Dark Desire

Chapter Eleven

MARIANA

I tugged him back by his jacket before he could step away. "Stay." I pleaded. "Make me understand."

With his back facing me, I couldn't read his face but I knew, I just knew from how tense his shoulders were and how jumpy he was that he wanted nothing but to climb back and hide in his room.

Was he severely antisocial? It wouldn't be a surprise if he was. Then again, if his diagnosis was only an antisocial personality disorder, why would he pay me for sex? Why did he claim he'd hurt me?

Frowning, I pressed, "Tell me why you think you'll hurt me."

"You have to sign--"

"The NDA, I get it. What I don't get is why you won't just tell me like a normal person." I paused when Wolff jerked away as if the words had burned him but the air around us grew cold. "Is it really that bad?"

When he faced me, I almost stumbled backwards to shield myself away from the pain in his eyes. It was so potent I could barely maintain eye-contact, but I held it. I didn't look away because he was showing me a part of him, a part so heavily broken. "I'm not normal, Mariana. I'm sick. I'm so sick you'll cry and beg me to let you go once I lay a hand on you and once I do, you won't be able to live your life without shivering at the thought of me. You'll spend sleepless nights trying to block away the memory of my touch, my voice, my smell because every time you close your eyes I'll be there right next to you, hurting you all over again."

The tone of his voice told me one thing: He was convinced he's a monster. But the thing was, I didn't believe him. So, I did what he didn't expect. I took a brave step forward and closed the space between us. I had him caught between the island and my body that he wouldn't be able to step away unless he pushes me. I was daring him to, waiting for him to lay a hand on me and give me just a bit of truth from his words. But he didn't. He just froze and seemed to have stopped breathing.

"Show me," I whispered, my breath grazing his lips. Wolff's chest rose and fell heavily, his throat bobbing and pulse thumping fast beneath his neck. "Touch me and I'll decide for myself if it scares me enough to cry and beg for my freedom."

Wolff remained completely still, his eyes closed and fists balled so tight at his sides that his knuckles have turned paper-white. How could I believe of what he claimed himself to be when he wouldn't even lose control? Reaching out, I let my fingers graze his fists. Wolff shook his head and grunted. "Stop, Mariana."

"Why? Why can't I hold your hand?" I wrapped my palm around his curled fist gently and lingered there, savoring the feeling of the tiniest bit of physical contact. "Let go, Wolff. I'm not scared of you."

He let out a shaky breath. "You will be."

"I'll decide that for myself." I mumbled as I caressed his fist, willing it to open. I felt the shift in his entire body when his knuckles loosened their grip. My head snapped up as if on instinct and found him looking at our joined hands. While he watched, I slowly interlaced our fingers together.

"Mariana..."

"I'm not scared of you." I repeated, hoping he would truly feel that I meant it. He shook his head and to my utter horror, a tear slid past his eye, causing my gentle grip on his hand to tighten. Seeing him like this brought me back to the night I found him on his bathroom floor, all broken and hopeless. My chest constricted, the need to reach out and wipe his cheek intensified as the tear fell down his chin. But before I could lift my free hand, Wolff raised our entwined hands to his lips and kissed the back of my hand. The motion was so gentle, so raw that for a few seconds, I was frozen and too shocked to stop him when he stepped away and brushed past me.

As the sound of his footsteps disappeared in the hallway, I glanced at my hand, still feeling the warmth of his lips. I wondered then how in the world would I ever think of him as a monster when he would do things like that? He was so sure, so determined to keep himself from touching me to what—not hurt me because he thought of himself as nothing short of a monster?

Perhaps, someone just needed to convince him he wasn't.

•••

The next day, Wolff left the house and didn't come back until 2 in the morning when everything was so deafeningly quiet. Maybe he was avoiding me but it just so happened that I couldn't sleep and was lounging in the couch with a glass of wine in hand when he entered the door.

At the sight of his rumpled dress shirt with a few buttons undone and sleeves pushed to his elbows, it was such an unusual occurrence that a bitter thought bloomed in my mind. Had he found another virgin? I hadn't checked my bank account to make sure the money's still there. He could very well had paid someone else to do what I didn't, perhaps with the money he paid me. I wasn't sure. There was no way to be sure. Then again, what could stop him from getting his money back? The most contact we've ever had was hand-holding, for goodness' sake. No way would that equate to thousands of dollars.

I jumped to my feet. "Would you like a drink?"

Without looking at me, he answered, "No, I don't drink."

I frowned. "Ever?"

"Only when I was young."

"Why?" I followed him up the stairs, lifting the hem of my skirt so I wouldn't trip on it and make a fool of myself.

Wolff stopped abruptly at the head of the stairs that I almost fell backwards to avoid crashing into him. He turned his stiff shoulders to glance at me. "Why are you still awake, Mariana?"

"I couldn't sleep." I admitted, taking a sip of my wine. It was only my second glass but the effect was already clear in my warm cheeks and boldness to follow him up to his room. Especially as my next questioned rolled out of my tongue without thinking first. "Did you just have sex?"

He stilled but his grip on the wooden railing tightened. "Why would you think that?"

I ran my gaze from his head-to-toe, liking how disheveled his hair was and how I could see the muscles in his forearms. I made a move to touch him but Wolff snatched his arm away and stepped back.

"You're drunk, Mariana." He said through gritted teeth. I didn't miss the way a muscle in his jaw ticked when his gaze briefly fell to the hem of my skirt that I was clutching far too high up my thigh. He cursed and I stared in awe as he raked his long fingers through his dark hair.

"I like your hair." I blurted. It was always thick and shiny, something that could be plastered in shampoo packets or right under my fingertips. I would twirl the locks and grip a fistful of them when I kiss him and—

"Stop looking at me like that."

I whimpered at his tone yet a strange sensation formed somewhere in my stomach and warmth spread through my body.

"Like what?" I feigned innocence.

A low rumble sounded from his throat as he snatched the glass from my hand. "Go to bed, Mariana." He exhaled as if it was hard to breathe. "And lock your door."

Wolff pivoted and left me staring at his back, drinking in the impressive width of his shoulders and wondering what laid beneath those expensive shirts. I watched his every step, blushing furiously as my gaze landed on his tight ass so well-formed in those fitted black trousers.

I was so curious of him, of everything that he was that without thinking—apparently, I hadn't been doing much thinking tonight—I stormed inside his room. Wolff was in the shower when I got in. Blame it on the wine, the boredom, or my newly found boldness to make me curl on his bed and revel at the smell of him filling my senses.

I drifted with the scent of his expensive perfume mixed with cedar wood and something warm like vanilla. I loved it. I loved it so much I think I fell asleep with a smile on my face.