I Thee Take: To Have and To Hold Duet Book Two

by Knight, Natasha

  “I wanted to be sure.”

  “What did you think? I’d lie to you?”

  “You might. You might feel embarrassed.”

  “You should have asked me. You violated me by doing such a thing without my permission.” She spins to walk away but I catch her by the arm.

  “You’re my wife. I have a right to know.”

  “I’m your wife in name only.”

  I feel my eyebrows arch. “I don’t think so. I thought I made that clear this morning, Little Kitten.”

  “Back to that again?”

  “You prefer Fury?”

  “I prefer my name. Scarlett. Just Scarlett.”

  I smile, wrap my hand around the back of her neck and pull her to me. Leaning closer, I bring my face to hers and inhale her scent. My soap. My shampoo. I like it on her.

  “I can still taste you on my tongue, Scarlett,” I say, my voice low and deep in the quiet night.

  Her eyes go wide, and I can’t help but laugh. She shoves at my chest, but I don’t let her go.

  “You’re my wife. Period.”

  She stops pushing. “You said you’d let me go when this is done. You’d let Noah go.”

  I did. I remember. “It’s not over yet, is it? To bring it up is premature.”

  “Does that mean you still will?”

  I study her. Cerberus barks once, coming toward us with a stick he’s found washed up on the shore. Grateful for the interruption, I bend to take it from him and toss it for him to retrieve before turning back to Scarlett.

  She looks pretty in the moonlight. I like that she doesn’t wear makeup. She’s just herself.

  When she turns to find me watching her, she folds her arms across her chest and opens her mouth. I speak before she can.

  “I haven’t asked you my question yet,” I say.

  She shakes her head. “I’m all ears.”

  “Why didn’t he touch you? He had the opportunity. I saw his face on the boat, not that I’d need proof to know, he hates you as much as he hates me. Maybe more. It makes no sense that he didn’t touch you.”

  Her forehead wrinkles and she rubs it, then meets my eyes. “He wasn’t allowed to.”

  “Ah.”

  She raises her eyebrows.

  “I spoke with Felix Pérez today.”

  “Felix?”

  I nod.

  “Do you really think he’s taken over the cartel? I’m telling you, Cristiano, he wasn’t capable.”

  She’s wrong on that.

  “What did he say?” she asks.

  “He claimed not to know about Jacob’s death. Although he didn’t seem all that bothered by it. And he swore he had nothing to do with your kidnapping.”

  “But you don’t believe him?”

  “No. And I still don’t have one piece of the puzzle.”

  “Who gave up the location of the house.”

  I nod.

  Scarlett’s forehead wrinkles. “From what I remember, Felix was never that clever.”

  I give her a one-sided grin, wrap my arm around her waist and turn her. “The ones you don’t think twice about, who fly under the radar, they’re usually the most clever, Little Kitten.”

  The wind picks up as if eavesdropping on our conversation. Scarlett shudders.

  I shift my arm to wrap it around her shoulders and whistle for Cerberus.

  “Let’s go to bed, Scarlett. I want to feel you beneath me again.”

  12

  Scarlett

  I’m trying to wrap my brain around Felix Pérez taking over the cartel. Maybe I don’t remember him correctly. I was pretty young, I guess. I just can’t imagine it. He was more like an annoying bug that keeps buzzing by your ear. I remember neither of my parents liked him. But I’m not sure they liked Jacob either. I know my mom didn’t. She didn’t trust him, and my dad didn’t trust anyone who wasn’t blood. Even though Jacob took on the De La Cruz name, he was and always would be an outsider. And Felix marrying Jacob’s daughter, his niece, meant nothing to my father.

  I think about that. About only trusting your own blood. That got my father killed. Blood is overrated.

  “Cristiano,” I start once we’re upstairs. “Are you sure about Felix?”

