The Enemy in My Bed

by LK Shaw

  “That’s good. Brenna told me he was with her the night she was taken. That Mikhail’s men shot him.”

  Any color in Francesca’s face disappears.

  “God, I’m so stupid. I shouldn’t have said that,” I rush to apologize. What the hell was I thinking?

  “It’s okay. Despite all appearances, I’m not a delicate flower who can’t handle even hearing about something the Russians did. I’m the one being silly.”

  I’m afraid to say anything else for fear of making another mistake. Pierce isn’t a topic I’m not sure I’m ready to discuss.

  “Brenna told me that you were the one who helped her that night. The one who got her out of the room Mikhail was holding her in. That was really brave,” Francesca fills the silence.

  I duck my head. “I don’t know if had much to do with bravery. More like an insane amount of fear.”

  “Isn’t that what being brave means? Doing something despite how much it scares you. There are times I wish I had that much courage,” she says quietly.

  After only a moment’s hesitation, I reach across the table and squeeze her hand. Francesca raises her head to meet my gaze.

  “I think you have far more bravery than you give yourself credit for.” It’s true, too. Based on what Pierce told me she went through, she’s resilient and strong.

  Her smile is sincere. “Thank you.” She takes a deep breath and breathes it out on a, “So…”

  I pull my hand from hers and place it in my lap, cradling it in my other one. “So.”

  Francesca looks over her shoulder and her eyes return to mine. “What’s going on between you and Pierce? Brenna told me you’ve been here since the night my brother and Jacob rescued her. She also told me that you lied and said you were here by choice.”

  There doesn’t seem to be judgment in her expression. Curiosity, yes. Anger, definitely, but I’ll guess that’s directed more at her brother than me. At least, I hope it is.

  “It’s a hard question to answer when I don’t even know myself,” I tell her honestly.

  “Do you love him?”

  I nearly choke. Francesca waits patiently for me to respond. “I don’t know the answer to that, either.”

  “Do you think you could love him?”

  Chapter 26

  Pierce

  * * *

  “Do you think you could love him?”

  Like a coward, I move away from the open window, not waiting for Mila’s answer. I’m not sure it’s one I’m ready to hear.

  Thank fuck, my phone rings to distract me. “De Luca.”

  “Wójcik is willing to negotiate a price,” Jacob gets right to it.

  “That didn’t take him long. Are we sure he’s not going to double cross us?” I wouldn’t put it past the bastard. Take our money, keep the girl, and align with the remaining Russians, as well as anyone else they can find, to try and bring us down.

  “He knows that going up against us and the Irish is a mistake he doesn’t want to make. Not after what just happened with Mikhail. He’s greedy enough to take our money. There are plenty of women out there they can purchase from other sources. Or steal off the streets.”

  The whole business is repugnant to me. I’d rather spill blood than pay for a human being, but if that’s what it takes to get Mila’s sister back, then I will.

  “When does the deal go down?” I ask.

  “Tomorrow at eight. Same place as this morning. Once the money is transferred to his off shore account, he’ll make the trade.”

  There’s a burning in my gut. “I hope Wójcik doesn’t try anything stupid.”

  “If he does, we’ll take care of it. I’ve contacted Dino, who’s ready to gather some of our forces at a second’s notice. I’ve also reached out to Donnelly. He’s alerted Cormac they may need to have their soldiers ready as back up as well,” Jacob says. “The Polish have to realize they can’t win if they try to pull some shit.”

  “And what about Maksim? Any word?”

  Jacob shakes his head. “My father had heard rumors of Mikhail having a son, but it seems their relationship has been one of contention. To the point that the elder never acknowledged the younger as his heir. He delegated him to be a foot soldier.”

  “If Maksim is selling women to the Polish, then my guess is he was doing it without Mikhail’s knowledge. Or at least, without his approval. It’s also possible he might try to regroup and rebuild, now that his father is out of the way.”

  “That’s certainly a possibility,” Jacob agrees.

