Almost Innocent

by Carina Adams

  “Declan.” My voice was little more than a whisper, even though I wasn’t trying to be quiet.

  “Earlier, you weren’t remembering Dustin.” He pointed at the other side of the kitchen, nodding. “You broke down when I told you Mark worked for me.” He dropped his hand onto the table, sliding it over to cover one of mine. “Why are you afraid of Mark? What did he do, Gabs?”

  I pulled my hand away from his and tucked both of mine in my lap. I didn’t want to do this now. In fact, I had changed my mind. I didn’t want to tell him at all. I shook my head, avoiding his eyes. “I’m not.”

  “Gabby.” His tone held a hint of scolding. His finger and thumb captured my chin, and he forced me to look at him. “Talk to me. Tell me what happened.”

  I jerked backward, breaking our contact. I felt tears sting my eyes, and I shook my head trying force them away. I wasn’t afraid of Mark. I wasn’t. “I can’t.”

  “Yes, you can. It’s okay. I’m right here, listening.”

  I shook my head harder. “No, you don’t understand.” I wrung my hands in my lap. “I can’t! You think that”—I threw out my hand, waving it in the direction of the stove—“was bad? It wasn’t! That was nothing! I really can’t talk about it.” I dropped my hand and whispered, “I won’t survive.”

  His eyes grew wide, and he shook his head. “No.”

  He didn’t believe me. Tears fell before I could attempt to stop them. Declan didn’t believe me.

  “Yes,” was all I could manage before the sobs took me. Years of worry came rushing forward. It didn’t matter if anyone else thought I was lying. I needed Declan to believe me.

  He pulled me into him. One hand held my head to the crook of his neck as the other moved over my back, attempting to comfort me. “I have no idea what he did to you, Little G, but I swear to fucking Christ, I’m going to kill him for it.” His mouth moved close to my ear, his arms tightening even more, as if he was trying to keep me close forever. “I will make him pay. You will never have to be afraid of him again.”

  His words destroyed me.

  It took a long while for my tears to stop flowing, even longer for my breathing to return to a normal pace, yet Declan stood there, holding me and offering promises that I could only hope he’d keep. In that moment, while I was in his arms, the rest of the world faded away. It was just him and me. He would keep me safe.

  When I finally pushed him away, wiping my face with my hands, I instantly felt the loss. I immediately moved back into him, burying my face in his chest and wrapping my arms around his torso. I only needed to feel him close. He let me, as if he was content to just stand there and hold me.

  After a few minutes, his hand cupped my cheek and tipped my head back. “I love you, Gabriella. Don’t you ever forget that.”

  Unshed tears burned the back of my eyes. I’d needed to hear him say that.

  “Hey, hey,” he whispered, running a thumb along my upper cheek, wiping away a stray tear. “It kills me when you cry.”

  His lips were light and soft when he dipped his head this time, and I knew he was trying to kiss me better. I clutched the back of his neck, needing to hold him closer. Needing more.

  “Please?” I begged against his lips when he tried to pull away. “Please, make it go away.” His body stiffened and attempted to move again, but my fingers dug into his flesh to keep him close. “I need this. Spend the night with me, make me forget. Make it go away.”

  I didn’t wait for him to refuse me, and instead, I pushed up onto my tiptoes, taking control of the kiss. I needed this. Declan needed this. I wasn’t going to take no for an answer.

  Sucking his bottom lip, I bit it playfully and was rewarded with a long, pained groan. Sliding one hand into his hair and balling his silky strands in my fist, I touched my mouth to his then slid my tongue against his.

  My other hand skipped down his side and up under his T-shirt. He jerked in surprise as my fingernails scraped down the middle of his stomach, and another moan escaped him before his fingers wrapped around my hand, halting its descent.

  “Gabs.” The word was more of a growl than anything.

  “Declan.” I lowered my heels to the floor, short in front of him, and talked to the front of his T-shirt instead of looking up at him. “I know it sounds crazy.” I shrugged, needing him to understand and not knowing the right words. “They took so much. From both of us. And I have no idea what tomorrow will bring.” I bit my cheek, thinking about my talk with Conall. “I need to feel safe, even if it’s just for one night.” I glanced up at him. “I love you. I need you. All of you.”

