Fucking shit. I cannot fucking believe we are having this argument. “Yes, I know. I’m sorry. But it’s for your own good. You don’t–“
“That’s what Arturo used to say too.”
Her arms wrap around her torso again as she rocks herself. With the protective mechanism that I fucking hate. Especially when I’m the one to cause her to be so frightened.
“When he wouldn’t let me eat, and I’d vomit up the bile from the burning in my stomach. Or when he held my head under the water until I almost passed out. Or when he’d lock me in the closet and leave me there so long I’d wet myself. All of that was for my own good.”
A fucking tornado tears through me from the comparison. So much shit I want to shout. To scream. To slam my fist against the god damn wall. To somehow prove I’m not Arturo. But I’m fucking speechless. Fucked up from her blank expression.
Fucking eerily calm. She doesn’t cry. Or scream. Or rage. Just watches me. Hollow and empty. I have no idea how to fix this. Fix us. I’ve never been afraid before. Until now. Until her.
I thought she was the naïve one. That she was the one who I would have to explain everything to and help make sense of the world. When all along I’m the one who has no fucking clue. Stupid enough to think that a few days of normalcy and promises of safety and love would erase a decade of torture.
“Is that what you’re going to do too? For my own good?”
Zero antagonism in her tone. She’s really questioning. After everything we’ve fucking done and said —that I’ve fucking done and said —I’m fucking blown away she wonders if I’m capable of what she asks. “No angel. I’m not. I will never, ever do any of those things to you.”
Instead of relief, confusion swirls on her face from my decisive tone. Frowning and tilting her head as if studying me. Trying to figure out why I say the same damn things yet don’t do the same fucking cruel things to her. Because if I did, then at least she’d know what to expect. Then she’d understand what I want. Rather than be mired in this weird new life that doesn’t make sense to her.
“But I’m not going back home?”
“No. You live here now…with me. This is your home.” She looks around seeing something I clearly fucking don’t in the almost bare room. Prison walls. Again. Not as extravagant and expensive as Arturo’s but just as strong. Except now she’ll be confined with mercy and tenderness and love. Which I don’t think she realizes. At this point I’m not sure if she ever will. “I thought you understood that.”
Apparently I’m the only one who understood that when she shakes her head. Fuck! I take a step toward her only for her to retreat backward. Damn if I’m not scaring her again. I have to be calm but clear since I obviously failed so fucking miserably before. “I want to be with you angel. Not just to keep you safe from Dante and all the other fucked up assholes in the world. I want you to be mine.”
Immense doe eyes, more innocent that I’d ever expect for someone so leery, stare at me. Which prevent me from telling her she already is and always will be mine. “Yours?”
“Yes.” For all my layers of thick muscle and brazen mouthiness I can’t seem to quell, I’m nothing but a chicken shit pussy now. Too afraid to ask her if that’s what she wants too. I don’t think I could withstand the implosion if she says no. “But we’ll take it day by day. No need to make any decisions tonight.”
Another slow head bob. With an expression I can’t read but have the feeling I won’t like if I did understand.
“Okay.”
Okay. Instead of demanding to know why I’ve kidnapped her and hold her here whether she likes it or not —whether she wants me or not —she just fucking nods.
“May I take a shower please?”
My beautiful broken princess.
I’m broken too. So fucking broken I can’t even rally the energy to recite my usual speech that she can do what she wants, when she wants. Without any worry of punishment or retribution from her actions. That I love her more than she understands. That I’d kill myself first before I’d ever put my hands on her in anger. But, I don’t think she’ll hear the words anyway.
Not sure what I want either. I hate it when she argues with me but she scares the hell out of me even more when she doesn’t. Fuck, now I’m not even sure what I’m fighting for either with her. I don’t want to control her but I have to. I’ll never hit her but I’m not sure if freedom from abuse justifies loss of freedom for everything else. Fuck.
My fingers scrape down my clammy face, and I smile. Defeated and forced but still there to reassure her. “Yeah. I could use one too. I have soap and shampoo and other toiletries in the bathroom off your room. Bring me your clothes when you’re finished, and we’ll wash them.”
