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It’s a letter from the Dean of Stanford Business School, inviting me to pick up my studies where I left off.
I blink, once, twice, refusing to let the tears fall. Lorcan’s face contorts into a frown and he cups his hand against my cheek, studying me. “I thought you’d be happy.”
“How did you get the school to agree to this?”
A faint outline of a smirk on his lips. “The same way I got you disenrolled.”
A million thoughts fight to get to the front of my brain. A hundred words are stuck in the back of my throat. “I don’t know what to say.”
Being careful of my cast, Lorcan turns me around to face him, holding me so close that the tip of our noses brush. He draws in a deep breath and says, “Then I’ll say something. I’m sorry, China Doll. I should have never agreed to use you as bait.” His face darkens. “It was Antoin’s idea, and I’d never have thought he had other intentions. If I ever thought there was even the smallest chance I’d lose you, I’d never have gone through with it.”
I bite the inside of my lip, letting his apology stew between us. “I thought you’d sold me.”
He squeezes his arms around me tighter. “You’re not mine to sell.”
Confused, I look up at him, searching his citrine eyes. He takes a deep breath and says, “Poppy, you’re the perfect keepsake. You’re precious and priceless, and there is truly only one of you. But you don’t deserve to be kept in a cabinet, locked away in my museum for my own pleasure. You’re free, China Doll.”
I’m free.
So why does my heart snap in two and sink to the pit of my stomach?
The realization settles like dust and I twist away so he can’t see the tears trickling down my cheeks. “You always said you’d do it.”
“Do what, China Doll?” He murmurs in my ear. Despite telling me I’m free, his hands lock around me like the iron bars of a cage.
“Discard me once you no longer had use for me.” A bitter laugh escapes me; it’s immediately snatched away by the wind. “That’s what you said, right? Now my father is dead and you have my virginity. I guess I’m no use to you anymore.”
His chest stiffens against my back, and a low rumble vibrates deep in his chest. “Look at me,” he growls. Spurred on by the fury in his voice, I twist around to meet his burning eyes. Anger and pain swirl in his glare. “Poppy, when I claimed you all those years ago, I knew I’d ruin your life. I didn’t realize you’d ruin mine too. I will never be able to look at another woman again without thinking of you. I’ll never run my hands over a priceless antique without thinking of you. I’ll never be able to pick up a fucking paintbrush, listen to that goddamnBeatlessong you hum as you work, or even stand in the rain withoutthinking. about. you.” Lorcan pauses, turning his attention to the sea, nostrils flaring. “Goddamit, Poppy,” he says quietly, “I hate you, and for all the wrong reasons.”
I can barely see him through the tears. “Then ask me,” I whisper.
His warm hands clamp my face and pull it to his. He grits his teeth and says, “Stay,” he growls. “Stay with me.”
“What have I told you about asking questions?”
His hard lips soften into a smile as he brushes them against mine. Voice like velvet and with the touch of an angel, he whispers into my mouth.
“Poppy, will you stay with me?”
Lorcan
Poppy agreed to stay but she had two conditions. Both were going to be tough to fulfill, but I’d move fucking mountains to have her stay.
I had one condition of my own. We’d stay here, at the chalet, until the new year. Almost three months spent together, not as captor and keepsake, but as a couple.
All was quiet in Boston; the news of Bratnov’s demise spread like wildfire through the city. It put the fear of God back into the businesses that were lax on payments and earned us respect from other families across the country. Donnacha agreed to postpone his travels until January, working with Miguel to hold down the fort until I get back. With business in order, I didn’t have to focus on anything but Poppy.
And boy, did I focus on Poppy.
We spent the rest of September exploring the coast in my Jeep. With her leg still in the cast, I’d carry her down to the beaches so we could watch the surfers brave the waves over hot cocoa and pastries. October, she spent the days making pumpkin-everything in the kitchen, and I spent the nights with her curled up in my arms with the lights off, telling her cheesy ghost stories with a torch tucked under my chin. November came, knocking the leaves off the trees and bringing in the snow. We locked the doors and closed the curtains, spending the evenings making love in front of the fireplace, wrapped up in the tartan throws she’d bought from a local boutique.
Poppy could walk again by December, and the angry scars had melted away from her smooth skin. Visitors came and went; Nova Mondez came to get away from the storm cloud of her dad’s passing. I owe her family a lot, especially her brother, so I told her she could stay as long as she needed. Then Donnacha and Orna came over, bringing sacks of presents, Poppy’s workroom tools, and anecdotes from the estate. Poppy would disappear on long walks with Orna, while Donnacha and I played poker and smoked illegal cigars in the drawing room.
Poppy was my new drug, and by the time Christmas morning comes, I’m addicted to every inch of her porcelain body.
“Good morning,” she drawls, planting a long, passionate kiss on my mouth the second I opened my eyes. I groan into her lips and pulled her against my chest.
“Merry Christmas, China Doll,” I murmur into her messy bun, running my hands over her soft, naked curves and breathing in her sleepy scent. As always, the mere feeling of Poppy against me makes my cock stand to attention. In one swift motion, I flip her onto her back and climb on top of her. Like the good girl she is, she opens her legs, curls them around my hips and pulls me closer to the warm spot between her thighs. I moan into her mouth, brushing my erection along the length of her warm pussy lips. I pull myself away from her kiss just long enough to look into her eyes. As I sweep the stray strand of hair from her forehead, I wonder how I’m going to fuck her on our first Christmas together. Am I going to pin her down and tie her wrists to the bedposts and spank her until she comes over my hand, then wrap my hand into her hair as she chokes on my cock? Or am I going to replace my spanks with soft kisses, gently licking, sucking, and fucking every inch of her soft body? Then, eyes never leaving hers, slide into her and bring her to one of many orgasms in slow, rhythmic waves?
