Yours (Beautiful Sinner Series Book 4)

by Elena M. Reyes

  “Why are you staring at me, Muñeca?” My eyes are closed, but I feel hers on me. Like a heated caress, they’ve been traveling from my face to chest and lower, while tiny fingers walk up each indentation of my abdomen.

  She’s been counting the six over and over. Skipping, sliding—tapping my skin softly with the pad of her fingertips. She moves away, and immediately I miss her warmth and the horny little hums of approval that follow.

  I’ve been awake for a while, since before dawn, enjoying the bit of quiet that surrounds us. Reveling in her touch.

  It’s my favorite time of day. The few hours between sunrise and my alarm blaring when the world stills and I can think—dissect and plan—and today is no different.

  Our conversation still weighs heavily on my mind. Her taste and touch still linger on my flesh.

  “Christ, Javier! You scared me.”

  “You’re the one being sneaky, not me. Very inappropriate, linda.” Turning my head in her direction, I pucker my lips but still don’t open my eyes. “Morning.”

  It takes her a few minutes, but she pecks my lips, grazing her teeth down my bottom lip. “Buenos dias.”

  I can’t stop the smile that spreads across my lips as my eyes greet her bashful ones. Mariah’s without makeup, her hair a mess of curls, and she’s wearing nothing but a thin silk slip. She’s fresh-faced and sleep-rumpled, but God, she’s beautiful.

  My other half. Mine.

  “Fuck, you’re perfect,” I groan, gripping the back of her neck and pulling her down to my lips. The kiss is softer than the others we’ve shared, yet deeper, and I find myself turning until I’m fully lying on top of her, my hips cradled by her thighs.

  There’s no rush. No desperate touches as if the other person would vanish. Instead, we savor and explore. Caress and moan as I press the blunt head of my cock against her clit. The tip glides smoothly across, her wetness mixing with my pre-come, and if I shift a little lower, there’s no stopping me from snapping my hips and claiming what’s mine.

  And I want to. Fuck, I do.

  But not yet. Not until we put everything on the table because this beautiful criminal beneath me isn’t a one night stand. She’s not a quick fuck.

  Mariah has quickly become my everything, and I’m not fighting the craziness that consumes—obliterates rationality.

  Fuck it being too fast.

  Fuck the way she fights me.

  Fuck everything, because, in the end, it’ll be worth it. She is worth it.

  I care about her. More than.

  “We need to stop,” I grit out, flexing against her one last time, and sit back when her tiny hands move to grab me. “There’s somewhere we need to be within the next hour.”

  There’s a pout on her lips, and those seafoam orbs narrow. “Where? Nothing’s going on until after two, and Malcolm gave us the morning off.”

  It’s my turn to narrow my eyes. “I was never told this.”

  Not that I’m giving her much of a notice on my plans, but there’s something I need to see just as bad. For my peace of mind. For her safety.

  “That’s because I told him we’d be late last night before my shower.” Rising from the bed, a strap of her gown slipping down her shoulder, Mariah grips my jaw. “And I’m not done kissing you, Javi. Not yet.”

  Christ, this beautifully dangerous woman tempts every single cell in my body. Knows what to say. Knows how to light me on fire with the faintest of touches.

  We have plans for her. She’s more than a fuck.

  “I’ll give you all the kisses you want after my surprise.”

  “What’s it going to cost me?”

  “Two hours in a ring with me.”

  I thought she’d protest, but I’m dead wrong. Her eyes light up and her body vibrates with excitement as she scrambles off the bed, pushing me over in her haste. And all I can do is laugh. She’s certifiably adorable, and when she comes back thirty minutes later showered and dressed in a pair of lavender-colored yoga pants and a sports bra, I rethink these plans.

  How the fuck am I supposed to test her fighting skills when all I can picture is bending her over and plowing deep?

  “Again. Harder this time.” I’m moving around her, ducking my arms, holding the focus mitts just out of her reach. She’s breathing hard and sweaty, the few tendrils that slipped from her bun plastered to the side of her face and neck. An elegant neck where a few drops of perspiration glide down to the edge of her...

