Page 49 of Hitch
“Are you implying that chasing me down and fucking me, even when I say ‘no,’ is a form of worship?” I ask, amusement in my tone.
“I’m saying it’s a form of deep-seated adoration.”
His words come out with such a severe weight that I swallow a dry gulp, knowing that Duane is completely and utterly serious right now. What does it mean to be here with Duane, in this VIP room, talking about these things? Admitting my past to him? Opening up, when I’ve never trusted anyone before?
What I know is that even if he doesn’t want to, Duanelistens.It’s almost like he knows instinctively what I want to. Like he doesn’t just open up his ears—he listens with every part of his body. Knowing me better than I know myself.
To gain the affections of a man like Duane scares me. I know damn well what he’s capable of.
And yet, I know how much it means to be someone he wants to worship in his own messed up way.
“What was he upset about?” Duane asks, interrupting my thoughts. “Did you steal from him?”
“No, but I did visit him recently. I thought he’d be a good investment, so I gave him some of the mushrooms for free. I figured he’d become a bigger client later.” I hunch my shoulders, knowing it was all for nothing. “I guess that’s off the table now.”
Duane nods deeply. “I trust you.”
My stomach flurries with heat, and I know it’s true. Duanedoestrust me.
“Anyway,” I say quickly, “I didn’t take his money. If I wanted to steal from him, wouldn’t I have done it during the five years we were together?”
“Would you steal from me?” Duane asks.
I eye his holster. “If I thought I had to in order to survive, yes.”
“That’s right. You stole my pistol that first night,” he says. “And what about killing, Hitch?” He leans in. “You pointed the gun at me too. Would you kill me?”
My throat constricts as his breath brushes across my collarbone. He’s giving me that same look he did the first night, when I held the gun to his head—awe and intoxication mixed into one. A knot churns in my stomach as I steel myself.
“If I thought you were going to kill me, then yes,” I whisper.
His jaw ticks, and his tongue slithers over his lips. “So you’d kill to survive.”
“You’re a good fuck, but you’re not special.”
He reaches for my neck, his fingertips massaging my skin, just tight enough to show me that he has the power to hurt me if he wanted to, but that he’s not going to. I melt into his grasp, and when his fingertips skim the scar on my neck, he digs in his nail into the tender flesh, and a jolt of pain curls through me. A smile blooms over Duane’s lips.
“That’s my girl,” he says.
My stomach erupts with butterflies at that possessive phrase. It feels good knowing that he thinks of me ashis.Like he wants the whole world to know it, but especially me.
Duane stands, then motions toward the curtains. “Go on. Get along home now,” he says.
I cautiously glance at the hallway leading to the main floor.
“Why?” I ask.
“I’ll pay Todd for your time. You can end your shift early. Ain’t no reason for you to deal with your dumb ex sugar daddy.”
Relief reddens my cheeks, but I purse my lips together in question. “What about you? I’m working for this, right?”
He cocks a brow at me, reading my expression. “We’ve got a deal, don’t we, Hitch?” he says. “You’re mine, and I take care of what’s mine.”
That tension in my lower stomach grows, rolling between my legs.
“Are you staying here?” I ask.
“I got some business to discuss with Todd.”
