Page 23 of Sherwood
This whole arrangement was supposed to be about Lox, and itwasabout Lox, but there was only so far I could justify my fascination with Marian as being related to the mission. And there was certainly only so far I could explain away the visceral impatience I’d felt to see her again. I’d cultivated assets over weeks and months—over years, even—and yet this week while she’d been working at her office in Seattle had nearly driven me mad.
“I missed you,” I said without meaning to, but it was the right thing to say, because she flushed and swallowed. And then gave me a look that bordered on happy.
“I missed you too,” she said, a little shyly.
“How was your week in the city?” I asked. “Busy?”
She didn’t move, but I could see the renewed tension in the tightness of her arms and shoulders. “Yes,” she answered after a moment. “Very busy.” She looked like she wanted to say more but was forcing herself not to. My guess was that she wanted to tell me, but telling me would reveal more about her life and her job than she was ready for me to know.
I studied her and came to a decision. “When we started this, I asked you to answer my questions honestly. I think it’s only fair that I return the courtesy, or at least the spirit of the courtesy, and be honest with you.”
Blue eyes flicked to mine, confused.
“I know your last name,” I said gently. “I know where you work and why you work there.”
She turned her face away, into her knees.
It was such dominant-bait, that skittish, submissive pose, and need rolled down my stomach and thighs as I watched her. I wanted to uncurl her and flatten her against the sand. Wedge myself between her thighs and bite at her throat and jaw and mouth until she understood that she wasn’t allowed to hide from me. Not ever.
“You said it was okay if I didn’t give you my name at all,” she mumbled. “If I only gave you a pseudonym.”
“I’m not accusing you of lying, sweet one. I’m just telling you what I know. I’m telling you that you don’t have to pretend you’re not helming a ship worth hundreds of millions of dollars.”
“How did you find out?” she asked, still talking into her knees.
This. This would be a lie. A necessary one, but I found I regretted it all the same. “Your profile inForbesthis week. Very impressive.”
She turned the tiniest amount, to where I could see the pert curve of her nose. She let out a resigned sigh. “The bartender at The Knot told me that you were here for an ecological survey. I didn’t want you to think…”
“That you were sleeping with me so Fitzwalter Green would have a friend inside the EPA?” I suggested.
She made a noise. Almost a laugh. “Yes. Ridiculous, I know.”
“Marian, I can promise you that I matter very, very little to the EPA,” I said, which was the truth. “So set your mind at ease. Even if our arrangement becomes public knowledge, you won’t be accused of lobbying or corruption.”
She finally turned her head to look at me. “I’m relieved you know who I am,” she admitted. “This last week has been busy. Hard. I kept thinking it would feel easier if I had someone to spank the stress out of me every night.”
My cock pulsed at the thought. I reached for her wrist and pulled, carefully. Testing. When she didn’t resist, I moved in front of her, resting on my knees, and took her other wrist in my hand. I pulled her hands to the blanket and then kept them there with my own. She stared at me.
“You can sayredoryellow,” I reminded her.
She sank her teeth into her lower lip and then slowly shook her head. “It feels good,” she admitted. “Being held down.”
“Of course it does. I’ll ask you a question, and then you answer me. Why was this week hard?”
There was more resistance to answering this than to being pinned by her hands to the blanket, but I saw her surrender all the same. It sped my pulse, but I kept myself still for her, ready to receive this little sacrifice of hers.
For the mission, I thought distantly.Only for the mission.
Yeah, right.
“When I decided to take on the business, I wanted to honor my parents. Do you know what my family is? What they used to be?”
I did, and had known from the thick, well-thumbed folder on Marian I currently had next to my bed at the safehouse, but luckily for this moment, it had also been in theForbesprofile. “Lumber barons.”
“There’s no telling how much damage they did to the forests in those days,” she said. “They took without thinking, and even by the flawed definition of land ownership in this country, they took from land that didn’t belong to them. That’s the legacy my father was born into, the legacy he hated. He’s the one who converted the old mills and switched to sustainable lumber. He’s the one who founded Fitzwalter Green and invested in green technology and infrastructure. He wanted to heal what our family had done. He wanted to atone.”
“And so do you.”
