Watching Her: A Dark Romance (Keep Me Series Book 3)

by Angela Snyder

  I cry out his name as I collapse in his arms, shuddering against him as the orgasm overtakes my mind, body and soul.

  His hot breath skims across my cheek as we hold onto each other, trying to calm our racing heartbeats.

  And then, all too soon, I'm pulling away from him. I love the unspoken connection we share when we're together, but it's so powerful that it frightens me.

  I glance over at Jax beside me, and he has a satisfied grin on his face. I can't help but smile.

  "Thank you," he says, his thumb grazing across my knee.

  I don't know if he's thanking me for the massage or for the sex or maybe both, but I decide it doesn't matter. Jax isn't my boyfriend, and I'm not his girlfriend. He doesn't need to explain anything.

  "I better go check on Luc," he says before standing. He discards the condom in the trashcan before getting dressed.

  I pull on my own clothes and am surprised when he places a sweet kiss on my lips before leaving my room.

  I don't know exactly what we are, but one thing's for sure — one of us will end up getting hurt when it's all over.

  CHAPTER 27

  KATYA

  "SO WHAT'S WITH the no shoes in the house thing?" I ask Jax while we sit outside late afternoon one day. We're on a grassy hill overlooking the beach below. The sun is shining, the water is sparkling like diamonds and the wind is blowing through my hair with a gentle breeze. It's actually quite beautiful here, if I just allow myself to forget about the reason why I'm here and the fact that I'm not able to leave anytime soon.

  "Lucien's house, Lucien's rules," he replies with a grin that says there's more to that story than what he's letting on.

  Today, Jax is dressed casually in shorts and a t-shirt, and he looks so good I have to force myself to stop staring.

  "Okay, but why is it his rule?" I ask.

  "Let me explain it to you exactly how Lucien first explained it to me." He turns towards me and asks, "How often do you wash your feet?"

  "Um, every day when I take a shower or bath," I reply.

  "Okay. Now, how often do you wash your shoes?"

  "Ah," I mutter in understanding. "So he's worried about germs? But I've seen Maria scrub those floors every day with my own eyes. She leaves nothing untouched."

  "I know, but it's more of a mental thing with Lucien. Just knowing that no one is wearing shoes and bringing in germs or whatever from the outside makes him feel better."

  I shake my head in disbelief. The more I learn about Lucien's oddities, the more he freaks me out. I don't know much about him other than the little things that Jax has told me, so it makes me wonder why he is the way he is. There has to be more to the story.

  "What's wrong with your cousin?" I ask him bluntly.

  He grimaces at my question and stares off into the ocean. "A lot of things," he replies sadly. "His mother was a drug addict, and she would sell Lucien when he was a little kid to pedophiles for money."

  I gasp, my hand clasping over my mouth in disbelief.

  "Yeah," Jax says with a nod. "It's not a pretty story, by any means." He picks at a few blades of grass. "He had a rough childhood, to say the least. His mother and my dad were brother and sister. My dad found Lucien when he was twelve and took him away from his piece of shit mom to come live with us." He stops picking at the grass and frowns. "We're the same age, but he looked like a little kid, half our age, starved, covered in bruises and scars…and scared out of his mind." He clears his throat and looks out over the water once more. "My dad saved his life."

  I listen intently and hold back tears that are threatening to overflow. I guess Lucien and I have more in common than what I initially thought. He too was the victim of a parent who did not have his best interests in heart. And I know what it's like to be raped and beaten and sold for pleasure.

  "So the phobias and issues with germs that he has all stem from that fucking mess of a childhood he had," Jax explains. "Lucien can't help the way he is. It's just the only way he knows how to deal with life. The only way he can cope sometimes."

  I nod in understanding. I'm sorry now that I assumed Lucien was just some kind of monster or lunatic without knowing his background. I was so quick to judge that his quirks were strange and unfounded, but now I know better. I'm glad I asked Jackson to share Lucien's story with me. If I'm going to be living on this island for a while, I need to understand the people that live here better.

