Third Debt (Indebted #4)(22)
Author: Pepper Winters

He yanked me to a stop. “Don’t mention love in my presence again. You don’t love me, and I certainly don’t love you.” Grazing his knuckles over my jaw, he smiled frostily. “Never underestimate my desire to fit in with my family, Ms. Weaver. And remember that I’m now immune to your distractions. Life at Hawksridge is going to be a lot different from now on.”

I wanted to shout and scream. I wanted to attack him and kiss.

“You don’t know anything, Jethro Hawk.”

“Ready?” George appeared with his incessant camera.

Jethro wrapped his arms around me. Our tense standoff was silenced for a moment. He gave me no choice but to liquefy in his arms, smile demurely, and pretend everything was perfect for one of the fakest photographs ever taken.

“I know more than I need to,” Jethro murmured, his breath hot and enticing on my neck. “I know everything I need in order to complete my task.”

George darted forward. Sylvie, with her bouncing blonde hair, checked the sunlight with handheld sensors. The day was cool but bright; a brilliant autumn backdrop for Vanity Fair’s extravaganza.

“Perfect. Don’t move,” George said.

“Oh, I hadn’t planned on it,” Jethro whispered just for me. He rocked his hips into my arse as he cradled me in his arms. His head bowed as he nuzzled my hair. “You smell just as good as I remember.”

“Oh, you remember that, do you?” I cocked my chin, glaring at Hawksridge and doing my utmost to remain unaffected by Jethro rubbing himself on my lower back. “And here I thought you’d forgotten everything to do with me.”

“I haven’t forgotten a thing.”

“That’s not true,” I whispered sadly. “You’ve forgotten what I said to you the night you brought me back in the springs. You’ve forgotten that I said I was in love with you. That it didn’t come with conditions or commands. That I couldn’t hate you for what you did yesterday or tomorrow.” I sighed, nursing the pain deep inside. “Don’t you see what I’m offering you? Cut doesn’t love you, Jethro. He’s the one controlling you. Choose me. Love me. And we can be free together.”

Jethro growled under his breath. “Stop wasting your time. It’s not going to happen.”

George pranced closer, clicking his camera, capturing us for eternity.

“You’ll see, Kite. Eventually, you will see, and I hope for both our sakes it isn’t too late.”

That was the last time we talked while we became the perfect models for George. For the next hour, we were told where to stand, how to smile, what to do. Photographs were taken in front of Hawksridge, in the stables with the foxhounds threading around our feet, and beneath the apple trees in the orchard.

With each click of the shutter, my heart fell a little more. I had no doubt the pictures would turn the world from suspicion to adoration. The rumours would die. The questions would disappear. And life would move on.

Exactly as the Hawks intended.

SCREW HER AND her conniving plans.

I wanted to fucking throw something, punch someone, and surrender to the rapidly building hailstorm inside.

You need a top-up.

I thought my dosage was perfect, but it was useless against her. The intensity she projected—the feral energy and righteous anger. It was enough to fucking cripple my walls and blow away my numbing fog.

Not going to happen.

I’d come so far. I wouldn’t go back. I couldn’t. I wouldn’t survive and not just because Cut would kill me, but because I couldn’t live that way any longer. I wasn’t fucking built for this disease. I’d done my penance. Twenty-nine long years of it.

Pulling the small bottle from my pocket as I entered my quarters, I placed two pills on my tongue and swallowed them back.

Nila hadn’t even been back a day and I’d already tripled the amount I normally took.

And when I kissed her.

Fuck!

What was I thinking?

To get so close to her? To taste her again?

I’d planned on an impromptu ad-lib for the article, but it fucking backfired on me.

I stormed into my bathroom and tore off the grey suit I’d worn for the Vanity Fair interview. Cold sweat drenched my back. Goosebumps covered my skin as I stripped the rest of my clothing and stepped into the shower.

As soon as the meeting was over, I’d left Nila in the parlour and stormed to my room. Being around George and Sylvie had been easy. Their reactions and opinions didn’t lash at me nearly as much as Nila’s did.

What was it about her? Why couldn’t I block her out?

