“Copy that.” A beep sounds as Stu lets go of the intercom button.
I bend down and scoop her up. She whimpers, and I press my lips against her temple to shush her. Laying her on the bed, I sit next to her and smooth her hair away from her face.
“You’re a silly girl if you think I’m going to let you go again. All you’re going to achieve by fighting me is hurting yourself. You need to let go of that biker trash you’re so infatuated with.”
“Brendan, you need to listen—”
Cutting off her excuses, I try to make her see my point-of-view for once. “Lainey, now that I know what you’ve done to me, you know there’s only one way to fix it. I need to fill every one of your tight holes with my cream over and over, until I’m certain I’ve washed away his filthy touch. That’s the only way to undo what you’ve done.”
Another shiver takes hold of her battered body. Tears run down her face, and I lick them away until they start to fall too fast for me to keep up. The salty taste of her pain will sustain me during what I must do next. My monster welcomes her hurt, while the splintered second part of me wishes it could be different.
I hope she understands.
“He’s always been the problem. He needs to be permanently removed from our lives for even thinking he can touch you. You're mine and mine only. Once he’s gone, you’ll commit to me. He’s the only thing between us. He always has been.”
“No, please don’t hurt him,” Lainey pleads through her tears. “I’ll commit to you if you leave him alone.”
“Are you serious? You’ll promise to be mine if I leave him alone?” I snort. Surely, she can’t mean what she’s asking? “We both know that’s not going to happen.”
She’s lost her mind. I nuzzle my nose beneath her ear and nibble my way down her neck. My goal is to distract her from this absurd idea she has that she can reason with me. My way forward is the only way.
I need to erase all memories of his touch from her body and her mind.
Lainey pulls back from me, then struggles into a sitting position. Wiping the tears from her face, she straightens her shoulders and looks me in the eye. Her smile is beguiling, but I see the trap coming before she lays it.
“I’ll commit to you again if you promise me three things—”
“Only three things, Lainey?” I inquire with a smirk. “You have to know that I don’t need to compromise with you. I hold all the cards. You’ll commit because you’re smart enough to realise I'm right.”
Lainey laughs—further proof that she’s becoming unhinged.
“You’re confusing commit with submit once again, Brendan.” Her tone is filled with scorn and her face cover with a level of malevolence I’ve never seen before. “You can get me to submit to you with the cards you’re holding, just like you did last time. But you’ll never be able to get me to commit to you with those cards. I’ll always be looking for a way out again.”
Narrowing my eyes, I search her face for any clue that Maddi still lives inside her. I can’t find anything. My hope fades, yet I can’t bring myself to admit defeat already.
“You’ve changed, Lainey. You’ve always challenged me like nobody else, but never to this extent. You’re starting to push it too far. What the hell happened to you?”
The wickedness in her eyes turns to pure hatred. She slams her fists against her thighs and throws back her head.
“You happened.” she screams. “The way I am now is the result of being left broken. Mentally and physically. You do remember repeatedly raping and beating me? Systematically wearing me down to nothing when we were together? You broke my spirit when you broke my body.”
I shrink back from her. Her words burn my ears and singe my ego.
“What you see now.” She waves a hand in front of herself. “Is how I was rebuilt by....”
Before his name can leave her lips, I knock her onto her back and straddle her hips.
She slaps my face.
Hard.
“Fuck,” I curse.
She tries to slap me again. I pin her hands with my knees and try to make her see reason.
“What are you talking about? I never hurt you on purpose. You made me do it. You wouldn’t stay away from him. You wouldn’t put me first. You wouldn’t give me your love. Refusing to smile at me like you did him. Acting as if your sun rose and set just for him.”
This trip down memory lane is more than unpleasant. It’s downright painful.
During the past four years, I tried to forget all the ways she hurt me back then. I’d concentrated on placing her on a pedestal, rather than facing the toxicity comes with loving her. Having Madelaine O’Brien in my life has always been a catch-22.
