He'd taken her virginity, kept her in his bed every night, but waited on taking the vows. He'd hoped he could earn her trust, show her how much he cared and that she belonged with him. To him.
He knew she had passion deep within her; he could smell it. But night after night—for nearly eight years—he fucked her, and she just lay there like a pathetic child. He'd even been faithful to her. Well, at least since exchanging those vows. Yet not once in all that time had she ever shown interest in him—in his body—which, even at sixty, still made women take a second look.
Some nights she had the nerve to cry. He could have beaten her, given her to any of his men, killed her for God's sake, but he treated her like a queen.
He struck out at a potted plant sitting on a pillar. It fell the two stories to the patio below, smashing on impact.
"When I get her back, I'm going to fuck her until she bleeds."
He walked back inside and turned to his men who awaited instruction. Drawing a breath deep into his lungs, he released the rage.
"Find her. Don't touch her. Kill anyone she's with. And bring her home."
Both men nodded and silently left. Lorenzo pulled a jewel encrusted dagger from a plaque on the wall and drove it deep into the plaster.
"You will wish you'd died, my dear. My pleasantries are at an end."
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Chapter Six
Jayden stalked the perimeter of the luxury master suite as if it were a cage. She felt as trapped here as she had in Lorenzo's fortress. Gnawing on her thumbnail until it bled, she tried and tried to come up with a plan that would work, that she could live with—at least for a while—and that wouldn't involve Mica's death.
That man had no idea how much trouble she'd bring down on his head if she were found with him. Actually, he probably wouldn't live long enough to find out. It was his parents and friends who would suffer, and she couldn't have that.
Men. Why don't they ever want to listen?
Mindlessly, she checked the ferns for water, paced to the television armoire, opened the ornate black lacquer doors, ran her finger over the front of a very large TV, then closed the doors again.
Think, Jayden. Think!
She didn't know how much time she had before Mica came back, and she had to be ready to stand against those golden-fire eyes, that tempting smile, and those damn sexy hands. Against her own will, she smiled to herself as she pictured Mica's hands on her skin. The gold band around his thumb glinted in the moonlight, fingers strong and capable of such wonders ... Jayden shivered just thinking about it. Somewhere deep inside her she'd always known it could be like that. She was so thankful to him for letting her experience it before she died.
The sound of dishes clinking alerted her to his arrival. She jumped and spun in the direction of the stairs in time to catch Mica's brooding stare. Apparently he still wasn't over their little tiff from earlier.
Men.
Why couldn't he see how much he'd hurt her, holding in front of her what she could never have as if she had a choice? Sure, she'd shot back; she'd never learned—much to Lorenzo's frustration—to back down, to keep her temper or her opinions to herself. Mica being Mica, however, hadn't hit her, hadn't called her filthy names. There were no threats or retribution. He had simply walked away and now he was...
Bringing me breakfast? This is truly one of the most unique experiences of my life.
She'd had an hour or so to dwell on it, and she'd calmed down and was ready to be rational again. Besides, their argument had made her realize that she liked fighting with Mica. He fought fair and took as good as he got. It had been fun—on some level—and she wished they'd have more chances to fight.
Fight, debate, share, make up.
She caught herself sighing somewhat dreamily and stopped herself. Lower lip between her teeth, she made her way to the bed where Mica had set out dishes. Strawberries and whipped cream, omelets, some kind of rolls with icing, and orange slices dipped in chocolate. A veritable feast.
It took all her restraint not to jump up and down and clap her hands like a child at Christmas. Lorenzo had introduced her to the wonders of food.. When Jayden was growing up, her father had always gambled away any extra money they had, so oatmeal and bologna sandwiches were the norm at the Trent household. Shoved into Lorenzo's world at fifteen, Jayden had found the introduction to new foods to be her greatest thrill. Sadly, it had also become her greatest weakness, and Lorenzo used it as a bargaining chip. Lately, she'd been on such simple rations it would have made an experienced Marine sick.
