Masked Definitions (9 page)

I smile softly, feeling safe in the dark. I feel like Enna again, or maybe that’s just because I’m in his presence. “Of course not. It’s good to see him happy.”

“Then why do you avoid me?” On any other day I’d appreciate his directness, but today I’m not prepared.

I tense and run my teeth over my bottom lip. “I just don’t want to be in the way.”

“You aren’t in the way.” He takes a step closer to me, closing our gap to five feet. My hands clench into fists by my side and he definitely notices. “I scare you?”

“Not in the way that you think.” My voice is a mutter; I didn’t mean to say it out loud. He heard me. His pupils dilate. He knows exactly what I meant. I may as well have just bent over the side and flipped up my skirt.

Fuck.

Icy grey eyes narrow and his head tilts to the right as if assessing an abstract image. He’s piecing things together.

This isn’t good.

“Thank you for having us tonight,” I say quietly, trying to keep my voice as normal as possible. “I’ve enjoyed myself.”

“You and Penelope seem to have hit it off.”

“She’s nice.” I shift onto my other foot and nod towards the door. “Am I free to leave?” His stance between me and the door is saying otherwise.

He relaxes and returns my smile. “Of course.” Side stepping out of my path, he stuffs his hands into the pockets of his trousers. “Olivia?” His voice stops me at the doorway. I freeze but don’t turn. “You’re welcome any time. You’re not in the way. I’m sorry if I’ve made you feel like that. It wasn’t my intention.”

“It’s not you, I’m just… anxious around new people.” I explain, still facing away from him. “Goodnight, my L…” Shit, that was close. “Elijah.” I rush away, hoping that he didn’t notice my near miss.

That was stupid.

I’m stupid.

“When you said we’re going fishing, I thought you meant yourself and Elijah,” I grumble tiredly. Max woke me thirty seconds ago. The sun has yet to rise so it can’t be later than five.

“Sorry.” He smiles, pushing my back against the door. I hit it with a thud and the air whooshes from me. I don’t have time to catch my breath as his mouth is on mine. Soft lips move urgently, the slight bristle of his beard scratching my jaw. He pulls back as his hands lift the hem of my chemise.

“Not here,” I hiss, grabbing at his wrists.

“Babe, you have no idea how badly I had to restrain myself last night, climbing into bed next to you.” Strong fingers grip my thigh and hook it over his hip. I feel his length straining against his boxers as he presses against my naked pussy, nothing but a thin piece of fabric separating us. “I need this.”

My body softens as his skilful hands work me so well. He knows how to please me; he knows how to turn me on. Problem is, I also know him and his moods and he might be turning me on but he won’t finish me off.

“I’ll be quick,” he mumbles against my neck. I could laugh at my intuition. I hate being right sometimes. He fumbles between us and I feel him poised at my entrance within seconds of him speaking. He sinks into me only a fraction before realising that I dried the second I realised we’d be having one-sided sex, so he wets his fingers with his mouth and rubs me before pushing in. “Fuck, yes.”

I don’t even bother to move; I simply lean back against the wall and wait for him to finish. I want to hate him for it. I want to complain but I can’t, not when I’ve been denying him his fill of me and granting it to his brother.

He sighs when he orgasms after a few deep thrusts and drops my leg as he still twitches, partly inside and partly between my now closed thighs.

“Now I’m going to have to shower.” I cringe, feeling stroppy at the situation.

“We don’t have time,” he whines and now I’m definitely stroppy. I shoot him a look as I stomp into the en-suite, hating how frustrated I feel. “Be quick.”

“Almost as quick as you,” I say and flip him off over my shoulder.

He doesn't respond and I know I've hit him right where it hurts, especially when I exit the bathroom in my robe and he isn't waiting for me.

I have no clothes here. What am I going to wear?

Do I just let myself into Penelope's room? Is she coming too? After last night, I doubt it. Unless she's one of those lucky people who don't suffer with a hangover, that is.

I step out into the hall, wishing Max had stayed behind to help me figure out what to do. I don't feel comfortable walking around in nothing but a robe, and my feet are cold. Maybe I should just wait until Max comes looking for me.

“Stop being such a coward,” I tell myself and step out into the hallway. I glance up and down for any signs of life. I also glance up and down to figure out which bedroom is Penelope's again.