The truth is she’s brought me as much agony as she has joy.
Now that she’s forced me to face our past head-on, I can’t work out how to put it back in its box before I lose my control and spew venom all over her.
If I’m to have any chance of stopping myself, I need her help.
It doesn’t come.
Lainey fights me—exactly like she always does. She pushes me, pulls me, struggles with me, and screams at me.
Yelling, desperate for her to hear me, I try to explain why I did what I did. “I was just taking what belonged to me from the moment I put my ring on your finger. Once I became your first lover, you were mine to fuck whenever I wanted. That's how a relationship bloody well works, you stupid bitch. I was your first, for fuck’s sake.”
I can see in her eyes that she doesn’t want to hear me. She’s not interested in anything I have to say.
I have failed today.
We are on the cusp of this becoming another nightmare if I don’t shut it down now. I can’t give into the urge to hurt her—not when I want another chance to make things right.
As she battles me from below, I see one way out of this.
My hand curls into a fist and I pull my arm back.
Lainey’s eyes widen, her mouth opening in a silent scream.
I don’t want to do it, so I pull free the worst pain I’ve felt in my life. It was today—less than an hour ago when I learned that she had given her body and her love to someone else.
Letting the rage sustain me, I get in her face and roar with all the pain I’m feeling.
“I SHOULD HAVE BEEN YOUR ONLY.”
I hit her.
Only once.
Only hard enough to make her stop before I do something worse.
When her body goes limp, I lie down beside her and hug her to me. My lungs hurt from shouting. My body aches from fighting. My eyes burn from holding back my tears.
All I wanted was a second chance.
All I got was another dose of regret.
THIRTY-ONE
“Thanks,” I grunt at Stu when he passes me a basin filled with warm water.
I place it in on the bedside table, then take the towels and wash cloth from him as well.
The crease between his eyebrows deepens when he pokes his head into the bedroom and sees Lainey lying unconscious on the bed. He surveys the damage in the room, then looks at the woman I’ve just beaten into temporary submission. His gaze flits over her, running from her head to her toes before it returns to her bruised and bleeding face. Some of his ruddy tan drains from his skin and I see his throat work when he swallows.
“Is she okay?” he ventures in a strangled voice. “It looks bad. Maybe you should call that doctor your dad knows?”
Taking a step closer, I herd him out of the room and back into the hallway.
“She has a pulse,” I hiss, eyeballing him with animosity. He swallows again, then drops his gaze to his feet. “She’s breathing. The rest is merely superficial consequences caused by her stubbornness.”
My tone brooks no arguments. It also alerts him to the fact that he’s overstepped the mark by questioning me.
“Let me know if you need anything else.” He lifts his eyes to mine, and I find censure in their depths.
Seems like I’ve wormed my
way under his robotic exterior and burrowed right into his nervous system. Stu—the ex-military man turned mercenary for hire—is disgusted by me.
Too bad; so sad. I did what I had to.
Without another word, I walk back into the bedroom and close the door. As it shuts, I see him watching me. His perusal sends a sliver of warning down my spine. The menacing judgement that tightens his features doesn’t bode well for the future.
Am I about to have a fight on my hands from two fronts?
After re-keying the security system, I stand with my hands on my hips and stare at Lainey. If you look past the obvious, she seems peaceful. I hope when she wakes, we can have a frank discussion that doesn’t turn into violence.
We both said some things just now, that we shouldn’t have.
It’s time we learnt how to communicate properly.
Unzipping her skirt, I work it down her hips and over her feet. Her panties were shredded in the office and the mangled material was lost somewhere between there and here. She’s bare, cleanly shaven; her body begs for my touch.
I lean over her, gently prying her legs apart to bury my face in her heat. Lainey has never let me do this—she still wouldn’t if she was conscious—so I feel little guilt for stealing a taste while she can’t protest.
My tongue laves at her core, prodding and licking. I flick my tongue over her clit, then pull away when her hips jerk subtly. Once I’m happy that she’s not coming to, I return for a final sample of her honeyed perfection.