  His jaw ticked. He was breathing fast, but I couldn’t tell if it was because he was upset—or because he felt the same way I did. He swallowed roughly. “You sure?”

  I nodded slowly. “Yes.”

  I yelped in surprise as Dec swooped me into his arms. He strode through the house and up the stairs then kicked my bedroom door closed behind us. He carried me to the bed and laid me down with a gentleness that should have been surprising, before he stood and peeled his shirt over his head.

  Good God. If he just stood there and let me look at him for the next thirty years, I’d be content. My mouth watered, my fingers aching with the need to run my fingers every peak and valley, tracing the muscles that went on for miles.

  I’d always thought Declan was the most handsome boy I’d ever seen. Now, the man in front of me took my breath away. Wide shoulders, toned arms and pecs, and washboard abs that drew my eyes downward, leading them to a deep V that I’d only ever read about. Holy shit! It looked good on him.

  His pants hung low on his waist, just low enough to tease me but not quite low enough for me to see my prize. I bit my lip, the idea of seeing Dec—my Dec—completely naked making me nervous. Instead of focusing on it, I slid my eyes back up his body, taking in each piece of art that decorated him.

  His arms were covered with ink. The right forearm held the most unique tribal design I’d ever seen. Above it, a burning ace of spades had half disappeared into a cloud of smoke. The left was covered with a sleeve—made almost completely of skulls. It started at the wrist, where the angel of death perched, and ended on top of his shoulder, where the words, “That Which Does Not Kill Me Makes Me Stronger,” were woven in and around a skull with a sinister smile.

  With the exception of two Chinese symbols above his left pubic bone, and another three in a vertical line down his right side, the rest of his skin was surprisingly empty. I’d seen his arms and assumed his body would be completely covered. The practically blank canvas suited him.

  He stood, incredibly calm and still, letting me get my fill. When I finally tore my eyes away from perfection in the flesh, I caught him smirking at me.

  He lifted a shoulder in a half shrug. “I showed you mine…” His giant grin and wink made me squeeze my thighs together. A move that he didn’t miss. “Your turn.”

  I pushed myself up, slid off the bed—ignoring the nerves that almost made my legs not hold me—and stood up straight. Reaching down, I fingered the hem of my oversized ratty old shirt and hesitated.

  I had a lot of scars—more than I could count. Some of them I was ashamed of, some I was proud of. I hadn’t been naked in front of a man in twelve years, not since before Grady, and I took a second to let self-doubt mess with my mind.

  Then I lifted the shirt, yanked it off, and dropped it onto the floor before I could talk myself out of it. I reached behind my back and quickly unsnapped my bra before I could lose my nerve.

  When I reached for my pants, Declan stepped forward, reaching out. “No!”

  He startled me, making me drop my hands and jerk my head up to look at him. He was breathing fast, chest rising and falling as if he’d just gone for a run, and I could see his heart racing. My hands fell, and I wiped sweaty palms on my thighs.

  “Those I take off. Jesus…” He moved slowly, taking another step toward me. “I’ve thought about this moment a million times.” Another step brought him closer, but
not near enough to touch me. “I’d lie in bed, picturing you.” He bit his lip as he let his eyes wash over me. “I’ve always known you were the most beautiful being to ever exist.” Blue eyes pierced mine. “I never imagined you’d be this fucking sexy.”

  He took one more step, putting him within reach. “I’d touch myself, imagining what it would be like to touch you.” He ran an index finger down the center of my chest before he stepped even closer and cupped my breast, lifting it. Leaning down, his mouth next to my ear, he let out a low moan. “It was never this good in my dreams.”

  He dropped to his knees, letting his hand skim over my skin, creating a line of goose bumps as he went. Fingers closed over the top of both my leggings and panties, and slowly, so damn slowly, he peeled them down my legs. When they pooled at my feet, both hands traced back up the outside of my body, closing on either side of my waist.

