Curiosity gripped me, winding tighter and tighter.
How had he escaped the law? When he’d supposedly been his father’s true heir? Had he been granted immunity of some kind in return for betraying Augustus?
What kind of man are you touching right now?
I stared into his eyes, looking deep, and he didn’t flinch away. Blue fire blazed there, burning hot and strong. A man of conviction, determination. A man of strength and power, who’d given me space to cry. Who’d told me I wasn’t a disappointment.
He was no monster.
I lifted my hand and touched his cheek. ‘What makes you think that? You haven’t done anything particularly monstrous to me.’
‘I kidnapped you. And I’m going to use you against your father to get what I want.’ His mouth curved in a predatory smile that didn’t reach his eyes. ‘And I don’t give a damn about your feelings on the subject.’
I let my fingers trail down to the sharp line of his jaw and then lower, down the side of his strong neck. ‘But I told you I didn’t want you to give a damn.’
‘There are worse things than not caring about people’s feelings, little one. You must know that. Especially considering your own father.’
I brushed my fingers over his throat, moving down the hard expanse of his chest, crisp hair rough against my fingertips. ‘Have you beaten up people and left them for dead?’
‘Yes.’
It didn’t surprise me. The son of Augustus King wasn’t going to be as pure as the driven snow.
I didn’t look away, kept my gaze on his. ‘Innocent people?’
A muscle leapt in the side of his jaw. ‘Yes.’ A slight hesitation.
I focused on him, all my attention zeroing in on his winter-sky eyes. ‘Why?’
He reached for my hand and pushed it down, curling my fingers around his hardening cock. ‘My father needed to be taken down so I did what I had to do.’ His voice was like iron and just as cold. ‘Are we done?’
It was clear he didn’t want to talk any more, but that only made me even more curious. He’d done what he had to do. What did that mean?
‘No,’ I said. ‘I want to—’
‘Because I’d prefer you to concentrate on something else.’ His fingers tightened around mine, pressing my fingers against his hard flesh. ‘Like my cock, for example.’
Dammit. I wanted to push, but having him in my hand, hot and smooth and firm, was distracting. Too distracting.
‘Why can’t we talk about you?’ I looked down, at where my hand and his were wrapped around his hard-on. God, he felt good. ‘I told you about me.’
‘Because I said so.’ His tone was flat, no room for argument. ‘If you disagree, you know where the door is.’
Frustration needled at me, making me want to let him go and sweep grandly out. But I couldn’t quite bring myself to do so. When would I get this opportunity again? To hold him like I was doing now, explore him the way he wanted me to? Maybe I wouldn’t.
I glared at him. ‘That’s not fair.’
He looked back, his gaze uncompromising. ‘That’s it. Get angry with me. Show me what a pissed-off Imogen looks like.’
‘A pissed-off Imogen might look like me leaving you alone with your hard-on.’
‘Do it then.’ Challenge burned in his eyes. ‘If you think you can.’
And it hit me again in that moment—truly hit me—that I could get pissed off if I wanted to. I could get angry. I could get really, really angry. And there would be no consequences, because there was no one to get hurt and no one to disappoint.
There was only Ajax and he didn’t care.
The weirdest rush of exhilaration swept through me. Was this what freedom felt like?
I met Ajax’s stare, squeezing him at the same time as I brushed my thumb over the head of his dick, not knowing what I was doing and not giving one single damn. ‘You really want to test me?’
‘Fuck,’ he hissed, his body tensing, every one of those carved muscles contracting deliciously under his skin.
Oh, crap. Had I hurt him? ‘Sorry,’ I muttered. ‘Was that too hard?’
‘Hell, no.’ The flame in his eyes burned even brighter. ‘Do it again. And harder. And never fucking apologise to me again.’
The breath went out of me. Did I apologise too much?
Of course you do. But you don’t need to worry about that with him. He can handle it. Because he doesn’t care.
My hand tightened around him, my gaze riveted to his face, watching pleasure draw his features tight and set the blue of his eyes blazing even hotter.
And when I rubbed my thumb over the head of his cock again, I discovered his skin was slick and getting slicker. Interesting. I took my hand away and put my thumb in my mouth. He tasted of salt and something masculine and indefinable, delicious.
His gaze followed every movement I made, his lips drawing back in a snarl, and I felt it again, my power over him, at the same time as I could feel and see his strength.
Nothing could hurt this man, not even me.
I could do anything to him, tell him anything, and he would let it slide off him. He would remain untouched.
The adrenaline rush was back and I was moving before I could think better of it, straddling him, putting my hands on his shoulders and gripping him. Then I covered his mouth with mine, kissing him with all the passion I could feel expanding inside me.
‘Yes,’ he growled against my lips, his voice so rough I could barely understand him. ‘Unleash yourself on me, woman. I dare you to.’
So I did.
I let the passion unfurl and along with it my power. And I touched him everywhere. Tasted him everywhere. I found out what he liked, which was pretty much everything, and what his boundaries were: he didn’t have a single one.
His control seemed to be limitless, even though I tested the hell out of it. I made him growl and I made him curse. I made him shake and pant and grit his teeth, but he didn’t restrain me and he didn’t stop me from doing anything I wanted.