“Fuck,” the uncustomary curse word comes straight from my soul.
Suddenly my body is too hot, and I feel as if my clothes are trying to cook me alive. I strip, instant relief flooding me. Making quick work of removing the rest of Lainey’s clothes, I glance over her, then take it a step further and rid her of her terrible jewelry. The braided leather and gold bracelet, the diamond stud earrings, and the antique heart-shaped locket do her no justice. They’re simple, underwhelming, not enough. She deserves jewels that can be seen from space.
Placing them on the dresser next to the engagement ring that I plan on making her dispose of as soon as possible, I set about cleaning her up. Wiping her down with the warm, soapy water, I concentrate on her bloodied face and bruises, then dry her with the towel. Two short squirts of the perfume I stole from her purse and she’s ready. Clean, dry, and smelling like the woman I remember.
My movements are quick, my touch firm but tender. I can’t run the risk of her waking up before I’ve secured her. Once again, my cock is the only part of my body that doesn’t get the message. He hardens, seeking the release that only Lainey can offer.
The commitment ring I gave her all those years ago, slides onto the ring finger on her left hand, replacing the engagement ring she should never have accepted. I clasp the bracelet I gave her for her eighteenth around her wrist, and rock back on my heels to admire my handiwork.
She is nearly perfect. My scarred angel. Her body has barely changed, except for the permanent reminders of that night that are etched into her skin, and the tattoos that attempt to hide them. Blue roses cover her left side, the curve of her hip, and the top third of her outer thigh, while charcoal grey paw prints with matching but smaller sapphire-blue prints inside them runs the length of her spine.
A portrait of leather-clad Archangel Michael riding a motorcycle partially conceals a jagged scar the crosses her lower abdomen. The meaning behind it isn’t lost on me. And when my ire begins to rise, trying to choke me with its poison, demanding her penance, I breathe deep and remind myself that I pushed her into his arms.
It doesn’t work; I still want to hurt her.
Snapping the handcuffs I pull out of the top drawer of the dresser around her wrists and securing her to the wrought-iron bed frame, dulls the urge a little.
As does running my hands over her clean body.
I explore the peaks and valleys, my craving to taste her again warring with my need to feel her skin against mine. Her curves are exquisite, although she has hardened somewhat. The lush softness of her eighteen-year-old body has been replaced by sleek muscles, her stomach defined by lines that speak of her core strength. A small part of me likes the changes, the bigger slice rejects them because I know he rebuilt her like this.
He changed her.
Now, her breasts, they haven’t changed. They remain unmarred, full tear-dropped shaped flesh that screams for me to touch, to taste, to mark. Without thinking I run my hands up her sides, careful to skirt the edges of the angel tattoo, until my hands are cupping her tits. I squeeze them, then run my hands back down to her pussy. I dip one finger inside her, swirl her wetness around her clit, then trail that hand back up to her breasts. Circling her nipple with my tongue, I nip the hard peak gently.
Lainey stirs. I look at her face, breathless anticipation pulsing through me. My cock twitches with joy. I work him up and down with my free hand. Desire beats a drum in my gut and I find myself wishing time away, so she’ll wake up quicker. I need to sink inside her, to feel her walls holding me tight while I erase all memories of Mik Kennedy from her.
It’s nearly time.
Once she’s awake, I can take this reunion to a whole other level.
When she doesn’t open her eyes, I draw her other nipple into my mouth and suck it. Lainey twists her torso from me with a sharp inhale. I sit up and peer down at her. She groans, shifting on the mattress like she’s in pain. Her eyes open, then flutter shut almost immediately. When her breathing slows, I decide it’s time to keep her with me.
“Don’t go back to sleep, Lainey. I’ve been waiting for hours for you to wake up. We need to get our reunion under way, darling girl.”
She kicks at me. I laugh. When she pulls away and the handcuffs cut her evasion short, I laugh louder. She’s not going anywhere. The way she pulls at the bed head with her tethered arms tells me she knows this too.
