“You were…jealous.”
“You’re right. I was jealous. Not only jealous. Possessive, too. I have issues with trust, Sophia.”
“Ackerman is just a fellow lecturer at Cambridge. And he’s married. He was waiting for his wife to join him.”
“Marriage never stopped anyone from betraying.”
“Well, it’s a determinant for me.” She stared at his turbulent green eyes. “I believe in principles and morals. I’m faithful.”
“And I’m an idiot,” he said, his low, deep voice filled with sadness.
Sophia raised an eyebrow. “Can I agree with you? Or you are going to asphyxiate me again?”
He winced.
She stood on her tiptoes, kissing his lips in forgiveness, saying, “However strange this may be, even after everything, I liked the sex.”
She astonished him. He put his arms around her and she leaned onto his chest. “Is your throat hurting?” he asked, his voice concerned.
Sleep on it, Sophia. Don’t think about it. She nodded and said, “It will get better.”
“Sophia—”
“I don’t want to talk about that right now. Tomorrow.” She rested her forehead on his chest and stifled a yawn on his T-shirt.
“Come.” He picked her up in his arms and she nestled her face in the hollow of his neck. “Let’s sleep.”
“Why are you always carrying me in your arms?”
“You’re light as a feather and I’m strong and…” He squeezed her in his arms and felt her smile against his neck. “I like you where you are.”
“I just missed the stomping,” she teased.
His lips turned up in a small smile as she used his own words against him. And although he felt too downcast to be amused, he tried to keep up with her mood. “Tomorrow morning, I will show you the child sleeping beside you.”
Chapter 37
Sunday, March 14, 2010
6:57 a.m.
Sophia woke to the gentle sunlight streaming into their room by the opened curtains.
Her back was snuggled flush to Alistair’s front, his arms wrapped around her like bands, and her head rested on his shoulder. He held her as if he feared she would run away.
She didn’t know if she should smile or grimace at the possessiveness of the position, and very cautiously, she turned in his arms.
In his sleep, his face looked relaxed and young, with several strands of raven hair falling over his forehead.
So handsome. So distrustful. What am I going to do with you, Alistair Connor?
She tried to disengage herself from his embrace without waking him.
Then he mumbled something in his sleep and tightened his hold on her. His eyelids fluttered and he blinked, focusing sleepy green eyes on her. “’Morning,” he whispered, and kissed her forehead, grinning. “I like waking up to the sight of you.”
“Morning,” she croaked, and tried clearing her throat, but ended up emitting a small pained sound.
Immediately, he sat on the bed, pulling her with him. “Let me see your neck.”
His hand pulled hers away and he paled, closing his eyes at the sight of his fingers imprinted in black-and-blue on her skin. “I am a monster,” he muttered under his breath, disgusted with himself. He inhaled a deep breath and his beautiful green eyes filled with sorrow. “Forgive me.”
“You’re forgiven. I’ll be fine in a few hours.” She gave him a small smile and her palm touched his cheek. “Some honey and hot pomegranate tea will cure this.”
Despite her light words, Alistair looked miserable.
Sophia squirmed from his embrace and jumped off the bed, smiling. “I’ll be right back.”
Alistair stared down at his large hands and brooded over the absurdity of his actions, but a low whimper followed by a heartbroken sob and the sound of a key being hastily turned made his head come up sharply.
Fucking Christ! He knocked on the bathroom door. All he could hear were her sobs. “Sophia. Open the door. Please?” Alistair begged, to no avail. What have I done? He rested his back and head on the wall, eyes squeezed shut, and slid down to the floor. Sophia’s muffled sobs cut through his despair.
Enraged with himself, he pushed up from the floor and grabbed the phone to ask reception for a spare key to the bathroom.
Sophia huddled in the corner of the bathroom, hugging her legs.
Never, in her whole life, did she think she would see so many black-and-blue marks on her own body. And she didn’t know what to make of it. I haven’t been beaten, I haven’t been—I bruise easily, that’s all. She sobbed again and more tears rolled down her face, dripping on her bathrobe.