“Okay, thank you.”
Oblivious to the agony churning in me, she grins in return and lets me draw her to me. Freaking me the fuck out. A minute ago she was ready to bolt. Now she’s snuggled against me without an ounce of reluctance. What in the actual fuck?
She acts as if nothing’s wrong. Confusing the hell out of me. I’m not sure if she’s pretending everything’s fine. Or if it really is fine…because I’m taking away her choices and telling her what to do. My mind buzzes with the possibility. Reeling from the suspicion of why my efforts are failing. Making me question if the exact opposite of what I thought she wanted —what she needed —is true. “After we get the laundry going, you can help me make dinner.”
“I’ve never really cooked before.”
Her nose scrunches, admitting what I already know. But still adorable just the same. “No worries. I’ll show you.”
Similar excitement flushes her face from when I told her I would teach her how to box. Thrilled that I’m spending time with her. Guiding her. Directing her. Commanding her.
Which is when she’s the happiest.
Which is twisted as fuck.
She lifts her exquisite face to mine when we reach her bedroom door. Seeking her kiss. Seeking my approval. I love this woman so fucking much affection is no hardship. “I’ll see you in a few minutes.”
Now I’m tempted as well as confused. I try to tap down both while I scrub myself. Arguing with my stupid self whether I’m a fucking genius or crazier than fuck. It’s been less than twenty-four hours so who the fuck am I to think she won’t thrive with a little more time and a lot more patience. But even back at the mansion, she responded the best when I took charge. Or was that because I’m the only one who connected with her. Who was the only person to actually just be nice to her.
Fuck it. I’m overthinking it. I just need to take this day by day like I told her. Shut the fuck up, get out of my own damn way, and follow my own fucking advice. I dry off, jerk on some clothes, and hustle to the kitchen. Well aware I need to get my head together for her. Concentrate on earning her trust and giving her some time and space to acclimate to me. To the sanctuary I provide her. To the love I offer her.
Which all disintegrates to fucking dust when she walks in.
Wearing only a towel.
Fuck. Me.
She’s fucking stunning. And, blushing almost as hard as my hungry cock. Threatening to be free from the restraint of my jeans from her bare thighs and hollow of her breasts peeking out despite the death grip she has on the white linen. I can barely even form thoughts let alone words. “Where are your clothes, angel?”
Wincing from my disapproval, her head hangs even lower if that’s possible. “You told me to bring them to you…”
Yes, I fucking did. Never imagining she’d come to me half naked. And terrified. I’m a fucking dumb ass idiot for forgetting to mention the outfit I put in her dresser. For assuming she would look through the drawers without my permission.
No, instead she walks in here sexy as fuck. Giving me another glimpse of her delicate beauty no longer marred by the normal bruises and scratches that used to mark her.
Too much temptation.
So much will power required to smile and hold out my hand, which she greedily ac
cepts. Welcoming my reassurance. “Come on. There’s a robe in the laundry room. You can put that on for now.”
After I flip on the light, she holds out her neatly folded dress with a lacy purple bra and sheer slinky panties stacked on the top. Jesus Christ. Expensive silk flows in my hands that I need to have on her instead so fucking bad. She is going to be the fucking death of me if I don’t take her soon.
Usually I walk around naked after I strip from a run or working out. But I like to keep my muscles warm and loose when I jog up to the house from morning swims in the lake on my way to my weight room. I squeeze her fingers before I grab the dark red cover up from the hook by the back door. Turning my head as I hold up the terrycloth creating a barrier between us and let her slip inside the sleeves. Stifling a groan as her discarded towel hits the floor. Electricity sparking under my fingertips when they brush her slender neck. Forcing them not to fight her wrapping the material around herself and tying the flimsy belt.
She turns around, swallowed by the thick cloth. I guess one-size-fits-all doesn’t really. Although she doesn’t seem to mind. A soft smile graces her sweet face. “I’m ready for you to teach me.”
My balls ache harder from the implication. Laundry. She means fucking laundry. “Okay, let’s see what the instructions say.”
