Could he have sex with her and let her walk away? He didn’t think so.
Maks made an annoyed sound and spun to face his monitors. “Whatever, V. You hold off if you want to.” He typed something into his keyboard. The website for Club Pant came up. “They’re your balls,” he added.
Cringing at what he was about to do, Vincente braced himself with his legs apart and arms crossed over his chest. “Uh, before you get started on whatever it is you’re doing . . . What are you doing?”
“Looking into the little Aussie. Gotta have me some of that.” Maksim’s mouth twisted in a wolfish grin. Poor Sydney didn’t know what was coming for her. Guy was relentless when it came to his sexual conquests.
“Word on the street is she doesn’t fool around, so good luck with that. Anyway, uh, mind if I ask you something personal?”
“Yes, I’ll probably tie her up at some point.” Maksim’s tone was long-suffering. “Fuck. You guys need to stop living your lives through me.”
Vincente rolled his eyes. “Not what I was going to ask. I meant something really personal.”
That big body came around in the leather chair. The Russian’s face hardened to granite, and he looked at Vincente with an expression usually reserved for his enemies. “Sure, man. Go ahead. It’s what I live for.”
His tone was massively sarcastic. Shit. “Sorry, brother. Forget it. It’s just my curiosity talking.”
“No. You’re going to ask now that you’ve put that happy place in my head,” Maks insisted. “Go.”
He winced. He didn’t think any of the boys, other than Vasily, had ever dared ask about his past. All they knew was that at fourteen Maksim had been kidnapped and held for ransom back in Russia. The only detail Vasily had let slip was that Maks had spent nearly three months in a cell, which led Vincente to believe the guy knew a thing or two about how to deal with mental trauma.
“Are you normal now? Fuck. Sorry.” He struggled to put into words what he wanted to ask. “Has time helped at all? And does the trauma fade along with your memories?”
“Has time made losing Sophia bearable, V? Trauma is trauma, after all.”
Vincente shook his head, pretty sure their expressions now matched. It wasn’t any easier now than it had been the day he’d pulled back that sheet and seen his sister’s dead body.
“Then maybe I’m stronger than you, because I’m pretty fucking good.” His friend leaned back in his chair and seemed to really think about the question. “Had Nollan gone after your redhead sexually, I would have said she’ll be fucked-up for a very long time. She’s a girl. It’s different for them, the violation.” He blinked and shook his head, looking as if something hurt. “Then again, maybe it isn’t a gender thing but an individual’s inner strength. I mean, they raped and beat me. But I was drugged and only remember afterward, so that helps.” He shrugged and Vincente tried not to show that his heart had just broken wide open at the revelation of what his friend had been through. “The power of the mind is spectacular, Vincente. All of us have the ability to mentally triumph over any goddamn thing we want.” He straightened and his crooked smirk was a real fuck-you. “What the majority lack is the capacity. People are lazy, and some like to be the victim. Nika doesn’t strike me as one of those, but what do I know? I made a conscious decision to throw my past away when I was fifteen and wanted to fuck Lydia Barlow but couldn’t get it up because of all the shit in my head. That was the last time I allowed it to affect me and since then I’ve been as close to normal as one gets.” Maks gave him a salute and spun away, signaling “talk time” was over.
Vincente knocked him on the shoulder, bid him a quiet good night, and left him to his research. Did Maksim really believe he was normal? he wondered as he climbed the stairs, his jaw almost snapping from a yawn that came out of nowhere. He entered the foyer and rubbed his tired eyes. His head was too full of advice to make any sense of it at this time of night. So, he did what any normal man would do—he stopped thinking.
Yawning again, he went up another flight and entered his room as quietly as he could. He refused to use a spare bedroom in his own house—even though a gentleman would. His eyes adjusted to the dim glow from the bedside lamp, and he saw Nika’s shape outlined beneath the blankets. She’d left him his side of the bed this time. He smiled a little and went through to the bathroom to wash up and disarm.