She didn’t want to think. She didn’t want to face it.
She liked him too much. And she didn’t know what to do with this situation.
You provoked him. You shouldn’t have— She dropped her head onto her knees and cried, confused and lost. Oh, please! I know it was not my fault.
Her mixed feelings and sorrow tormented her so much that she didn’t hear when the inside key dropped, the lock turned, and Alistair quietly entered the bathroom.
He dropped to his haunches beside her and lightly stroked her hair. “Sophia, please.”
She threw herself in his arms.
She wasn’t supposed to trust him, but she didn’t know any better. Over the past few weeks, he’d unlocked the door to her heart and had raided her soul.
Now she didn’t want to believe him capable of turning into an abusive man. It was—what, Sophia? An accident, like what happened with Ethan?
Without a word, his whole body tensed, Alistair rose with her cradled in his arms.
He’d been doing foul things in his life to fill the void that Heather had created with her sick pleasures. But since he met Sophia, he couldn’t discern the emptiness anymore.
Alistair sat in the armchair in the bedroom and rocked her in his arms, patiently waiting for the tears to subside. He had been unfulfilled, yes, but now he had Sophia. And Gabriela. He couldn’t afford to lose them. He couldn’t. “Please, Sophia, forgive me.”
She nestled herself in his arms and hid her face in the hollow of his neck. She sniffled and wiped her face with the sleeve of the bathrobe.
“I’m sorry—”
Her hand clamped over his mouth.
“When I looked in the mirror—” She hiccupped, woefully, and the tears started to fall again. She wiped them before they fell on Alistair’s sweater.
“Oh, Christ,” he murmured, and he leaned his cheek against hers, cradling her face between his face and his shoulder.
They remained quiet for a long time, Sophia’s occasional sniffs punctuating the silence.
He buried his head in her hair and whispered, “I don’t know what got into me.”
She caressed his hair and nape and murmured, “Make love to me.”
He lifted his head, disbelief stunning for a second. “You don’t mean it. We have to talk about—”
“Later,” she whispered. She cupped his head to bring his lips close to hers, running her tongue over them. “I want you to make love to me. Gently. And slowly.”
“I’ll be gentle, Beauty.” He kissed her tenderly and raised his head a bit, to look into her eyes. He whispered again on her mouth, his voice strained and sorrowful, “I’m so sorry, Sophia. I promise it won’t happen again.”
“We’re going to work this out,” she rasped. And she kissed him with all the faith inside her heart. “You have to start believing. In you. In me. In us.”
He returned the kiss, completely bewildered by her. “Are you sore?”
She lowered her eyelids, warring with the mixed feelings inside her.
“I know I was a brute, last night.” His hand cupped her face, making her look at him. “The truth, Sophia.”
“A bit,” she whispered.
“I’ll be so gentle,” he murmured on her lips and lowered his head to hers and took her mouth in a long, slow kiss, his tongue leisurely exploring her soft lips.
“S
ophia, I—” he started to whisper against the skin of her jaw only to stop short, jerking his head up to look at her. I…love you? The thought and the feeling made his chest expand painfully and it scared him. Christ. Is this for real?
“What?” she breathed on his mouth.
Alistair lovingly stroked her cheekbones and her jaw with his thumbs as if seeing her for the first time. “I think I’m falling in love with you,” he murmured, and bent his head to kiss her softly on the lips. His heart beat so fiercely it made him dizzy. He shook his head, raising it a bit to look deep into her eyes. He picked up her hand, putting it over his heart and rephrased, “That’s not right. I…I do love you, Sophia.”
She blinked. She put her other hand in his silky raven hair and a beautiful, huge smile spread over her face. “And it scares the hell out of you, doesn’t it?
“Aye. It does.” He nodded, studying her face and bright clear eyes. “But it does not scare you, does it?”
If possible, her smile broadened even more. “No. Not a bit.”
And she tugged his head down for a kiss that transmitted all her belief in him.