  He kissed my stomach quickly then stood and stepped backward. If he had been anyone other than Declan, I would have felt the need to shy away, to cover up or turn out the light. But I didn’t need to hide from this man.

  His eyes surveyed me, not missing a thing. From the stretch marks to the cellulite to the scars, he saw every imperfection. He didn’t seem to notice them. Instead, he focused on the nipples that had hardened under his gaze and the neatly trimmed area between my thighs. “I want to touch you.”

  I tipped my head, watching him struggle with himself. “Then touch me.”

  He met my eyes. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

  “You won’t.” There was nothing I was more certain about.

  As if that was the only encouragement he needed, his hands flew to his belt. My breath caught as his pants fell away. Unease mixed with need raced through me.

  Ignoring it, I moved toward him. “I want to touch you.”

  He chuckled as I sent his words back to him, but he shook his head, holding out a hand to stop me. “Good Christ, I want you to. But…” He laughed nervously. “You can’t.”

  I took another step, not understanding.

  He groaned. “I haven’t been with anyone”—he caught my wrists gently, circling them with his hands and lifting them so I couldn’t reach him—“not since before I went away. If you touch me right now, it’ll be over before it begins.”

  It took a second for his words to sink in.

  He pulled me into him, lifting my hands onto his shoulders. “Kiss me, woman.”

  I chuckled at his playful tone, my nerves finally catching up, but I did as he asked.

  Kiss after kiss, touch after touch, he consumed me.

  I didn’t realize he was moving us, leading us toward the bed, until I was lying on my back and staring up at him. Braced on his forearms, every muscle in his body was tense as I ran my fingers over his, loving how the muscles rippled under my fingers. His mouth on my neck turned my body into mush as he slid his legs between mine, nudging them wider.

  “I want to go slow,” he whispered, his voice husky. “I want to kiss every inch of you.” He tugged the bottom of my ear between his teeth. “I want to make it last all night.”

  The tip of his tongue trailed down to where my neck met my shoulder, and he sucked as he thrust against me.

  I wanted him to do all of it. Just not right now.

  I dug my fingernails into his back, dragging them down to his ass. “I want you to fuck me, Dec.” I grabbed him, trying to pull him closer to me.

  “Not yet,” he promised, his head moving to my chest.

  Teeth closed over the tip of a nipple. I gasped, jerking his ass down, desperate to get him where I needed him to be.

  “I’ve waited twenty years for this,” he breathed against my skin. “I can wait a few more minutes.”

  “We’ve had twenty years of foreplay.” I moaned as his mouth sucked on the other nipple. “I can’t wait!”

  He pushed himself up onto his hands as his lower body moved into place. Then he stopped suddenly, making me groan in frustration. So close. So goddamn close.

  “I don’t have a condom,” he muttered, leaning his head back on his shoulder, staring at my ceiling. “I didn’t even fucking think about it.”

  I frowned, sliding my hands around the front of him, and wrapped my fingers around the only part of him I hadn’t been able to touch yet. My name fell from his lips, a cross between a curse and a prayer.

  “I don’t care.” I adjusted slightly, opening my legs wider. “There hasn’t been anyone.” His breath caught, and I chanced a peek up at him. His eyes were on fire. “No one since before.”

  Rearing back on his knees, his hands flew to the insides of my thighs, feeling the slickness that coated them. He snatched my hands, threading his fingers between mine, and pushed them onto the pillow next to my head. In one fluid movement, he was in me, gripping my hands tightly as we groaned.

  He cursed in my ear, a low sound that set my skin on fire. I forced myself to relax, easing up. He moved slowly at first, then faster and faster, until we were both breathless and crying out. He didn’t let go of my hands, not once, as he drove me higher and higher until I crashed over the edge, mumbling his name. His mouth found mine as he chased his release.

  “I love you,” he whispered against my lips as he found it. “I love you.”

  Chapter Twenty

  Declan

  I couldn’t sleep.

  I was physically exhausted, but I wouldn’t let myself relax enough to find the rest my body craved. I’d spent years sleep deprived, training myself to survive on half the sleep other inmates needed, because you never knew what kind of monsters were lurking in the dark. I could sleep when I was dead.