She nudged closer to him as he uncovered a little bowl of sugar.
His gaze met her for the briefest of seconds. “We could eat at the table, or downstairs if you prefer.” He ran his hand through his hair and set the tray on the floor beside the bed. “I just thought ... well, that this would be nicer."
She smiled and climbed on the bed, anxious to dive in. He'd set up two smaller trays with food for each of them. Jayden slid behind one and took a strawberry. She dipped it in the sugar, then the cream, and moaned when the trio of flavors touched her tongue. She ignored Mica's laugh; most people would never understand how passionate she was about food. As a matter of fact, she didn't really understand it, either. Maybe it was simply the fact that it was one of the few pleasures she ever got. Sure, Lorenzo was always lavishing jewelry and stupid trinkets on her, but she didn't give a fuck about jewelry and trinkets. Food, she liked.
She noticed that Mica had left the room. Disappointment swirled around her so thick she lost her appetite. The mushrooms, onions and melted cheeses sticking out from her fluffy egg concoction no longer held their former appeal. The plump strawberries could have been wax for all she cared, and the cream soured. She popped an orange slice in her mouth and barely noticed the milk chocolate melting, coating her taste buds.
Why didn't he stay?
Okay, so she'd been rude earlier, but come on. What kind of a guy couldn't take a “fuck you” in the heat of the moment? She shimmied up the bed until her spine hit the padded headboard, folded her arms across her chest and pouted like the five year old she'd compared herself to moments before. Another luxury she'd abandoned for years—a good sulk.
"Okay, I've got...” Mica stopped dead at the sight of Jayden scrunched up against the headboard in an obvious mope. Balancing his tray with one hand, he ran his other through his hair. He was still scared to death for her, furious over their earlier interaction—and the ones to come that he knew wouldn't go well—but he'd put a lot of effort into that breakfast.
"What's wrong?"
Her eyes lit at the sight of him, and—God help him—his cock twitched. Un-fucking believable.
He put the second tray on the bed as Jayden came close again. She was beautiful. He was growing hard again, but he was still pissed.
He tried to ignore her as he dished out the ingredients from his second tray.
"Cocoa, because I know you like that. Coffee, orange juice and good old milk, chocolate or regular."
He set a mug on her bed tray and waited for her choice. She chewed on her thumb again and looked over everything as if it was the front window at Tiffany's. Had he ever known a woman with so much passion? He seriously doubted it. At last she took the cocoa, added some cream from the first tray, and then some shaved chocolate bits from the second on top of that.
Her gaze filled with thanks and appreciation met his. He shrugged and dumped a bunch of chocolate shavings into his coffee. “I cook when I'm mad.” He caught the wicked glint in her eyes and pointed a finger at her. “Don't you dare.” He allowed himself to touch her jaw, to tip her head up a fraction. “For you, I'd cook anything you wanted, anytime, anywhere. Mad or not."
He climbed onto the bed, careful not to upset the trays. Slowly, they made their way through the meal in silence—not that Jayden had much of a choice. Anger still simmered within Mica, too hot for him to trust himself to talk, so they ate without words. What would he have to do to get throu
gh to her? He couldn't lose her. Not after he'd found her.
How was it possible to search your whole life for something and not even know you were missing it until you found it?
Mica caught Jayden watching him from under guarded lashes while he cleaned up the dishes, and he felt like a heel. About to carry the trays downstairs, he shot her one last look, but the dark desire in her eyes was too much for him. He dropped the tray back to the bed with a clatter, grabbed her head in his big hands, and brought her mouth to his with a hunger that all the food in the world wouldn't touch.
She moaned into his mouth and tasted of chocolate, oranges, and best of all, Jayden. He growled right back at her, wrapped his arm around her waist, and pulled her body under his as he laid them back on the bed. Tearing the sash from her robe, he bared her breasts, grabbed blindly for a slice of orange from his plate, and watched her eyes glow with lust as he squeezed the juice from the orange over her hard pink nipple. Then he sprinkled sugar and chocolate shavings on her.