  Reaching over, I grasp Jackson's hand and squeeze it reassuringly. "You're a good man, Jax," I tell him sincerely. "I'm sure that was hard on you too back then, taking in a stranger and having your father's attention all on him to help make him well."

  Jax stares down at our joined hands before meeting my eyes. "It was tough, but I love Lucien like a brother. I'm glad everything worked out the way it did. I would do anything for him."

  I pull on his hand, tugging him closer until he's close enough for me to plant my lips on his. The kiss is sweet and innocent at first. But soon, like always, it grows heated with a passion I only previously read about in books.

  Every time I'm with Jax, I feel like a moth floating towards the flame. And I would catch on fire if it meant just one moment close enough to his light, his energy.

  Jax is addictive, like the most powerful drug in the universe, and I fear I'll never be able to get him out of my system.

  CHAPTER 28

  JACKSON

  AFTER OUR LITTLE talk outside, Katya is practically jumping my bones the moment we make it inside the house. Showing her my vulnerability definitely worked out in my favor, and now I'm not so mad at myself for acting like a pussy and talking about my feelings.

  Her lithe body crushes against mine as we make our way to the den, kissing and practically fucking each other through our clothes on the way.

  The room is quiet and dark, and I'm quick to start stripping off her clothes. I know there are staff milling about, but the fact that someone could hear us or even catch us turns me the fuck on.

  Turns out not only do I like to watch, but I like to be watched. I never would have learned my new fetish without Katya. She's been trying to fuck me on every surface of this house over the past week or so, and I can't say that I'm complaining.

  It's like we can't get enough of each other. And I never truly thought I could ever be with just one woman, on my own, but she's proving me wrong….time and time again.

  "Fuck, you drive me crazy," I tell her as I break off the searing hot kiss.

  I bend her over the arm of the couch and kick her legs apart. Kneeling, I push my face into her pussy and lick her from her clit all the way up to her little, rosy asshole.

  She gasps loudly at the movement and squirms against my tongue, and it makes me smile.

  Focusing on her swollen clit, I practically devour her — licking, nipping, biting, sucking.

  "Please!" she begs, and it's music to my ears.

  It takes a lot for Katya to lower those walls and ask me for anything, let alone beg me to make her come.

  My tongue flattens against her clit as I slip a finger inside of her. She's wet and growing wetter by the second. My cock hardens to pure steel and presses painfully against the zipper of my shorts.

  Ignoring the pain, I add a second finger and then a third, curling my fingertips and hitting the spot inside of her that has her mumbling nonsensical words against the cushion of the couch.

  She comes hard on my face, her liquid heat coating my fingers as she cries out.

  Standing, I slip out of my shorts and briefs, put on a condom and line up my cock with her entrance before she even has a chance to recover from her first of what I hope are many orgasms. Knowing how wet she is, I push inside of her with one, brutal thrust, burying myself deep.

  She cries out at the invasion, and then her cries intensify as I pump my hips, pulling out of her almost the whole way before slamming back home again.

  Her tight channel grips my cock as I fuck her hard, harder than I've ever fucked her before.

 
"Oh, Jax," she moans, and it only spurs me on.

  Pulling her upright from the couch, I press her sweet backside against my front. My hand travels from her flat stomach, up between her breasts and grips her throat, and I can feel her hummingbird pulse beating against my fingertips. I move my hand to her chin, placing my thumb against her full lips. Her pink tongue darts out, licking the pad before she gives me a hard bite.

  I suck in a hiss of air when her teeth sink into my flesh. "Naughty girl," I tell her before shoving my thumb into her mouth. "Suck," I instruct her, and she does it so fucking well.

  When my thumb is nice and wet, I take it from her mouth. Moving my hands to her hips, I push her over the arm of the couch again and hold her in place possessively, gripping her hard enough to leave bruises.

  I pound into her from behind as my wet thumb presses against her tiny rosebud. She gasps loudly, but doesn't tell me to stop. Leaning down, I growl in her ear, "I want to claim your ass soon, Katya."