Alistair watched Sophia as she dozed snuggled close to his body. If you give me another chance, I’ll fight all my inner demons and rebuild my life with you. I’m never going to hurt you again, mo chridhe. I swear it.
He brushed away her hair to look closely at the marks on her neck and brushed his fingers over them, flinching when she, even in her sleep, moved away from his touch.
His mouth pressed into a hard line. His violent gesture puzzled and shocked him. He’d never been that aggressive before with any woman. Not even with Heather when he discovered her betrayal.
Aye, I like to dominate women, but it is just for fun and pleasure. He scowled at himself. Fun? Pleasure? Really, Alistair Connor?
With Heather, it had been role-play, but after her, he’d been doing it as vengeance. I’ve drowned myself in an unbelievably dark and evil pool of mud and sewage for years.
He glared up at the ceiling, aggravated as he recalled all his black deeds with a new perspective. When he was the same age as she was now, he had behaved rakishly and recklessly, not caring about the consequences.
In the exact opposite direction as her, instead of fortifying his character, he had debauched himself even more as the years went by. Not even the death of an unborn baby and of his dear daughter had made him stop.
Sophia shifted in his arms and moaned. He looked again at her neck and closed his eyes, sighing. There was no reason to react that strongly. He narrowed his arms around her. It was a simple conversation between friends. Nothing more.
Then a dark memory insinuated itself in his mind. The photos of his late wife with so many different men and women popped into his mind. A ferocious wrath surged through his body. In an attempt to control himself, he bit his inner cheek and tasted blood.
You’re too jaded, Alistair Connor. He shook his head and shooed the memories of Heather away. Sophia has never given me cause to doubt her.
And he remembered how she defended her late husband from Ethan’s cruel words and how love and admiration still showed in her voice when she spoke of him.
He looked down at her again, as she shifted away from his body, leaving him cold.
Her eyelids tightened, her whole face contracted and she started to pant.
“Sophia?” he murmured her name but she was too caught up in the throes of the nightmare to wake up from it gently. Her right hand shot up to her left upper arm, startling him as she moaned in pain and arched violently on the bed, gasping.
Christ. “Sophia,” he called, louder, “Wake up.”
She kicked the sheets and they tangled around her legs, making her more agitated. A broken and rough scream escaped from her hurt throat.
Alistair’s heart shattered and he shook her shoulders hard. “Sophia! WAKE UP!”
Sophia’s eyes shot open. She stared unseeingly at him for a few moments until she could comprehend where she was. She sucked in a ragged breath and closed her eyes again.
“Are you okay?” He released her shoulders slowly. He noticed that his fingers left red marks, new indentations on her skin. Great, Alistair Connor. Just great. You are going to cover the woman’s entire body in black-and-blue marks by the end of the day.
“Yes,” she answered hoarsely. “I-I’m sorry.”
He wrapped her in his arms and soothed her with tender, loving words in Gaelic, stroking her back lightly for some minutes until he felt her relaxing against his chest.
She looked at him, mortified that he’d seen and heard her having that nightmare. “I’m sorry—”
He stopped her with a finger on her lips and drew his ink-black brows low. “Are they still common or was it caused by my aggression?”
“Oh, Alistair, please, don’t do this to yourself.”
He grimaced. “You had a nightmare when Ethan hurt you.”
“No, the nightmares aren’t triggered by…” She paused, searching for a word and sighed. “By the recent events. I used to have them every night. It’s getting better now.”
“Have you seen a doctor recently?” He studied her, worried.
“I have therapy sessions twice a week and a psychiatrist I see once in a while. But, how can I talk about something I don’t remember? How can I work it out if I don’t know what goes on in my head when I dream?” She shivered. “I feel…damaged, incomplete, sick.”
“Oh, Beauty,” he whispered into her hair. “You’re perfect. Just perfect.”
“No. I am not. I was diagnosed with severe stress and mood disorders after…” She waved her hand briefly over her scarred arm. “My mood and my behavior changed. I had to take lots of drugs. Not so long ago, I had therapy sessions every day. I know I’m nothing but imperfect.”
