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18
Carrigan
Slowly I turn to fully face the man who just walking in, his expression horrified at first, then shocked.
“Oh my god,” he says, his eyes wide as he takes me in. “You really are identical, but not at the same time.”
“Carrigan this is Fitzwilliam Van De Burg,” Carson Says. “Fitzy, this is Carrigan Archibald.”
“Well it is lovely to meet you,” the man says, walking forward, his hand held out for me to shake.
I take it and he squeezes lightly, almost affectionately which is surprising. “It’s nice to meet you Mr. Van De Burg.”
“Oh please call me Fitzy,” he says jovially, before looking up at Carson and scowling. “Why didn’t you tell me it was Tally’s sister?”
“I can’t believe you thought I’d be hugging Tally while I was naked,” Carson says with a laugh.
“Well,” Fitzy says, clearing his throat.
My eyes widen as I remember that I’m only wearing Carson’s shirt. Oh my god, Carson is naked and I’m just in his shirt. My hair a bird’s nest and it literally couldn’t be any more obvious that we just had sex. “I should go,” I say, refusing to look at anything but the floor as I point roughly in the direction of the bedroom.
“Go shower and I’ll make dinner,” Carson says, pulling me to him and forcing my chin up so he can kiss me, as my cheeks burn red with embarrassment.
“No, I’ll call a cab,” I argue.
“Go take a shower Priss,” he orders, in that tone I just don’t seem to be able to disobey. “Then we can eat before Fitzy helps you with some clothes.”
As soon as he releases me I dart away, shutting and locking the bathroom door the moment I’m safely inside. My heart is racing, my head spinning with everything that’s happened in the last couple of hours. Carson told me he likes me, or maybe he only likes me when we’re having sex.
Honestly, I’m not sure and I’m not sure why I’m okay with that. Maybe it’s that I think I like him too. Who am I kidding, I know I like him, if I didn’t I wouldn’t keep letting him invade my life the way he is.
Without my parents I’m floundering, but Carson grounds me. He tells me what he needs, what he expects and I need those rules, I need that guidance, because when I’m doing as he tells me I feel calm and safe.
My hands are shaking as I turn the shower on. They shake the whole time that I wash, leaving my hair smelling of Carson’s shampoo. Carefully I unlock the bathroom door, and wrapped only in a towel, I creep into his bedroom. Just like he said he would, he’s left a white button-down shirt out for me to wear, but as I slide it over my head I’m all too aware that I’m still naked beneath it, my handful of underwear in the dresser at the hotel.
The shirt reaches almost to my knees, but I still wish it were longer. Grabbing the hairbrush Carson left out, I brush my hair, dragging the tangles free, and then quickly twist it into a braid that hangs over my shoulder.
Sinking down onto the bed, I seriously consider calling a cab and running, but I know I won’t. I don’t want to leave. I don’t want to leave him, even though I know I should.
His words earlier completely disarmed me and now I’m caught, lost to his web, helpless, but a willing victim.
