by T Steele
Once we pull in, I feel somewhat lost. It's not that I've never been to the mall before, but I usually shop at cheaper places, like Target and Walmart. Not to mention, the fact that I’m not buying these clothes myself doesn’t sit right with me.
"Which store should we go to?" I ask.
John shrugs. "Where do you usually shop?"
"Not here," I mutter.
John stares at me for a second before letting out a sigh.
"We'll start at Ralph Lauren. They have nice, respectable clothing. Malcolm will approve of you wearing that."
I huff. "Well, then maybe I should start somewhere else, buy something a little more daring, ya know, keep good ol dad on his toes."
We go to several stores, the price tags making my eyes widen and my stomach churn. I don’t like the thought of owing my father. I feel like this is playing right into his hands. Like I’m a doll he’s dressing up and keeping locked away for appearances.
"You know, I don't feel right about this."
John's eyes scan my face, and I start rubbing circles in my chest soothingly. His eyes trace the movement, taking in my fidgeting. I know I'm most likely super easy to read, especially under his ninja-like senses.
"You don't like that your father's buying you clothes?"
I glare at him. "Well, when you say it like that, it makes me sound like a spoiled brat."
John raises a brow again. I notice this is something he does a lot, to answer a question, to prove a point. I ignore the odd flutter in my chest that's thrilled at the thought that I've known him long enough now to know some of his expressions. I have a feeling no one will ever truly know John.
"I don't like that I'm not buying myself these clothes. I don't like the fact that I'm not working and that my father won't allow me to work even though I'm an adult."
"Act like one then."
"Excuse me?" I say a little louder than intended, crossing my arms.
John's eyes scan the room, and he clenches his jaw. "Don't cause a scene," he says softly.
I imagine actual steam coming out of my ears, and I feel my cheeks heat in anger.
Suddenly, John puts a hand on my lower back, and I stiffen. "Sorry, for touching you without your permission, but there are people who have noticed you. Don't look," he says. "Just try to act natural."
He grins down at me, and if it weren't for the fact that he told me he was acting, I would have never known. "You're just some girl I've decided to buy something pretty for. Someone I'm trying to impress, that's all."
He smiles and brushes his thumb along my cheek. I'm shocked when I shiver, my body instantly reacting to his.
"Come on, baby," John says with a smoldering look. "Let's go somewhere more private where you can try on all your new things for me."
I try to smile, but I'm sure it comes out as a grimace. I'm scared, nervous, and mildly turned on.
He throws an arm over my shoulder and subtly makes it to where I'm slightly in front of him, his body mostly blocking mine.
My heart's pounding as we walk through the store, my feet moving so fast I trip. John steadies me.
He grins. "Someone's excited to get me home."
I barely hear him over the blood rushing between my ears. Sweat forms on my brow, and I want to turn around and see what's happening. My thought process distorts with my nerves, and I try to focus. We don't have much further to go. We're in the parking lot. It's crowded. I see John's car. I feel like I can’t breathe and my body is somehow stiff and trembling at the same time.
Just a few more steps, just a few more steps, I keep repeating to myself.
When we get to the car, John opens the door calmly, and then he throws me and my bags inside. I hear the click of the doors locking, and John turns around, landing a punch right into some man's face. His foot comes up behind him, knocking another man out.
I didn't see either of them coming.
John stands swiftly. He kicks both of the men in the head, knocking them unconscious, and then he disappears.
On shaky knees, I scoot forward to see what's happening and am shocked to see John slouched underneath a van, using it as cover for the unconscious men. John uses a gloved hand to pull out his knife and I have to stifle my cry when I see him slice both of the men's tongues out.
Horrified, I throw myself back in my seat. John opens the car door, takes one look at my face before looking straight ahead, emotionless.
He white knuckles the steering wheel, and I think he's going to say something.
And that's when we hear gunshots.
John's foot slams on the gas, tires squealing as he pulls out of the parking lot.