I lay the thong and bra on top of the dryer. Much safer over there. Well, not much, but some. She huddles next to me all intense and earnest and adorable as we read the tag.
Dry clean only. She looks up at me in confusion. Fuck me if she’s not amazing. “That means we’ll have to send it out for professional cleaning because it can’t be washed with regular detergent and water.”
“Oh. What about my lingerie?”
I want to see you in them…before I strip you naked and fuck your beautiful body with my mouth and my fingers and my cock. “Those should be fine.”
Incapable of touching them again without losing the battle with my furious dick, I motion for her to grab them while I pull out the basket that hangs inside the drum. She lays them inside with a reverence to our task and waits for my approval again. I wink while I pour in the detergent, which makes her flush as bright as her robe, and shove the door shut before pushing the button labeled delicate. “That’s all there is to it. It’ll take about twenty minutes and then we’ll put them in the dryer.”
“Thank you for showing me.” Her gaze drops to her bare feet, pink nails curling against the tile with her awkwardness. “And for not acting like I’m stupid. I know someone my age should already know how to wash clothes and cook and lots of other things I can’t do.”
I fucking hate how embarrassed and lost she seems. Especially when I’m standing right here to support her. “Not that you can’t. You just don’t know how because no one has ever taken the time to show you.”
“But you’re different. You always take the time.”
I see it when she looks up. Finally after all these months, I see the infinitesimal shift. Separating me —what we have —from everyone else. Giving me hope that I’m reaching her more than anyone else ever has. “You’re capable of so much more than you realize. I just want to help you see it yourself.”
Her full lips twitch. Parting and closing with the misgivings stifling her. Debating whether or not to say more. So I wait. No rush at all when my princess wants to share her thoughts with me.
“How much did my father pay you to rescue me?”
Fuck, that came out of nowhere. Not expecting that question at all. The second time we’ve been honest with ourselves and each other in this tiny space. When the fuck did my laundry room become our new confessional? Just like at her church, there’s no reason to answer with anything but the truth. “Nothing.”
A trembling hand reaches for me, palming my stomach, which involuntarily twitches under the warmth of her touch, and tugs my thin shirt. Linking us physically. Connecting us emotionally with the awe flooding her eyes. “You risked your life to save me for nothing?”
I curl my fingers over hers. Needing to touch her again. “Not nothing, angel. I got you.”
“Roan, I…”
Her words may falter but none are needed to convey her message when she lifts up on tiptoes and her small arms coil around my neck. Her delicate body presses to mine, glorious curves soft under the heavy cotton. My heart thuds like crazy in my chest. Because fuck me but this time she hugs me.
I crouch down to accept her fierce embrace. Unable to trust myself from sliding my hands under her thighs and wrapping her legs around me. Desperate to drown in her essence. Eager for her taste on my lips, her scent on my skin, her voice in my ear.
“I got you too.”
I smile against her shoulder. Four simple words that make me fucking giddy like a pansy bitch. “Yeah, you did, and now you’re stuck with me.”
A genuine giggle bursts through the tears. I finally make my girl happy too. She steps back, and my body jolts. An inferno blazing through me from her glorious breasts and sweet pussy on display. Baring herself to me unintentionally with the slick tie dangling loose around her narrow hips.
As stunned as I am, she remains motionless except for the shaking engulfing her. Shocked with her chest heaving up and down. Only her harsh breaths breaking the silence.
My toes squeeze inside my shoes. Clutching this tight rope we seem to be walking. A fall for either of us would break so much more than our bones. But I’ll be damned if I allow her to be ashamed or afraid. “My god princess, you’re absolutely gorgeous.”
“Really?”
I’m on fucking fire with the astonishment pulsing in her whisper. Wanting nothing more than to fall to my knees in adoration and show her how glorious she truly is. “Yes.”
“He never told me that before.”
I hate talking about this asshole. Despise him for being here with us. But his brutality is all she knows. His cruelty is all she can compare anything to. I’m going to fucking love destroying any bullshit doubt that heartless bastard instilled in her right fucking now. “He should have. Over and over. Because you are so unbelievably beautiful.”
