by D. L. Roan
“Come with me.” The tip of his cock nudged her womb and set off an erotic charge, igniting a wildfire that burned through her body. Her hips flexed and strained against his, the sore muscles in her legs and stomach screaming as she tightened around him, her orgasm tearing through her body as she shattered into pieces beneath him. His hoarse cry filled her ears, drowning out her own. His rhythm faltered, his cock pulsing powerfully deep inside her and filling her with a rush of his hot come. Her body still shook with her release when he collapsed against her, his warm, heavy weight trapping her against the soft mattress. Only she didn’t feel trapped. She felt alive, sated, and completely safe for the first time since Issa’s murder. Oh, shit. I’m in so much trouble.
All too soon, Grant pushed up onto his elbows, taking some of that feeling away from her. His hands framed her face as he dipped his head and captured her lips with a long, languid kiss. When he pulled back to look at her, something in her chest ached when she saw the concern in his eyes.
“Did I hurt you?” His thumbs drew tiny circles in her hair as he caressed her temples. It was a small thing, but to Thalia it was a gentleness she had never experienced. She shook her head, not sure if her voice would betray the sudden emotion welling inside her.
“I know my timing is shit, but my brain, I…I completely lost it when I saw that look in your eyes. Please tell me you’re on some type of birth control.”
Still catching her breath she gave him a silent nod, not quite sure what to make of her lack of concern. She had never once had unprotected sex, but something about holding a piece of him within her felt strangely…right. “I didn’t think of it either, I….I’m clean.”
“Me, too.” Grant’s lips curled into a grin. “I’ve, uh, never gone bareback before. That was…intense.” He wiggled his hips and she could feel him hardening within her. “Feel like taking a shower?”
Her mind reeled with detailed visions of what he could do to her there, the hot water sluicing between their bodies. She pushed them away, forcing herself to focus on the conversation her body had completely hijacked. She needed to get up. Shaking her head, she pushed at his chest, but he didn’t budge. “I really need to make that phone call.”
Grant shook his head. “You’re not talking to anyone before you talk to me.” He pushed himself up and slowly withdrew from her body, creating an instant emptiness she was all too familiar with. He tugged her to her feet and into his arms, cupping her bare ass and pulling her against his still stiff cock. “I’ve got dinner warming in the oven. Come on. We’ll eat and chat,” he said, giving her ass a playful tap. “After we shower.”
At the mention of dinner her stomach rumbled. She ignored it and pushed from his arms then paced to the window. “You don’t understand.”
Grant watched her pace, her limp a little less pronounced than it had been earlier in the day. He hated the haunted look in her eyes. She was in trouble. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to know it was big trouble. While he watched her sleep, he’d decided he didn’t care what kind of trouble she was in. He was going to help her.
“I was supposed to meet someone tomorrow. If I don’t show up, which obviously I’m not going to, I need to let them know I won’t be there. Reschedule or…or something.”
Grant sat on the edge of the bed and crossed his arms over his chest. He’d really hoped to put this conversation off until they’d had something to eat and a nice long fuck in the shower, but it didn’t appear as though it was going to happen that way. Apparently they were going to do this naked and hungry, and still horny as hell, because he wasn’t about to shut her down now that she was finally talking. “And this would be a different someone than who’s trying to kill you?”
Thalia shook her head. “No. I mean yes.” He watched as a chill shuddered up her spine. “I’m pretty sure those were Hamisi’s men at the beach, though I have no idea how they found me. The man I’m supposed to meet tomorrow will think I’ve played him if I don’t show up. For more reasons than I can say, I can’t afford for that to happen. He will kill me if I don’t at least try to set up another time to meet.” She shook her head and ran her hands over her arms. “He’ll kill me anyway, but....”
That’s what he was afraid of. In an instant he stood in front of her, his hands clamping gently around her arms. “First of all, no one is going to kill you. I won’t let that happen, but you have to talk to me. What do you have that Don Lalia would send Hamisi to kill you for?”