  He closes the door behind us. “I’m sure of one thing at the moment,” he says, unbuttoning my coat and slipping it off. He does the same with his and tosses them over the back of a chair. He spins me so my back is to him and unzips my dress. “I don’t want to talk about Felix or the cartel or any of it just for a little while.” He turns me to face him and slips the dress off my shoulders. It’s loose enough that it slides right off. I’m naked underneath. “Right now, all I want to do is look at my beautiful wife.”

  His gaze slides over me, fist tightening as he takes in the striped flesh before drawing in a slow, deep inhale of breath. He closes his eyes momentarily, but when he opens them and looks at me, that anger is checked. Not gone, just cataloged for later.

  “Right now, all I want to do is show my wife exactly how much she is mine.”

  I don’t resist when he kisses me then. I don’t want to. My body remembers earlier. It remembers how he felt on top of me. Inside me.

  Arms wrapped around me Cristiano walks me back to the bed. He sits me on the edge and pushes me backward so I’m lying flat, legs dangling off.

  “Open them.” He gestures to my legs.

  I swallow, take in the darkness of his eyes.

  “I said open them, Scarlett.”

  I do. I spread my legs and watch his eyes dip down to my sex.

  “Wider.”

  I lift my feet onto the bed and feel my face heat up as I expose myself to him.

  As he unbuttons his shirt, he drags his gaze from my sex to my eyes. “Touch yourself,” he says, pulling the shirt off, then moving to pour himself a whiskey. He takes a seat on the armchair directly across from the bed. “Show me how you make yourself come,” he says, taking a sip and reclining back, long legs spread wide as he watches me, elbow on the armrest, head resting against the chair’s back.

  “I…I don’t think I can do that,” I stammer, feeling embarrassed.

  He grins. “I think you can. I’m pretty sure in fact. Do it. Put your fingers on your clit and rub.”

  I’m tentative but I reach to touch myself. I’m swollen and wet already. He watches me casually, drink in hand. Fuck, it’s turning me on.

  “Good girl. Now dip your fingers inside yourself and smear your juices all over. Good. Like that.”

  It feels good. I like watching him watch me. I see the steel bar of his erection and I like that too. It makes me feel powerful.

  “That’s it, sweetheart. Let me hear you. Let me hear how wet you are.”

  I lick my lips and press my finger inside myself.

  “You can do better than that, Kitten. Another finger.”

  I add a second finger keeping the heel of my hand pressing against my swollen nub.

  Cristiano swallows more of his drink then sets the glass aside and unbuckles his belt. Unzips his pants. He grips himself, pushing pants and briefs down as much as he needs to, and I watch him work his cock, pumping slowly, one corner of his mouth quirked upward as he watches me watch him.

  “You like watching me?” he asks.

  I lick my lips and nod.

  “Dirty girl,” he says with a sly smile. “I like watching you too, though.” To my disappointment he tucks himself back into his pants and gets to his feet. Standing between my legs, he uses a hand to push one thigh wider. “And I think you like that. You like me watching you,” he says, looking down at my open pussy, my fingers working over my clit, dipping inside me.

  I nod, my mouth hanging open, even though he wasn’t asking it.

  “Say it.” He crouches down, keeping one leg wide. “Say it if you want my mouth on you.” He gives a teasing flick of his tongue over my clit and I buck, pushing my hips up. “Say it.”

  “I like it. I like you watching me.”

  “Good
girl.” He takes the wrist of the hand working my clit and draws it away to close the whole of his mouth over the hard nub. He lays his tongue flat over my sex and licks, then sucks. I’m so close. So close to coming. But then he draws back. Puts my fingers back on me and stands.

  “Why—”

  “Shh. Don’t come yet but don’t stop playing with yourself. I want to hear all those wet sounds.”

  I nod, wanting to please. Wanting to come. I lick my lips. He strips off his pants and briefs so he stands naked between my legs. His thick cock ready, the head already wet. He pushes my legs wider. It’s almost painful how wide and looks down at me.

  I’m dripping.

  He leans toward me and slides his length into me, stretching the tight passage, making me gasp. Making me want.

  “You’re so fucking tight,” he says, drawing out, then pressing in again before slipping completely out. He puts my hand back between my legs and grips his cock.