He held her gaze for a long minute before he rasped out, “If this is the ‘kiss-and-make-up’ part, I want to fight with you a lot."
She nodded furiously before moaning deep in her throat as his mouth covered her nipple.
Mica groaned as the combination of flavors mixed with the heat from her body to come alive. He slowly laved her with his tongue. Resting up on her elbows, head dropped back, she wriggled and shoved her pussy hard against him. Her scent enflamed him, and he lowered his mouth to the wet, juicy heat of her vulva.
She gasped and writhed and, good God almighty, grabbed an orange slice and squeezed it over his tongue and her pussy. Mica added a dollop of cream and ate her until she screamed in a violent orgasm that nearly threw them both off the bed.
Barely holding on to control, he pulled her from the bed, onto the floor, and atop him. “Ride me, honey."
When he first pulled her down, he thought she wouldn't be able to keep herself upright—she'd been like a rag doll in his arms—but his growled command seemed to have stirred new life into her. Her dark eyes gleamed with excitement as she slowly slid her pussy down over his cock. They both moaned as his length disappeared inside her.
Mica watched as she gained a rhythm, his gaze drawn to where his cock slid inside her heat and back out, coated with her juices. She grabbed him with inner muscles and nearly let him slip all the way out each time until, at the last instant, she slid back down.
Mica was sure he was going to die. In all his life he'd never heard of anyone surviving with the top portion of their head blown off.
"Oh yeah, Jayden. Fuck, yes!"
She groaned, eyes half-closed and charged with passion. He grabbed her hips, just to have contact with her skin, and closed his own eyes tight, trying to hold back the inevitable explosion. As she started to spasm around him, he knew he didn't have the strength to fight it any longer. He came with an intensity he thought no possible freaking way could have gotten any better, but when her own climax came and she grabbed his cock hard, milking every last drop out of him ... Well, there goes the top of my head.
She collapsed on top of him, and he wrapped weak arms around her as tight as he could. He kissed her head as tears misted his eyes and knew he was so far gone with this woman there was no help for him. Pressing his mouth to her ear, he begged, “Please don't leave me.” She nuzzled into his throat and burrowed her head against him, but as he'd feared, made no promises.
* * * *
Mica made a decision. He had to trust her. Inhaling a slow breath, he took the last few steps back into the bedroom and found her curled in one of the club chairs, staring out the window. She looked so lost, so alone and afraid. Her desolation hurt him. He wanted to make it all right for her, but realized he couldn't do a damn thing unless she let him.
"You know, you don't have to stay up here all the time. There's a whole lot of house downstairs. A game room, tons of books, an office with a computer. You could play Minesweeper or whatever."
She gave him a sad look, and his heart winced. Stepping closer, he rubbed the back of his neck and averted his eyes.
"Your clothes are in the dryer. They should be done in about a half hour. I ... uh ... I have to go out for a while.” Her neck twisted around so fast it was a wonder her head didn't fly off. Crouching beside the chair, he touched her softly. “Look, I won't make you stay. I won't be your new prison. I'm crazy about you, Jayden. I feel a connection with you like I've never felt with another living soul. I'm not just some macho jerk trying to protect the little woman.” He blew out a breath and looked away for a minute before restoring the connection with their eyes.
"I don't know how it happened, but you blew into my life and blew away my whole world. All that I thought—everything I believed, everything I knew—would be my future. One look into those crystal eyes of yours, and it all had changed. I would stand by you no matter what you'd been through, no matter what came our way, no matter what I had to sacrifice or change. No matter what it cost me. You're my woman, and I protect what's mine. Why won't you let me?"
Jayden had cried herself out. She was done moping, and she was done fighting Mica. She almost laughed at his declaration. What, did he think this had been her plan? He'd blown her out of the water at least as much as she'd done to him and maybe—for whatever reason—maybe this was meant to be. Maybe all the prayers of a lifetime were finally answered. Wouldn't it have been beyond bitchy to say, Sorry, God, too late. I think I'll handle this my own way from here on out?