He watched as familiar emotions of doubt and mistrust swirled in the expressions on her face, felt the surrender in her posture as she let out a long, heavy breath. “A thumb drive.”
He had prepared himself for a lie, but he could see the truth in her eyes when she spoke. “I’m guessing that’s what you are supposed to deliver tomorrow?” She nodded wordlessly and, although in his gut he already knew the answer, he needed to hear it from her. “Who are you supposed to meet tomorrow, Thalia?”
“Kafeel Jauhar.”
Grant closed his eyes and took a deep breath. How in the hell had she gotten mixed up with someone like Jauhar? He was literally the epitome of human waste, and the very thought of her doing any kind of business with him made the blood sizzle in his veins. Good or bad, he had to know. “You work for him?”
Thalia pulled away from him and walked to the bed, her fingers trailing over the tangled sheets. “It’s complicated,” she said as she sank to the edge of the mattress.
Grant clamped down on his need to shake some sense into her and paced to the window instead. “So un-complicate it for me. Because after losing my island, my boat and Salina, I’d like to think I’m at least helping the right side here.” He saw the shock on her face at the mention of his contact. “That’s right. Salina is dead. She was gunned down right after she took the tracking device out of your arm which, by the way, is how they found you. So tell me she didn’t die helping a shit-bag like Jauhar.”
“It’s not like that!”
“Then tell me what it’s like, Thalia!” Grant kept his distance, sure that she would bolt if he crowded her. Or worse. He was still naked after all.
“I…shit…” He didn’t move when she pushed from the bed and began to pace like a caged animal. In a strange way she was. She may not be an operative, but they were very much alike. They had the same sense of survival and need for control. Suspicion was second nature to them both, and he could feel her struggle to give him the trust he demanded.
Against his better judgment, something inside him pushed him to comfort her. Understanding her better than she could possibly imagine, he needed her to know she could trust him. When next she pivoted away from him, his hand reached out and encircled her wrist, pulling her back to him. She wouldn’t turn to face him, so he wrapped his arms around her waist and hugged her back to his chest. “You can trust me, fossa. I just need to know that I can trust you.”
“Oh, that’s rich coming from someone who won’t even tell me his real name, Silas.” She tried to twist away from him, but he was determined not to let her push him away. “I know nothing about you and I’m supposed to trust you? Let me go!”
Grant carefully and tenderly tightened his grip. Not taking the chance that she wouldn’t try to crack his skull open with the back of her head, he nuzzled his chin tight against her neck and whispered into her ear, “And yet you just sucked my cock and let me fuck you without a condom.” She tensed when he let one of his hands trail down between her thighs. A flash of lust flooded his cock and he ground it hard against her ass as he slipped his fingers through her wet folds. They glistened with the combination of her arousal and his seed as he held them up in front of her. “You enjoyed it. You can’t deny this thing between us anymore than you can say that Thalia is your real name.”
“It is my real name.”
It was a nickname. Not a complete lie, or he would have pushed her further. Looking down over her shoulder, he felt her rapid heartbeat against his chest as he swirled the pearly fluids around her nip
ple. “It doesn’t matter. I am a lot of things to a lot of different people. I’ll be glad to play twenty questions with you later and give you as many answers as I can, but right now…” He lifted her breast, trailing his hand up and over the ripe swell to the long line of her neck. With his thumb he turned her head to meet his gaze and lightly pressed his lips to hers in a lingering kiss. “Right now, I am the only one who can help you. I need to know what I’m dealing with.”
Her body relaxed against his, the feel of her in his arms felt better than anything he had ever known. God, please don’t let her be on the wrong side. He wasn’t a religious man, but he would promise anything to any deity to know she wasn’t one of those he’d spent his life fighting to destroy.
“Jauhar murdered the only family I had, and I plan to kill him.” Her confession was made in such a quiet whisper Grant nearly missed it.