The sight of her—adorned in my jewels. Clean and lightly scented. Her hair wild like her eyes. It hits me straight in the chest. Despite our struggles since she arrived, I believe we’re on our way to finding an even keel.
“Don’t you love having my jewelry back on you?” Lainey doesn’t answer me, instead she drops her gaze to my erection when I stand over her with my hands on my hips. “It occurred to me when I was cleaning you up that you might like to look like you have some class again, so I put my jewels back on you. My gifts are much better than that trash you were wearing. You’ve really taken to the role of biker whore, haven’t you? With the leather and the tattoos.”
I know I shouldn’t go there, just yet. She needs time to gather her wits, however I can’t help myself. Every time I look at her, they jump out at me, no matter how hard I try to concentrate on the rest of her.
Poking her rib, I wait for an answer. She simply closes her eyes and shuts me out. I prod her ribs again and receive a tiny flinch in response. Apart from that, Lainey ignores me—appearing lost in her own thoughts. When her cowardly behaviour continues, I click my fingers in front of her face.
“Earth to Lainey,” I bite out. “I want to know how you got the scars all over your beautiful body. Did you finally crash that motorcycle I told you to stop riding? I told you that you shouldn’t ride solo. It’s not appropriate for a woman to ride alone.”
Her mouth drops open at my question. I keep my expression purposely blank. I’m not stupid, I know that I caused some of them. I also know that I can’t possibly be responsible for all of them.
Surely, not?
Lainey’s eyes widen, she uses the handcuffs to lift herself into an awkward sitting position, then her eyes basically roll back in her head and she screams at me.
“I’ve never crashed my bike.” Her answer is filled with spite. I hold myself back from reacting, which seems to set her off more. “Stop calling me Lainey. You really are insane, aren’t you? You know exactly how I got these scars. From what you did to me on our last night together.”
In a rush, she details every injury I gave her that n
ight. Broken bones, ruptured organs, a punctured lung, internal bleeding. Lainey lays it all on my shoulders. I feel myself bowing under the weight—regret, guilt, sorrow.
Culpability.
I hurt her. I really, really hurt her. Not in a way that can be validated by anything she did to me. There is no excuse that justifies what I did when I attempted to kill her.
The knowledge hits hard. I hold onto it with all my might. It’s a lesson I don’t want to forget.
I never want to feel like this again.
“Stop it,” I beg. Dropping to my knees, I yell at her, “I DON’T WANT TO HEAR ANYMORE!”
“Why not? If I can talk about it, you should be able to hear about it.” Lainey meets my pleading eyes with a cool gaze. “I was the person who was hurt, not you. You should know what you—”
With one hand, I grab her face, my fingers digging into her cheeks and I squeeze her lips shut to stop her from talking.
In an uncertain tone, I offer my excuses. I know they’re worthless, but if I can just get her to understand a little bit, maybe the guilt will stop devouring me alive?
“You wouldn’t listen. You brought it on yourself by seeing him. By taking a job with him. I knew you wanted to leave me even after I told you I loved you.”
When she doesn’t try to argue again, I let go of her face and lean over her to kiss her. Climbing from the floor without taking my lips from Lainey’s, I lower my body over hers and try to make her see how sorry I am with my touch. My cock nudges her heat. I drag in a shuddering breath, expecting to find salvation and ending up with chaos instead.
Lainey squeezes her legs shut and bucks beneath me.
“Get the hell off me, Brendan,” she shouts while I wrestle her back under control. “Why would you think that I’d want you to touch me after what you've done to me?”
She pulls as far away from me as she can. I temper my frustration and try something else with her.
Taking responsibility.
“Darling girl, I’m going to make both of us forget all about the pain and hurt.” A groan escapes me when I rock myself against her core. “We can start fresh right now. Be mine again. I love you, Lainey, I always have. If you listen to me, you won't ever get hurt again. I promise.”
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