Twenty minutes later, barely able to keep his eyes open, he watched the steady rise and fall of her ribs and knew she was asleep. His comfortable, warm, inviting king-size was huge, so, shrugging, he did what he did every night and climbed in. Man, this lack-of-sleep business was kicking the shit out of him, he thought, already slipping away.
That must be why he was here . . .
Nika’s body jerked and her eyes flew open just before Kevin’s fist connected with her face. She extracted her arm from the sheet and pulled the soft material from where it had tightened across her throat. That must have been why Kevin had been choking her in the dream.
She calmed her breathing and rolled to her side, freezing when two things registered at once. One, something furry followed her legs and settled behind her knees again. Charlie, she thought with a smile. And two, Vincente was asleep next to her. He was in nothing but a pair of boxers and he was lying on top of the sheets.
She’d never seen anything more beautiful in her life.
Going up on her elbow, she attempted to wake up properly to get in a good ogle, but the bedside lamp didn’t allow for enough light. She saw mostly shadows and the outline of a big body. And he didn’t snore.
She scooted a little closer and laid her head down again, blinking sleepily as she greedily stole the opportunity to study his severe features. Like most people, Vincente looked different at rest. Not harmless, by any means, but a little less as if he were debating on whether to go with ankle weights and the Hudson for his victim or a shovel and some deep woods.
Without thinking about it, and because she couldn’t have stopped herself even if she had, she brought one finger up to lightly touch the softness of his mouth, stilling when his lips opened for her slightly. He grunted and reached out, his mouth tipping up at the corner when his fingers came into contact with her waist. His hand slipped between her and the mattress and he easily pulled her into his cool, hard body, curving around her until they were spooning.
Her heart pounded, her body flushed hot, and her throat went dry as dirt. Never in her life had she spooned with a man. Never had she wanted to. Right then? She would have sawed off a sleeping limb before altering this position.
Slowly she covered his arm that was around her with her own. She could feel his . . . package . . . tucked against her butt cheeks. Heat filled her face. She wanted to snuggle back. To rub against him. To excite him. She wanted to arouse him until he took her. But—and this was the frightening part—it was more than that. She wanted much more with him than sex. So much more.
She closed her eyes as her fingers idly played over the leather bands he wore on his wrist. She fingered the angel charm and thought of Sophia and what her death had meant to him.
They really were very much alike. They’d both put themselves through hell for their siblings, only Vincente still was. Maybe that was a part of the connection she felt with him. He understood why she’d done what she had for Caleb. Because he’d have done the same for Sophia. Nika knew without a doubt that if he could have, Vincente would have traded places with his sister and allowed her to live the life he thought she deserved. Why didn’t he think he deserved the same?
She yawned and burrowed into the pillow, somehow knowing she wouldn’t be having any more nightmares starring Kevin tonight.
She slipped away to the feel of Charlie finding his way up and cuddling into her navel.
CHAPTER 19
A silky gossamer blanket over his chest woke Vincente from one of the most restful sleeps he could ever remember having. He r
an his fingers through the softness—wondering if one of his pillows had ripped open and the stuffing had leaked out. He cracked an eye, and then both sprang wide.
Fiery hair was spread out all over his bare chest.
His gaze skipped around his bedroom and then settled on Nika, his heartbeat thumping to life. Streams of sunlight filled the area as memories of last night slid into place.
He shifted a little so that he could see her better and then stared when the movement sent her into a feline stretch that arched her back in one gorgeous slope. The soft material of his Affliction T-shirt stretched across her mouthwatering breasts, outlining perfectly two beaded nipples. Her arms went over her head, pulling the hem of the shirt up to show a sexy-as-hell pair of gold panties that left zero to the imagination. Her head fell back so that the vulnerable curve of her throat was bared to his covetous gaze as she settled into sleep once more.
The sound that had come from her throat at the top of the stretch had his waking erection pounding, searching for someplace warm and wet to burrow into. His focus shifted to the end of the bed when her feet started wiggling. What the hell? A second later, a muzzle and two blinking eyes popped out from under the blanket.