When I figure it out, I hover outside the door with my fist raised, ready to knock, but it swings open and Penelope, tired looking and teary-eyed, almost barges into me.

“Olivia.” She quickly wipes the tears from beneath her eyes with slender fingers. “I almost forgot you were here.”

I glance over her shoulder and find the source of why she's crying. My eyes linger on the black tattoo on his back. It's a detailed pattern with sharp edges following a diagonal path from his right shoulder to his left hip. I love it. I love his back. How have I never seen this before? I've only ever seen the front of him, that's why. The tattoo, though surprising, suits him greatly.

“I'm sorry,” I say as he turns to face us. “I came to raid your closet but I'll just…”

“No!” She cries and her hand grabs mine. “Please, feel free. I was just leaving.”

“You aren't coming fishing?” I ask stupidly.

She smiles weakly but her bottom lip trembles, revealing her sorrow. She then steps into the hall. “I have to leave urgently.”

“Is everything okay?” Has he hurt her in some way? She did say that they don't share a bed, so why on earth is he half naked in her room? Not that it's my business, but I get this strange pang of jealousy and possessiveness. I can't shake it either, which is absurd because they're married and I'm the mistress, so to speak.

“Just another day in Royal fucking hell.” She mutters and shakes her head. “I'll be in touch.” Then she's gone, leaving me standing in the doorway of her room staring at her delectable fucking husband.

We stare at each other. A muscle ticks in his jaw and the sharp muscles of his stomach and chest twitch.

“Do you make a habit of staring at people?” He snarls, startling me.

I snap out of my lusting mindset and my mouth drops open.

“Well?”

Is he for real?

“Forgive me for not knowing how to react.” I fold my arms over my chest, my scowl set, and take a step backwards. “But you don't need to speak to me like that.” His gaze softens and he opens his mouth to speak, but I cut him off by stating a sharp, “Ever.”

I turn and leave him gaping at my audacity.

As I enter my own room, I hear him call my name and then cursing when I close my door without responding. I hate that. I just can't tolerate it. Nobody should ever speak to me like that. I don't even allow it when I'm on the payroll. Fucking disrespectful Duke… I want to slap him. I love slapping him. I love the way that he loves it when I slap him. It gets him off. Relinquishing control is his turn on. He needs it.

I need him.

I'm so bloody horny I can't see straight.

Then there's a knock at the door and I realise my predicament. I just let Enna overthrow Olivia. I need to calm myself and figure this out.

I'm too paranoid.

There's no way he knows who I am simply because of a character slip.

The knock sounds again.

Shit.

I calm myself and pull open the door. There he stands, his hair dishevelled, his jeans hanging low on his hips.

“I am terribly sorry,” he blurts before I can say anything. “It has been an eventful morning. I haven't slept much. I have this awful habit of being a bit of a bastard when I'm in a sour mood.”

“I didn't mean to stare.” I look away, my cheeks flushing with a fake blush. “I just panicked…”

“Liv?” Max steps from around the bend that leads to the stairs. He looks between us both and his brow quirks. “What's going on?”

“Just looking for you,” Elijah lies and I fix him with a disbelieving stare. “I overslept and Penelope had to leave on business.”

“What business?” Max asks as Elijah turns away from us, giving us both a glimpse of that amazing back tattoo. I want to run my hands all over it.

“It's complicated and too early.” He says over his shoulder. “I'll be ready shortly. Help yourself to Penelope's closet, Olivia. She won't be needing any of it any time soon.” The bitterness in his tone at the end of that makes me even more eager to figure out what on earth is going on.

Dare I pry?

No. I daren’t.

“If Penelope isn't going, then shouldn't I stay?” I know it's a reach but it's worth a shot. I know Max, though. He doesn't let me out of his sight if he can help it. “It will be a fun boys’ day for you both.”

He fixes me with a blank stare, without even bothering to answer. I let out a huff and shove my hands into the pockets of my borrowed robe.

Men.

“Fine, but if I get sick or if I fall asleep at work, I’m blaming you.” I am kind of looking forward to it. I enjoy fishing and Max and I go once every few months, though this weather doesn’t suit me; it’s too cold and wet.