I felt free. Drunk on him and the feel of his body, the taste of his skin.
It was the most incredible experience I’d ever had in my life.
We were both shaking by the time I ripped the condom packet open and rolled it down on him, drawing more guttural curses from him.
But he didn’t move as I straddled him, putting his hands on my hips only to steady me as I slowly eased myself down onto his hard cock.
Then I sat there, loving the stretch and burn of him inside me and the way his blue eyes stared into mine, his jaw clenched and his body beneath me as tight as a wound spring.
‘Ride me, woman,’ he growled, low and deep. ‘Ride me like you mean it.’
Woman. Yes, that’s what I was. I was a woman. Not a child.
His woman.
I tossed my head back and I rode him, and he showed me the way. And then he gave me my head and I galloped, riding wild and free, until our skins were slick with sweat and the rough sounds of earthy, masculine pleasure mingled with my own gasps of delight.
Until finally he gripped me hard between his hands, making me scream as he roared my name, our voices echoing off the walls of his bedroom.
Then when we were done he rolled over, tucking me close to his chest. ‘Sleep,’ he murmured roughly in my ear. ‘You’ve earned it.’
He was warm and his big body wrapped around me made me feel safe. And, even though I didn’t want to, I found myself falling into sleep all the same.
I slept like the bloody dead.
So deeply that when I finally opened my eyes again I wasn’t sure where I was. At least not until I reached for the big masculine body that I somehow knew would be beside me, only to find it gone.
I cracked open an eye, wondering why I was so annoyed.
The other side of the bed was empty.
And then I remembered.
Ajax.
Pleasure swept through me, a sweet, sensual ripple that reminded me of the night before and all the things we’d done. All the things I’d done. My body felt like it had been put through its paces, muscles aching in unusual places and most especially between my legs.
But it wasn’t a bad hurt. In fact, I wouldn’t have minded more because I was even hungrier for him now than I had been the night before.
Was it normal to want someone like that, even after a night of having sex with them? Or was that just him?
You already know the answer to that one.
I scowled at the thought, just as Ajax walked out of the en suite bathroom wearing nothing but a pair of low-slung jeans and carrying a black T-shirt in one hand.
‘Good morning, little one,’ he said in that deep, husky voice of his. ‘Or is it not so good, judging by that scowl?’
I lay there for a moment, staring at him. He must have had a shower because I could see the moisture on his skin, a drop sliding down one pec and slowly over the cut lines of his abs.
My mouth watered. I wanted to lick that drop off his skin and then lick the rest of him as well.
‘You weren’t here,’ I said. ‘That’s what I was scowling about.’
A flame glowed in his eyes as he took in my obvious appreciation. ‘I had a shower. Some of us have things to do today.’
‘I could have joined you.’ Only just missing a pout, I sat up. ‘You should have woken me up.’
‘I didn’t want to wake you.’ He moved over to the side of the bed and reached out, gently pushing a strand of my hair behind my ear, making me shiver as his fingertips brushed my skin. ‘Stay here and I’ll bring you breakfast.’
Oh, yes. Breakfast. Suddenly I was starving.
‘Breakfast in bed?’ I asked hopefully.
‘Of course.’
‘With you?’
The flame in his eyes flickered, his hand dropping away. ‘Not this morning.’
Disappointment gathered inside me. ‘It would just be for half an hour. Not long. I could eat really fast—’
‘Your father wants to see you, Imogen.’
The words cut across me like a whip.
Suddenly I wasn’t hungry any more.
‘Oh.’ All the good feelings I had were slipping away, leaving me with nothing but a core of ice.
I didn’t want to see Dad. He was going to be so angry and that anger wouldn’t be directed at Ajax. It would be directed at me. For shirking my duty, for the debt I owed to my mother’s memory.
Why do you care? What can he do to you anyway?
I couldn’t help caring; that was the problem. Dad was one thing, but I cared about my mother too. She’d died to give birth to me and that was a sacrifice I could never repay. It hurt. Every day, it hurt.
‘I’m sorry,’ Ajax said, watching me. ‘I should have told you last night, but we got...distracted. He wants to make sure that you’re okay and that I haven’t touched you.’
‘Uh, well, you kind of have now.’ Restlessness filled me, the need to move becoming almost overwhelming. I shifted, hauling the sheet around me, but Ajax was suddenly there in front of me, his hand reaching out, a finger beneath my chin, tipping my head back.
‘What are you afraid of?’ he asked. ‘I won’t let him take you.’
I swallowed, my throat gone tight. ‘I’m not afraid.’
It was a lie and we both knew it.
‘He can’t touch you, Imogen. I’ll make sure of it. All you have to do is tell him you’re okay, and we’re out of there.’
But being taken by Dad wasn’t what I was afraid of. It was that I’d let him make me feel like shit again, let him use me again, and all because I couldn’t bear the weight of the debt I owed.
‘What about a video of me or something?’ At least in a video I wouldn’t have to see that contempt in his eyes. ‘Would that be enough?’