“So this is personal. Not business?” He held back the hope in his heart for just a breath until she nodded, her head falling back against his shoulder as she blew out a breath of relief.
“He wants the thumb drive. He won’t stop until he has it.”
“So you were just going to hand it over.” He could see where this was leading and he didn’t like it.
“Yes.” She turned in his arms and pressed her forehead to his bare chest.
“What then? You think he will just let you walk away?
“No. I don’t know how, but I’ll find a way to kill him once I get close enough to do it.”
Grant let his head fall forward, pressing his lips into her hair as his hands idly caressed the skin on her back. “What’s on the thumb drive?”
Thalia shrugged. “Shipping data, I think. None of it makes very much sense to me. It’s full of codes and numbers, but I recognize some of the dates and locations.” His arms instinctively tightened around her when another chill ran through her and she shivered against him. “Jauhar killed my uncle. If I have something he wants, I have to use it to get to him. He’s going to kill me anyway. I just want the chance to take him to hell with me.”
“He’s not going to kill you.” He wouldn’t let that happen. There was more to it, he was sure, but she had said enough for now. He got the picture.
As his fingers played along her spine, tracing the raised lines of skin that crisscrossed in a telling pattern beneath his fingertips, he knew there was one more question he had to ask. His blood raced through his veins when he pictured her shackled and bleeding as her uncle, or any other man, marred her skin and tried to break her fierce spirit. He could just as easily picture himself putting a bullet between the sick fuck’s eyes, whoever he was. He wasn’t sure if he could handle the truth, but he forced the question out anyway. “Is your uncle the one who did this to you?” He purposefully traced his finger over the most prominent lash mark.
She drew back from his embrace, her brows furrowed in confusion. “What?”
Grant loosened his grip and let his fingers trail down her arms. “The scars on your back. You were beaten. Is he the one who took you from your family?” It was possible, would even be twistedly normal, for her to call her captor uncle. Some slaves were raised by their captors and beaten into respecting, or even seeing their captor’s torture as love. Although, knowing what he knew of her, she didn’t seem the type to remain loyal to such a person.
“A slave?” He watched as the meaning behind his question dawned. “Oh, no.” She shook her head. “I wasn’t a…a sex slave. Or any other kind of slave. Issa would never do that.” She rested her hands on his stomach and gave him a small, sad smile. “I was in a car accident, or at least that’s what Issa and the doctors told me when I woke up. I really don’t remember.”
“A car accident?” His bullshit meter was pegged into the red, but when he looked into her eyes he could see she believed what she was telling him.
“Yes. A car accident.” She turned from his embrace and paced to the closet. Opening the doors, he watched as she shuffled through the miscellaneous items of clothing. “I was seventeen, I think. I woke up in a strange bed, in a strange house surrounded by strange men. Issa, my uncle, said a drunken truck driver ran my parents’ car off the road into a ravine, north of Mumbai, killing them instantly. I was thrown through the windshield. I guess the glass cut me up pretty badly. I really don’t remember. When I woke up I didn’t remember anything except my first name.” She pulled a blue and white dress from one of the hangers and held it up. “I still don’t.”
Seventeen. “You have no memory of your parents or your childhood?” He wasn’t sure if he felt relieved or even more skeptical as he bent and scooped up his jeans from the floor. Something felt off about the timing, about the whole damn story, but he couldn’t quite get a grip on it.
“No. I don’t.” She let the dress drop and reached up to cup her arm. “They really put a tracking chip in my shoulder? Those bastards.”
“Your parents, they were American?”
Thalia nodded, hissing when she pulled the bandage away from her skin. “My mother was half Indian. She was Issa’s sister. We were in India on vacation to visit him.”
He pushed aside the weird feeling in his gut to dissect later. Taking her hand, he pulled her toward the bathroom. “Come on. We’ll take a shower, I’ll change your bandage, and then we can figure out what our next step is while I feed you.”
She followed him into the bathroom without argument which, when it happened, never ceased to amaze him.
