192: A Dark Mafia Bodyguard Romance

by Nikki Belaire

And I catch her just like I promised. One hand between her legs teasing her pulsing nub bulging into my palm from me overflowing within her and the other curled around her dainty throat relishing the feel of her moans under my fingers. She’s so close. Erratic and crazed, grinding into me, needing to fly. Almost as much as I do. “Tell me you’ll marry me. Tell me you’re going to be my wife.”

  My command pushes her over the edge, and she cries out in affirmation. With her agreement, I lose myself too and explode, pulling her tighter against me. Roaring out my release deep inside her as she comes with me. Swearing into her shoulder that I’ll never let her go.

  I lay us down and flip her to face me the way she likes. The way we both like. Kissing her even though she’s already gone. My princess overcome with exhaustion. I give into what we both need and drift off to sleep too. Finally sated to have my world complete.

  Excitement rolls through her despite how drowsy she is. Her small hand squeezing mine as I lead her upstairs. Five hours of sleep can’t touch more than eight hours of love making. Which was fucking amazing. Yet, and I roll my eyes at myself for behaving like a pussy ass girl, the talking was even better.

  Hell that she would even speak at all is practically a fucking miracle after the bullshit that bastard put into her head. And once she finally trusted me enough to let herself go, fuck was she sexy with her sighs and groans and cries. Making my cock perk up now just thinking about her moans. But all that has to wait. My girl wants to box.

  Which I love and loathe. She impresses me every time with her spirit and energy and drive. But I fucking can’t stand the emotion the punches stir in her. I really don’t understand why she wants to torture herself. Maybe part of the healing process. I just don’t know. But I can’t seem to tell her no. “Do you want to try something different this time?”

  She lifts her head from watching me tape her wrists. Only a slight frown this time. More confused than upset. At least I didn’t scare her like last time. “You can hit coaching mitts I hold instead of the bag. Gives you a narrower focus and improves your accuracy. And we get to work together.”

  All of her hesitation fades away with my last reason. “I’d like that too.”

  “Good. I’m going to run upstairs and grab them from my gym bag.” Not completely dishonest I guess. I do love partnering with her. I just hate fucking see her cry. I kiss her cheek, the warm skin flushing under my lips. “I’ll be right back, angel.”

  I hustle down the steps, through the kitchen, and into the laundry room. Blanching at the stench when I drag out the duffle and slide the zipper. Damn, I can’t believe I forgot to throw this stuff into the wash. I toss the ripe clothes into the machine and the shoes into the garage to air out before grabbing the mitts. I hope she really does like this style.

  I hear the smack of vinyl before I see her. Again and again with angry words I can’t make out until I reach the doorway. Fuck. The force of her hits belie her tiny form. Too much fury to reign in despite her size.

  “You treated me like I was worthless.”

  Punch.

  “You made me think I was worthless.”

  Punch

  “But Roman…”

  Punch. Punch.

  “I’m going to believe him now.”

  Punch.

  “Not you.”

  Punch

  “I’m not going to believe you anymore.”

  Punch. Punch. Punch. Punch.

  If she was a guy, I’d be pulling her off her opponent by now. Before he was dead. Before she fucking killed him. But I wait. Allowing her to work out her fury. With her arm shaking, I know she won’t last much longer.

  Punch. Punch.

  “Roman loves me.”

  Punch.

  “I’m only going to believe him.”

  Punch.

  Panting and trembling, she steps back. Letting her arms fall to her sides. Her head tips forward. No longer wanting to look at him. Which I can’t blame her. I hated his fucking face too. “Princess?”

  She whirls around and pure joy sparks in her expression. Running is kind of awkward with the huge gloves on her hands, but they don’t slow her down. I scoop her up in tandem with her jump, and she coils around me so tight her heartbeat pounds though my tee shirt. “You okay?”

  Legs squeeze tighter around my waist and silky hair sweeps up and down my cheek. “Yes. Now that you’re here.”

  “I’m always here angel.”

  I hold her until her breathing slows and the tension releases from her muscles. “You ready to try the mitts?

