Chapter Two 22

Chapter Two

Cleo

“Webber! Get your lazy ass in here and help me,” I shout, growling as I yank a loose hank of golden hair behind my ear. The humidity here is outrageous. You’d think being so close to the ocean would mean cool wind and fresh, salted air, but no. Less than one hour out of the shower in this quaint, provincial villa that looked so fucking cool online and I’m melting like a cheap sherbet in a sweaty toddler’s sticky grip.

Fuck I hate this place. I hate my life.

I hate my ‘mother’ and her insatiable lust for conquest. I loathe how she refuses to accept any other version of us that isn’t in her image. I despise how successful she is, how perfect her forty-four-year-old body is, how whip-crack sharp her mind is, and how instinctively she can read an entire room full of people.

Webber is just like her. He’s beautiful, and smart, and just knows what makes people tick. The difference is, no matter how hard she’s tried, she cannot warp him. He’s inherently sweet and loving and good.

I don’t lie to myself. I’m almost as bad as she is. I think about killing her every single day. Fantasizing about the most twisted, vile ways I could end her and the stranglehold she has on the two of us is my favorite kind of daydream. Webber appears in the arched opening at the other end of the hall, hanging diagonally from the wide trim, a crooked smile on his face as he takes me in. “Damn, Cleo.” He sucks in a ragged breath and straightens as he bites his lower lip, his eyes darkening with a hunger so honest it steals my breath. He stalks down the hallway, his gaze fixated on me.

I hold my breath as he prowls. He doesn’t stop until he’s deep into my personal space, forcing me to look up as he slants his face over mine. “You look so good my mouth is watering.” He steps into me, forcing me back through the door of my bedroom.

I place a hand on his chest. “Stop it. I’m ready to go out. You know she’ll make it hurt if I don’t do what she’s demanded.”

A cloud of hurt blooms in his eyes before he shutters them. “I know,” he murmurs. My lips part in surprise when he doesn’t come to her defense. Webber believes Mother can change. He insists the world has made her who she is, and with the right stimulus, she’ll become the person he knows she can be once her wounds have healed.

I try not to talk about her with him. I don’t want to damage the part of him that believes every person can be good. Using harsh words to steal the maternal love he’s fabricated to protect himself won’t save either of us from her. “ Earth to Cleo,” he says, grasping my chin and lifting, forcing me to refocus on his face. A small sigh leaves my lips. He’s so beautiful. A square jaw, with golden stubble that glints like precious metal around his plush mouth; a strong, straight nose, and perfectly set sea-green eyes that put the water off the coast of Curacao to shame; tousled locks with the hint of a wave cap; and a body that would put the subjects of the renaissance masters to shame.

My heart picks up speed as his warm, minty breath ghosts over my skin. “Give me your burden. Let me touch you. Let me coat your skin with our love, so that no other will truly touch you.”

I swallow and nod, and for a split second after he gently pushes me, while my body hangs suspended in the air above the old brass-framed bed in my narrow room, I feel beautiful. I bounce once, but my hands do not come up to smooth my hair. I say nothing as he hitches up the plum satin of my mini dress. The small squeak from behind my pressed lips is the only sound in the room as he breaks the sides of my Fleur of England panties. His mouth parts, his bright turquoise eyes boring into my soul as he descends over my sex. He halts, but only to inhale, his eyelids fluttering shut and his expression becoming rapturous as he breathes my scent into his body .

My heart clenches with anticipation as his mouth descends upon my inner thighs. Nipping and biting his way up, he knows exactly how to use pain and pleasure to tip me over the edge of where I’m at. His mouth drives me out of the hell we live in and into a place where no one but us can reach.

No one knows my heart—or my body—like Webber. And I intend for things to stay that way. Not even our vicious, controlling, all-seeing ‘mother’ knows how we really feel for each other. I’ll end her before she ever sets her foul sights on the pureness of the love between Webber and me.