Chapter Eleven
“I’m sorry about Salina.” Seemed she was going to be in a perpetually apologetic state with him. She might as well get comfortable saying it. “I’m sorry about your boat and, well, everything.”
Wrapped around her back, his smooth chin resting on her shoulder, she felt Grant shrug as she leaned her face into the spray and rinsed away the soap suds. “She was an asset, not a friend.”
“That sounds a little harsh.” She had no problems with killing someone like Jauhar or Hamisi. She may have lost some of her more delicate senses toward death, but she didn’t think she would be able to compartmentalize the loss of someone who helped her like Salina had.
Grant shrugged. The heat of his tongue traveled up the side of her neck before he sucked the water from her earlobe, sending shivers racing over her skin despite the blissful heat of the water. “I really don’t care about anything else right now except this.” The sharp edge of his teeth raked against the outer shell of her ear; she would have fallen to her knees if his thick arm hadn’t been wrapped around her, holding her up.
She both hated and loved how quickly he could reduce her to a spineless puddle of lust with just one look or touch. She wanted to explore him, find his weaknesses. Surely he has one. Resolved to keep things on an even playing field, at least for the moment, she spun away and pushed him under the spray, ignoring his grunted protests. Scooping up the soap, she lathered it into a washcloth. The muscles in his back rippled and tensed as she slowly caressed his skin, taking notice of the multitude of scars that marred his sculpted frame.
A sex slave? Grant’s questions wormed their way back into her thoughts. Thalia knew one of Jauhar’s biggest enterprises was human trafficking. Although she had never met Jauhar, Issa had warned her to never allow herself to be alone with his men or trust them. She never understood why Issa would do business with someone so vile, but she never questioned his counseling. She only wished he’d taken his own advice.
“Why did my scars make you think I’d been a slave?” Hot water sluiced down his back, rinsing the soap from Grant’s body, her lips laying claim to the skin on his shoulder as she ran the wash cloth down his back. “Is that something you’ve seen before?”
“Yes.” Her fingers followed his spine then trailed along his shoulder blades and around his sides to his chest. Scraping her fingernails across his flat nipples drew a rewarding hiss from his lips before he continued. “I’ve seen pictures of women and children who had been branded and whipped. The marks on your back look like s
ome of them.”
The spray from the shower head hit her face when he turned in her arms. Backing her against the wall, Grant leaned down and placed a wet kiss on her forehead, then her nose.
“Branded?” she asked, trying desperately to hold on to her thoughts as his hands cupped and kneaded her breasts, gently twisting her sensitive nipples in return.
“Yeah,” he breathed, sucking her earlobe into his mouth again, nipping it with his teeth. “Sometimes the slaves would have their owner’s initials burned into their skin as a mark of ownership.”
Thalia’s blood ran cold as the hazy images from her nightmares surfaced in her thoughts and the suffocating feeling pressed down on her chest. No. Not here. Not with him. Grant pulled back and looked at her. His eyes, dark with need, suddenly filled with concern. Something Thalia didn’t think she would ever get used to seeing. “This conversation is not working for you either, huh?” His hands slid from her breasts and framed her waist. He lowered his head and sucked on the skin between her neck and shoulder, his hips flexing to push the head of his shaft deep between her wet folds. “I say we not talk at all for a bit.”
Thank heavens for the timing of her stomach. Just as her lungs began to seize, a loud growl echoed off the tiled walls. Grant laughed and shook his head. “Looks like I’ve been overruled.” He reached over and cut the water, and then helped her step out of the tub before he handed her a towel. She forced herself to breathe as she dried off; trying to think of a way to get him out of there so she could pull herself together.
“Hey, are you okay?” Grant’s hands cupped her neck, his thumbs tilting her chin up to him. She nodded silently and looked over her shoulder at the toilet.
“Right.” He smiled and kissed the tip of her nose. “I’ll, uh, give you some privacy and go check on dinner. Come to the kitchen when you’re done and I’ll redress your wounds before we eat.”