silent, inward thanks that I’d been strong enough to let her go. As much as my heart had ached each day I was forced to be away from her, I knew I’d done the right thing for both of us.
Because this woman, this woman with bright green eyes, this woman who rode my cock with abandon, her breasts bouncing, her lips pouting, her entire body giving into the lust she felt, this woman was magnificent.
I wanted to spend the rest of my life with this woman.
Chapter 7
Alexander:
“Jean-Luc is bringing you breakfast,” I remarked in the morning. It was cold outside and Ellie had decided that staying in bed was a better idea than waking up. We had a busy day ahead of us, but I couldn’t seem to muster up much caring when her warm body was curled up into mine.
She grinned at that. I knew she couldn’t resist a warm pastry for breakfast. “It’s hard to imagine grim and taciturn Jean-Luc offering croissants,” she quipped before turning serious. “Alexander, can I ask you a question?”
“I think you just did,” I pointed out.
She ignored that. “You know,” she said. “I’ve been meaning to ask you about something. You thought I’d kill you in Hanoi.” She gave me a pointed look. “That seems kind of fucked up. There’s so much that I don’t know about you and your history with Dylan.”
“Now? It’s early in the morning and the sun is shining,” I protested. “Can’t I just tell you how incredibly beautiful you are?”
She punched my bicep. Hard. “Talk, Alexander.”
My lips twitched. When she played, she was the sweetest submissive, surrendering control with grace and genuine need. But outside? She was taking no shit from me. I loved it.
“What do you want to know?”
“Everything,” she replied. She linked her fingers in mine. “Alexander,” her voice was soft. “I’ve always known you aren’t him. You never hurt me unless I asked for it. You were always kind. And most importantly, you let me go to find myself.”
I hadn’t realized it until that moment, but my soul needed to hear those words from her lips. I put my arms around her and drew her against me. “I guess the true beginning of the whole story would start with Dylan and Carrie.”
“Your aunt?” she asked.
I nodded. “The McAllisters were an old New England family. They sailed to Canada in the eighteenth century, then made their way down to America. One of them made a fortune in the early nineteenth century. Mining and railroads, mostly. By the time Dylan and Carrie were born, the business itself was long gone. What was left was the money.”
I paused to stroke her hair. She felt warm and soft and so very right against me. “My aunt never talked much about her parents,” I said, “but I did some searching. From all accounts, my paternal grandparents were giddy socialites who were uninterested in the mundane day-to-day activities that came with raising children. Dylan and Carrie were largely brought up by servants.”
I shrugged. “Then, their parents died when Dylan was just fourteen and Carrie was eleven. Suddenly, they had court-appointed trustees for the fortune and they had to navigate worlds they were unprepared for. For Carrie, Dylan became everything. Her big brother, who would protect her and take care of her. Perhaps that’s way Dylan turned out the way he did.”
“How is that an excuse for his crimes?” Her voice was hot with indignation. “You were brought up by the staff at the boarding school they sent you to and you didn’t wander around kidnapping women and torturing them.”
I kissed her neck. “I’m not saying it was,” I soothed. “I love how you jump to my defense.”
Her hand tightened on mine. “I’m not Lucien,” she responded. “I know the difference between you and Dylan.”
I never wanted to let this woman go. It had nearly killed me once to let her walk away and only the knowledge that what I did was both right and necessary had permitted me to act. This time around,
Because this woman, this woman with bright green eyes, this woman who rode my cock with abandon, her breasts bouncing, her lips pouting, her entire body giving into the lust she felt, this woman was magnificent.
I wanted to spend the rest of my life with this woman.
Chapter 7
Alexander:
“Jean-Luc is bringing you breakfast,” I remarked in the morning. It was cold outside and Ellie had decided that staying in bed was a better idea than waking up. We had a busy day ahead of us, but I couldn’t seem to muster up much caring when her warm body was curled up into mine.
She grinned at that. I knew she couldn’t resist a warm pastry for breakfast. “It’s hard to imagine grim and taciturn Jean-Luc offering croissants,” she quipped before turning serious. “Alexander, can I ask you a question?”
“I think you just did,” I pointed out.
She ignored that. “You know,” she said. “I’ve been meaning to ask you about something. You thought I’d kill you in Hanoi.” She gave me a pointed look. “That seems kind of fucked up. There’s so much that I don’t know about you and your history with Dylan.”
“Now? It’s early in the morning and the sun is shining,” I protested. “Can’t I just tell you how incredibly beautiful you are?”
She punched my bicep. Hard. “Talk, Alexander.”
My lips twitched. When she played, she was the sweetest submissive, surrendering control with grace and genuine need. But outside? She was taking no shit from me. I loved it.
“What do you want to know?”
“Everything,” she replied. She linked her fingers in mine. “Alexander,” her voice was soft. “I’ve always known you aren’t him. You never hurt me unless I asked for it. You were always kind. And most importantly, you let me go to find myself.”
I hadn’t realized it until that moment, but my soul needed to hear those words from her lips. I put my arms around her and drew her against me. “I guess the true beginning of the whole story would start with Dylan and Carrie.”
“Your aunt?” she asked.
I nodded. “The McAllisters were an old New England family. They sailed to Canada in the eighteenth century, then made their way down to America. One of them made a fortune in the early nineteenth century. Mining and railroads, mostly. By the time Dylan and Carrie were born, the business itself was long gone. What was left was the money.”
I paused to stroke her hair. She felt warm and soft and so very right against me. “My aunt never talked much about her parents,” I said, “but I did some searching. From all accounts, my paternal grandparents were giddy socialites who were uninterested in the mundane day-to-day activities that came with raising children. Dylan and Carrie were largely brought up by servants.”
I shrugged. “Then, their parents died when Dylan was just fourteen and Carrie was eleven. Suddenly, they had court-appointed trustees for the fortune and they had to navigate worlds they were unprepared for. For Carrie, Dylan became everything. Her big brother, who would protect her and take care of her. Perhaps that’s way Dylan turned out the way he did.”
“How is that an excuse for his crimes?” Her voice was hot with indignation. “You were brought up by the staff at the boarding school they sent you to and you didn’t wander around kidnapping women and torturing them.”
I kissed her neck. “I’m not saying it was,” I soothed. “I love how you jump to my defense.”
Her hand tightened on mine. “I’m not Lucien,” she responded. “I know the difference between you and Dylan.”
I never wanted to let this woman go. It had nearly killed me once to let her walk away and only the knowledge that what I did was both right and necessary had permitted me to act. This time around,
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