by SR Jones
My bra is still on, my panties too. I presume we didn’t do it. I squish my legs together, squeezing my core, and nothing feels different.
Damn, I fell asleep on him.
I blink again, smiling at my stupidity when I realize the horribly bright light is the sun streaming in through the slats.
Moving gingerly, I wince as dozens of tiny hammers start knocking on the edges of my skull. Ouch. That’ll teach me to drink so much.
I move, and my stomach roils as the room spins. Oh, no. This isn’t good.
There’s a commotion outside my bedroom door, and I sigh. June is probably kicking out her latest paramour. Sometimes they don’t like being gotten rid of so summarily and kick up a bit of a fuss. She always sticks to her guns, though.
“You can’t go in there,” she says, all haughty.
Whoever she is talking to doesn’t listen because the handle turns, and I realize her fling is about to see me in my bra and panties. I jump up then panic because that’s even worse. I’m now standing in only my underwear.
The door opens, and time stops.
I stare at the man taking up the space.
June stares at the man.
Vinny groans behind me, and the bed creaks as he, presumably, stirs. I don’t know for a fact, though, because I can’t stop looking at the door.
“What the fuck?” Alesso roars.
Oh shit, I’m going to puke.
I shoot June an apologetic look and rush around the bed into the small toilet in the corner of my room and empty the contents of my stomach, making all sorts of awful noises.
“Who the fuck are you?” Vinny says as I retch some more.
“Get out.” Alesso’s words are delivered with furious restraint.
“Fuck off, you get out. Dick.” Vinny laughs.
“You fucked her? You fucked her while she was clearly drunk and under the influence? You piece of shit.”
“Are you … are you her father?”
“What?” Alesso’s roar is enough to make me puke again.
“If you don’t leave, I’ll call the police,” June says, and I don’t know if she’s talking to Vinny or Alesso.
“I didn’t touch her,” Vinny says as if June didn’t speak. “I don’t screw girls who pass out cold. If you’re not her dad, then what? Uncle?”
“How fucking old do you think I am?” Alesso asks, incredulous. “You know what, forget it. Doesn’t matter. Get out of here now.”
“No.” I walk out of the bathroom, wiping my mouth with a damp washcloth and mustering every bit of strength I possess. “You leave. I don’t want you here.”
Liar, liar, pants on fire.
“You heard her,” June says.
“What did you do to your hair?” Alesso asks as if none of the other stuff is going on around us.
“Cut it. I like it, and tomorrow, June and I are going to get a tattoo.”
“The fuck you are,” he says. “You won’t be here tomorrow. You’re coming home.”
“Who the hell are you?” Vinny shouts, exasperated as hell now.
“No one,” I say.
“Her boyfriend,” Alesso says at the same time, moving his body in a way that lets the holster hanging inside his open button-down show.
I swallow hard.
Dangerous.
He’s a dangerous man, and I have just had a timely reminder.
“What?” I shake my head at him. “Alesso, you need to leave.”
Vinny gets out of the bed, grabbing his clothes. “Hey, man, I had no clue. Nothing happened, okay? I’m leaving. Not cool, Stella,” he says.
I feel like the world’s worst bitch. “He’s not my boyfriend,” I tell Vinny as he pulls his jeans on and shirt in hand, heads out the door.
He pauses and looks back at me. “He’s clearly your something, and you guys need to talk, so I’m out of here.”
The door closes, and Alesso opens it again as he turns to June and simply says, “Leave us.”
She shoots me a worried glance but does as Alesso says.
“You pig,” I screech, my fear forgotten as anger clouds my judgement completely. “Get out. Why are you even here?”
He is watching me, and I don’t miss the way his gaze keeps flicking over my body, quick but repetitive, like he can’t help himself. Ugh.
My mouth tastes like shit, so I stomp back into the bathroom and clean my teeth. After I swill with mouthwash, I slink back into the room, my bravado gone.
