to put up with.”
Patrick’s eyes never left hers as he picked up a pair of pants off of a side table. He pulled out a billfold and several crisp one hundred dollar bills.
He held them out to Amy, but when she reached for them he pulled his hand away. She reached for the money again and he grabbed her wrist.
“How bad do you want it?” he asked.
“Fuck you.”
Patrick laughed and handed her the money. After a moment of hesitation she took it.
Amy knew that she should leave, but she felt planted to the floor. A burning intensity radiated throughout Patrick. It drew her in and consumed her like a moth to the flame.
Her chest heaved as she breathed heavily. Amy felt hot and rabid. She wasn’t sure if she wanted to kill Patrick or fuck him.
Without counting the money, she grabbed Patrick’s trench coat off of a chair and put it on. She shoved the money into a pocket and wrapped the coat around her. She turned to leave, when Patrick grabbed her sleeve and spun her around.
“Tell me you don’t love me,” he said.
Amy blinked. It was the last thing she had expected to hear him say.
“In truth… I don’t know.”
Her feelings about Patrick were confused and disorganized. One minute he was the cure to everything that ailed her, the next he was the source of all her troubles. The more she thought about him the murkier her feelings became.
Patrick nodded. “You’re not going to look for Hunter, are you?”
“Would it bother you if I did?”
She knew it would, but she needed to hear him say it. Hunter seemed like an inviting alternative, at least until she’d learned he was Anna Belle’s father.
A mischievous side of her thought making a conquest of Hunter would be all the sweeter, knowing that it would drive Anna Belle insane. It would suit her right. Hunter was handsome and considerate. Amy wondered how he managed to raise a daughter as crazy as Anna Belle.
Patrick released her coat, snapping Amy back from her thoughts.
“No,” he said stubbornly. “Go.”
His jaw tensed and his normally full lips were set in a straight, rigid line. He looked like an angry child.
Amy laughed. “Are you going to pout?”
Patrick sighed and began to protest. Thinking better of it, he took her hand gently. His features softened. The glint returned to his eyes. His face seemed younger, almost boyishly cute. It was a stark contrast to the classically handsome man she’d encountered on their first fateful meeting.
“It’s been a long day. Whatever you choose to do…” He hesitated. “I’ll accept. I’ll see that you’re taken care of.”
For a split second Amy wondered what ‘fully taken care of,’ meant. Staring down at his nude muscular frame stretched out on the bed, it hardly seemed to matter. In fact, her mind painted a dirtier picture of the implications of his promise.
Amy took off her coat and let it drop to the floor. She put one knee on the bed and crawled towards Patrick.
“You’ll take care of me?” she asked in a low kittenish voice.
His only response was to brush the hair out of her face and behind her ear.
Amy kissed his chest. He smelled of sweat and sex. It conjured images of naked bodies intertwined in a frenzied orgy.
Amy was suddenly hit with the understanding of how hard it would be to walk away from Patrick, if and when the time came.
Now, it didn’t matter. She lived for his striking eyes athletic frame.
Amy bit Patrick lightly. He winced playfully, making Amy laugh.
She ran her tongue over his nipple, then took it between her teeth and pulled gently. Patrick breathed in sharply. He ran his fingers through her hair and twirled it around his fingers.
“Does it hurt?” he asked. “When I…”
Amy smiled and shook her head. “No, it feels wonderful.”
He took her chin and lifted her face towards him. His lips met hers with a soft