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‘I’m still lost in your maze.’ I roll my forehead on his, absorbing each drive. Becker Hunt is a jigsaw puzzle. I know he thought the sculpture was the missing piece that would complete him. Now he believes I am his missing piece. ‘I’m happy lost in your labyrinth of debasement.’
‘Good. That makes me feel a whole lot better about what I’m going to say next.’ He pulls out of me slowly, depriving me of the gorgeous feel of him, and stands, detaching me from his front and placing me on my feet. He turns away from me and walks across to a cabinet. What’s he doing? Oh no. My prize. What’s he going to hit me with now? The police? Lady Winchester? Another forged treasure?
‘Becker?’ I ask, gulping down the strength I might need as he opens and closes the cabinet and returns to me. He negotiates my useless body to the side. And when he’s happy with my placement, he drops to one knee before me.
What the bloody hell?
I study him, my eyes getting progressively wider by the second. ‘What are you doing?’ I ask, moving away, taking a few steps back, like distance might make the sight before me clearer, because I know I can’t be seeing right. He’s gazing up at me with a cheeky smile on his face, yet I can see nerves there, too.
He holds something up. A ring. A gorgeous emerald ring that deserves far more admiration than I’m giving it. I take only a quick glance at the stunning piece, just to check if I’m following, before my eyes are back on Becker. I laugh, my hand coming up to my chest and applying pressure. ‘Becker, this isn’t funny. Stop it.’
‘Will you marry me, princess?’
I laugh harder, beginning to feel hot as I back away from his naked, kneeling form. I have to stop when the back of my thighs meet a table. ‘Very funny.’
‘I’m not playing, Eleanor. You’ve just scaled my grand hall naked. You were made for me.’ He thrusts the ring at me, walking forward on his knees. ‘Will you marry me?’
‘The ring,’ I say, moving away, scared of it, and not just because it’s flawlessly beautiful. It’s a whopper of an emerald, set in a thick band of precious metal.
‘What about it?’ Becker asks, looking down at it. ‘Don’t you like it?’
‘Is it real?’ I spit my words out quickly, my mind completely scrambled.
‘Really, princess?’ He looks insulted. I have no idea why when he’s hit me from every direction with revelation after revelation. I’m surprised I haven’t keeled over with shock after everything my poor mind has been subjected to since I met him. And now this?
‘Well, I don’t know.’ I say on a laugh, throwing my arms above my head. ‘You’re a master forger. You forge shit. Expensive shit. You pass worthless shit off as priceless shit.’
‘It’s real,’ he says tiredly. ‘So will you?’
‘Seriously?’ I blurt out, all laughter evaporating and my shock now being demonstrated as you would expect.
‘Am I speaking in a foreign language, princess? What don’t you understand?’
‘You,’ I cry, sticking myself to the table behind me. ‘You’ve barely figured out that you’re in love with me. Now you want to marry me?’
His bottom lip juts out on a sulk.
‘Pick up your lip,’ I snap, my hands finding my hair and delving into the strands. ‘I don’t understand. If you’re worried about me telling people about the sculpture, then you shouldn’t be.’
‘I’m not worried about that.’
‘Then why?’
‘Just . . .’ He growls and stomps on his knees towards me. ‘Just because.’
‘That’s not a good enough reason.’
‘How about because you amaze me?’ he retorts, short but soft. ‘How about because when I look at you, for the first time in my fucking life I can see beyond what’s obsessed me for too many years? How about because when you smile, I melt? Or when you laugh, my heart bucks? Or when we touch, I feel like I’m overheating? How about because I feel like you were made purely to be mine? Because you’re fearless. Bold. Full of spirit that I envy. Or because you love me more than I hoped anyone could? And you accept me. Everything about me. That you’re loyal. Brave. Fucking beautiful. How about because you challenge me and I fucking love that? Or because when I watched you sleeping in my bed last night, the thought of you not being there crushed me. Is that enough, because I could go on, princess?’
I gulp. They’re some damn good reasons.
‘But it’s too soon,’ I say, utterly bamboozled.
‘No, princess.’ He shakes his head slowly. ‘It’s way too fucking late, actually.’
