Page 15 of How to Belong with a Billionaire

“Oh God,” I gasped out. “Kiss me. Fucking kiss me. Please.”

And she did, and it was nothing like Caspian, and I didn’t die. Of course it hurt, the not being Caspian, I mean. Because, honestly, there was part of me that still believed he was it for me. That I could have lived the rest of my life with no other kisses but his. Except he wasn’t and I wouldn’t. And George’s mouth on mine offered a new surety—a future that could exist for me without Caspian.

She pulled away too soon. “Time to see my studio?”

“Um…okay.”

I followed her upstairs on slightly wobbly legs. The space, which took up the entirety of the third floor, was about fifty percent what I was expecting—whitewashed walls, and polished boards, and the paraphernalia of the photographer’s art—and fifty percent a whole lot kinkier. I made a heroic effort to look interested in one of those big satin umbrella things, but my gaze kept pinging back to the bondage table on the other side of the room. At least, I assumed it was a bondage table, or else dinner got really unruly around here.

“What can I say?” murmured George. “I like to combine my pleasures.”

I made a sound. It was not a dignified sound.

She laughed, crossed to a red velvet-covered chaise that was probably—or maybe not—a prop, and dropped down onto it. The whole scene was so veryTipping the Velvetit almost made me wish I had a camera of my own. “Why don’t you have a look round?”

It probably said something about the life I’d been leading recently that this wasn’t the first time someone had invited me into their dungeon. Well, I say invited. I’d practically forced my way into Caspian’s. At the time I’d been pretty excited because I’d wanted to play with all the kinky toys but then he’d had some kind of post-traumatic-stress-related breakdown. And now, whenever I remembered the place, I ended up thinking about Caspian instead. All the pain he’d tried so hard to keep from me. Obviously I wasn’t delusional enough to think I could fix it or even make it better but…I could have loved him. And even that he couldn’t give himself.

Also: He was engaged to Nathaniel. Engaged. Engaged to fucking Nathaniel. It wasn’t a complicated concept. Why couldn’t I get it through my stupid head? Except my stupid head wasn’t the problem. It was my stupid heart which wouldn’t let him go. No matter how comprehensively he was done with me.

“On second thought…” It was only when George spoke that I realised I’d been standing around in a sorrowful daze. Dammit me. “Come here.”

As I’d quickly discovered when Caspian got all high-handed with me, I didn’t do so well with orders in my daily life. But in a bedroomy-dungeony context? And when the alternative was drifting about like the Ancient Fucking Mariner in a sea of my own memories? Yes please. I trotted gratefully back to the chaise.

“Strip.”

“Um. What?”

“You know”—she flashed a grin at me—“remove your clothes so I can subject you to my female gaze. You’re pretty, poppet. I want to see you naked.”

I swallowed. “What…what happens after I’m naked?”

“All sorts of depraved things.”

Well. Guess I was sold. I began pulling at my garments.

“But Arden?”

There was an edge to the way she said my name. It made me pause, half in and half out of my jumper, and peer out through the head hole like an animal from its burrow. “Yes?”

“You know how to stop this. Next time, I tell you to do something, I’d advise you to do it.”

“Or what?” I heard myself say. And the worst of it was, I didn’t quite know why I was asking. Not to push her exactly. But I think I needed to know, in the same way you’d reach for the wall with your hands when you were trying to find your way in a dark room.

Then came a rough tug and rush of air and I emerged into daylight to find George standing over me. She dropped my jumper to the floor with a soft flump. “Depends on my mood. But I might be inclined to punish you.”

“Oh.” I swallowed. But in meeting her eyes, found only warmth. “It’s been…kind of a while. Sorry.”

And with Caspian, it had been instinct. Knowing what he needed perhaps better than he did.

She reached out and twisted the sparkly unicorn horn barbell through my left nipple until I went up on my toes with a squeaky little gasp. “Is that what you’re looking for? To be punished?”

“Maybe. I don’t know.” Weird shivers were racing up my arms. Nothing to do with the temperature. And then I heard myself blurt out, “Am I broken?”

“Broken? Why?”

“I…I used to be really good at casual sex.”

This earned me an eyebrow twitch. “I’m glad to hear it. And look forward to reaping the benefits.”

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