She touched his cheek and watched emotion flicker in his eyes. Then she pressed her hand against his heart, loving how it beat hard and strong beneath her palm. She watched her hand for a minute, then returned her gaze to his.
I'll stay.
But she had so much she needed to tell him. They were in for one hell of a battle, and she wouldn't be one hundred percent committed to staying until she was certain he understood everything. She had put him, and everyone he loved, in grave danger. He kissed her head, then she pulled away and went for the legal pad, writing her short message to him.
I'll stay, for now.
She watched the relief pour through him as he read her words. He moved closer and kissed her on the forehead again, probably afraid to kiss her anywhere else since they seemed to spontaneously combust when they touched, and he did say he needed to go out.
"I'll be gone at least an hour, maybe two. No one knows you're here. Don't answer the door. I'll buy you some new clothes...” His voice dropped into a lower register. “As much as I love you naked and wet, I suppose we should put that on the back burner for a while, huh?"
She shrugged. He smiled.
"What size are you, like a six?"
She laughed and held up both hands, all ten fingers.
"Ten? Are you sure?"
She laughed again and kissed his cheek.
"Okay, ten it is. Shoe size?"
Six fingers came up this time, then she saw him hedge. She motioned for him to tell her, it wouldn't do for him to get mousy on her now.
"Your hair. In all probability, we'll need to get out of the city. That mane of yours is highly identifiable. I wonder if you'd be opposed to dying it temporarily?"
He was smart and his mind was clear. Her own thoughts had all been muddled and mostly been about him. She pulled on a long strand of hair. It was just hair after all. Hell, she'd shave herself bald if it would help. She agreed with enthusiasm.
"Good. I'll get some over the counter stuff at the drug store.” He sighed. “You'll be okay?” She nodded. He stepped closer, took her in his arms, and gave her the softest, most tender kiss imaginable. “And you'll still be here when I get back?” The need in his eyes stabbed her in the heart. She palmed his cheek, kissed his lips lightly, and whispered her promise in her mind.
I'll be here.
When she pulled back, she nodded again. Still, she noticed his trepidation as he left. She guessed time alone would build the trust between them they needed.
S
he also figured that while he was gone, she'd put the time to good use and type out a report so when he got back, he'd know what kind of shit he'd stepped into.
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Chapter Seven
More than a little anxious, Mica stepped through the doorway of his apartment and stood still as he listened for any sound of music, the television, breathing—any sound that would tell him she was still there. He'd run all his errands, got her clothes and hair dye, and made it back in under two hours. A woman could get a long way away in that amount of time, and Mica knew his gut wouldn't unknot until he saw her.
Juggling bags and packages, his stomach in his throat, he climbed the stairs.
This is way too quiet. Releasing a breath, he reminded himself that he'd decided to trust her, in part because he hoped she'd trust him more in return, but now he had to have faith in her as well. Trust was looking at a chair's construction and deciding it would hold your weight. Faith was coming to the same conclusion about it holding your weight, only without looking at it first.
Trust was far easier than faith.
But he had Faith. Faith in what he felt, in what they shared. Faith that she would be as powerless to walk away as he was. As much faith as he had in her, he knew they'd work this out and by Christmas, they'd be at work on a family of their own.
Mica stopped near the top of the stairs; his own thoughts ringing in his ears.
Un-fucking believable.
Who was he, and how in hell had this happened?
A slow grin spread over his face when he realized he didn't give a shit. He liked this new him, with this new future, a whole lot better than the Mica who didn't need anyone. Mica the leader with mindless followers but no one to walk beside him.
As he took the final few steps, his first impression of his environment was that it was still. Empty. His brain assured him she was in the bathroom, or maybe the kitchen, or getting her laundry. Before he was able to produce a full-blown panic, he saw her small form curled up atop his bed wearing her torn pants with his tee again. Her hand rested on his laptop, and she was fast asleep.
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