  She moans in response, biting down on her plump bottom lip hard.

  I drive my thumb further inside of her as I thrust in and out of her wet pussy. "Fuck, you feel like heaven," I grit out, my words harsh and desperate. "Better than heaven," I conclude as I start to see stars behind my lids.

  Her inner walls begin to squeeze me to the point of almost pain, and I know she's going to come. So damn hard. I draw her back against me, gripping her throat again as I hiss in her ear, "Come for me, Katya."

  As if her body is obeying my commands, she explodes around me, crying out my name. "Oh, fuck, Jax!"

  Hearing my name coming from her lips drives me mad. The possessive, hungry beast inside of me I never knew existed rears its ugly head. I fucking love it. Probably too much.

  Feeling suddenly possessive and almost completely gone out of my mind, I keep fucking her tight, little hole with my thumb as I set a torturous pace, thrusting in and out of her wet, velvety folds harder and faster. It isn't long before she's trembling through another orgasm, opening her mouth wide on a silent scream and going almost limp against the couch as her quivering legs give out.

  I brutally thrust inside of her, withdrawing my thumb so that I can grip both of her hips and take her the way I want to take her.

  Leaning over her, I hiss, "You're mine," against her soft skin as I withdraw almost completely before driving home once more.

  "Yours," she agrees, panting and completely out of breath.

  I pump my hips once, twice, three times, and then I'm coming so fucking hard I almost black out. "Fuck, Katya, yes," I hiss.

  My cock twitches inside of her for a long time before I finally withdraw, pulling out gently and slowly.

  After throwing the condom in the nearby trashcan, we both tumble onto the couch in a tangle of limbs while we try to catch our breath.

  Every time I'm with Katya it feels amazing. No — more than amazing. It's like the most incredible thing I've ever experienced. There are no words to describe what I feel when I'm inside of her, fucking her, making her mine.

  She cuddles up against my chest, placing soft kisses to my heated skin. We've never really cuddled after sex, but it feels nice to have her in my arms.

  I pull her closer to me and place a kiss on the top of her head, inhaling her flowery scent.

  We lie there for what feels like forever before I announce, "I better go check on Lucien. It's almost time to change the dressing on his wound."

  She nods in agreement, and she's quiet as we get dressed in silence. Leaning down, I place a soft kiss to her lips and tell her, "I'll see you at dinner."

  She smiles up at me, and it's a breathtakingly beautiful sight.

  It's in that moment that I start to fall a little farther for Katya. She wasn't even on my radar just a few weeks ago. She came completely out of left field. But sometimes love is sneaky like that. Instead of trying to find it, sometimes it finds you.

  CHAPTER 29

  JACKSON

  LUCIEN HAS HAD several days of rehabilitation with a full-time therapist, who has taken up temporary residency on the island. He's walking with only a slight limp with the assistance of a cane, which is more than I could have ever asked for. Hell, the guy should be dead right now. The fact that he's even alive and breathing is a medical marvel.

  With continued extensive therapy and treatment, he might even be able to return to completely normal someday. Well, Lucien's version of normal anyway.

  I enter his office after punching in the code, and he's sitting at his computer, scowling at the screen.

  I know he's upset that he hasn't found any leads to Adeline's whereabouts. He misses her like crazy. Hell, we all do. She charmed her way into the hearts of all of us.

  What started off as a complete misunderstanding — Lucien purchasing Adeline from her ex-fiancé, Giovanni, under false pretenses without her knowledge — slowly morphed into true love.

  And now Giovanni has her again. I'm sure of it.

  Who knows what the fuck he's doing with her? He could have sold her to someone else…or worse.

  I shudder at the thought. That's the kind of shit that keeps me up at night well into the morning hours. And if I'm barely sleeping, I know Lucien isn't getting even a wink of sleep.

  "Anything new?" I ask him, my tone dripping with hopefulness.

  Shaking his head, Lucien grumbles, "Nothing. Like always."