Hot water rained over me, burning my flesh. Instead of washing away the tension of the morning, all I could think about was Nila pleasuring herself with the showerhead a few weeks ago. The way her face had tightened and pleasure made her glow. She’d never looked so goddamn beautiful.

My cock thickened, demanding I do something about the ache.

I couldn’t let her do this to me. Not again. Not after I’d had the best month of my life with my father. I’d finally found something that could work. I’d finally tasted freedom.

I just had to stay out of Nila’s clutches and do what I was born to do.

Fisting my cock, I thrust into my palm.

“You won’t win this time, Nila,” I growled. “I want you out of my head. Out of my fucking heart.”

Get out.

My quads tensed as bliss danced with pain. I was rough, punishing my cock for having the audacity to want the one thing that could destroy me. My balls tightened, delicious pleasure gathered in my belly.

Fuck, I wanted her. I wanted to be inside her.

I needed to stay far away from her.

My fingers squeezed harder.

You can’t have her.

Not if I wanted what Cut promised. Not if I wanted to rule.

My mind raced. I might not be able to have her physically, but Cut would never know what fantasies I allowed inside my fractured brain.

I could have her like this—and still win.

With one hand braced on the tiles and water cascading over my shoulders, I imagined Nila spread-eagled on the bed, tied to four corners and panting from an orgasm I’d just given her with my tongue.

Her taste filled my mouth as I climbed on top of her and slid deep inside her wet pussy.

Goddammit.

Her moans echoed in my ears as I thrust inside her, giving into her tightness, dropping every restraint and shackle.

I came.

It was the fastest orgasm I’d ever had. Ribbon after ribbon, I spurted over my knuckles.

Jerking beneath the water, I rid my body of the insanity she’d conjured and slowly…interminably slowly…I could breathe again.

“Where are we going?”

Her melodic voice was anything but soothing. After a night of tossing and berating myself for how weak I turned out to be, I wasn’t in the mood to deal with her—especially with her looking rested and fresh in jeans and an off-the-shoulder jumper with her hair plaited and just begging to be fisted while I took her from behind.

She didn’t look nervous or fearful—she looked defiant and ready to battle.

“So, you’re ignoring me now?”

“Not ignoring you, just filtering out your useless questions.” I didn’t turn to face her. Instead, I kept driving. Guiding the four-seater Ferrari FF away from Hawksridge Hall, I looked into the rear-view mirror.

I’d made the mistake of sitting Nila in the front with me. I should’ve put her in the back with Kestrel.

He caught my gaze, smirking a little as if he knew exactly what I was dealing with but didn’t give a toss. Awful thing was he did know exactly what I was dealing with and whatever sympathy he’d given me in the past had long since dried up.

It fucking hurt to have my closest ally wash his hands of me.

Nila spun in her seat, the tan leather creaking beneath her. “You tell me, Kes. Why was my morning spent sketching my so-called ‘wedding dress’ interrupted by a mysterious trip off the estate?” Her voice lowered. “You’ve only just gotten me back—why am I being given outings when I was told I would never leave again?”

Kes chuckled, his silvering hair longer and slightly shaggy. “That’s a lot of questions.”

Nila deadpanned. “I have a lot of confusion.”

Kes had changed a bit since I’d last seen him—withdrawing from me just like I withdrew from him.

Our fight came back with crystal clarity. It’d been two or three days after Cut had given me the ultimatum: Drugs and keep Nila for myself. Die and give Nila to Daniel. Kes had raged at me. He wanted me to give in and trust that together we could find another way. Only, he didn’t know the sentence Cut had given. It wasn’t his business. It was my curse. My responsibility to stay alive in order to protect Nila even while being cruel to her. And I had to use the tablets to remain sane enough to do that.

I don’t need him anymore—just like I don’t need my sister.

Kes laughed harder. The friendship between him and Nila sprang instantly back into place as if she’d never gone. How could they have such a bond when they were practically strangers?

I’d lived all my life with these people and still wasn’t comfortable in their company. The numbness from my tablets meant I’d deliberately distanced myself from the people I was closest to, so their feelings and thoughts wouldn’t sway my conviction. But to have Kes laugh so easily with Nila, when he was stilted and removed with me, hurt in a way I would never admit.