The Woman Sent to Tame Him

by Victoria Parker

  Serena stroked his damp hair from his brow and revelled in the feel of his body—heavy, slick and replete against hers.

  Voice gruff, he murmured against her neck, ‘You okay, beautiful?’ with such tenderness that her chest ached.

  ‘More than okay. That was...outrageously good.’

  ‘Unbelievable.’ He lifted his head, caught her gaze. ‘Incredible.’

  As if unable to stop himself he dipped his head to kiss her again—a kiss so sweet and tender that a lump pulsed in her throat and all she could think was that she didn’t want to leave. She wanted to lie here forever and ever. With him.

  Gently, he rolled onto his back, taking her with him, his hardness still locked inside her body, holding her tight as though fearful she would vanish into thin air.

  ‘You’ll stay here. All night. I can’t let you go yet.’

  ‘I’ll stay.’ Serena buried her face in his neck, tasting the musky scent of their passion and the remnants of his dark cologne. Desperately trying not to overanalyse his every touch, his every word.

  He didn’t do sleepovers. He’d told her that before. So maybe she was different from all the others—special enough to hold his attention. Careful, Serena, you know better than that. ‘Yet’ implied that he would let her go come morning.

  Fighting the hollow emptiness in her stomach, she snuggled closer, until they clung to one another as though braced for a turbulent storm.

  For now she’d just enjoy him. Take what she could. Nothing would stop her. Not even the sound of her heart cracking wide open.

  * * *

  Selfish. He was so selfish craving the entire night with her. No doubt he would go to hell for it. So what was new? At least he’d have tasted heaven on the way.

  Self-loathing gnarled and twisted in his guts like thorny branches as the tight skin on his lower back nipped, reminding him of what lay between them. And although it was wrong to hide, he was grateful for the shadows. The only light came courtesy of the thin slice of moon shining eerily through the leaded windows, ensuring he languished in the grim certainty that his world would come crashing down with the dawn—and if this was all he had of her he was taking it. Taking it all.

  Spooned into the delicate delineation of her back, with her soft skin whispering over his chest, he toyed with a lock of her ruby-red hair; corkscrewing a silken strand and watching it bounce like a loaded spring.

  Aw, man, he had it bad. Knew she could steal his heart as it lay vulnerable outside his chest.

  Something close to panic clutched his throat and he felt driven to lighten the mood, to lift the portentous silence, fall back on the charm that never failed to smother his emotions.

  ‘I do find you in the most delicious compromising positions, Miss Scott,’ he said, his voice a decadent purr as he kissed the graceful slope of her shoulder.

  She groaned. ‘Don’t remind me.’

  ‘You never did tell me why you broke into my trailer through the bathroom window four years ago.’

  ‘I...I didn’t know it was your trailer! It was identical to ours. It was pitch-black, I was tired, I’d just come back from London and my key wouldn’t work.’

  He trailed one fingertip down her upper arm and a quiver took hold of her svelte body, ruining the indignant tone she was aiming for. He smiled mischievously.

  ‘Yeah, whatever. You just wanted to see me in the shower.’

  ‘I didn’t even know you!’

  ‘Hey, no need for panty-twisting. On the scale of women trying to get my attention it veered towards the tame side. It was quite the introduction. I was the perfect gentleman too—caught you before you went splat on the floor.’

  ‘Gentleman? You said my boots were the sexiest things you’d ever seen and if I wanted your body I had to leave them on!’

  ‘Ohh, yeah! Go get them and I’ll prove how serious I was.’

  He’d been deadly serious—until he’d locked onto that stunning gaze of hers and his world had tipped upside down. Then his only thought had been how quickly he could shove her back out through the window and transport her to another planet. Which didn’t quite explain why, at this moment, she was gloriously naked in his bed.

  She coughed out an incredulous laugh. ‘You’re insatiable.’

  ‘Only for you,’ he said. Meaning it. She’d ruined him. No other woman in the world seemed real any more—just mere cheap imitations that might as well not exist.