"What's happening?" My voice is hysterical. "What's happening?" I ask again.
"It's alright," John says calmly. "We'll lose them."
"ALRIGHT?!" I throw my hands up. "You just cut out a man's tongue, and now we're in a car chase, and you say everything's ‘alright’?"
John turns the wheel forcefully, careening sharply into an alley. My head hits the window, and I yelp.
John curses, trying to look at me and drive at the same time.
More shots break out, and the back window shatters.
"FUCK!" John and I say at the same time.
There's another bang and garbage cans fly over the top of the car. We turn out of the alley with the vehicle still close behind us. An Audi R8, I now realize.
“Duck your head," John demands.
I do as he says. Then, there’s another bang. Smoke fills the air with the smell of burnt rubber. Our car skids to a halt and then we lurch forward as the Audi R8 rear-ends us. Something hard hits me and when my body stops rocking back and forth from the momentum of the crash, I become fully aware of John’s arms haphazardly wrapped around me.
That's when the sound of police sirens register in my ears.
"Shit, are we going to get arrested?"
"No."
I try to sit up in my seat to look behind me, and John shoves me back down with a glare. "Did I say you could sit up?"
I glare right back.
He takes a deep breath. "Ruby, it's for your own safety. I'm . . . I'm not trying to be rude to you."
My shoulders relax a fraction, and I feel him shifting around me, glancing through the back windshield. He must come to the conclusion that we’re safe because he slowly unwraps his arms around me and places them back on the steering wheel with stiff, precise movements. The ten and two o’clock position to be exact. The car wasn’t hit too hard, but I wonder if it was worse for him since he was the one who got hit hardest. He’d completely shielded me from everything.
Our gazes lock, and his face isn't open, per se, but he doesn't look quite as emotionless anymore. Not as scary or intimidating as usual.
My lips twitch in a small grin, and I swear his eyes dart to my lips. Before I can dwell on it, the red and blue flashing lights catch my eye, and I watch through the rearview mirror as the cop I'd met on the first night cuffs the men who were chasing us.
"He's on our side, then?" I ask.
"Yes."
"You trust him?”
"Yes."
And then his intense blue eyes are on me. “Are you hurt?”
Automatically, my fingers go to the bump on my head. I wince as I shrug. “I’ll be alright.”
John looks doubtful as his eyes scan me over for any injuries. And even though he has to check me over since he’s under my father's orders, I feel his stare like a caress. I can’t help but notice his lips. They look silky, soft, and lush on his rugged face. Then my eyes dart to his hands that are still clenched on the wheel. His hands are so big, his fingers long and elegant. Could they fit around my waist completely?
The longer my eyes linger, the more my body responds. My breasts feel heavy and tingly, and I have this intense urge to arch my back. Wetness pools between my legs, and before I’m even aware of what I’m doing, I subtly clench my legs together. Biting my lip, my eyes slowly move back up to his face.
His
jaw clenches so tightly that it makes his pale face look as if it’s a carved statue. His shoulders are bunched with tension and his eyes are narrowed, staring directly at me.
I feel my entire body warm. My cheeks are so hot that I’m wondering if I touch them, will my fingers come away burnt?
“Uh—uh,” I stammer, “sorry, that just scared me?” The words come out more like a question. And though, they are true. I am scared, but that isn’t the reason for what I’d just done.
He shakes his head roughly, his eyes surveying me coldly. “I’m your father’s assassin. I’m twenty-five years old. You shouldn’t look at me like that.”
Completely mortified, I want to apologize. I want to take it back. Play dumb. Pretend I didn’t just fuck him with my eyes.
Instead, I jerkily nod my head and lower my eyes in shame. My hand comes up, rubbing my chest consolingly, and when he moves to run a hand through his dark hair, I flinch.
His head whips over to me, brow furrowing.
“Still a little jumpy, I guess,” I whisper.