  After I’d done what I needed to do.

  I lay there for hours, watching her sleep. She was at peace, a faint smile on her lips. I wanted to remember her like this: beautiful, naked, and mine.

  Part of me wanted to wake her, just to spend hours worshiping her body, so I could show her how much I loved her. Fuck, I did love her. There wasn’t a thing I wouldn’t do for her, not one thing I wouldn’t give her. Including the peace of knowing the man who had hurt her was dead.

  Mark didn’t know it yet, but he was a dead man walking.

  It didn’t matter what he’d done. I imagined every possible scenario, from stupid to brutal, preparing myself for the worst, but I hoped my cousin wasn’t fuck-all stupid.

  Either way, he was going to die. The manner of his death, how long it would take and the brutality of it, would depend on what he had done. I would make the fucker pay, the same way I had once planned to make Dustin pay. No one fucked with what was mine and lived. If I’d known twelve years ago, the bastard would be worm food now.

  Another part of me, the dark, demented part, longed to wake Gabby and drag the truth from her. I needed to know because my mind always went to the worst-case scenario, and I’d spent hours replaying moments, searching through memories, trying to see what I’d missed. Had the truth been right in front of me and I’d refused to see it because I was blinded by my loyalty to my cousin? If that was the case, I was just as bad as Dustin and Mark.

  I could deny it all I wanted, make excuses, but the truth was blatantly obvious.

  I had known. Dreams, especially nightmares, were the body’s way of working through your memories, helping you cope. I’d had the same goddamned dream about the night Dustin died for years, but I’d never examined it for what it was—a fucking compass pointing right at the guilty party.

  I’d fucking failed her again. That shit sat like a brick in my gut, weighing heavy on my soul. She could bet her sweet ass I wouldn’t let her down again.

  I didn’t want to leave her, but if I didn’t, if I lay there with only my thoughts, I would eventually let the rage take over, and I’d act on pure emotion. When you acted on feeling alone, things escalated quickly and shit got ugly. I couldn’t risk that.

  No, I needed to be smart about this—use the brain my father had given me—and not rely on the Callaghan blood running through my veins. I’d
waste the son of a bitch, but he wouldn’t know it was coming. First, I needed facts. I didn’t want to know what had happened, but I needed to know.

  Trying not to wake her, I slid out of bed and yanked on my jeans. I stood next to the bed, staring at her, longer than I meant to. My need to be near her clashed with my need to avenge her. Vengeance finally won.

  I had a plan and knew the end game. First, I needed answers. I was tempted to call Fi, or Moira, and demand they tell me whatever secrets they’d been holding. That felt like a violation of Gabby’s trust though, and she’d been through enough.

  Only one person could give me what I needed.

  I grabbed my cell and sneaked out of the room. I moved through the house, smiling at a snoring Zahira lying on the couch, and into the kitchen before I hit his name on my phone.

  He answered almost immediately. “I wondered when you’d call.” The groggy way he dragged his words told me I’d woken him.

  My hand tightened around the phone, clutching it hard. The amount of hatred I felt for him, after just hearing his voice, surprised me. I forced myself to chuckle. “It’s been one fuck of a weekend.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Yeah.” I forced my voice to remain calm, to act as though this was any other call. “Any word from Mass?”

  “Do you never fucking sleep?” Mark asked, laughing. “Jesus, man, it’s three in the morning.”

  I didn’t reply. Me calling him in the middle of the night to talk business wasn’t new. I did most of my thinking while the rest of the world slept.

  “Nothing yet.”

  “It’s coming soon then. One way or another, we’ll hear something. Go back to bed. In the morning, make the calls. See what you can find out. Then come over. We need to figure shit out.”

  “You home?”

  The question was one he’d asked me many times before. How many times had he known the answer already? There was no way he didn’t know I wasn’t. Fi’s tire being slashed after I’d spent the night at her house, and the little package he’d left on Gabby’s porch—in his goddamn car no less—right after I’d left her house was a little too coincidental for me.