After raiding Penelope’s closet of untouched clothes, I manage to find a pair of jeans that do fit but are a little bit too snug. It was mostly full of skirts and dresses. Nobody fishes in skirts and dresses. I opt for a dress shirt on top. They just don’t make clothes for all shapes anymore. Basically you either have no tits, or you walk around uncomfortable all day. It is that simple.

Fuck you clothes designers.

I sit in the kitchen, waiting for Max to do whatever it is he’s doing in the garden with Elijah. My hand digs deep into a box of cereal. It’s a thing of mine. I don’t like crisps, chocolate or even sweets, but I love cereal. Especially golden squares and cinnamon squares. With milk or without, but mostly without.

“I hope you don’t mind,” I say once they finish and finally come back inside. “I got hungry.”

Elijah just watches as I place more of the cereal into my mouth. Max looks at me as though I’m crazy. I probably am. Part of me wants to show Elijah just how weird I am. He wouldn’t find me very interesting. I’d probably irritate him like I do Max.

I bet me not using a spoon is driving him crazy.

If it drives Max crazy then it has to drive Mr Prim and Proper crazy too.

He only glances at me curiously as I crunch away at my box of dry cereal, which in reality is his box of dry cereal.

I continue eating as Max motions for me to follow him to the waiting car. Elijah goes on ahead, climbing into the driver’s seat.

Max lets me have the passenger seat as per usual. I get motion sickness in the back. It’s why I can rarely take buses and I’ve never even been on a train or a plane.
Elijah glances at me out of the corner of his eye as I climb into the car. I hate and love that icy grey gaze all at once. It has the ability to heat me up and make me freeze all at once.

He reaches over and stuffs his hand into the cereal box as Max finishes adding something to the boot. As Max opens the car door, rear passenger side, Elijah tips his head back and drops the handful of squares into his mouth.

“You’re both gross,” Max comments, slightly winded from exertion. The door closes with a loud bang and he grins, rubbing his hands together. “Let’s go, go, go!”

The garage door opens and we pull out onto a backstreet that leads behind his home.

“Where are we going anyway?” I ask, trying to come to terms with the fact that the Duke seems like such an ordinary guy right now in a black turtleneck and dark jeans. It suits him but it’s odd. It helps me to compartmentalise he and ‘the Duke’.

“My friend owns a beautiful property by the river Ouse, just on the other side of Acaster.”

“Are we allowed to fish there?”

“If you have a license, yes.” He nods, his eyes on the road.

“Stop worrying.” Max reaches over the shoulder of my seat and flicks my cheek. “It’s all sorted.”

I clamp my mouth shut and stare out of the side window, smiling as the people and cars blur by. It’s not often that I actually get to ride in a car besides my nightly trips to work. I just have to focus on the quiet lull of music and the passing countryside.

“How’s work, Max?” Elijah asks, helping himself to more of the cereal that I took from his cupboards.

“It’s good, except I never get to see Liv anymore.”

I snort and roll my eyes. “You never got to see me anyway. I’ve worked nights now for about three months.”

“How are you liking that? Wouldn’t you prefer a job in the day?” Elijah glances at me again, his silver eyes curious.

“I hate waking up early, so no. My hours benefit me and my internal body clock.”

He nods thoughtfully. “I suppose it’s good that you both work the same hours then.”

“Yeah, there is that. Though if I get this pay rise in a few months, Liv won’t have to work at all. Will you?” Max says and I’m taken aback. We’ve never discussed him getting a raise, nor have we discussed me becoming a kept woman. “Then she can be at my every beck and call.”

“You two seem very close,” Elijah comments and twists his hands on the steering wheel. He’s nervous, I can tell. He’s worried he’s going to offend. “You don’t like to be apart from her, do you, Max?”

“Nope.” Is my husband’s easy answer.

“It’s…” His perfect teeth pinch his bottom lip so tightly the skin turns white. I watch as he releases that plump lip that I’ve dreamed of suckling on, and the colour returns slowly, enticingly. I want to bite it again and again and watch it pink with colour. “Different in comparison to my marriage. We’ve never felt the need to be around each other like that, even back when we…” He clears his throat and frowns a little. Whatever he was about to say, he clearly didn’t mean to begin to confess it. “So do you two go fishing often?”