interest as she watched a movie, as she read a book. She’d given in to desire, going home with boys in college, with men she met in law school, through work.
But if those nights were carefree songs, the feeling that sliced through her now was an opera. It stole her breath away, zapped her words to syllables, to meaningless sounds. It made her thighs tremble, and she actually wondered if she could stand up and walk away from the table.
She couldn’t leave. She couldn’t breathe. But she could purse her lips with calculated care. She could dip her spoon into the soft curve of ice cream. She could raise the dessert to her mouth and take her time licking the melted vanilla sauce, lapping it up with all the careful attention of a cat.
She watched Kyle’s eyes go wide.
This was crazy. She was crazy. Sure it was fun teasing him this way, but she needed to be careful. She had to remember that this was the guy she’d blackmailed, the man who could turn her in to the police, who could toss her out on her ass whenever he wanted.
This is the guy who can give me the money for Hunter.
The thought was there, stark and ugly, turning the ice cream to acid at the back of her throat. Even as the words surfaced, she realized she’d known them all along.
Kyle could save her. He could save Hunter. All she had to do was repeat her crime, make her demand, hold Spring Valley over his head again.
Yeah, she’d come to this dinner planning on paying back what she’d already taken from him. But how the hell could she do that with her maxed-out salary? She couldn’t even raise the issue without hyperventilating.
Instead, over the course of dinner, she’d begun to understand what it actually meant to have a major-league salary. Kyle had bought his parents a new home. He’d put one sister through grad school and sent the other on an around-the-world trip while she figured out what she wanted to be when she grew up.
Twenty-five thousand dollars was practically pocket change for him.
We don’t tell anyone about our family problems. Her mother had recited those words like a prayer. That’s what had kept the three of them—Amanda and Laura and Alex—together through the worst of it. Warren had nearly destroyed them, but in the end, they were all still standing.
Doing anything else now—telling an outsider, telling Kyle —why she needed his money would take away the power of all those old struggles. Speaking out loud would erase the bonds her mother had forged. It would invalidate the past. If Amanda displayed her need, she’d be saying that every secret her mother had made them keep had been unnecessary, had hurt more than it had ever helped.
She couldn’t do that. She couldn’t betray who she’d been, who her mother and brother had been. She couldn’t erase everything they’d done to survive. It was easier to demand money than to explain the reason she needed it.
~~~
Jesus Christ. He couldn’t tell what Amanda was thinking. One moment, she was looking up at him through her eyelashes, yanking a chain she had to know was tied directly to his dick. The next, she was swallowing hard, refusing to meet his eyes, twisting her fingers in her lap.
“Hey,” he said. “Are you okay?”
She licked her lips before she raised her chin. Her eyes flashed bright in the dim alcove. “I’m fine. But I’m through with dessert.”
He glanced at the plate between them, at the ice cream melting on her spoon. Something had changed. Something had broken inside her. But he wasn’t going to get anywhere asking questions; he could tell that from the steady way she looked at him.
He’d never passed up a slice of Aunt Mary’s peach pie in his life. But there was a first time for everything.
Whatever was going on, he didn’t want to drag it out by asking for the check, by waiting for Artie to come back, by figuring out something to say while the charge was run up electronically. Cold, hard cash—that’s what he needed now.
He fished
But if those nights were carefree songs, the feeling that sliced through her now was an opera. It stole her breath away, zapped her words to syllables, to meaningless sounds. It made her thighs tremble, and she actually wondered if she could stand up and walk away from the table.
She couldn’t leave. She couldn’t breathe. But she could purse her lips with calculated care. She could dip her spoon into the soft curve of ice cream. She could raise the dessert to her mouth and take her time licking the melted vanilla sauce, lapping it up with all the careful attention of a cat.
She watched Kyle’s eyes go wide.
This was crazy. She was crazy. Sure it was fun teasing him this way, but she needed to be careful. She had to remember that this was the guy she’d blackmailed, the man who could turn her in to the police, who could toss her out on her ass whenever he wanted.
This is the guy who can give me the money for Hunter.
The thought was there, stark and ugly, turning the ice cream to acid at the back of her throat. Even as the words surfaced, she realized she’d known them all along.
Kyle could save her. He could save Hunter. All she had to do was repeat her crime, make her demand, hold Spring Valley over his head again.
Yeah, she’d come to this dinner planning on paying back what she’d already taken from him. But how the hell could she do that with her maxed-out salary? She couldn’t even raise the issue without hyperventilating.
Instead, over the course of dinner, she’d begun to understand what it actually meant to have a major-league salary. Kyle had bought his parents a new home. He’d put one sister through grad school and sent the other on an around-the-world trip while she figured out what she wanted to be when she grew up.
Twenty-five thousand dollars was practically pocket change for him.
We don’t tell anyone about our family problems. Her mother had recited those words like a prayer. That’s what had kept the three of them—Amanda and Laura and Alex—together through the worst of it. Warren had nearly destroyed them, but in the end, they were all still standing.
Doing anything else now—telling an outsider, telling Kyle —why she needed his money would take away the power of all those old struggles. Speaking out loud would erase the bonds her mother had forged. It would invalidate the past. If Amanda displayed her need, she’d be saying that every secret her mother had made them keep had been unnecessary, had hurt more than it had ever helped.
She couldn’t do that. She couldn’t betray who she’d been, who her mother and brother had been. She couldn’t erase everything they’d done to survive. It was easier to demand money than to explain the reason she needed it.
~~~
Jesus Christ. He couldn’t tell what Amanda was thinking. One moment, she was looking up at him through her eyelashes, yanking a chain she had to know was tied directly to his dick. The next, she was swallowing hard, refusing to meet his eyes, twisting her fingers in her lap.
“Hey,” he said. “Are you okay?”
She licked her lips before she raised her chin. Her eyes flashed bright in the dim alcove. “I’m fine. But I’m through with dessert.”
He glanced at the plate between them, at the ice cream melting on her spoon. Something had changed. Something had broken inside her. But he wasn’t going to get anywhere asking questions; he could tell that from the steady way she looked at him.
He’d never passed up a slice of Aunt Mary’s peach pie in his life. But there was a first time for everything.
Whatever was going on, he didn’t want to drag it out by asking for the check, by waiting for Artie to come back, by figuring out something to say while the charge was run up electronically. Cold, hard cash—that’s what he needed now.
He fished
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