Honeytrap: A Dark Erotic Thriller (Beneath Her Dark Wing Book 1) by Chloe Fox

Author:Chloe Fox [Fox, Chloe]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2015-03-31T22:00:00+00:00

Michael leaves at midnight. Clara is curled on the sofa, a cushion clutched to her chest, eyes unfocused upon the TV. I sit down beside her and take her hand.

She launches the cushion at my face. Her voice is strained. “Don’t touch me. How could you? You’re worse than Kent.” She pauses for a reaction, but when it’s not forthcoming, she continues, “I don’t think I can do this anymore. You don’t care about anybody but yourself.”

“Tell me something new. You need to get some sleep. Tomorrow’s a big day, and I want you bright eyed and bushy tailed.”

“Go away.”

“I know you’re hurting, but you need to build a wall around it. Your body will recover. I did what I did because I had to. Now, whatever you come up against, you’ll take it in your stride. The deep-throat thing is kinda rough, but next time it won’t be half as bad.” I need to get her moving again. If she spends too long feeling sorry for herself, it’ll only make things worse. “Come on. I’ll help you shower.”

This time, she lets me take her hand. I pull her up and drag her to the bathroom. She stands like a statue beneath the cascading water, head tipped back. I start washing her. She winces when I use the flannel to scrub her sore bits. I take the showerhead from its holder and direct the spray between her legs. She takes a deep breath, her shoulders drop and she lathers her own hair. I rinse her off, then adjust the temperature to ice cold. She squeals, but grits her teeth and tolerates it. Straightening her spine, she steps out of the cubicle unassisted.

She grabs a towel. “I want to share your bed … Not like that. I just don’t want to be alone. Can I? Please?”

I see no harm in it. If it helps her rest, it benefits us both. “Sure, but don’t make a habit of it. Our relationship must remain professional. No blurred lines. Understood?”

“Yeah. I know the score.”

She finishes drying herself. One week eating properly and she’s already filling out. Her hips and rear are softer. The curves of her breasts are easier on the eye. Muscle tone has improved. A few more pounds and she’ll be at optimal weight. I fetch her a salad sandwich and a glass of cabernet. She rests her head against my shoulder and nibbles her food until it’s gone. I stroke her hair and make bullshit reassurances about the future. She’s back under my wing. Where she likes it best.

Later in bed, she cuddles up close. Her heart pulses against my back, warm breath tickles my ear, and her hand rests upon the arc of my hip. When I shift, she shifts with me. It’s not an unpleasant feeling.

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