‘Talking to you was a condition of him leaving the city and taking some of his friends with him.’
Oh. Damn.
‘So, hypothetically, what would happen if I don’t see him?’ I tried to sound casual, to not make it into a big deal.
The look on Ajax’s face hardened. ‘He might make himself difficult. Which means I’ll be forced to take more extreme measures.’
My heart caught. ‘What “extreme measures”?’
His expression become even more wintry, his eyes pale as frost. ‘That all depends on how difficult he turns out to be.’
Okay, perhaps I didn’t want to know what his ‘extreme measures’ were, nor did I want to put him in the position of having to take them.
‘You don’t need to do that,’ I said quietly.
But the ice in Ajax’s gaze glittered. ‘Your father is a liability, Imogen, make no mistake. He’s a threat to this city. And the safety of this city and the people in it come before everything.’
Conviction vibrated in his voice and I found myself staring at him, unable to look away. ‘What do you mean, the safety of this city?’
He lifted his head, somehow becoming taller, broader. Stronger. ‘My father hurt a lot of people. He murdered them, stole from them. It took me years to bring that motherfucker down and I’ve spent the last five mopping up the rest of the mess he left.’ Beneath the ice in his eyes, a ferocious belief burned. ‘No one else is going to take his place. Believe me, I will never allow another Augustus King to rise.’
The words were more than a promise. They were a vow.
‘Wow, you’re kind of like Batman,’ I said, not a little impressed. ‘Why?’
His expression twisted and for a second I glimpsed a terrible rage burning deep inside him. ‘Why? Why do you think? It was my father who nearly ruined it.’
‘So? That doesn’t mean you have to clean it up.’
His expression became shuttered. ‘Someone has to.’
‘But why you?’ I wasn’t arguing with him. I genuinely wanted to know.
‘Because there is no one else.’ Turning away, he pulled on his T-shirt, covering up all those beautiful muscles and ink. ‘Stay in bed,’ he ordered as he stalked towards the door. ‘Breakfast will be here in ten.’
Then he was gone, leaving me alone.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Ajax
‘AJAX?’ LEON’S VOICE sounded sharp on the voicemail message. ‘What the fuck is going on? There are rumours going around that you’ve done something with William White’s daughter. If so, you owe me a goddamn explanation.’ There was some muffled cursing in the background and I could hear Xander murmuring something. ‘Yes, I know that,’ Leon said curtly, obviously to Xander. ‘Call me, you bastard,’ he added to me, then cut the message abruptly.
I flung the phone down onto the coffee table in front of me, fighting irritation.
I’d let them know I was going to be out of commission for the next week and that I wasn’t to be disturbed, and yet here they were, disturbing me.
Did they really think I was going to call them up and explain myself? I never had before and I wasn’t going to start now, especially when I knew the pair of them would disagree with my methods.
What they didn’t know wouldn’t hurt them and the responsibility would remain with me, the way it always had.
Protecting them was what I did. After all, my brothers were the reason I’d taken my father down in the first place.
And they got hurt. You let them get hurt.
I’d had to. I hadn’t been able to go to Leon’s rescue when he’d been kidnapped and tortured, or tell Xander the financial games he was playing were real. I’d had to let all that shit happen, because I’d have blown my cover and taking Dad down had been more important and I’d known it would save more lives in the end.
Yeah, sure. Nothing to do with the fact that maybe you�
��re a monster just like him and always have been.
Ice twisted in my veins but I ignored it.
What if I was like Dad? What did it matter? My city was safe and so were my brothers. That was worth any price, wasn’t it?
My phone vibrated on the table where I’d flung it, announcing another voicemail from White about when to bring Imogen to see him. My silence on the subject was obviously annoying the shit out of him.
Good. He could stay annoyed a little longer. Considering Imogen’s response to the thought of meeting him, I wasn’t in any hurry to set it up quite yet.
At some point I would have to, though. I wanted him gone and with the least amount of fuss, which meant getting this proof of life nonsense out of the way.
I could have denied him his request to see Imogen, but then he’d make leaving Sydney a problem and I didn’t have either the time or the patience for pissing around with problems. In the kind of mood I was in, I’d likely do something I’d regret later, which wasn’t a good idea either.
Music drifted from outside, a driving, thumping beat.
Imogen must be in the pool again.
It had been a couple of days since I’d left her in my bed and since then I’d busied myself with monitoring the situation with her father and his various cronies, organising the fake doctor’s certificates that would confirm her virginity, checking with my contacts about White’s movements, and reviewing the security surrounding my brothers and their wives, not to mention keeping tabs on what was happening with King Enterprises.
I hadn’t had time to see her, but I’d made an effort to ensure she had plenty to do, instructing my housekeeper to organise a laptop for her so she could use the Net since apparently a home cinema, a gym and a library weren’t enough.
Though it seemed that what Imogen liked best to do was swim.
I turned automatically to the windows, the side of the pool visible from the lounge area where I stood.
She was standing on the diving board in a green bikini that she must have found in those clothes I’d got my housekeeper to leave for her.
Her pale skin gleamed like a pearl in the sunlight, her hair a gilded skein of silk down her back.
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