  “I want to come,” I say, my voice small.

  “I bet you do.” He puts his free hand over mine and together we each press a finger inside me.

  “Cristiano…I want…”

  He draws his finger out, then in again, and my eyes close.

  “Look at me,” he says. “Keep looking at me.”

  “Good. And keep playing with your clit. Like that. Good girl.”

  He draws back, cock in hand, watching.

  “Tell me something,” he asks. “How do you think it’s going to feel having my cock down your throat?” Before I’ve processed, he takes my arm. “On your knees, Kitten, and keep your dirty little fingers on your clit.”

  He slides me off the bed so I’m at eye level with his thick cock.

  “Cris—”

  “Shh.” He takes his thumb over the head of his cock and bends to put that finger to my mouth.

  “Lick.”

  I do and he tastes good.

  “Now suck.”

  I do again and I watch him watching me as I create suction around his thumb.

  “Harder. Good. Like that.”

  He straightens again and withdraws his finger.

  I lick my lips.

  “Are you close?”

  I nod.

  “Good. Open your mouth.”

  He pushes between my lips, his hand fisting my hair to tug my head back, as his cock hits the back of my throat.

  I choke and he grins, backs off.

  “I—”

  But I don’t get to finish. I only have time to take a quick breath before he’s pushing in again, his eyes darkening as he moves faster and I’m aroused watching him, tasting him, looking up at him as he towers over me, controlling me.

  A moment later, he mutters a curse and pushes deeper still, and I feel him throb, feel his release and when I do, I come too. I come on my fingers, moaning around him, tasting him, watching him.

  When it’s over, when he’s finally empty, he pulls slowly out and crouches down. Kissing my cheek, he holds my chin with two fingers. He looks at me and smiles.

  “Swallow.”

  I want to, it’s just so much. I nod and he brings his thumb to the corner of my mouth to wipe it clean.

  “All of it,” he says, and I swallow again. When I do, he kisses my mouth and I wonder if he tastes himself. I kiss him back.

  A few moments later, he lifts me in his arms and lays me on the bed. And when he climbs in beside me, I turn to him, burrow into his chest, liking the feel of his arms around me. He pulls the blankets around us and I feel safe for the first time in too long to care that I’m lying in the arms of the man who should be my enemy.

  13

  Cristiano

  I’m back again. On the cold marble floor lying in a pool of my own blood. Men are yelling, my brothers sobbing. My sister, I didn’t even see her. They killed her in her room.

  My mom…she’s begging, pleading for the lives of her children. She’s not even asking to be spared herself. But he doesn’t care. He’s laughing. I hear that too. And I open my eyes just enough to see him lying on top of her. To hear him breathe heavy while she lays still whimpering. He has the knife at her throat and this time when he says the words, he looks at me.

  Is that how it happened? Or is it my imagination perverting the memory.

  His mouth moves and his grin makes him look like a mad man. I hear the whisper, but not the words. Never the words.

  I know this dream. This nightmare.

  But then it shifts.

  The chaos is gone. No guns. No screaming women. No sobbing children.

  Words sound around me, making no sense. A man and a woman. An argument. Lights overhead too bright after so much dark. The smell is clinical. The room, when I glimpse it through heavy-lidded eyes, harsh white.

  “It’s too much…permanent damage.” It’s the woman’s voice. She’s trying to whisper but the words are hissed like she’s angry.

  The man’s words are incomprehensible, just murmurs. He’s calmer than she is. Then everything goes quiet. Almost everything. The only sound I hear is my voice.

  I feel the prick of a needle. It doesn’t hurt. I’m used to it.

  Then another sound. Shoes on the floor, low but there. Hearing is my only sense. Well, that and smell. And I can smell a familiar scent.

  I open my eyes with a sharp breath in. It takes me a minute to remember where I am. I scrub my face, looking over at Scarlett lying beside me. She’s undisturbed.

  My phone buzzes with a message alert. I check it and see four messages all within minutes of each other. That’s what must have woken me.