  “Wherever he is, he can’t stay hidden forever. Not if he wants to continue doing business with Wójcik. Which means I’ll find him.”

  The two women step inside.

  “I’ll talk to you tomorrow.” I disconnect the call and meet them in the middle of the living room. Mila is having trouble meeting my gaze. I swing it to Francesca. Her anger seems to have cooled a little, but she still doesn’t look completely happy with me.

  “I’m heading home,” she says.

  “Text me when you get there, please.”

  She nods. “I will.”

  I breathe a sigh of relief when she gives me a brief hug, before doing the same to Mila, who remains where she is while I walk Francesca to the front door. She waves when she reaches the car and driver waiting for her at the curb. I stand there a moment longer, not sure if I’m giving the woman behind me a little more time or myself. When there’s no longer any reason for me not to, I close the door and head back to the living room. Mila has settled into her favorite position on the couch. I take a seat in the chair next to it.

  “Did you two have a nice visit?” I ask, not giving any indication that I’d overheard their conversation.

  There’s always been a certain distance between us, a hesitancy, because of who we are, but the chasm seems even bigger tonight. No doubt because things have changed since just this morning. It feels so long ago.

  “Yes.” Mila doesn’t elaborate.

  It’s on the tip of my tongue to tell her about the meeting tomorrow with the Polish, that in twenty-four hours I’ll have Anya back, but hope is such a fragile emotion for Mila. It’s better that I don’t give her some, only to take it away if shit goes sideways.

  “I’m glad. Francesca hasn’t really had a lot of friends. Not since…everything. Aside from Brenna anyway. Although, I’m not sure the three of you together is a good thing. I have a feeling you guys will cause Jacob and me to have a few heart attacks.”

  Mila swings her gaze toward me, and a smile tugs at her lips to match the one on mine. “That might actually be something I’d like to see.”

  I cover my chest in mock offense. “You want to see me have a heart attack?”

  Her soft giggle is a punch to my gut. I want to do whatever I can to make it happen more often.

  “Not necessarily,” she clarifies. “But I’d definitely pay to see your face when the three of us get together and you wonder what we might be scheming about. I think I’d like to see you a little unsettled for a change. You do far too much of the unsettling.” Her smile widens to soften her words.

  “I think I’ve felt more unsettled since I met you than I have since I was a kid,” I admit.

  “That makes two of us.”

  “Are you feeling better about things? Between you and my sister?” I pause. “Between us?” I shouldn’t have asked, but I can’t help myself. This is too important. I still can’t get Francesca’s last question out of my mind.

  “After everything with Maksim, I stopped trusting anyone. Including myself. Especially myself. It’s going to take time for me to get back to a place where I don’t think everyone I meet has an ulterior motive,” Mila says. “You’re going to have to be patient with me, because I’m not always going to get it right.”

  “I’m not, either,” I admit. “For the last twenty years I’ve closed off every emotion except anger. I’ve nurtured it and let it grow so big it nearly consumes me. Showing my emotions means I’m weak. So I locked t
hem away. Or I tried to. Then you came along, and like a key, unlocked everything.”

  “Who made you think feeling something besides anger made you weak?” she asks with narrowed eyes.

  Telling Jacob my secret should have made it easier to say the words again, but they stick to my tongue. Even all these years later, Sofia De Luca has the power to reduce me to nothing. Instinct makes me want to lash out. To hurt Mila like I’d been hurt. I force myself to rein it in. To look her in the eye. “My mother.”

  Her expression shifts to understanding. “That’s why you hate her.”

  “Yes.”

  She curls tighter into herself and wraps her arms around her knees, where she rests her chin. “Every time Maksim cut me or burned me, I screamed in pain. He enjoyed my tears. Which is why I stopped shedding them. Because he used every single one of them against me. To prove how weak I was. I understand why you closed yourself off. You were protecting yourself.”

  The more I learn about her, the more I discover exactly how much alike we are. Both of us were taught to bury parts of ourselves, to hide, so others can’t hurt us. I rise from the chair, lift Mila off the sofa, cradling her in my arms, and look her in the eyes. “I’m done hiding behind the anger.”