  “Yes please.” She slides down my front and gazes up at me without any reservations. Just relief. And excitement. “I’m ready.”

  We practice until her body wobbles and all her strength vanishes. She’s sweaty and flushed and gorgeous. A much better session with her anger resolved. I give her an approving head bob while I release her hands. “Great job as always. Do want to go ahead and shower, or keep me company while I lift?”

  Forever timid, she flicks her gaze to her bare feet before she answers. “I want to stay, if that’s okay.”

  A glorious shiver vibrates under my hands as I tug her closer and kiss her forehead. “It’s always okay.”

  I slide on my usual weights and lie on the bench while she stretches out on the mat.

  “I kind of been thinking for a while that…”

  I kind of feel like she waited until I was flat on my back to start the conversation. She never does things without a reason, so I keep raising and lowering my bar. Giving her the opportunity she wants to share with me what’s worrying her.

  “I’m not sure I can have children. We tried for three years, and I never got pregnant.”

  Good thing I’m underneath a two hundred seventy-five weight that I can’t throw. Otherwise I’d probably be trashing my drywall and losing my breakfast over the idea of them “trying.” Motherfucker. I keep my focus on the smooth planks of the ceiling and attempt to steady my tone. “Did you ever go to the doctor or anything?”

  A defeated laugh bubbles in her throat. The only subject capable of triggering the bitterness she normally keeps locked down. “Yes, many times. I think they performed every test imaginable, and they couldn’t find anything wrong. Dr. Stoddard said there wasn’t any reason I couldn’t get pregnant. Which made Arturo even more furious at me.”

  My hands ache from gripping the bar so tight. I’m sure he showed her well how angry he was. “Maybe it was him? Low sperm count or something? Did he ever get checked?”

  “I don’t know. He didn’t tell me those kinds of things. I never knew what he did or where he went when he left the house.”

  For all the bastard’s faults, he never did cheat on her. Surprising, after the way he treated Viviana, that the guys never had to take him to a woman’s place or sneak one to him during their entire marriage. But Harrison said Arturo got his own tests before the wedding and never strayed. Guess he wanted to make sure he didn’t endanger his child. Well, really his windfall. Even if he didn’t give a damn about his wife’s health.

  I know I’m clean too. My semi-annual physicals with the agency always checked and since I’ve only fucked my hand for the past two years, no worries there. But I was a selfish bastard not to bring up pregnancy or use a condom last night. I just didn’t want anything to come between us. But now her worry does. “Whether you can or can’t, doesn’t change how I feel about you. Or us. Nothing’s changed princess.”

  She crawls over to me. Sexy as hell, but that’s not her intent. Not when her eyes glisten and her small hand touches my rib cage. Wanting to be close but not interfere with my workout. Fuck that. Nothing’s more important than setting her straight about my priorities.

  I drop the bar into the arcs of the black metal stand straddling my head and reach for her. Pulling her up with me as I rise, so we’re level. As much as we can be with our height difference. I cup her beautiful face as she looks up to me. Loving how she fits so perfectly in my palms. “I messed up not ta
lking to you about this last night. But I was so fucking blown away to have you in my bed, to finally be able to love you, I didn’t. That was my mistake. But I’m telling you now. I love you and whatever comes our way, we’ll deal with it together. Good or bad. Happy or sad. Doesn’t matter. But always together.”

  Her graceful head tilts in my fingers already shaking in argument. “I just don’t want you to be disappointed.”

  “Not possible. You could never disappoint me. And I will try my damnedest not to disappoint you.”

  I charm a smile and a whisper out of her. “Always together.”

  “Yep, you got it angel.” I pull her into a hug and welcome her arms sliding around me. I think she finally gets it.

  “I need a favor.”

  Searching for better reception, I switch my cell to my other ear and take a few steps sideways. Farther away from the tallest pines that create a gorgeous view but shitty service. The railing is rougher under my hand than I expect. A project for this spring to sand and re-stain the deck. Maybe add some lounge chairs with plump cushions. For Viviana. I smile like a pussy at the thought.

  “Sure, what’ve you got?”

  “A woman.”

  My father’s deep laugh rattles through the phone. “If you don’t know what to do with her by now, I can’t help you, son.”