  Crap, he was in big trouble here. And when she canted her head and peeked up at him, brow nipped, gauging his sincerity, his stomach hollowed out.

  This was getting too deep. He knew it. She knew it. He could tell by the way she turned away, scissored her legs out of the silk sheets and moved to perch on the edge of the bed.

  ‘I should go. Let you get some sleep. You have to race in the morning and...’

  And he didn’t care, he realised. He would rather she stayed. Which was scarier still.

  ‘Serena—’

  That was when he saw it, in the ivory glow of the moon shimmering over her back. Artwork, moving across the base of her spine.

  ‘Aw, baby’ he growled. ‘That is one hot splay of ink.’

  Her spine flexed as she stiffened for a beat, then she murmured, ‘Thought you might like it.’

  With one touch her body softened and he traced the design with the tip of his finger, skimmed the garland of tiny pink and purple flowers outlined in black, curling into a circle to form the traditional peace symbol and then swooping outward in an elegant trail to each side of her back. But it was the small butterflies at either side, fluttering at her hip bones as if poised to fly from their captivity, that cinched his chest.

  ‘It’s beautiful, Serena.’

  Intuition told him there was more to this than met the eye, but before he could pry she said, ‘Finn...?’ with such vulnerability that he was powerless to do anything but nuzzle closer and worship the ink with lush, moist kisses, smoothing his hands over every inch of skin he could reach, caressing her, loving her.

  Until she tumbled into his arms and he made love to a woman for the very first time. Took them both soaring to the euphoric heights of nirvana, where life as he knew it ceased to exist.

  * * *

  When reality knocked at the temporal door of his mind Finn was half sprawled over her, one leg flung over her thighs, one arm tucked around her waist, his head cushioned on her soft breasts. Even in slumber she cradled him close, her affectionate fingers toying with and stroking his hair.

  Longing nearly shattered him.

  It was like coming home. An indefinable precious feeling of utter peace he wanted to wake to every morning. She felt perfect in his arms. All soft, warm woman. His woman.

  He wasn’t letting her go. He was never letting her go. He—

  He froze. Something foreign slammed into his chest as reality hit and his life skewed dangerously.

  No. No, she could never be his, he told himself, fighting the crush of what felt suspiciously like panic. Fear. He had no choice but to let her go. Watch her walk away, powerless, as her endearing affection hardened to hate.

  This was what he’d been afraid of all along, he realised. Losing himself. Relinquishing his hold on the reins of his life, allowing his emotions to rule until he wanted it all. Needed a woman he could never have.

  Gingerly he eased back and cool air slapped his sweat-drenched body with lucidity.

  It was all for the best, right? Yes. Absolutely. He’d only cause her pain in the end, with his uncanny knack of hurting people. Eventually he’d let her down as he had Eva. He didn’t trust himself not to.

  Yeah, he shouldn’t forget the notion that he was some kind of bad luck charm for those he cared for. Had he been able to save his mother? Tom? No. Well he’d be damned if he took Serena down too.

&
nbsp; Curling up on her side, Serena snuggled into the pillow, subconsciously reached for him. His heart kicked with the demand to pull her into his arms. Hold her tight. Adore her. Never let her go...

  Finn launched off the bed, stumbled to the bathroom and with a quick flick of his wrist at the controls turned the shower spray to fast, hard and mind-numbingly cold.

  There he stood, hands braced on the sandstone tiles, head bowed, while the water pounded his scalp and shoulders and he commanded his heart to stop beating for her. He shoved common sense down his throat until he nigh on choked on it, oblivious to time or place... Until bright light slashed through the room and a sharp, pained cry rent the air—

  ‘Oh, my God, Finn! Your back. Baby, your back.’

  Slam went his heart against the wall of his chest and he cursed inwardly. How could he have forgotten even for a moment? Idiot. This was what she did to him—banished thought until he operated like a loose cannon. Out of control. He hadn’t wanted her seeing him like this, finding out this way.

  Drenching his lungs with fortifying air, he commanded his heart to calm and relished the sanity that rained over him, bringing with it relief. So much relief it punctured his nape and made his head tip back until he stared at the whitewash on the ceiling.

