Read Yield for Free Online

Besides, isn’t money the root of all evil?”
    “That philosophy is a little overrated, otherwise we’d all be giving our money away not struggling to get more.”
    Wren swirled her goblet, staring at me as if surprised I knew the word philosophy. I doubted she’d ever struggled for money.
    “So if you’re not simply killing people?”
    “I’m ex-army. I went to officer training at Sandhurst then the SAS for a short time before I was injured and retired.”
    The arch of her brows was perfect. “So, you’re British? You don’t quite sound it.”
    “I am. Or I was. Now I’m...” I waved a hand. “A bit African, a bit Papua New Guinean, a bit Aussie. I haven’t been back for thirteen years. You’re Australian?” I knew she was. I knew a lot about her.
    “No. No. I’m a bit of everything, like you.”
    Seemed like she was saying she had no idea who she was. I let it pass...and I wondered why it bothered me. Her accent seemed private school when she concentrated, but when I caught her off guard in a joke, she lapsed into something less posh. A few times, I caught her staring at nothing, her mouth downturned, as if she relived a painful memory.
    I was seized by moments of her . Her lips nudging the edge of the glass. The sway of her breasts. The curves revealed and sculpted under the silk. Black hair, red lips, cream skin. Like a china doll with cracks you couldn’t see.
    Something was riding her. She had demons, same as me, which only intrigued me more. A sleeping disorder? I could guess why with a father so immoral I’d felt dirty seeing his corpse. A brother with his own perversions, too, from what I’d heard. Where did she fit in all this?
    Her knife and fork were scraped across the plate and neatly arranged. Done eating.
    What the hell was I doing experimenting on her by trying to emulate Pieter?
    What the hell was she doing here? For all her money and her paid security, she was here with me. I had an inclination to wrap her in my arms and fix whatever was making her sad. And I wanted to throw her down on that bed in there and fuck her. Why hadn’t she run from me when I started controlling her?
    I shoved away my chair roughly enough to make it screech and rose to my feet, ignoring her startled expression. “We’re going swimming.”
    In a closet, neatly packed away, I found a few bikinis, the tags still on them.
    It was a muggy, humid night and the coolness of the pool would be welcome.
    “One of these should fit you.” I put the whole bunch of them in her hands. “The bathroom’s that door.” I pointed.
    Then I went and leaned my head on the wall in the bedroom.
    Was this me? Maybe if I banged my head a few times, I’d see sense? This woman didn’t need me to abuse her, she needed someone to stop her falling over the next cliff. Throwing herself over even.
    She’s an adult.
    I wrenched on the boardshorts I’d found – the pair with the condom packet still in the pocket.
    She met me in the hallway, wearing the blue bikinis with the tassels.
    They fit her like a dirty depraved glove that covered her like body paint, and showed everything that needed seeing when her nipples peaked. I could even see the shape of her pussy. Not looking would’ve taken a court order.
    Fucking hell.
    I checked inside my head for those doubts. Conflicted, man, conflicted.
    If I had a conscience it was a damn fornicating voyeur of a conscience. My libido was taking me somewhere my brain had rejected.
    In her hand was her dress and a red bra, the straps dangling, and those panties – I could just see the edge of them. As I approached, I think my stare was close to nailing her to the wall behind her, because she gaped at me then stepped back and hit that same wall.
    “Wait.” She held up a hand, waving it palm out. “Glass, I thought you’d changed your mind. You were so civilized at the table.”
    Civilized? What man was civilized?
    I’m pretty sure I growled.
    My little victim.
    In one stride I was in front