  “I rescued her from her abusive husband about a week ago.”

  “And now she’s living with you?”

  Incredulous because I’ve been solo for so long. Years since I’ve cared about anyone. And never, ever brought anyone here. “Yeah, I love her.”

  Silence. Questioning my sanity although I have no questions at all. Well not about her anyway. Or the certainty of my feelings for her. But I can see why he would be surprised. “She’s gorgeous, Dad. I mean fucking unbelievable. Sweet and smart and strong.”

  “How does she feel about you?

  That’s the only doubt I have. Last night I was everything she wanted. But in the light of day, when reality sets in that the damage he caused can’t be eliminated so quickly and easily, I’m not sure we’re really as far as I want to believe. “I think she loves me.”

  “You think? Roman…”

  “She’s fucking traumatized. I mean he beat her, starved her. She was a fucking prisoner. She loves me as much as she’s able. Her life’s never been normal. She’s not normal in the traditional sense, and I can’t expect her to be.”

  I fucking hate that I’m almost yelling. Despise how defensive I sound. She’s fucking perfect just the way she is.

  “How is she handling everything now? With you?”

  Sympathy fills his tone from my harsh words. Calming me that he really does understand despite his anxiety. “Kind of two steps forward, one step back. She gets nervous. Unexpected things upset her. She’s fearful to speak her mind. Scared to do anything she thinks will upset me. Follows me around which I love. But I’m not sure if it’s because she really wants to or isn’t sure what else to do.”

  “You know I’ll do whatever I can to help you. And her.”

  I knew he would once he got past his shock. His heart’s even softer than mine. “Thanks Dad.”

  “You’re welcome.” And the normal gruffness returns. Can’t reveal too much vulnerability to his son. “So what’s the favor you need from me?”

  “Well you and mom. Maybe Grant and Jenna too. She’s been alone except for the asshole since she was twelve. She needs to feel loved, to be part of a family that’s more than just me. Can you come for dinner this weekend?”

  “At your house? With your girlfriend? To eat Sunday dinner?”

  In spite of his concern, he still takes the opportunity to give me a hard time. Laughter and shock mingling in his questions. “Yeah, yeah, I know. Are you coming or not?”

  “Hell yes, I’m coming. I need to meet this girl who has you finally settling down. And I don’t think I can hold your mother back once she hears the news. She’ll probably jump in the car and drive up there today if I don’t hide her keys.”

  “Well tell her we won’t be home. We’re going ring shopping.”

  He’s still roaring with laughter when I tap the screen. Smiling despite myself. Good to make the old folks happy even if they’re annoying as hell about it. I shake my head and twist around. Ready to get back to my girl. Hopefully she’s waiting for me in our bed.

  A jacket —my fucking jacket —lies on the wooden slats in front of the sliding glass door. Heat roars through me.

  Viviana.

  Viviana was here, listening to what I said.

  She brought me my coat, and I broke her fucking heart. Fuck!

  “Viviana!” I shoot through the doorway and fly to our bedroom. Nothing. “Where are you princess?”

  Kitchen, den, and family room all empty. I race down the hall. The guest room door is closed. The doors are never fucking supposed to be closed. I twist the knob and shove inside. My heart beating in my ears.

  She sits on the bed staring at her hands. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. “Viviana, I’m not sure what you heard, but let’s talk about it.”

  “I’m very sorry that my behavior is strange. I know that I’m not normal. I know that I am bothersome. I know I’m stupid and annoying and–”

  “No angel. You’re not.” I’m freaking the fuck out to hear those bastard’s descriptions come out of her mouth. Along with mine. God damn it. She’s never been hysterical before. Not once since I’ve known her has she been this frantic. And I’m the stupid motherfucker who caused it to happen. “I was just explaining to my Dad what you’ve been through.”

  “I promise I’ll do better. I’ll stay in here —right here —until you come for me.” Jerking hands smooth the bedspread, over and over. “And I’ll read the newspapers and eat cantaloupe and stay quiet and not follow you around and…and…and not cause any more problems.” Sobs rack her tiny body. Rocking back and forth in a daze. Not even with me anymore. “Please, please I’m begging you. Don’t send me away. I don’t want to go back to Dante.”

