Page 42 of Freckles

“Where did you put my mail?”

“In my car.” When she raises an eyebrow, I add, “It’s parked a few streets behind here.” I set down my glass and take her hand, engulfing it in mine, rubbing the cold from it. “Don’t worry. I’ve paid them.”

“Why?”

I’m entranced by the curve of her throat as she tips her head back to meet my eyes. “Because you obviously need someone to take care of you.”

Her throat works for a second, then she blurts, “Butwhy?”

Another swallow drains my cup, and I refill it, topping hers to the brim at the same time.

Because I can’t stop thinking about you.

“You already know why, Francesca. I’ve sorted your scholarship, too, since it didn’t look like you had a spare thirty-six grand lying around.”

The frown that’s seared itself into my frontal cortex like a branding iron makes a reappearance. “How do you expect to be repaid?”

I wish this conversation were taking place back in my suite of rooms, giving me an even larger advantage. But placing her in the vicinity of my uncle before she’s fully on board is a dangerous idea.

“All I ask is that you make yourself available to me, Freckles. I’ll pay your bills. I’ll make sure you have everything you want. And in return, you’ll meet my needs.”

She winces, asking, “Which are?”

“To be first to fuck your sweet virgin pussy for a start. Pumping my cum into you every chance I get until you’re screaming with pleasure.” I run my knuckle down the side of her face until she twists away. “How does that sound?”

“Like a delusional fantasy.” She finishes her drink, stifling a burp against the back of her hand. “Thanks for the offer but I’d rather freeze to death with a stack of bills beside me than cater to your weird demands.”

The choice of phrase makes me chuckle. “Fucking isn’t weird—it’s a primal urge.” I drop my voice lower. “Like the need to see your toes curls with pleasure while I’m deep inside you is primal. Making you orgasm until your brain feels like it’s dripping from your pussy.”

Her nipples harden at the words, and she clutches her elbows to hide the reaction, hunching her shoulders. “You need to leave.”

I let the delicious thrill of anticipation pulse through my body, briefly closing my eyes.

When I open them, her wide, innocent gaze stares straight into mine. Apprehension is written in every stiff line of her body.

“And you need to start paying attention,” I whisper. “Because there isn’t a damn thing you can do to stop me taking what I’ve already paid for.”

Before she can protest again, I scoop her up, growing hard at her indignant squeak. In the few strides it takes to get to her bedroom, she hammers on my chest with her fists but all it does is crank up my excitement.

I toss her onto the bed, on her stomach, my mouth watering as her legs splay apart. She moves quickly to snap them together, scrambling away from me.

A faint hope.

There’s nowhere for her to go.

CHAPTERSIXTEEN

FRANCESCA

A terrifying senseof déjà vu sweeps over me as Kincaid uses his body weight to pin me face down to the bed.

My bed.In my home.And I can’t do anything to stop him.

A huge bubble of impotent rage fuels my struggle. I fight to lift my body or wriggle free orkick him in the fucking balls, utterly failing. I gasp for breath as his hand snakes around my throat and his lips press against my ear, warm breath turning to condensation on my cold skin.

“You don’t need to rub against me to turn me on,” he murmurs, the rumble of his laughter vibrating through my ribcage. “I’ve been hard since you were first gagging around me.”

He grinds against my arse in a graphic demonstration.

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