  I open the text window. It’s Antonio telling me to call him. I assume it’s an update on the destination of the boat that held Scarlett and where it went to on its last four voyages. The other images are of some broken-down room. A shack almost. Inside are scraps of clothing, remnants of food containers. Stains on the floors and walls. More on the single rotted mattress.

  Scarlet mutters something. I look down at her, see her lips move, her forehead furrow. I doubt either of us will ever sleep peacefully. We’ve seen too much.

  “Shh,” I tell her.

  Her hand opens, fingertips brush my chest and she says one word. “No.”

  “Shh, you’re safe. Safe.”

  As if she hears me, she quiets, her breathing leveling out.

  I climb out of the bed, draw the blanket up over her shoulder and pick up a discarded pair of jeans. Pulling them and a sweater on, I walk out of the bedroom barefoot, running a hand through sleep-mussed hair.

  The first part of the nightmare is the recurring one. It’s the one that keeps me from sleep.

  The second part though? That’s new. I don’t know if it’s a dream or a memory. It has the feeling that memories do. There’s a texture to it different than dreams.

  I have a takeaway this time.

  The man was my uncle. He’s been wearing the same cologne for as long as I can remember. Something made especially for him. My father used to make fun of him for that.

  I stop, smile. A strange, unimportant detail but a detail. A memory.

  A soldier greets me downstairs. I’m keeping them both inside and outside for now. I check the time. Four in the morning.

  “Good morning,” I say, and continue to my study, but pause when I hear noise in the kitchen.

  I glance to the soldier.

  “Lenore’s up,” he says.

  I’m surprised. It’s not like her to be up in the middle of the night. I walk to the kitchen to find Lenore muttering something as she plays with the nobs of the oven.

  “What are you doing awake?” I ask her.

  She startles, spins to face me. “Cristiano! You scared me half to death.”

  “Sorry.”

  Cerberus walks sleepily toward me and I lay a hand on the top of his head.

  “I couldn’t sleep,” she says.

  “That makes two of us. What’s going on?”

  She picks up the pot of coffee and pours me a cup. “Nothing.
I’m sure it’s fine.”

  “What?”

  She sits at the table. “Alec. I knew he could get hurt but I never expected it, I guess.” She takes a tissue out of her pocket and wipes her eyes and nose.

  I’m unmoved. Not because I think she’s ingenuine. I just have seen worse. “He’s alive. He’ll heal,” I say.

  “Is she worth it?” Lenore asks.

  “Excuse me?”

  She shakes her head. “Never mind. Don’t listen to me.”

  I study her. “What were you and my uncle talking about on the beach yesterday?”

  “What?”

  “You took Cerberus out. He followed. I was in the study. Saw you from my window.”

  “Oh.” She shrugs a shoulder and shifts her gaze away momentarily. “Nothing special. I was surprised he’d followed me out. He said he wanted to check in on Alec but, well, you know how I feel about that man.”

  “Why do you feel that way about him?”

  “Ah, that’s an old story and one not worth telling. Would you like some breakfast?”

  “Did you ever come see me when I was in the coma, Lenore?”

  “What?”

  “When I was sedated.” It was a medically induced coma to let my body heal. “Did you come see me?”

  “Only a few times. I would have liked to come more often, but your uncle wanted to keep your location a secret. Keep the fact that you and Dante survived a secret. And it made sense.”

  I nod.

  “Why do you ask?”

  “Nothing. Just curious.” I feel a buzz in my pocket and reach in to see it’s Antonio with another notification. “I need to go.”

  She nods. “Let me know when you’re ready for breakfast.

  I head to my study, Cerberus walking beside me, considering my strange conversation with Lenore. There, I dial Antonio.

  “I have some news though not much.”

  He knows I rarely sleep, and I know he’s the same as me so there’s no mention of the time.

  “Tell me.”

  “Found the man hired to meet the boat with a truck and transport the cargo, then walk away.”

  “And he was forthcoming with this information.”

  “For a fee.”