Page 43 of The Good Girl Effect
“You wanted to know what it feels like, so I’ve shown you.”
I work to undo the bind on her wrists, but she’s shaking her head emphatically. “Show me more, Jack. Please. You know you want to.”
My head snaps up, and I stare at her. “That’s exactly the problem. I never should have touched you like that. I was supposed to show restraint. You are my employee, my daughter’s caretaker. I have to think about her, and I lost control, but I have it back now.”
Once her wrists are free, she immediately reaches for me. But I grab them before she can put her hands on me. It’s taking everything in me to hold back when all I want to do is let go.
I inspect her hands and wrists for any swelling or bruising, but other than some basic rope marks, she appears fine.
When I look into her eyes again, I remember why I wanted the blindfold on her in the first place. There is an intensity in Camille’s gaze that always stops me in my tracks.
It’s like she can see into my soul. It makes it so much harder to hide from her. She looks at me like she knows me.
I’ve never found that with anyone.
Quickly, I look away.
“There are plenty of people at the club who could show you more, but it won’t be?—”
To my utter shock, Camille lunges forward and places her hand over my mouth like I have done to her so many times before. My eyes widen as I stare down at her in surprise. Even she looks surprised by her own audacity.
“Please stop saying that,” she mumbles. “I don’t want anyone else to show me, and I don’t think you do either.”
After a moment, she eases her hand away from my mouth and steps back. Looking down at the floor, she presses her lipstogether, and I can’t even find it in me to argue with her because she’s right. I hate the idea of someone else touching her.
At this point, I should lead her through some aftercare, but we didn’t go very deep into the scene, so I think it’s safe to assume she’s okay. With nothing left to say or do, we stand in awkward silence, not looking at each other or speaking.
I decide to be the one to leave first.
“That’s enough for tonight,” I mumble. Turning my back on her, I walk to the door before adding, “Good night, Camille.”
Just as I disappear into my room on the other side of the hallway, I hear her softly reply, “Good night, Jack.”
The moment I’m alone, I run my hands through my hair and question where the hell my sanity has gone. I hear Camille’s footsteps down the hall and then the stairs. Once I know she’s gone, I collapse onto my bed and put my face in my hands.
There’s a photo of my wife watching from the nightstand, and her stare feels like daggers of grief and regret. I don’t know how others are able to move on after the loss of their spouse, but I never will. I can’t let Em go. I willneverlet her go.
Tonight was just a game. Another meaningless moment with a stranger that scratches an itch and fills some superficial hole inside me. From the moment Em died, I’ve buried myself in the bodies of others like some sort of sick penance because I’d rather feel this than soul-crushing grief.
But tonight didn’t feel like the others. Something about Camille was different.
Maybe it’s because she’s my employee, and I wouldn’t let myself fuck her.
Maybe it’s because she’s the first French woman I’ve been with since Em.
But either way, it doesn’t matter because it’s never happening again. There is only one objective on my mind. Finishthe year at the club, hand it over to Julian, and leave this country forever.
Only then will Bea and I be truly free.
I can’t let myself get sidetracked and distracted by a beautiful, curious woman who seem to set my soul on fire without even meaning to.
Rule #13: Be careful what you ask for.
Camille
Ihave never felt more tightly wound in my life. I scurry down the stairs from Jack’s room and bolt into my own, shutting the door behind me as I force myself to take long, deep breaths.
There is a warm, resounding pulse throbbing between my legs, begging me to relieve this ache. With my back against the door and a feverish need thrumming in my veins, I slip my fingers down the front of my panties.