  It was over.

  Now she’d loathe him. Just as he deserved. Hate him. Run. Far, far away from him. Before he hurt her, ruined her life beyond repair.

  Slowly, inexorably, he allowed the cold to bleed into his veins, into his soul, until he was frozen to his emotional core. Braced for the highway to hell.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  SCARS. SCARS ALL over his back. And she was shaking from head to foot, going all female crazy on him, her heart a searing fireball, acidic tears splashing the backs of her eyes—which was the wake-up call she needed to give herself a good shake. Careening into an emotional abyss wouldn’t help anyone here, least of all him. But—oh, God—she could virtually feel his pain, as if the sensations of brutality had been exhumed from the Stygian depths of her memories. And her heart ached. Ached for him.

  Serena snatched a thick warm towel from the rail, shut the water off and stepped behind the curved glass screen, striving to avert her gaze and failing miserably.

  ‘You’ve been beaten,’ she breathed, her throat clotted with anger and grief, because although time had endeavoured to heal him he’d been whipped and burned and— Oh, my God... ‘When, Finn? When? How? Why?’

  How could she not have known? Why hadn’t he told her?

  His torso swelled on a deep inhalation before his shoulders hardened to steel and he turned with excruciating slowness. Dark blond hair plastered his brow, falling into glacier-blue eyes as cold as the frigid droplets that clung to his naked skin.

  A shiver shook her spine. Never had she seen him cold. Wouldn’t have thought it possible from the man who beguiled the masses with his stunning smile and charismatic charm. It was the equivalent of dunking her in the Arctic.

  ‘Singapore.’

  One word, delivered in a voice so cool and sharp she knew it was just the tip of an iceberg.

  ‘S...Singapore?’ The floor tilted and her arm shot out to brace her weight; her palm slipped on a cool trickle of condensation as her brain was flooded with implications.

  ‘Yes,’ he said, devoid of emotion as he snagged the towel from her hand and wrapped it around his lean hips.

  Singapore.

  ‘Tell me...this has nothing to do with Tom,’ she said, her voice barely audible as her mind whirled faster than the room. ‘Tell me there’s no connection. Because that would mean—’

  Oh, no. Please, no.

  ‘I’ve lied to you all along,’ he admitted. Detached. Hateful.

  Serena closed her eyes. ‘I...I trusted you.’

  She waited for the hot, pungent wash of anger and anguish to weave hotly through her veins, but all she kept envisaging were those barbaric scars marring his golden skin and all she felt was numb.

  ‘No, you didn’t, Serena. And if you were starting to it was against your better judgement, I’m sure.’

  He was right, of course. She hadn’t trusted him at all in the beginning. Amazing what the onslaught of sexual attraction could achieve. Gradually blinding her until a thick, dense veil of molten desire shrouded her eyes to what she’d suspected all along.

  The truth she’d been waiting for all these months.

  The truth this man had told her didn’t exist.

  Damn him. And damn her cursed heart too. How could she have been so naïve?

  ‘I want the truth, Finn. And don’t you dare lie to me again.’

  ‘Put something on,’ he ordered.

  That chilly tone simultaneously made her shiver and feel bemused. Why was he being this way? So closed off. Aloof. Poles apart from the adoring, affectionate man she’d given her body to—as if he simply didn’t care any more. The snaking suspicion that he never truly had coiled in her chest, constricting her lungs until her breath hissed past her throat.

  No, wait. She would not think the worst of him again—not until she’d heard him out. There could be a perfectly good explanation for all this. Right? Oh, God.

  ‘Here.’

  He unhooked a white robe from the back of the door and she shoved her arms into the soft cotton, then tied the sash and nipped the lapels at her throat.

  With an austere jerk of his head he motioned her towards the lounge area, where two cushy emerald-green armchairs sat at angles on either side of the marble fireplace. ‘Have a seat. I just need a minute to dress.’

