But everything that made her Pimlico disappeared.
Her fight, her righteous anger, her confusion and strength and courage.
All vanished.
So that’s how she’s protected herself.
She might not know pleasure. She might only understand pain. But she’d figured out how to garrison her mind. Fuck, if that didn’t intrigue me more. If I were any more interested in this woman, I wouldn’t be able to walk away when the moment came.
Even now, we’d run out of time. I was shocked Alrik hadn’t barged in while I’d touched her. (Not that I’d touched her, merely guided her in self-exploration).
The fact he hadn’t arrived yet set my teeth on edge and wariness living in my blood.
But now, I’d fucked up and lost the girl and her secrets. The only thing I could do was coax her back to me before it was too late.
Unlocking our joined fingers, I rearranged my cock so it didn’t fucking give me blue balls and sat up. The bed rocked, but Pimlico remained staring blank-gazed at the ceiling.
She didn’t flinch when my shadow fell over her or curl into a ball when I reached out and cupped her cheek.
She merely lay there, waiting.
If I wanted to steal from this slave, I’d have to use her conditioning against her.
I couldn’t ask questions anymore.
I’d have to demand answers.
It was the way she’d been taught.
The only way she’d respond.
Running both hands through my hair, I shed my need to give her some margin of enjoyment and sat taller.
My lips parted to give her a command to return. To order her to snap out of it.
But something stopped me.
She looked so innocent and so damn tired. Shadows lived permanently beneath her eyes while exhaustion sat on her limbs.
I’d pushed her too far.
The least I could do was grant a moment’s rest. My impatience siphoned away as gentler memories of caring for another gave me the ability to be kind.
“Roll onto your side,” I whispered, pushing her shoulder.
She shifted obediently, but gave no recognition of listening.
Once she faced away, I slid up the bed to recline against the headboard once again.
My gaze locked on the door as I placed my hand on her naked back. She didn’t flinch—not because of trust and acceptance but because she’d left her body behind.
She didn’t care what I did to it because she’d blocked me from affecting her mind.
How long had it been since she’d slept safely? How long since she dreamed of happier times?
My palm moved on its own accord, stroking her softly, granting comfort after I’d given nothing but hardship. “Rest, Pim. I’ll watch over you.”
I couldn’t see her face, but her body remained tense and vacant.
Placing one arm above my head, I looped it through the headboard and prepared to pet her until she gave into me. I frowned as my fingers touched something soft sticking from the slats of the frame.
I tried to figure out what it was, but Pim suddenly jolted, heaving the heaviest sigh I’d ever heard. Her spine unwound, her muscles relaxed, and she sank into my caressing as if finally accepting my gift.
Her willingness to give me that tore away any other thoughts and I settled into my task of protecting her all while touching her with kindness.
The first few minutes, I was acutely aware of her every inhale and exhale. But as time ticked onward and our presence grew used to one another, I found her comforting.
I hadn’t been with another person in this way for so long; I’d forgotten how rewarding it was to look after someone.
It’s also hard and draining and demoralising.
That was true.
Caring for my mother and doing my best to fix what I’d fucked was the reason I carried so much shame.
Family had expectations.
Pimlico had none.
She would accept what I gave her without dismissing my attempts at generosity. And in return, it made me want to give more.
So much more.
My mind wandered, and my free hand found its way to my pocket and the dollar bill tucked inside the money clip. I didn’t mind silence in people, but silence in my surroundings wasn’t a good thing.
Memories had a way of finding me when things were too still. Memories that had too strong a hold as I smoothed the dollar bill with my left hand while never ceasing caresses with my right.
She twitched now and again, falling deeper into sleep.
As she slumbered beside me—not knowing the type of man I was, yet trusting I’d do what I’d promised and keep her safe—I folded the money in an age-old shape and let painful recollections and suicidal slaves sleep.
MY MINNIE MOUSE watch announced it was 12.33 a.m.
My mother hated me wearing this thing—said I was too old for such childish baubles. But I loved its tatty face and time-worn strap. It was all I had left of him. The man who called me Mouse ever since I could remember.