  I go into the bathroom to wash my hands and collect what I need to clean and bandage his shoulder wound. When I reenter his office, I tell him, "Don't worry, Luc. She'll turn up." Then I add softly, "She has to."

  I can't envision a world where Adeline doesn't exist. It makes me physically ill to think about it. And even though I love the girl, I don't even love her one-tenth of what Lucien does. I can't even imagine how much pain he's in right now.

  I sit down in a chair beside him and gingerly start to unwrap the bandage around his right shoulder. I squirt some saline solution into the wound, and Lucien grits his teeth, closes his eyes and breathes deeply through his nose. I'm sure it's tender, but he's so damn lucky.

  Clean in-and-out wounds, fractured clavicle and some soft tissue damage in his shoulder…only minor nerve and tissue damage in his thigh. A millimeter to the right or to the left, and he wouldn't even be here right now.

  It could have been worse. So much fucking worse.

  "How's your thigh doing?" I ask him.

  "Fine," he answers with a huff.

  I'd been tending to his thigh wound for a few days before Lucien adamantly announced he was tired of having me so close to his junk. After laughing for several minutes, I taught him how to dress the damn thing himself. And I'm sure he's keeping it clean. I mean, fuck, this is Lucien we're talking about.

  But I continue to dress his shoulder since he physically can't. I know he doesn't like to be touched, but his phobias have calmed down significantly as of lately. I think his brain is so focused on finding Adeline that he doesn't really concentrate on all the other shit that used to bombard him on a daily basis.

  "Looks good," I tell him when I finish up. "No sign of infection. It's healing really well."

  "Good," he mutters.

  I carry everything back to the bathroom, put it all away, discard of the used supplies and wash my hands before walking out. "The watch is still a dead end?" I ask him. Lucien had gifted Adeline a watch with a GPS tracker inside. The only thing is — the watch runs on body heat. Doesn't need a battery. Lucien's brilliant creation, of course.

  But somewhere along the line, Adeline either took the watch off or it was taken from her. And so the GPS stopped tracking her once she got back to New York City. We could only track her that far.

  So, she could still be in New York or halfway across the world right now, and we would have absolutely no idea.

  "The watch hasn't been activated since it first went offline," he says solemnly. "I should have installed an emergency battery. I can't believe I was so stupid," he growls, clearly blaming himself.

  I hang
my head. Even though I always try to keep positive for his sake, it's so freaking hard. I clap a hand on his good shoulder. "Don't worry. Something will turn up," I tell him.

  "I hope so, Jax, because I'm going crazy thinking about all the things that could be happening to her," he confesses in a whisper.

  Me too, I think to myself, but don't dare say the words out loud.

  CHAPTER 30

  KATYA

  I CONTINUE MY training sessions with Wraith. Between his brutal workouts and Maria's delicious meals, I've actually gained some weight and muscle mass.

  It feels good to eat regular meals three times a day and not be afraid of waking up every morning, worrying about what's going to happen next and who's going to hurt me.

  It's definitely a change for the better, and I owe it all to Jax.

  Wraith points his finger and thumb at me like he's holding a weapon. "First point of contact?" he asks.

  "Blow to the wrist to get the gun pointed away from me," I tell him before swinging my forearm up and knocking away his hand and, therefore, the fake gun.

  "And then?"

  "Anywhere vulnerable," I respond, going through the motions of kneeing him in the balls and gouging his eyes, but never making contact.

  We've been through this a hundred times or more, but he insists this is the most important training exercise. I think deep down he's worried the island could be under siege again. And I also know he feels guilty about what happened during the first attack. He wants me to be able to hold my own. He wants me to be safe and stay alive without actually saying the words out loud.

  Wraith doesn't use his words very often, and that's the understatement of the century. He's the most difficult and stubborn nut to crack, but the reward of finally breaking through the tough, hard shell is rewarding.

  The more I get to know Wraith, the more I like him. He tells me little tidbits about his checkered past, but I still don't know his real name or why he left the Russian mafia to begin with. He's a mystery wrapped up tightly in an enigma — that's for sure.