My temper is calming, and the fear is returning. This is Alesso, the man I’ve crushed on for so long, the man who nursed me when I got beaten. Taught me to shoot. A man who despite my intense attraction to him, also made me feel comfortable in his presence.
Except that one time. The time he pushed me up against a car and literally tasted my tears.
And now he is here, uninvited, and he has a gun. One he’s willing to show people to scare them to death.
I recall Yannis’ words. “He shot a woman in the face. He fucks hard.”
I shiver and head for my clothes on the floor, pulling them into my arms and holding them to me like a shield.
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” Alesso asks.
I frown at him. “I don’t know what you mean? I’m working out here, clearly. It’s hardly safe for me back home, is it? I got taken by Yannis. Then I escaped him only to find out I was fooled by a psycho old woman. The psycho old woman then sold me to a man. I got away, though, and I came here.”
I don’t tell him I killed the man. For some insane reason, my eyes are filling with tears, and I’m shaking. Why am I shaking?
It’s because I’m scared of Alesso and want him gone, I tell myself.
He takes two steps into the room. Deliberate, slow. His deep blue eyes are on me. God. He’s even more gorgeous than I remembered. He is truly beautiful. To make it even worse his face is nice. He’s a drop-dead gorgeous man with a face that makes him look like a true good guy. Not the devil himself.
“You did a lot of very stupid things,” he says with a shake of his head.
I want to argue at that because you could say I did one stupid thing. Going to Pachis’ party on his yacht; after that, events were out of my control.
“It’s not your fault, though,” he says, soothingly.
“It’s not?”
He’s still coming forward, and I have backed myself against the wall.
“No,” he murmurs. “You need a firm hand. You need guidance and protection, and I will give you those things.”
Wait. What? A firm hand. Is he nuts? I don’t need that. I don’t want anything of the sort.
“All I want from you,” I say to him, my voice shaking, “is for you to leave me alone.”
“I know,” he says again, taking another step. He’s so close now I can smell his delicious scent, hear him breathe in.
He pins me with his gaze, making me feel as if I don’t even have underwear on. As if he can see into my soul.
“I’m afraid I can’t do that, though.”
“What?” My voice is squeaky, and I sound like an idiot.
“You did good.” He reaches out and absentmindedly fingers a strand of my short blonde hair.
“It’s just a packet dye,” I say, and there I go again, sounding so very stupid.
He chuckles. “Not the hair, Stella. When you shot the men. You did so good. Great aim. Steady hands.”
“H-h-how do you know my hands were steady?”
I look around the room as if a portal will open up and offer me an escape out of this.
“I know lots of things. I know you’ve been calling Maya from a burner.” He shakes his head and smiles, but it’s cold. “Tsk, tsk, tsk. Damen won’t be happy with her about that at all.”
“Why are you being so … horrible?” I say.
“Horrible? You think this is horrible? See, I think it is horrible to get yourself fucking kidnapped, twice. Then sold into sexual slavery, and to have everyone worried sick for you, and w
hen you get yourself free, instead of letting the people who are worried sick know you’re okay—you fucking disappear.”
He’s not shouting. But the emphasis he puts on the word disappear makes me cringe from him. The wall is cold against my back, and Alesso is warm against my front. He’s not touching me, but there’s mere centimeters between us now.
He touches my hair again. “I don’t like this hair,” he says.
“Tough, because I do, and I do what I want with my own hair.” I feel that if I don’t deal with him now, I’ll simply let him walk all over me, and I don’t know what he’s doing here or what he wants from me.
“Pack your things.”
“What?”
“Stop asking me what? Pack. Your. Things.”
“No. I’m not coming with you.” I try for brave. Resolute. My wobbly voice shows I fail.
“Yes, you are. It’s not safe for you to be here alone.”
“It’s safer than with you. You’re not safe either.”
He cocks his head to one side and looks deep into my eyes.
“Stella, it’s me. I’m fucking pissed at you right now, but it’s me. The guy who helped you heal, who taught you to shoot.”
“You shot a woman in the head,” I blurt out.