“I forbid you to say that again.” He curled his fingers under her chin and made her look at him. “You’ve gone through an unimaginable horror and survived it. You’re a wonderful mother, a strong and competent businesswoman, and an amazing lover. You’re beautiful, gentle, understanding. You have an indomitable spirit. You humble me with your character, and I do no’ want to hear that again. Ever. Understood?”
All the traits he recited made him acknowledge the failings in his own character, now even more noticeable to himself. And that made him more resolute to better himself for her. He clenched his jaw as he glanced at her body, black-and-blue marks all over her thighs and neck.
Alistair kissed the top of Sophia’s head and inhaled her scent. White roses, oranges, and vanilla. Fresh, innocent, and sweet. Goodness. “You smell so good, Sophia.”
“Love me. Hard and fast,” she said, offering her lips to him. “Make me feel alive, Alistair.”
He lowered his head into a heart-stopping kiss and shifted over her body, kissing and licking his way down.
He pulled her lower body off the edge of the bed until her legs draped over his forearms. His hands held her buttocks as he knelt on the floor. He grinned savagely at her before his teeth nipped her clitoris and his tongue plunged deep into her body.
“Yes, oh, yes.” She rocked in his mouth as his licking drove her crazy with need. She gripped his hair and demanded, “More.”
“Fingers?” He traced her seam softly with his index finger, teasing, stroking her to a fever pitch.
“Ahhhh! Please,” she gasped. She couldn’t contain her moans anymore when he plunged one finger deep into her body, rotating it. And then two, lapping at her clitoris, with low growling noises.
Digging her nails into his scalp, Sophia struggled to keep her orgasm at bay.
“What else do you like?” he whispered.
“Everything. Keep going,” she gasped as she approached climax. She fisted his thick, silky hair, threading her fingers through it, and tugged roughly, pulling him up onto her body. “Take me. Hard.”
Her words brought his gaze to her face. He stood, sheathed himself, and held up her legs to wrap them around his waist while he pressed hi
s hips forward until the tip of his shaft pressed against her. “Tell me, who do you want?”
“You, Alistair Connor, only you,” she promised.
“Hard and fast?” he asked.
“Yes.” Her heels pressed down on his buttocks.
His hands cupped her bottom and his thumbs parted her. A groan rumbled low in his throat as he shoved hard in one thrust.
A throaty scream escaped Sophia as he burrowed himself to the hilt.
“You’re so fucking tight,” he gasped. Pulling out, he repeated the sharp movement.
“Ah, yes.” His rough plunges kept her on the edge between pleasure and pain.
“Touch your breasts, Sophia.”
She opened her eyes, startled by his growled order.
“Touch yourself.” His forest-green eyes caught fire. “I want to see you pleasuring yourself.”
She cupped her breasts with her hands, but he gripped one of her hands and put it over her mound.
“Rub your clit.”
She noticed how turned on he was, watching her. As the climax began to peak, she demanded, “Harder! Faster!”
“Come for me, Sophia.” He set a violent rhythm, his measured thrusts filling her with passion. He bent down to catch a nipple between his lips, sucking hard.
Her muscles clamped around his invading arousal and they shouted together.
He pulled her hips flush against his own, a sharp pleasure spearing her, as he pressed deeper.
“Sophia,” he gasped, as her orgasm triggered his. He plunged deep once again and held still, his whole body stiff and his eyes closed tight. For several moments, he stayed immobile, enjoying the sensual feelings coursing through his body and then collapsed on the bed, supporting himself on his forearms over her, his eyes searching hers. “You’re amazing.”
He placed a kiss on her mouth and rolled onto his back, pulling her against his chest. He sighed deeply when her head rested below his chin and she purred, contented and sated.
“You have just the right amount of energy for me.” He chuckled and felt her smiling on his chest.
“The weekend isn’t over yet, Alistair Connor,” she whispered.
Entwined Fates Page 38