“He made me feel ugly.”
Motherfucker. The honesty’s too much, and she wraps the crimson fabric tight across her body. Protecting herself from any more anguish. Hiding herself from any possible criticism. “He was a fucking fool for never appreciating what he had.”
Wrong. I know this is so fucking wrong. She’s vulnerable. Exposed. Fragile. But I can’t fucking help myself. I can’t hold back anymore. “Because when you become my wife, I’m going to spend every fucking minute showing you how magnificent you are.”
A storm brews in her enormous chocolate eyes. The gold specks flaming with lust and love and need. Mimicking the fire blazing through me. I have to have her.
I give in to what we both want. Hopeful she doesn’t regret our weakness later. I cup her cheeks and lower my head to hers. So fucking slow to give her every chance. Every out. Every refusal. But all I see is desire. All I feel is her reaching up to me. All I hear is her sputter of quick breaths as her pink lips part for me.
So I do it.
I take the fall and kiss her.
Not chaste. Not innocent. But genuine and honest and fucking mind blowing. Her soft, wet mouth welcomes me, a tentative tongue following mine as I sweep inside. Letting me lead, yet eager for the pleasure we’re both chasing. Encouraging me to thrust deeper with the faint mews vibrating in her throat.
Small fingers wrap around my wrists tucked on each side of her chin, and I freeze. Already terrified I’ll consume her, I refuse to push her for more. Unwilling to intimidate her with the fear of me being out of control. Of her not having absolute power over our intimacy. I pull back, brushing my lips with hers. Which now lift with a sated smile. The vise on my heart loosens. She’s not panicked. She’s content. Just like I am. “You’re way too tempting not to kiss.”
She flushes with modesty and her gaze falls away. “I didn’t know I was a temptation.”
“Fu
ck yes angel. You most definitely are.” I caress her heated cheek to prevent myself from going too far again. “But I need to get you fed. Are you hungry?”
“I’m starving.”
“Me too.”
“I can’t wait for you to show me everything you like.”
Jesus. I don’t think my balls can get any bluer. But then she says shit like that I feel them creep up another inch deeper into my body. I entwine her hand and lead her into the kitchen. “Me too princess. Me too.”
I take another long slow pull of my cock. Pleasure scrambled with pain because I’m not jacking off to my imagination any more. Because I’ve finally seen what I only dreamed about. Drank from her what I always knew would taste like fucking heaven. Now I need to feel her. All of her.
Her perfect tits. Round and pert and small. But plump too. Enough to fill my palms. More than enough to fill my mouth after I’ve tugged and massaged and stroked until her sweet little nipples are stiff and pulsing between my teeth.
And that pussy. That fucking glorious pussy. My grip tightens, my fist pumping harder and harder from the thought of those silky pink lips. So fucking smooth and glossy and delicate. Just the right height for me to drop to my knees and worship them. For my tongue to lap them, sucking in her throbbing clit until she comes. Flooding my mouth with her essence. Squeezing my face with her thighs while she spasms. Whispering my name in pure ecstasy. Because I already know she’s not a screamer. No, my princess is too dainty and elegant to let go like that.
But I want her to. Fuck do I want her to. Lose control and let me be the man who makes her moan and thrash and beg. For me. For my cock. For more. Until she fucking flies. And I fucking experience all her bliss. Nobody but me. Now or ever again.
My balls seize up, and I explode all over the tile. Hot thick spurts that rain down without restraint. Doing nothing to relieve the ache slowly building again when I open my eyes, still picturing her standing in front of me without the robe this time. Fuck me.
I remain at half-mast while I finish washing and dry off. Pulling on a tee shirt with my fleece joggers before I brush my teeth. Surprised how little sleep I got last night with her finally here after a sleepless month without her. At least she slept well. Never stirring the three times I checked on her like a meddling pussy ass bitch. But there’s no way in hell I’d let her be afraid with me only twenty feet away. Totally fucking worth any exhaustion to take care of my princess.
192_A Dark Mafia Bodyguard Romance Page 9