I breathe in, my damn heart thumping. Look at him, there on his knees, his face so bloody hopeful. My saint. My sinner. The corrupt love of my life. Why am I questioning this?
What do I get in return?
You get every wicked, corrupt, vulnerable piece of me.
And isn’t that the biggest prize? I love every deceitful, shady part of him. It’s only slightly fucking with my head. For the most part, I’m plain relieved that I’m here, tangled in his web of secrets.
‘Begging isn’t beyond me, you know,’ he says, regaining some rigidity in his arms and extending the ring towards me.
‘Then beg.’ My order is automatic.
And so is his smile. He rests his delicious arse on his heels and relaxes his arms by his side, studying me. ‘I don’t need to beg,’ he says, never taking his eyes from mine. ‘My corrupt wicked little witch wants this as much as I do.’
I pout, and Becker raises his eyebrows. Then he looks down at the ring and something changes in his persona. Sadness fills the air, and it confuses me. ‘While you were out with Lucy last night,’ he says quietly. ‘I went to see Gramps in his suite.’ He looks up at me, and I see the tears at the backs of his eyes. I step back. ‘I told him how I felt about you. What you mean to me. How you make me feel.’ He holds up the ring. ‘I asked him for this. It was my grandmother’s. Gramps found this emerald on one of his expeditions and had it made into this beautiful piece. When my grandmother died, Gramps gave it to my dad. He gave it to my mother.’ His voice wobbles, and my lip does, too. ‘The most important women in my life have worn this ring. So now it’s yours.’
I swallow, trying to wrap my mind around this. But why am I wasting time doing that? ‘Yes,’ I choke, and he nods, extending his arm to me. I take it and let him pull me to his lap, silently accepting that I’m going in the deepest there is. I’m signing up for life.
To share his secrets and his crimes. What’s happened to me? I’ve lied to the police, and I did it without question. At that moment, I made my decision once and for all. I’ve made my bed. It’s time to lie in it. Literally.
He reaches for my hand and slips the gorgeous ring onto my finger before taking me to the floor, smothering me in his body, and rests his lips on mine. Wet kisses are dotted over every square inch of my skin and I smile like a loon, feeling so fucking happy in the clutches of my corrupt man.
‘I wondered why you had your power boxer shorts on,’ I say.
‘Today was a big day.’ He lifts his face from mine and stares down at me. ‘I just wrapped up on the biggest deal I’m ever likely to negotiate.’ He grins as he stands, lifting me from the floor and taking me back to the Louis XIV chair. He settles and positions me on his lap so I’m straddling his thighs and spreads his big palms around my waist, pulling me forward until our mouths are a hair’s breadth away from each other’s.
‘I love you,’ he whispers, angling his head and catching my lips, tickling my tongue gently with his as he slips his hands onto my bum, pulling me in further still. ‘And I fucking love this arse.’ He speaks into my mouth as he lifts me, his cock falling to my opening. I whimper, finding his shoulders and holding on. ‘And I love the look of that ring on your finger,’ he says, easing me down slowly.
He starts guiding me atop his lap, slipping in and out meticulously. ‘I’m sorry for ask
ing if your grandmother’s ring is fake.’ I feel terrible.
‘You’re forgiven.’
‘And thank you for fixing things with your granddad.’
‘Thank you for reminding me that life’s too short.’
I find my stride in an instant, my desire still coating my inner walls, making him glide effortlessly within me. Every drive makes me shiver, the intensity of the moment making my head spin in the best possible way. Breaking our kiss, he drops his head back against the chair, his lips parted. And he stares at me, his eyes lazy and hooded as his hands on my hips guide me up and down, slowly, languidly, our breathing drenching the air around us. It doesn’t take long for the slippery friction to push me over the edge. My hands brace into his shoulders, my mouth dropping and taking his gently.
‘You’re there.’
I nod, not wanting to lose the contact of our tongues, continuing with the tender circling. I sigh, and I go on for ever with the peaceful sound as I’m submerged in pleasure like no other, letting my low hum draw out until my lungs have deflated and I’m limp on his lap.