He blinks twice, but then he surprises me because he nods and sighs. “Yes, I did. It was in armed combat, and she was a terrorist. She could have harmed me, my men, and a lot more innocent women and children.”
“Why not shoot her in the leg or something?” I ask, and I’m horrified to realize I’m crying.
I’m half naked, shaking, and I’ve never felt so bared to anyone in my life.
Alesso is here. He came for me.
I’m so glad he’s here.
I’m so scared he’s here.
“She had a gun trained on a child; a leg shot could have given her the chance to pull the trigger. Had to be a headshot. What else did Yannis tell you? I’m presuming it was him.”
“H-h-he said you were like him, you liked to … to fuck hard.”
I look away from him as heat crawls up my throat.
“God, yes I do,” he says in a murmur. “But not in the way Yannis does. Not at all. And I’m not some one-trick pony. If you want it gentle, Stella, I’ll give it you gentle.”
He brushes one finger down the hollow of my throat, and I squeak. “I don’t want it at all.”
“Oh? Then why were you in bed with surfer boy this morning? I presume that wasn’t an innocent sleepover.”
My heart is pounding, my stomach is filled with an aching, desperate need, and my mind is churning. His proximity is messing me up.
“Alesso, I can’t go back with you, but you’re right. I shouldn’t have run away and worried everyone. I’m going to go stay with my aunt in America. That will be safe.”
“No.”
“Yes.”
He leans in, brushes his lips against my neck, whisper-soft, almost a non-touch, but I shiver, and my skin goose bumps, my nipples hardening obviously in the soft cotton of the bra I’m wearing.
“On second thoughts, I quite like this hair. Better access to more of your skin.”
“Alesso, stop it. I’m going to America. Why are you here?”
“I’ve come to take you home.”
“To Thessaloniki?” I’m confused. I think it’s less safe with my parents than it would be in America.
“No, home with me.”
He leans in, so close I swear he’ll be able to hear my heart pounding out of my chest, and runs his nose up my throat, inhaling.
“I nearly lost my shit when I saw you with that surfer prick.” He bites at my skin where my neck and shoulder join. I jump at the slight sting of pain, but then he kisses it soft, like velvet, and it feels amazing.
I want to moan at his touches, to have him do every depraved thing he wants to me, but I’m scared. He’s too much. Too damn powerful and charismatic. He’s the sort of person you’re surprised the grass and trees don’t bend to follow as he walks by.
“He’s a diving instructor, not a surfer,” is what I say.
“Pack your things.”
“No.”
“Stella.”
“Alesso.”
“You’re mine, and you’re coming home with me where I can keep you safe.”
“I am not yours,” I protest, my heart hammering at the crazy things he’s saying.
His big hand comes up, and he wraps it around the base of my throat gently. Holding me like that, he lowers his mouth to mine and his soft, beautiful lips touch my own. They’re warm, and he tastes of coffee and something sweet like cinnamon. He kisses me gently at first, then he nips at my lower lip, sucking it between his teeth and biting down. I can’t help myself, and I let out a moan. He takes full advantage, sweeping his tongue in my mouth.
This is nothing like Vinny’s kiss last night. There’s no drowning in saliva or wanting to gag. There’s only Alesso.
His taste, his scent, his warmth. His kiss lights a fire in me I don’t think a squadron of firetrucks could put out. I want more.
When the yearning gets too unbearable, I reach for him, wrapping my arms around his neck and pulling him into me.
He’s hard against my stomach, and I give a God’s honest whimper at the feel of him.
“See?” he says, finally pulling away. “You’re mine. You can’t fake that, Stella.”
“Alesso,” I say, trying to make my brain work. “I’m not yours.”
“Fine, you’re not mine. You still need protecting, so come home with me, and stay until we’re sure there’s no more threat.”
“There isn’t a threat. I killed the man.”
Again, at the thought of what I did, the panic starts. My eyes slide away from Alesso’s, and I look anywhere but at him. I want, no need, to get out of this room.
