“Oh, I hadn’t planned on it,” Jethro whispered just for me. He rocked his hips into my arse as he cradled me in his arms. His head bowed as he nuzzled my hair. “You smell just as good as I remember.”

“Oh, you remember that, do you?” I cocked my chin, glaring at Hawksridge and doing my utmost to remain unaffected by Jethro rubbing himself on my lower back. “And here I thought you’d forgotten everything to do with me.”

“I haven’t forgotten a thing.”

“That’s not true,” I whispered sadly. “You’ve forgotten what I said to you the night you brought me back in the springs. You’ve forgotten that I said I was in love with you. That it didn’t come with conditions or commands. That I couldn’t hate you for what you did yesterday or tomorrow.” I sighed, nursing the pain deep inside. “Don’t you see what I’m offering you? Cut doesn’t love you, Jethro. He’s the one controlling you. Choose me. Love me. And we can be free together.”

Jethro growled under his breath. “Stop wasting your time. It’s not going to happen.”

George pranced closer, clicking his camera, capturing us for eternity.

“You’ll see, Kite. Eventually, you will see, and I hope for both our sakes it isn’t too late.”

That was the last time we talked while we became the perfect models for George. For the next hour, we were told where to stand, how to smile, what to do. Photographs were taken in front of Hawksridge, in the stables with the foxhounds threading around our feet, and beneath the apple trees in the orchard.

With each click of the shutter, my heart fell a little more. I had no doubt the pictures would turn the world from suspicion to adoration. The rumours would die. The questions would disappear. And life would move on.

Exactly as the Hawks intended.

SCREW HER AND her conniving plans.

I wanted to fucking throw something, punch someone, and surrender to the rapidly building hailstorm inside.

You need a top-up.

I thought my dosage was perfect, but it was useless against her. The intensity she projected—the feral energy and righteous anger. It was enough to fucking cripple my walls and blow away my numbing fog.

Not going to happen.

I’d come so far. I wouldn’t go back. I couldn’t. I wouldn’t survive and not just because Cut would kill me, but because I couldn’t live that way any longer. I wasn’t fucking built for this disease. I’d done my penance. Twenty-nine long years of it.

Pulling the small bottle from my pocket as I entered my quarters, I placed two pills on my tongue and swallowed them back.

Nila hadn’t even been back a day and I’d already tripled the amount I normally took.

And when I kissed her.

Fuck!

What was I thinking?

To get so close to her? To taste her again?

I’d planned on an impromptu ad-lib for the article, but it fucking backfired on me.

I stormed into my bathroom and tore off the grey suit I’d worn for the Vanity Fair interview. Cold sweat drenched my back. Goosebumps covered my skin as I stripped the rest of my clothing and stepped into the shower.

As soon as the meeting was over, I’d left Nila in the parlour and stormed to my room. Being around George and Sylvie had been easy. Their reactions and opinions didn’t lash at me nearly as much as Nila’s did.

What was it about her? Why couldn’t I block her out?

Hot water rained over me, burning my flesh. Instead of washing away the tension of the morning, all I could think about was Nila pleasuring herself with the showerhead a few weeks ago. The way her face had tightened and pleasure made her glow. She’d never looked so goddamn beautiful.

My cock thickened, demanding I do something about the ache.

I couldn’t let her do this to me. Not again. Not after I’d had the best month of my life with my father. I’d finally found something that could work. I’d finally tasted freedom.

I just had to stay out of Nila’s clutches and do what I was born to do.

Fisting my cock, I thrust into my palm.

“You won’t win this time, Nila,” I growled. “I want you out of my head. Out of my fucking heart.”

Get out.

My quads tensed as bliss danced with pain. I was rough, punishing my cock for having the audacity to want the one thing that could destroy me. My balls tightened, delicious pleasure gathered in my belly.

Fuck, I wanted her. I wanted to be inside her.

I needed to stay far away from her.

My fingers squeezed harder.

You can’t have her.

Not if I wanted what Cut promised. Not if I wanted to rule.

My mind raced. I might not be able to have her physically, but Cut would never know what fantasies I allowed inside my fractured brain.

I could have her like this—and still win.

With one hand braced on the tiles and water cascading over my shoulders, I imagined Nila spread-eagled on the bed, tied to four corners and panting from an orgasm I’d just given her with my tongue.

Her taste filled my mouth as I climbed on top of her and slid deep inside her wet pussy.

Goddammit.

Her moans echoed in my ears as I thrust inside her, giving into her tightness, dropping every restraint and shackle.

I came.

It was the fastest orgasm I’d ever had. Ribbon after ribbon, I spurted over my knuckles.

Jerking beneath the water, I rid my body of the insanity she’d conjured and slowly…interminably slowly…I could breathe again.

“Where are we going?”