Part 7 (1/2)
”Of course,” he rasped, breathless already. ”First things first. I should have told you my name. But my name was only one of the secrets I was keeping from you.”
”Oh, you mean like the fact that you're an internationally renowned entertainment figure?”
He swallowed. ”Who told you that? Paul and Misha? Mand.i.n.ka?”
I slapped him lightly across the face, but even a light slap, delivered unexpectedly, shocked him when he couldn't see it coming. He jerked inside me. ”I figured it out on my own! Accusing my friends of betraying you is doing nothing to help your case, you know.”
”I'm sorry. I'm sorry!” He tipped his head back and gulped air. ”Old habits die hard.”
”If you're very good, maybe I'll tell you how I figured it out. Later. Continue.”
”Right. You're right. I should have told you sooner. I intended to tell you-I truly did. But I wanted to wait until after the party. I wanted to... to seduce you so thoroughly, love you so well, and master you so completely, that even if you had been in league with Ferrara or anyone else trying to get to me, that you'd come over to my side.”
”Do you always have to have an ulterior motive for everything?” I blurted.
”Not ulterior,” he said, as I rubbed against him. ”Just multiple. I figured I wanted you to fall for me as hard as I had fallen for you. That it would quell my suspicions or foil any plots was a bonus. I'm sorry I didn't trust you then, and I'm sorry I didn't trust you this summer, as well. You surprised me.”
”Was it really your idea for the Tate to hire me?”
”Not exactly.”
”Not exactly? That doesn't sound like raw honesty to me,” I said, lifting up high enough that I was threatening to disengage entirely.
”The truth is not always simple!” He sounded desperate. ”Remember that first time you met Reginald? At the Carlyle Hotel? I told him that day I thought he should consider hiring you for something. He laughed it off at the time. Then he read your dissertation. He had no budget, no intention of hiring anyone, but after reading it, he very much wanted to bring you over, so he asked me if I would fund your trip and your salary.”
”He hired Tristan,” I pointed out.
”Was Tristan receiving a stipend?”
”Oh. I don't know.”
”I doubt he was. Or if he did, the funding came through his university. No, you were special, and Reg did not want to let you get away. So he asked for the money to fund your position, since you had been my suggestion. I said yes, if he'd do me a favor and keep an eye on you for me.”
”Keep an eye on me?”
”I don't mean it in the 'spy on you' sense. I meant in the 'make sure you were all right in London' sense. I didn't know you'd be moving in with old friends of mine, too!”
”All right.”
”So hiring you was my suggestion, but Reg was the one who decided to actually do it. My patronage helped it happen. But it was you, Karina, your knowledge, your skills that impressed him and made him want you there. He had no idea that I had my own agenda.”
”Even when you sent a kinky playboy to f.u.c.k his submissives in the gallery in front of me?”
James swallowed. ”Did Damon George-?”
”No, but he gave me the impression he might've. 'Special, after-hours donor tour,' hah. I should have known some kind of kink was involved. Which reminds me. When I got to London, Martindale showed me some photos you sent him. Was that all a sham? Or were you hiding from him, too, at that point?”
”Was that how you made the York connection?”
”Hey! I'm asking the questions here! Do you need to be punished to remember who's in charge right now?”
He clenched his teeth. ”Sorry. I'm sorry. I... won't do it again. What was the question?”
”When you sent the photos to Martindale, were you hiding from him?”
”Ah. Yes. Once I had his promise to take care of you, I cut off contact with him.”
”Then why send the photos at all?”
He drew a shaky breath. After a few moments, I ground against him. ”Mmm, I'm starting to get close. You may be running out of time...”
”I was out of my mind, Karina. Thinking about you, dreaming about you... Terrified that under it all you were in league with Ferrara but hoping, hoping desperately that you weren't and that there would be some way to... to... connect with you. I sent him the photos under the guise of letting him know I was working on the commission, hoping maybe you'd see them, hoping maybe... I don't know. I was desperate and unsure of myself.”
”I knew the second I saw them that you were thinking about me.”
”Obsessed with you.”
”So obsessed with me that you sent Damon to test me?”
”I admit that was one of my stupider ideas. The thought of him touching you, Karina, of him laying a finger on you...” He broke off, jaw clenched, his c.o.c.k stabbing upward inside me.
I remembered how he'd acted so very affronted to find me there at the club, how he'd stalked off, as if offended. To know that his own actions had put me there... My anger spiked again. He had stalked off not because he had been disgusted with me, but because he had been disgusted with himself. I s.h.i.+fted so that my knees were gripping his hips, the instep of my feet hooked inside his thighs. Now I could really grind my c.l.i.t against him and drive myself onto his c.o.c.k. I held on to his shoulders. ”You know what I learned from Damon Georgiades?”
”What?”
”I learned that kink isn't enough. I said this in front of you and Vanette in London, but I don't know if you remember, what with how we were rudely interrupted.” I was drawing close. Anger was heating me up as much as James inside me. ”I don't particularly like it unless it means something. Unless I'm in love. Guess who I'm in love with, James? One hint. It isn't Damon.”
He was silent. The one drawback to the blindfold was that I couldn't see his expression.
”That wasn't a rhetorical question,” I said. ”Do you believe me, James? If you do, say so. Who am I in love with?”
He wetted his lips again. ”You're in love with me.”
”Are you sure?”
”Yes. Yes G.o.ddammit, Karina, I'm sure!” His hips jerked under me, meeting my thrusts. ”You wouldn't be doing all this if you weren't!”
I ground against him with each question I asked. ”And who understands you?”
”You do.”
”And who understands your art?”
”You, Karina, you.”
”Mmm, I think I'm getting used to this call and response thing we have going on here, James. You know that every time I give you my body, I give you a piece of my heart, right?”