‘Oh yeah.’ Becker gently signals his own climax with vibrating hips, holding me down so he’s immersed snuggly within me. He circles deeply and deliciously, wheedling every modicum of pleasure from us both, moulding my arse cheeks. We’re heaving. We’re sweating. We’re both clinging onto each other. And we’re sharing the gentlest of kisses, our tongues lapping lazily as we ride our climaxes.
‘Good fucking morning,’ I say huskily, smiling when I feel his lips stretch beneath mine.
He slows our kiss to a progressive stop and rains soft pecks from one side of my mouth to the other. Then he pulls away and spends some quiet time brushing some wayward strands of hair from my damp face. I sit quietly on his lap and watch him concentrate on his task, wondering what’s going through that corrupt mind of his. A few months ago, I would have made an educated guess that he would be thinking of all the delicious ways in which he could violate me. Now, I’m not so sure.
So I ask. ‘Tell me what’s on your mind.’ I reach forward and trace the edge of his nipple, continuing to watch him.
‘I’m thinking,’ he says, his gaze flicking from my mouth to my eyes again and again. ‘I’m thinking I’m the luckiest man alive. I must be. I’ve found a woman who I trust not to hand my arse to the police on a plate.’
His face is the epitome of happiness. I can’t help but match it. I grab his cheeks and smother him in kisses. I want to sleep with him every night, wake up with him every morning, have good-fucking-anything’s every day. Nothing could make me doubt what we have.
His hands cup my bottom and he stands, pushing me up over his shoulder so I have the stunning vision of his naked butt and his tattoo to feast on while he carries me from the Grand Hall.
I wanted all of his secrets.
All of him.
Now, I truly do.
I rest my hand over the map, positioning the emerald of the ring right in the centre of the missing piece. ‘Stop it,’ Becker says over his shoulder. ‘Stop it right now.’
I retract my hand and furiously try to stop my mind getting carried away. But, oh, how beautiful his tattoo is, and I can’t stop myself from wishing it was complete. ‘You could find the missing piece of the map. Doesn’t mean to say you have to find the sculpture.’
‘You know that’s ridiculous.’
‘I know,’ I sigh. ‘What would you do with it if you ever did find it?’
‘Does it matter, because I’m never going to find it?’
‘Just curious,’ I say quietly as he carries my up the stone stairs. Never find it because he won’t look, or never find it because it can’t be found?
‘Don’t be curious, Eleanor. It’s dangerous for both of us.’
I snap my mouth shut and close my eyes, denying myself the sight of the map. It spikes way too much intrigue. And I now appreciate the danger.
So why can’t I stop thinking about it?
Chapter 23
When I wake a few hours later and find him missing from the bed, I jump up and rush to the bathroom, and once I’m showered and have plaited my wet hair over my shoulder, I pull on a cerise pink shirt dress and tan ankle boots before heading to Becker’s office. Light hits my ring as I descend the stone staircase, and I smile down at the whopper of an emerald on my finger. It’s truly breathtakingly beautiful. Like the man who put it there.
My admiring is interrupted by the sound of my best friend’s dramatic howl, and I stutter to a stop on the stairs. Then I hear Becker curse.
Lucy.
I hurry to the kitchen and push through the door, and the first thing I see is Winston, collapsed in his bed looking royally pissed off. Then I find Lucy slumped over the table, still in her daring pink playsuit. Her head is in her hands, and Becker is leaning against the worktop in a pair of grey jersey shorts, arms folded over his bare chest. His hair is a wild sexy mess, his glasses in place. Beyond my awe, I find space to be worried. Because although I can’t see Lucy’s face, it’s obvious that she’s distraught, and Becker looks less than sympathetic.
I glare at him and mouth, what have you said?
He shrugs. ‘I just gave her a recap on last night.’
I jump when Lucy lets out a hysterical wail, flinging her head back. She exposes a face that should be kept from public view until it’s washed. Bits of sticky hair are protruding haphazardly from her head, some stuck to her face, her eye make-up is smudged over most of her cheeks, and her red lipstick is all over her chin. She looks horrific.
‘Oh my God,’ she cries. ‘I’m such a—’
‘Twat?’ I suggest softly. This girl caused more stress in one night than most women can in their entire life.