His features go carefully blank as he nods.
I haven't forgotten the first night we met—the way he handled those men. I can’t help but feel somewhat jumpy around him. My instincts, for whatever reason, tell me that he won’t hurt me, though. At least, physically.
I startle once more when my car door is jerked open and I find my father staring at me with a worried look over his face.
He glances around before offering me a hand. “Are you hurt? Do you need help walking?”
Frank and Todd stand subtly behind my father observing the situation, making sure all threats are gone. I don’t need to look around to know that there are likely other soldiers in the vicinity, just waiting in case backup is needed.
“No, I’m okay. At least, I think I am.” I glance down at myself, double-checking I didn’t miss anything crazy.
Seeing how John’s car has a busted windshield, among other things, we ride home with Cade, the dirty cop.
And my father.
Apparently, John alerted him as soon as he’d seen the rival gang.
The ride is awkward, to say the least. With John giving a quick rundown on what happened, and my father cursing everyone, their mother, and himself.
I smirk up at him. "So, what kind of reward do I get for surviving my first car chase?"
John chokes, and if I didn't know any better, I would think I saw amusement flash in his eyes. Cade outright grins.
My father looks more murderous than usual. "Not. Fucking. Funny."
I sigh, trying to keep up my brave facade. Otherwise, I'll crumble. "How am I supposed to act? Would you rather I curl up in a ball and scream and cry?"
His brows raise as he cocks his head to the side. "Now that you mention it, why aren't you flipping the fuck out?"
"Hell if I know."
A soft expression appears on his face. "It's in your blood," he murmurs happily. Then he turns to John. "Did you silence them?" he asks.
John nods.
When the car starts, my father apologizes to me and explains that he couldn’t have gone because it would’ve shown for sure that he was indeed my father and put an even bigger target on my back. The Capo Dei Capi would never accompany some random young woman to the mall.
I shrug as if it doesn’t bother me and stare out the window for the rest of the ride.
Now, I stand in the shower, my body still sensitive from whatever moment I had with John earlier.
Or maybe it was the adrenaline, I tell myself. Maybe my body just needs release.
Either way, I try not to make too much noise as my back slides down the porcelain wall, and my hands come up to cup my breasts.
I’ve never had sex before. I almost feel embarrassed, being a nineteen-year-old virgin. I don’t know why, though. It’s my body, and I shouldn’t feel embarrassed about how many men I’ve been with.
I guess it makes me feel naive—something I hate to feel. And the few times I’ve pleasured myself, my movements were jerky and inexperienced—leaving me feeling good but not completely satisfied, always wanting more.
My hands move slowly over my breasts, my nipples pebbling. My breasts overflow from my small hands but in John’s . . . well, in John's, I bet they’d fit just right.
The thought has my head falling back and my legs spreading. When my fingers reach between my thighs, I gasp at the wetness there.
And then I bite my lip. Hard.
John is in my room. I’d be even more embarrassed after today if he heard me doing something so private.
But the thought of him so close sends another wave of heat through me, and I plunge a finger inside myself.
I can’t help the little whimper that escapes as I flick my wrist and start twirling my finger in a circle. My back arches and my knees bend upward, spreading my legs even more.
I think of John’s mouth in place of my fingers. His own fingers. His tongue. His cock.
I instantly find my release.
My body clenches and pulses around my fingers. My teeth sink into my lip so hard I taste blood. My hips jerk wildly as my hand moves rapidly.
I’m left with the sound of my heavy breathing, and the shower water beating down on my skin.
That was the quickest I’ve ever gotten off.
Though the orgasm felt good, I’m still feeling unsatisfied.
My body still feels sensitive and heated, and I can’t help but think how much better it would be if it were John's hands on me instead.
I floss before brushing my teeth and hair. I put on several different pairs of pajamas before deciding on shorts and an oversized T-shirt—basically anything I can do to prolong going back into my bedroom to see John.