Charlie.
Vincente smiled as the pup scrambled up his chest and started licking his face. His head then whipped to the side, but he caught the little guy before he could lunge on his mistress.
Charlie’s mistress, not his.
As quickly and silently as he could, Vincente slid out of bed, threw on a pair of jeans, and hightailed it downstairs with the squirming pup under his arm. He basically flew into the kitchen, startling Samnang into dropping the serving fork he’d been carrying to the table that was surrounded by the boys and an instantly squeaking Eva. He beelined toward her, since she’d already jumped to her feet, and dumped the dog into her ready arms before heading out again. “Needs to pee and eat,” he threw over his shoulder.
He raced back the way he’d come, absolutely refusing to allow his mind to work on anything other than the route back to his room.
He was under the covers, in the same position he’d woken in not even a minute ago, only now his breathing was heavier, his heart pumping . . . and this woman in his bed was still the most luscious thing he’d ever seen.
Need her, Fan Boy breathed in wonder.
Almost as if she’d been waiting for him, her legs straightened in another, milder, stretch and her eyes slowly slid open. To see him devouring her with what he knew had to have been a downright famished look.
“Oh!” She shot upright and scrambled back, scooting to the edge of the bed, her eyes widening as she lost her balance and slid off. She moved too fast for his thrown-out arm to catch her, and she landed on the soft carpet with a hard thump.
“Shit,” he cursed when he heard her low moan. He shot up to grab her and pull her to her feet. “You okay?”
She nodded, cheeks flushed. “Yes, I’m fine. I forgot you were here, and you startled me.”
God help him, but that raspy morning voice went down his spine like a wet tongue.
She stepped back to the bed and lifted the blankets, frowning when she saw it empty. “Where’s Charlie?” she asked, turning to him with a swish of bright hair.
“Eva has him.”
“Oh. Um, I guess I should get down there and take care of him before she mauls him to death.”
She paused, and they stared at each other for a few beats. With another twirl, one that blew her scent straight into his nostrils, she skipped into the bathroom and closed the door before he was even able to open his mouth to thank her for allowing him the best night’s sleep he’d had in weeks. She hadn’t done anything specific, just been there. But he knew he had her to thank for it.
The bathroom door opened, and she flitted out again. She grabbed her clothes from the top of the dresser. “Forgot,” she said with a quick smile, holding them up before she disappeared again.
She was nervous. He made her nervous. Why? Because she was a bundle of sexual energy, like him?
The wishful thought had Vincente’s twitching lips spreading up and into a full smile, which then turned into a chuckle, which surprisingly turned into a loud laugh that came from deep in his belly. What a fucking delusional idiot he was. More likely, she was shitting herself because she was up here alone with him and he’d been looking at her as though he wanted to devour her in one bite. Or maybe a lot of little nibbles.
The sound of the door opening yet again had him rubbing at his eyes.
“Why are you laughing?” Nika’s demand came with a suspicious frown. “Are you laughing at me?”
He shook his head. “No, babe. I’m definitely not laughing at you.” Her eyes narrowed as if she didn’t know whether to believe him or not.
She stood there in his bathroom doorway, his shirt so big on her it reached down to midthigh. One side of the neckline slid off to reveal the smooth skin of one shoulder and half her arm.
And that hair. Ah, that hair. It was a mass of gorgeous tangles, the bright reds and burnished golds contrasting with the black shirt, making his hands shake with the need to grab it in handfuls as he kissed the breath right out of her.
“You’re so fucking beautiful.”
Surprise swallowed the doubt in her eyes. She looked just as taken aback by the statement as he was for making it. It was one thing to think this shit, another to voice it. They stared at each other for a long minute, neither of them saying anything, both seeming to wait for the other to make a move.
He was going to take his friends’ advice. He decided right then. He would put a possible offer out, see what she thought, and then—God willing—he’d have her. Because he just couldn’t resist her. Couldn’t stay away anymore. No matter the reasons he should.