  ‘I’d rather stand,’ she said, altogether too jittery, needing the succulent warmth of the honey-coloured carpet brushing the soles of her feet to ground her somehow.

  Every second was an endless stretch as her brain worked overtime. Then he reappeared, wearing a black T-shirt, low-slung jeans and a hardened façade that made her stomach tighten in response.

  Just who was this man?

  No daredevil swagger this night.

  Gait stiff, body taut, he braced his forearm on the marble mantel and stared into the lifeless grate.

  ‘We were taken from a private club in Singapore after our drinks were drugged. Out cold for about twelve hours. We woke up in an old wartime holding cell near the port.’

  ‘You were...’ Breathe, Serena, breathe. ‘Taken? Like, for ransom?’

  ‘Thirty million was the starting bid.’

  Down she went, collapsing onto the nearest chair, while her thoughts tripped over one another. But when his meaning hit and collided with the imagery of his horrific scars the juxtaposition struck like a bolt of lightning and she began to shake. All over.

  ‘Was...was Tom beaten like that?’

  The hand at his hip balled into a tight fist and his legs flexed as he forced himself into the ground. For a split second she allowed herself the fantasy that he wanted to come to her, hold her.

  ‘No,’ he said, as black and hard as the mound of coal he was fixated on. ‘He didn’t suffer in that way.’ Glancing up, he met her eyes, and for the first time she saw a frisson of emotion warm those ice-blue depths—sincerity. ‘That’s the absolute truth. So don’t even picture it in your head. Didn’t happen. Promise me you will remember that.’

  She frowned, unsure what to believe. ‘I don’t understand. How come he wasn’t touched when you were? It doesn’t make sense.’

  He held still, willing her to trust him—at least in this. It was important to him, she realised.

  ‘Let’s just say they had far more interest in me.’

  What? Even that failed to compute. Why would criminals be partial to Finn—?

  Air hit the back of her throat, where a great lump began to swell, and she bit down on her lips.

  Panic flitted across his face. ‘H
ey, Serena, are you listening to me? Did you hear what I said?’

  She swallowed thickly. ‘You made them more interested in you.’ He had an astonishing flair for it after all. ‘You took the brunt of it, didn’t you?’ she asked, a little bit shocked, a whole lot awed.

  Yet he merely hitched one shoulder in blatant insouciance as if it were nothing. Nothing? What? Did he think he’d deserved it, or something?

  Switzerland... Sick...

  ‘You were beaten so brutally that you spent months recovering in Switzerland, didn’t you?’ In hiding. ‘And that is why you didn’t come to Tom’s funeral.’ While she’d cursed and berated him, blind to it all.

  ‘Yes,’ he admitted.

  Curse her throbbing heart, because the thought of him being alone, broken and torn, all that time in such pain...

  His cerulean-blue eyes darkened dangerously as they narrowed on her face. ‘Do not look at me with pity, Serena. I took your brother into that club. A club I knew was notorious. He trusted me.’ Anger spewed from him, driven by the self-loathing that contorted his face. ‘I led him into that hellhole and don’t you forget it!’

  Slapped with his fury, she rocked where she sat. Then she prompted her lungs to function properly as she sieved and scrutinised his way of thinking, only to recall their conversation on a harbour many moons ago.

  ‘You didn’t lead him, Finn. It was his choice. His choice. Back at Monaco you told me I wasn’t responsible for the decisions he made. That I shouldn’t feel guilt because he wouldn’t want that. Are you going to tell me you lied about that too?’

  Please don’t. Because I’m already confused, wondering what has been real, and I’m afraid that every word from your mouth has been a lie.

  ‘No, but—’ His brow crunched for a beat. ‘This is different.’ Pushing off the mantel, he swung away and began to pace. ‘I came out alive. He didn’t.’

  Now, that was a fact she couldn’t dispute. To think that all this time she’d never known, had been kept in the dark—

  ‘My God, Finn, did he even drown at all? What happened to him?’

  Flinging himself down onto the opposite chair, he let the clasped ball of his white-knuckled hands dangle in the space between his open legs and met her gaze.