  Her fist connects with my chin, and it stings. She’s caught me off guard and looks smug. Her grin is cocky. “I think you need to focus, Javi. Or do I need to find another trainer?”

  Thank God the gym used by Malcolm’s employees is empty and no one is allowed inside until I give the okay. All cameras are off and the lights are dimmed, leaving just enough brightness where we can see the other move. No one sees her like this but me.

  “I’m going to make you pay for that,” I hiss, ducking her next punch and tapping her right thigh when she stumbles a bit, losing her footing while chasing me. “Think you can handle me?”

  “Bring it, pretty boy.”

  “Noted.” Holding a hand up, I take the mitts off and toss them aside along with my shirt a few seconds after. She wants to play, then so be it. “You can throw a decent punch, princess, but can you dodge them?”

  Something about what I said doesn’t sit right with her. Darkness overtakes her features, hate and ire her stance.

  She’s stiff, chest heaving in a way that worries me. “Never call me that again, Lucas.”

  “What that, princess?” Her reaction is the same: anger. A sudden blinding rage that makes me pause. I’m not going to call her out, not now, but I’ll push because whatever just overcame her mind is dangerous.

  Mistakes cost lives. And it’s unacceptable that anything should happen to this woman.

  “Don’t.” It’s a hiss. A warning. Nodding, I slip off my sneakers and tuck the strings of my joggers inside the waistband, taking away anything that could get caught in the fight she’s bringing my way. Her chest heaves, eyes bore into mine, but Mariah isn’t seeing me.

  I still don’t have the full story of her history with Lane, but something tells me this has to do with him or her parents—their role and involvement with him is what’s setting her off. I’m also wondering if she’s ever truly dealt with her anger toward the assholes.

  “Or what?” At my response, her nostrils flare and eyes narrow. “Something you want to say?”

  “Quit it, Javi. This isn’t a box you want to open.”

  “I’m not afraid, Muñeca.” I circle her, knocking her left hand from her hip on purpose. “You want to vent, do it. You want to strike, do it.”

  “Back off.” Two words spit out through clenched teeth.

  “Get it off your chest.” Rather now than during a dangerous situation. Mildred, in my eyes, is a threat, a weak one, but stupid people cannot be discounted. They’re careless. Ballsy. “Why do you hate the word—”

  “Fuck you.” And she reacts without thinking, charging me with all her strength and I let her, taking the brunt of our fall and cradling her close. Mariah’s angry, eyes a bit red-rimmed while landing an elbow across my chin, knocking my face to the side. “Never call me what those pieces of shit did. Not you. Never you.”

  “Why?” Before she can land another blow, I have her hand in mine and roll her off me. She’s on her back when I stand, eyes following me, and I wave her up. “Again. Don’t let your emotions rule you.”

  “Maybe we should stop for today.”

  “Get up. Don’t make me be an asshole this early.”

  “Why do you care?” The ire from a few minutes ago has cleared a bit but still lingers.

  “Because I’d rather you get pissed at me than make a costly mistake out there.” Her features soften at that, and I nudge her shin with the tip of my sock-covered foot. “Now, get up or I’ll mount you.” Cheeks flushing a bit, she does as I ask and gets into a fighter’s stance, leaning
most of her weight on the right leg. Another mistake. You don’t favor one side more than the other, and I sweep Mariah’s feet out from under her.

  “What the hell?” She lands with a thud, but there’s a hint of a smile on those sweet lips.

  “No one outside these walls will grant you mercy, baby.” I take two steps back and crook a finger. “Up.”

  “You’re going to pay for that, Javi.” And there’s my girl. Focusing on me. On what’s important. Grinning like the Cheshire Cat, Mariah brings her two hands up to block my attack while balancing her core, feet planted firmly on the ground. Much better.

  But there’s still an opening on her left and I strike toward her thigh, not giving her the full force of my blow but enough to cause her to stumble back. She catches herself, arms never lowering and when I go for the right rib area, she counters and lands her punch.