  Chapter 27

  Mila

  * * *

  Pierce’s words terrify me. Because if he isn’t going to hide, then that means I can’t either. It wouldn’t be fair to keep my armor up if he shows his vulnerability. God, the mere thought of tearing down the walls I’ve built makes my heart race and my belly churn.

  He shifts me in his arms and turns out the light before carrying me down the hallway toward the bedroom. My mind flashes back to what happened the last time we were in here, and I can’t help but stiffen. He’s not Maksim. Pierce comes to a complete stop.

  “Is everything all right?” he asks.

  I can’t make out his features in the near darkness, but there’s tension in his frame. If I say no, my gut tells me that he’ll accept it. Before today, I’m not sure that would have been the case. I force myself to relax and palm his cheek. “Yes, I think it is, actually.”

  Only a few of Pierce’s long strides later we enter my bedroom. Moonlight filters through the open blinds, shining brightly onto the maroon satin comforter. The fabric reflects the light making a mirage appear. He pulls back the covering, washing away the image, and lays me on the bed. The lamp on the nightstand flicks on, casting an eery glow across Pierce’s face. The tattoo on his throat, the one that reminded me of Death in the beginning, is just another beautiful piece of him.

  He grabs a condom from his wallet and sets it on the nightstand. I breathe a little easier at the sight of it. Then, he slowly undresses, dragging his shirt up and over his head. I take in every sinewy muscle and the ink covering it. The designs are a work art. I feel tiny compared to him.

  Pierce moves to his pants, and I swallow, my eyes watching everything. At last, he’s completely naked. He stands entirely at ease while I study every inch of his body from the tattoos along his right arm and onto his chest to the various scars that pepper his skin. My gaze drops to his thick, semi-hard cock with its purplish head and, god, that single vein running its entire length makes my mouth go dry. I raise my eyes to his.

  Even though I’m the one wearing all the clothes, I feel vulnerable with the way he stares down at me, as though he’s stripped everything away. I can’t hide from him. I’m not sure I want to any longer. I hadn’t been able to answer Francesca’s question outside, but looking up at him and with the intensity in which he watches me, the answer comes without hesitation. Could I love Pierce? Yes. Without a doubt.

  Following his example, I peel off my own shirt and toss it to the floor, then I wiggle out of my shorts and panties until I’m as naked as him. I scoot over and make room for him beside me. It’s all the invitation he needs, because the second he slides into the bed, his mouth claims mine.

  Pierce is so much bigger than me, I should feel crowded, but instead I feel safe. Protected. As though nothing could ever hurt me. His tongue begs entrance, and I let him in. He sweeps through my mouth, tasting every bit of it. I grab on to him for fear of floating away on the wave of pleasure washing over me. His hair is soft beneath my fingertips.

  The kiss deepens and the warmth of his calloused hands lingers along my skin. I shiver.

  “Are you cold?” Pierce murmurs against my lips.

  “No,” I whisper back.

  He raises his head and locks gazes with me. “Did you like how I touched you, then?” he asks with a satisfied smirk.

  “Yes.” As though he doesn’t already know I did.

  His hand roams, caressing my face, neck, and one arm leaving tiny prickles everywhere he goes. My nipples ache and harden as though begging for attention. Pierce answers their plea. A gentle fingertip traces around the outer edge of the pebbled tip. I arch up into his caress. I’ve always been self-conscious about their size, but the adoration in his eyes sweeps away any insecurities I have.

  Pierce’s hot mouth closes over the tip, and a gasp spills from me. He plays my body, dragging pleasure from my core. I want to give him as much as he’s giving me. Pushing against his chest, he pulls back, the air cool across the wetness surrounding my breast, and gazes down at me with those darkened eyes full of heat.

  “Can I touch you?” I ask.

  “Anywhere you’d like.”

