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I scoff. “Seriously? Theyarethe police. And who do you think introduced me to Martin in the first place?”
How thick is his skull that he can’t put two and two together?Run to the police. Like I hadn’t tried that already, multiple times, evenbeforeI met Martin.
Back when Mama was still alive.
The memory stings my eyes and I shove myself away from him. I don’t care that it makes me clumsily roll off the chair—I need to get away from Demyen and his painful, prying questions he has no business asking. He’s never cared before, so why start now?
“Clara.”
I feel him reach for me, but I dodge his hand. Time to leave.
I’m about three yards away from that looming archway when his arms wrap around me from behind. The gesture feels so warm, so intimate, it almost makes me want to cry.
Cry from frustration, to be clear.
But also because I want so much that which I cannotlet myself have.
“Clara.” Demyen’s voice is gentle in my ear. I can smell the vodka on his breath. His hold eases when he feels me slow to a stop, enough for him to move his hands to my waist and hold me there.
I try so hard to ignore the way his thumbs trace slow, lazy circles along the small of my back. Or the way his mouth presses something like a kiss to my shoulder, then my neck, before he speaks again.
“Let me know if you need something better than a hairbrush next time. I’ll be happy to accommodate.”
Shit.
Shiiiiit shit shit shit shit.
He knows. I knew it. I’m actually amazed that he lets me pull away to run back to the main house; I half-expected him to try and seduce me right then and there.
I’m more amazed to feel kind of disappointed he didn’t.
44
DEMYEN
Coffee used to be the best fix for a mild hangover.
Usedto be.
Until a certain siren moved into my home.
Now, it seems like she’s the only fix for anything—and I’m the sailor losing my fucking mind with this obsessive need to be near her. To touch her. To look at her.
Fuck the consequences, as long as I can fuckher.
What’s left of logic in the back of my mind whispers reminders of why I can’t just abandon The Plan just so I can bury my dick inside her whenever I want. Logic is pretty damn convincing, as it turns out.
So I do the next best thing.
This time, I’m still in bed, up before dawn as usual. Everyone else is still asleep, which means I have a rare period of free time before anyone needs me to attend to things.
Right now, I have my own thing that needs “attending to.”
The laptop rests on my lap on top of the blankets. The screen is showing me clear footage from yesterday’s little adventure inside Clara’s bedroom. I promised myself I was just going to check on the current live feed, but…
This is ridiculous. It’s not like I haven’t seen this before.
She’s standing at the foot of her bed, naked. It’s slow, but her movements soon reveal she’s touching herself. First, her stomach, then her breasts. It makes my mouth water just watching. When she lets out a breathy moan, I have no choice but to shift the laptop enough for me to ease my hard cock out from under the blankets.