“It’s okay, baby,” he says. “It will all be okay. He deserved it. You didn’t do anything wrong.”
“I can’t come with you. I need… The life you lead … it scares me. You scare me.” I admit the deep truth.
He rests his forehead against mine. “You scare me, Stella.”
It’s the last thing I expect him to say.
“You’re not safe, though, and I won’t leave you out here twisting in the wind.”
“What if I come back with you but we agree nothing happens between us? If I don’t want that, will you still protect me?”
“Oh, you want it, but if that’s what you’re telling yourself right now, fine. Come back. Give me a month, just a month, to see where this goes. As an added bonus, I won’t touch you first. That’s my pledge to you.”
“What does that mean?”
“Exactly what it sounds like. I won’t touch you … first. You want me, you’ve got to come after me.”
“Good,” I say decisively. “I’m still not sure if this is a good idea.”
He takes his phone out of his pocket, swipes at the screen a few times, and then shows me a picture. It’s of a handsome young man. Red-ish hair, green eyes. Nice face. I look at him, puzzled.
“This is Stuart Robertson. He is, was, the lover of the man you shot. He runs a very nasty group of people who trade in young flesh. And he wants you dead.”
I gasp, and in my shock drop the clothes I am holding. It leaves me in only my underwear, but Alesso doesn’t seem blinded by lust. In fact, he’s focusing on my face not my body.
“Sorry, Stella, but it’s true. We don’t know how, but he’s found out about you. Not who you are, but that a girl was there the night his lover died, and he’s livid. We had covered up your involvement and made it look like a rival gang killed Simon. It seems someone else has talked. Maybe someone saw Simon take you into the house. It’s pretty deserted around there, but who knows? I doubt Diana flapped her lips because the woman is scared to breathe these days. I can only think someone saw you with Simon. All Stuart knows is there was a dark-haired girl there … for now.
“Given his connections, though,
he’s going to be looking into it, and if he finds out about you, he’ll come for you.”
I mull over his words. “I don’t understand. Simon said he’d take great pleasure in training me, but you’re saying he’s gay?”
“Not gay, bisexual, as is Stuart, and the one proclivity they share is a joy in hurting others.”
This cannot be my life. It can’t. How can I have gone from an ordinary girl, albeit with a slightly edgy and dangerous best friend, to this? How?
“Stella, pack your things.”
I nod glumly and as I go to walk by him to do as he says, Alesso grabs my upper arm.
“I promise you the minute we leave this room, I won’t touch you. You have to touch me, remember?”
I nod.
“But first, I want one more kiss.”
His mouth descends on mine as his arms come around my waist pulling me to him, holding me up under his onslaught. He kisses me as if he’s an addict and I’m the cocaine. He kisses me as if he’s never been kissed before and he needs more, more, more. It’s not harsh or cruel, but it is hungry and demanding, and I love it. Every damn second of it.
He lets me go as suddenly as he took hold of me. He’s panting, and his eyes are dilated. “Go, pack before I do something we’ll both regret.”
I don’t wait to be told twice. Gathering my clothes into my hands, I rush to the tiny bathroom to get dressed.
I stare at myself in the full-length mirror lining one wall. My nipples are so hard you could cut glass with them. My face and neck are flushed, my lips are swollen, and most mortifying of all, a damp patch blooms on the front of my panties. I slip my fingers inside the cotton and sigh at the sensation. I’m soaked.
One kiss from Alesso has me more turned on than all the messing around and fumbling about I’ve done with anyone else.
I pull my fingers free and start to get dressed.
He says he won’t touch me, and that I will have to touch him first, but will I be able to resist doing just that?
As Stella messes about in the bathroom, I try to quell the raging hard-on I’ve got going. It’s a weird juxtaposition to the rage still flowing through my veins. Finding her in bed with some sleazy holiday-rep … surfer, whatever, was not a good start to my day. I wanted to kill the bastard. Instead, I told him to get lost and gave him a chance of an out because I was moments from smashing his smug face in.