  My stomach contracts, but I keep a proud smile on my lips. “Think you can knock me down?”

  “Bet you two hundred bucks I can.”

  “I won’t go easy on you.”

  “I’d be pissed if you did.” This time when she charges, Mariah changes position at the last second and kicks the back of my knee. My weight drops, but before she can get me down I return the favor, chuckling as her leg buckles.

  “That was good, but not enough.”

  “You’re a jerk.”

  Before she can continue to berate me, I tackle the brat and cover her body with mine. “Never claimed to be anything but an asshole, sweetness.”

  “That’s what you want others to think, Javi, but I see you.” Those words pause me, and she takes the distraction as her opening, flipping our position with a hard buck of her hips, turning us so I’m on my back and looking up. I’m left marveling at the cheeky grin and the bright eyes of this incredible woman. “No one else has bothered to make me talk about shit I hate. No one else pushes me to deal with what I feel when ignorance is an easier solution.”

  “Muñeca, I—”

  “I know you pay attention. I know you care.” Mariah lowers her face to mine and kisses the tip of my nose, then each cheek before pecking my lips. “You’re so much more than what I thought, Javier. Thank you.”

  Bringing a hand up, I cup the back of her neck, keeping her lips hovering over mine. “For what?”

  “For doing more for me than those who were supposed to love me. Those who called me princess,” she spits the word out with so much venom and tears in her eyes. This is her letting me fully in. A beautiful olive branch. “That was Dad’s nickname for me growing up, and Lane adopted it. It wasn’t meant to be loving, more demeaning as he thinks all women are beneath the men in their lives.”

  “I’m not them.”

  “I know.” Another soft smile. A sweet sigh. “You have the possibility to be my everything, and that scares me.”

  “I’d never hurt you.”

  “And I don’t think I’d recover if you ever did.”

  17

  “WHAT TIME ARE you getting off?” Javi asks, pulling into the Asher building parking structure a few minutes before two in the afternoon. I’m in the passenger seat and fighting back a giggle, keeping my face neutral after the semi-argument we had outside of the women’s shower where he all but demanded to drive us in today. An exchange I lost after the jerk jutted his bottom lip out while sweaty, chest glistening and those damn joggers hanging low.

  I could make out the outline of his thick cock, and it made getting my point across a near impossibility. Couldn’t think straight when he twitched and grew, and I had to yell out a yes before disappearing inside to take a cold shower.

  Turning the ignition off, he sits quietly and I follow suit. His spot is next to my empty one and two down from the ones Malcolm keeps for certain clientele. We never host more than one family at a time, and no more than four members of their organization are allowed upstairs together.

  A precaution for them. For us.

  “Should be out by five. I left everything he’d need today on his desk before logging off last night.”

  “Any plans?”

  “No.”

  “You do now,” he says simply. Just like peppering the weather into any conversation.

  But more comical is that I nod and inspect my nail polish. The one nail that I chipped a corner of. “What are you in the mood for? I can stop on my way home and—”

  “I’m asking you out on a date, Muñeca.”

  My heart flutters inside my chest and I smile, turning my face toward him. “A date?”

  “Si.” His grin matches mine and he holds his palm up to me. I place mine atop his, and it’s only when our fingers intertwine that he fully relaxes. “How does a nice dinner with you and me and alcohol mixed in sound? And to sweeten the pot, there will also be some witty banter and a lot of sexual innuendos.”

  “You piqued my interest. Booze is muy important.”

  “You’re adorable when sprinkling Spanish into our conversations.” Before I can respond, Javi lets my hand go and exits the SUV, coming around to my door. He opens it and leans in, lips a hair’s breadth from mine. “It’s one of the reasons I adore you. Everything you do to me is precious.”

  He’s killing me here. “Thank you.”

  “That blush is also delicious.” His voice is deeper. Husky.