But first he had to feed her. She must be starving. “Don’t move. Okay?” He added the question to soften the order. He left the room after she nodded slowly and was smiling when he entered the kitchen.
He grabbed two plates off the counter and went over to the table, anticipation nearly shredding the skin from his flesh.
Alek handed him a spoon, which he accepted with a nod, so he could scoop some scrambled eggs onto the plates. He didn’t meet anyone’s eyes. They were staring at him, though; he could tell by the way not a one was talking anymore.
“Is Nika okay, Vincente?”
Eva. I can talk to Eva. “She’s great.”
“Is she hungry?”
Maksim. Fuck him. He continued to pile the plates with sausage links, bacon, a couple of pancakes, and a splash of maple syrup. He needed coffee. Nika liked coffee.
“V?”
Gabriel. Shit. I have to acknowledge him. “What?”
“Can I share some news with you? You’re the only one who doesn’t know.”
“Shoot.” Me in the head if you keep me down here a second longer than necessary.
“Uh, you’ll be needed around here to protect more than just me and Eva now.”
Vincente stilled. He lifted his head from his task, shifting the plates so that he was holding one in each hand, and looked at his best friend. “Explain.”
Gabriel’s grin was careful, verging on uneasy. “Eva’s pregnant.”
Vincente blinked and met Eva’s excited blue eyes.
“Congratulations, squirt. G,” he added, including his friend. “That’s . . .” He shook his head, trying to come up with a word strong enough to describe what that was. “Really . . . something.”
He dropped the heavy food-laden plates on the table and walked out. Not heading up to Nika but out to the pool.
What the fuck had he been about to do? His insides withered. He’d almost made love to Nika. Very nearly claimed her. And for what? So he could enjoy her lush, gorgeous body and then leave after? Possibly hurting her? Because he was too weak to resist?
Ev
a’s pregnant.
Those two words once again banged into his mind, causing jealousy and a need so fierce it was nearly overwhelming. He could never give Nika something so precious. A child. Because he’d sworn never to create one with the swimmers God had gifted him with. Never to bring an innocent being into this world, where it would be hacked at and destroyed by the cruel, vindictive people he surrounded himself with. Where it could be used to get at him, abused, like so many he saw each and every day.
Look at what had happened to Sofia. Her final image came to him, gray and cold in death. Arms and legs filled with needle marks. Bruises set into skin that would never again heal.
Then Nika’s image nailed him. Beaten and bleeding on that hotel room floor as the scum who’d hurt her fled the scene. His fiery vixen, so bright and vibrant, held prisoner for a year.
Vincente shook his head clear of the memories. How could Gabriel and Eva willingly risk something so vile happening to an innocent, helpless child of their making?
He couldn’t. Wouldn’t.
He looked at the French doors for a long minute before he went through them. How the hell was he going to let her go?
He didn’t know. But as he trudged up the stairs, he knew he had to try.
Nika turned from the window to see Vincente come in, still taunting her with his bare chest and gorgeous ink. She could tell immediately that something had changed. She could feel the chill from where she stood across the room. Moving forward, she crossed her arms over her middle and waited for him to speak. He went over to the nightstand and scooped up his phone. He’d taken the bandage off his sutures, and she could see they were holding up well. Would Tegan take them out? Or might he ask Nika to do it for him?
“You’re probably hungry.” His tone was formal. Distant. “If you’re ready, you can go down. Everyone’s already at the table.”
Confusion kept her silent. She wanted to ask him what had happened but didn’t want to put him on the spot. Didn’t want to hear him tell her to mind her own business. But she really wanted to know what had changed in the ten minutes since he’d told her she was beautiful. She opened her mouth but then closed it again. Maybe she shouldn’t push him. Not when things were going, or had been going, so well between them. Maybe he just needed some space.
The Salvation of Vengeance (Wanted Men #2) Page 28