  I give another gentle shove, and he rolls onto his back, folding his hands behind his head and opening himself up to my gaze. His biceps flex and my fingers itch to explore. Feeling bold, I rise up to my knees, trying to ignore my nakedness. The first place my fingertips trace is his lips. They’re perfectly matched in fullness, both plump, pink, and damp.

  Next, I travel across his chest, taking care not to touch the crown tattoo. Instead, I focus on the splash of colors on his right side. Blues, greens, reds, and yellows make up the various designs including another skull on the underside of his arm, this one with bright teal eyes. I want to ask about the meaning behind each one, but that’s a conversation for another time.

  My fingers linger over random scars here and there. They speak of the violent life this man leads. But it also speaks of his strength. His endurance. I continue my exploration, including counting each indentation marking his abs, the furrows deep and severe. There’s distinct v-shaped lines on each side of his hips that point inward, as though directing wandering gazes to where treasures lie.

  “You’re perfect.” The compliment slips from my lips before I can stop it, and I gaze down shyly.

  My cheeks flush at how I must sound. Pierce’s rusty chuckle rumbles through me.

  “I hardly think so,” he says, but I swear he wears a matching pink in his cheeks as well.

  Feeling bold, I straddle his thighs putting his cock as the center of attention. I ache to rub myself against the sleek line of it, but instead I wrap my hand around it and gently stroke up and down, slow and easy. He rumbles out a groan, and his muscles ripple, as though he’s barely maintaining control. It makes me feel powerful. Something I’ve never felt before.

  “I’ve never been in control before,” I say absently. “I mean, I know I’m not really the one in control here, but it feels like it. Like I actually have a say-so in what happens. I’m the one doing, instead of the one having things done to me.” I take my eyes off Pierce’s cock and meet his gaze. “That probably doesn’t make any sense, but it’s how I feel.”

  He slides his hands out from beneath his head and cradles my hips, giving them a gentle squeeze. “I understand what you’re trying to say. You’re the one leading this. Whatever you want to do, go ahead. You make all the decisions.”

  I watch him a moment longer, gauging his sincerity. His expression is open, his eyes clear of any emotion except arousal. Once again, boldness overcomes me, and I reach over to the nightstand and pluck the condom from it. My hands are shaking so hard it takes me two tries to tear open the foil.

  Pierce cover
s my hands with his. I jerk my eyes up to meet his. “Take a breath,” he says, and inhales deeply. I follow with one of my own. He breathes out and I do the same. Another breath in together and out together. He slowly lets me go and gives me a nod of encouragement. With far less trembling, I manage to slide the latex over his length.

  “Touch me. Please?” I ask.

  “Where?”

  I take Pierce’s hand and place it on my breast. He doesn’t need any further encouragement. Both his hands palm my breasts, kneading them. His thumbs brush across my nipples, sending pleasure along a string attached directly to my center.

  It’s as though that’s the cue my body needed. My hips rock against his, and I slide my pussy along the long line of his cock. Pierce is like the maestro that directs the orchestra. My body is the instrument, and while I think I’m the one playing it, that’s not the case at all.

  Slickness coats the condom and I roll my pelvis harder, trying to deepen the connection and increase the friction. Up and down I glide while he continues plucking at my nipples. I place my palms on his stomach and use the leverage to move faster. There’s so much power contained in his body. A tiny shiver ripples down my back. Even from the beginning, Pierce could have hurt me far more than he had. He could have been just like Maksim. It’s over. Stop thinking about the past.

  “Look at me, Mila,” he commands.

  Instinctively, I obey. His eyes are as warm and kind as they’ve ever been. Pierce looks at up me with an emotion I’m afraid to name. Because I think it mirrors the same one I feel when I look at him. I’m not ready to acknowledge it yet. Is he?

  “In here, in this room, there are only the two of us. No one else is allowed. Understand?”

  It terrifies me how well he can read me, like he knows what I’m thinking. I nod, and I’m afraid I’ve ruined the mood. Pierce’s hands slide from my breasts to my hips and he encourages me to take back control.