‘That’s a bit harsh, Miss Cole,’ Becker pipes up, flipping me a wink. He’s got a nerve. I know he mentally called her harsher things last night.
‘Yeah,’ Lucy joins in, clearly thinking she has backup. She hasn’t.
‘He was being sarcastic.’
‘Oh.’
‘Who says?’ Becker does an amazing job of looking insulted. ‘We’ve all done something stupid when we’re in love.’ His sturdy shoulders jump up, his bottom lip juts out, and I give him an epic eyeroll.
‘Who said I’m in love?’ Lucy throws Becker a filthy look. ‘Eleanor’s the one who’s fallen.’
His bark of laughter makes Lucy jump. His reaction is warranted. Stupid girl. ‘Give me a break, woman.’ He turns away from us and pulls the fridge open, exposing his back to the room, and, subsequently, to Lucy. I watch on a smile when her jaw goes slack, her eyes roaming the beauty of his tattoo. ‘I hate to break it to you,’ Becker goes on, grabbing something from the shelf before closing the fridge and turning back to face us. He has an apple in his hand. The forbidden fruit for the forbidden man. ‘But even I can see what’s going on here.’ He takes a huge bite from the flesh and chews slowly, holding it up in an indication that he hasn’t finished. I lose my ability to stand on steady legs, so hurry across to the table and take a seat next to Lucy, intrigued by what he’s going to say. He swallows, and I swear I hear Lucy hold back a cough. ‘And I’m a novice at all this love shit.’ He nods and takes his apple back to his lush lips.
‘You don’t do too bad,’ I tell him, watching as the fruit pauses at his mouth.
He grins behind it. ‘Thank you, princess.’ He rips another chuck away and proceeds to chew with his grin still fixed firmly on his beautiful face, looking rather proud of himself.
I look at Lucy when I feel her arm brush against mine, finding her fidgeting in her chair. ‘Magnificent,’ I whisper, knocking her with my elbow.
She gives me an exasperated look, shaking her head.
‘Trust me,’ Becker says around his chews, and we both look across to him – me cool, Lucy still fidgeting. I’m used to his lethal naked presence by now . .
. kind of. Not really. But Lucy definitely isn’t. She’s purposely darting her eyes all over the kitchen to avoid looking at him. Becker points his apple at her. ‘I’ve run faster and farther from women who’ve acted less crazy than you.’
‘I was drunk,’ she grunts while I grin from ear-to-ear.
‘They all say that,’ Becker says around his laugh.
‘Thanks.’ My friend rests her arms on the table and lets her head fall into them with a thud.
‘Welcome,’ Becker chirps, chest puffing out on a smile that tells me he thinks he’s done good. I’ve just fallen in love with him all over again. My insensitive, clueless, crooked sinner is giving my best friend advice on relationships. Albeit crap advice.
‘Be quiet now,’ Lucy says, sitting up and trying to comb through her knotted mane with her fingers.
‘Why?’ Becker asks, hurt. ‘I’m just getting started.’
‘Because I might fall in love with you, too.’
I laugh loudly, receiving a surprised look from Becker and a sideways grin from Lucy. It takes Becker a few seconds to catch up. Then he shakes his head in dismay and throws his apple across the kitchen. It lands in the bin with accuracy. ‘So,’ he says, squaring confident shoulders as he moseys over, peeking down at his bare feet casually. I narrow cautious eyes on him, and when he arrives at the table, both Lucy and I follow his cool face down as he bends, resting his elbows on the table before us. ‘My princess told you that she’s in love with me?’
I roll my eyes. This is old news to him, the bumptious idiot.
‘Am I sharing something new?’ Lucy asks.
‘No.’ Leaning in, he takes his glasses off and slips an arm between his teeth, chewing thoughtfully. ‘But I can tell you something new.’
He can? Like what?
‘What’s that?’ Lucy asks.
‘Yes, what’s that?’ I mimic, and he grins mischievously.
‘Your best mate will soon be my wife.’ He nods his approval to his own declaration and takes my hand, thrusting the gigantic emerald under Lucy’s nose. Oh, the bastard.