  “And about that dinner?” Because the sweet nothings are making it difficult to breathe and the urge to pull him into the back seat is becoming maddening. “Seven okay, or—”

  Javier places his keys into my hand and brings the closed fist to his lips, nipping each knuckle. “Take the car and be ready at seven.”

  “Okay.” My expensive schooling has flown out the window.

  “Good girl.” Another bite before kissing the slight mark. “I’ll see you in a few hours.”

  It’s then I notice another black car parked just behind us with dark tints. It’s my cousin’s car, and before slipping inside the passenger side, Javier looks back at me and winks.

  They drive off, and I’m still sitting here contemplating life.

  The taillights are out of sight, and I shake my head.

  That man was made to disrupt my life.

  “Afternoon,” I say, stepping off the elevator and onto a floor below Malcolm’s office. There are three people here today, which surprises me, and a network of computers as they run scans for anything we might’ve missed. But why three of them? “Everything okay?”

  “Morning, Ms. Asher,” the youngest of the trio answers. He’s a recent college grad with hacking skills coveted by the government, but he’s protected under Malcolm’s employ as a security expert. It’s keeping them back for the time being in hopes he comes willingly, but there are other plans already in the works for an unfortunate disappearance. Erik takes a sip from his Starbucks cup before turning back to the largest of the eight monitors and hits three keys, the keyboard on his lap almost slipping off but he catches it and then turns to fully face me. He’s a punk, a bit of a smartass at times, but dependable and has earned our trust. “Just going over video footage I swiped from the Fredericks laboratory in Utah dating two years back. Mr. Asher approved this.”

  He seems a bit nervous, and I arch a brow. “You found something?”

  “You can say that.” Without looking at the screen, he presses a combination of keys and the video changes to a cropped one. The length of time reads just over five minutes with a date stamp of two years ago, and when he hits play, I understand why he’s a bit tense.

  Lane is walking into the building with his arm around Mildred and my father to his left. They walk past the security guard all smiles, as if this is a normal occurrence, and my blood boils within my veins.

  Not for Lane, but because of my father.

  Another betrayal. Another example of how little I mean to him.

  “Did Malcolm see this?” My voice is hollow. Monotone.

  “Getting the disc ready now.” Again he presses a few keys, and another short clip begins. The date is after
Lane’s death and my father is there with Mildred, and it’s his arm around her waist, her lips he kisses. Sick bastard. At once my stomach churns, bile rising to my throat, but I swallow it back and pretend as if I’m not affected. Can’t show weakness.

  “Burn two copies. I want one.”

  “Of course, Ms. Asher.” The other two don’t say a word and shrink back a bit when I turn to walk over to the elevator. It’s best I exit now and not after I discover someone else from my side of the family is in on this clusterfuck. “Do I take it upstairs?”

  With my hand on the up button, I look back at Erik from over my shoulder. “Please.”

  “You got it, boss.”

  “Thank you.” The doors close behind me as I slip inside, and I allow a single tear to fall. My father being involved is not a coincidence, and the Fredericks have been doing more than testing at that lab. I bet money on it.

  But the question now remains on each key player’s purpose?

  How many more people are involved?

  Why use me?

  My reflection in the mirror later that evening doesn’t represent what’s going on inside of me. The things that make the most sense hurt after I watched the burned copy Erik made me.

  My father’s involvement. Mildred’s hate toward me.

  I’m angry. I feel betrayed. There are more questions than answers now.

  And yet, as I watch the girl in the mirror pass the straightener through another stray auburn curl, I don’t recognize her. She’s here, but not. She’s aware, yet a part of her hungers for the one thing that will sever all ties to those who brought her into this world.

  Revenge. Blood. Peace.

  All these years, I believed my father to be harsh and at times a sexist jerk, but this goes beyond that. He made me a pawn—a movable piece in a game I wasn’t aware of playing.

  Another pass, and I twist my wrist when reaching the end, giving the bottom of the strand a bit of wave. It swishes into place when I release it, joining the others as the wild girl from this morning that Javier admired is put away and Mariah Asher takes center stage.