  She needs gentle. Patience. Calmness. But I can’t. Not when she’s crying. Not when she mentions that name. Not when she pleads with me and thinks I’m going to fucking make her leave. I jerk her off the bed like the mattress is on fucking fire and clutch her against me. Carrying her the fuck out of here. She doesn’t belong there. She belongs with me. “That will never fucking happen. I love you and you’re mine. You live here with me and nothing will ever change that.”

  Whimpers muzzle into my chest. She doesn’t respond to my words or my touch. Doesn’t reach for me or cling to me. Just lets me control her body however I want. But it’s her frail mind I need to get back. Mine too. I’m reckless and crazy. Acting like a fucking mad man running down the hall with her. But I need to remind her where she stays. Where she sleeps. Where she’s mine.

  I shove down the comforter and lay her on the mattress. Still drenched in the scent of our earlier love making. Curling around the ball she’s squeezed herself into, I hold her tight. So damn tight as she cries into my chest. “Please angel. You have got to believe me. I will never, ever send you away.”

  I drive my fingers through her long hair, still damp from the shower I thought she was taking, and lift her face up. Her gorgeous splotchy tear-streaked face. I’m too rough. Too harsh. Forceful and physical, bordering on violent but I have to make her understand. “I love you and you’re going to live here and marry me even if you’re scared or angry or disappointed that you’re stuck with a fucking stupid asshole for the rest of your life because I’m not letting you go.”

  A few shuddering breaths before swollen lips meet mine. Urgent and insistent, seeking entrance into my mouth. Guilt whispers in the back of my head —wrong, wrong, wrong. But I can’t stop myself. I let her in. Tasting her pain. Hearing her hiccupping sobs vibrating on my tongue. Feeling her death grip on me as her hands slide around my shoulders and her body sheathes mine. So eager to get close. Yet nothing’s close enough with her fingers digging into my shir
t. That I need off. I need naked. I need her.

  Breaking away from her embrace, I rip off my tee while she waits. Although impatiently, already reaching for me with the fabric still sliding over my head. Tangling with my arms while I tug off her silky purple negligée. “I’m here angel. I’m not going anywhere.”

  “I don’t want to either.”

  Scared. My angel has never been more scared. Worse than Arturo because at least she knew what to expect. He was always a cruel bastard. From beginning to glorious end.

  But me? I offered her hope. Pleaded for her trust. Begged for her confidence. And then fucking destroyed her faith in me with a few stupid misunderstood words. Before I can answer, reassure her, she kisses me again. Salty and desperate and inconsolable.

  Rolling onto her back, her fingertips dig into my shoulders. Frantic to pull me down with her. Pointless with our size difference for her to try and manipulate me, but I give in easily. Covering her small body with mine. Nestling between her legs. Cupping her head as I place soft kisses on her lips and cheeks and throat.

  She’s taut and tense underneath me. Arching to get closer. Grinding her pussy into my jeans. Her eyes never drifting shut. Locked on mine. Watching me. Studying me. For what I don’t know. No fucking clue what she’s searching for. “Are you okay?”

  “Yes.”

  I don’t believe her. I reach between us. Wetness coats my fingers. She’s ready but something’s off. More than just her uncertainty. I can feel it in my bones. “Do you want me to make love to you?”

  “Yes, please. That’s all I want.”

  Me too. I lift up only to shove down the rest of my clothes. Hating the skepticism in her shiny eyes and the trembling of her rigid body. Almost as if she thinks I’m going to climb off the bed all together rather than just kick off my pants and boxer briefs.

  As soon as I’m between her thighs again, she coils around me. Peppering me with kisses matching my affection for her. Uncertain if she’s convincing me or herself that she wants this. But I can’t tell her no. Not when she needs my affirmation. The crown of my cock slips easily between her drenched folds and her hips lift. Welcoming me. Encouraging me. Guiding me deeper inside. Fuck me if she’s not perfect. Tight and hot and wet for me. “God, I love you princess.”