Finally, I head back to my bedroom. John is leaning against the wall. His eyes follow me as I make my way to the bed. I pretend not to notice. I sit with my hands clasped in my lap. My bed sits low, so my feet are actually flat on the ground instead of swinging like they do most of the time.
Once a few moments pass and the sexual tension mounts, I finally speak.
“I can fix your car.”
John looks at me, his eyes completely dilated, yet no emotion shows on his face.
“I’m good with cars,” I start, nervous babbling. “I’m a mechanic. I know I don’t look like one.” I let out an awkward laugh, licking my lips. John’s eyes watch the movement, and his jaw tightens.
Suddenly, he’s standing in front of me. My neck cranes back to stare up at him. His ice-blue eyes are intense. “Were you thinking of me?”
I stop breathing, my body instantly heating and tingling at his close proximity. I pretend I don’t know what he’s talking about. “Thinking of you?” My voice is hoarse. I don’t think I’ve ever heard it this low—this husky.
He lets out a deep sigh and closes his eyes. When he opens them, there’s a heat there I’ve never seen before—a molten vehemence to rival lava. “I know you touched yourself in there. I could tell you were trying to be quiet, but I still heard. I’m only going to ask once. If you say no, I’ll never bring it up again. Did you think of me? Were you imagining it was me touching you?” His body is languid and tense at the same time. Like he’s ready to pounce. His voice is low and soft. Intoxicating.
I swallow thickly. My heart kicks up speed, and I rub my chest consolingly. “How did you know?” I whisper, cheeks burning.
His eyes scan me, drinking me in fervently. “You don’t hide your emotions very well.”
“Why do you want to know?” I whisper.
I stare at him with wide eyes, at a loss for words. Completely mortified, I don't know how to respond.
His icy blue eyes stare into me like he can read my mind. His dark lashes leave shadows on his sharp cheekbones as his mop of black curls lay haphazardly to one side.
I don’t know why he has this effect on me, but it’s there. Intense. Smoldering. I know I should fear him, but my body won’t let me. There’s more to him than what he’s shown everyon
e else.
“There it is again,” he says.
“What?” I whisper.
“That look.”
“What look?”
“The look that’s telling me you want me to pleasure you.”
I gasp, and my eyes lower in shame.
Am I that easy to read?
“I will if you want me to.”
My head jerks back up to his, and our gazes lock, neither of us wants to make the first move. Especially me. I wouldn't even know how to start.
“I’m a virgin,” I mumble.
He kneels before me—his tall form allowing him to stare directly into my eyes even while he’s on his knees. His are filled with understanding, as if he’d suspected as much.
“I don’t mean sex. I meant I would pleasure you.”
I gasp again, and his eyes flicker to my lips. I clear my dry throat. “But what about you?”
His brow furrows in confusion. “What about me?”
“Well—I,” I stammer, blushing furiously, “Wouldn’t you want me to pleasure you, too?” My voice is small, unsure.
He looks surprised, and the ghost of a smile appears on his lips. “That’s okay. This can be about just you.”
There’s a pulse between my legs—and wetness. So, so much wetness. “That doesn’t seem fair, though,” I blurt, my voice uneven and breathy.
“Trust me, it’s plenty fair, an honor even,” he starts, his voice a gruff whisper before his tongue darts out, licking his lips. “Can I kiss you?”
“Yes.”
His hands come up to cup my cheeks as he slowly leans in, giving me the chance to back out if I want. My heart speeds up as his full, pink lips come closer and closer until they’re pressed against mine.
A soft moan leaves my mouth, and it’s as if all our restraint goes down the drain. My arms wind around his neck as my fingers dive into his soft hair. He tastes of forbidden fruits and all of my secret desires and the finest of wines.
His big hands move to my lower back, and he pulls me onto the floor with him. The carpet digs into my knees as I straddle him. His tongue runs along the seam of my lower lip, and I open my mouth wider. Accepting.
