solid and sturdy. It must be nearly three hundred years old and has probably withstood a lot more than little old me playing Spider-Man on it. I take the sides and jiggle tentatively, happy with the lack of movement, and then push my weight off the floor, bringing my other foot up to the drawer. I spend a few moments ensuring I’m steady, before having a quick check for the beams. Then I make my next move, hauling my body up onto the first shelf. The huge dresser remains firm, keeping me safe. I’m desperate to have a quick peek to my right to find Becker, but I fight off the compulsion, realigning my concentration. My next move will put me on top of the dresser. The sense of achievement gets the better of me, and I bring my knee up, anchoring it on the top of the wood before pulling the rest of my body up.