by Sam Mariano
I set the coffee aside and climb across the bed, perching by him with all the eagerness of a puppy.
“It’s Rafe. I’ve heard talk you lost one of your belongings.” He gives me a little wink at that. I don’t even care. I’m totally his belonging. I just want to talk to him. “Uh huh. Well, just so happens I found her.” His eyebrows rise as he listens to the response. “Yep, safe and sound… Yeah, that’s the plan. I want to escort her back myself just in case there’s any trouble. I figured I’d give you a heads-up, though. She seems to think you might have all your guard dogs on the look-out for her. Kinda don’t want to get shot.”
“Can I talk to him?” I whisper. I don’t care about any of this. I don’t care about them making arrangements or calling off soldiers or whatever else. All I want is to hear Mateo’s voice on the other end of that phone and know that this is real, and it’s over, and I’m going home.
“She wants to say hi,” Rafe says into the phone. After a pause, he holds the phone out to me.
My hands are so unsteady I nearly drop it, but I manage to get it to my ear. “Mateo?”
Audibly sighing with relief, he says, “Mia.”
I burst into tears. The sound of his voice always seeps into my soul, marking me as his, but right now it’s everything. I’ve never been so terrified and so happy at the same time. I need to be back in his arms. “I’ve missed you so much,” I blubber.
He laughs a little and my empty heart fills up. I hate every single inch of land keeping me from his arms right now. “You have no idea how much I’ve missed you. I’ve been out of my goddamn mind. I didn’t even know if you were alive.”
“When I get home, I’m never leaving your side again. Not ever. Even if you want me to, I won’t do it,” I warn him.
“Trust me, I don’t want you to.”
“I love you so much. I miss you so much. I’m so sorry I’m an idiot.”
“You’re not an idiot. It doesn’t matter now. Put Rafe back on. I want to make arrangements and get you back here as soon as possible.”
I hand the phone back to Rafe, still crying. I scrub at my face with the heels of my hands, trying to calm myself. Shuddering breaths continue to make their way out of me, but I tell myself the nightmare is over. It’s over, and it’s never going to happen again.
---
Rafe takes me home.
He doesn’t want to fly since he can’t board a plane while armed, but Mateo must adequately convince him there’s no danger, because he takes me to the airport.
Well, after the store. He had a hunch Mateo wouldn’t appreciate finding me in a bikini, so he stopped and grabbed me a dress. Then he told me it was too bad I wasn’t staying one more night. I’ve been here all this time and haven’t seen a damn thing.
But I don’t care. The only thing I want to see is the sight of Mateo’s face, still happy to see me. I need to unload on him. I need to know nothing between us is broken. Because I don’t know what I’ll do if it is. I don’t know what I’ll do if I lose everything that matters to me.
I can’t even consider it. My brain can’t go there. I can’t handle it.
I still feel worn out when we land in Chicago. All the insecurities are there, old fears, memories of how Vince handled things. I can do better this time, though. I can do better for Mateo. Whatever he needs, I can do. This isn’t like with Vince, when I didn’t actually want to stay away from Mateo, and I wasn’t willing to do anything to fix things. I would walk through hell to get back to Mateo, and I’ll live there if I have to, to make him love me again.
Well, he hasn’t stopped loving me yet, but he doesn’t know there’s a reason to.
I glance over at Rafe walking through the terminal with me, recalling him telling me the stupid, drunken encounter in the grotto stayed between us. I remember Mateo telling me a long time ago just to lie to Vince. But Mateo isn’t Vince, and he needs to be able to trust me. That means telling him when I screw up. That means telling him when I pull a fucking Beth.
I’m feeling like pond scum again, but then I see Adrian and Mateo. Then I can’t see anything because tears blur my vision as I run to him.
Mateo wraps me in his strong arms like he does, blocking out everything but him, and I don’t care that he’s squeezing me so tightly I can barely breathe. I don’t need to breathe. All I need is him.
I don’t try to speak yet. It would just be a mess of love declarations, apologies and “I miss you,” so I just hold him and cry. I’m completely overwhelmed, drowning in a sea of feelings. I want to turn back the clock and not go to the bakery Saturday. I want to stay at home, where I’m safe and loved and Mateo won’t let me get away long enough to fuck everything up.
Chills move over my body as he murmurs simply, “Let’s go home.”
I let him tuck me into his side. He finally turns to greet and thank his cousin. I watch them shake hands and suddenly Rafe doesn’t look like he did before, he doesn’t remind me of Mateo, because I have Mateo. Now he’s just a threat and I want him to leave.
Mateo is more courteous though. I can’t be. I’ve run the spectrum of emotions and all I can do now is curl up in the seat beside Mateo. He keeps one arm secured around my back to keep me close, the other absently caressing the arm I have wrapped around his torso. Normally Mateo recharges me, but as I watch him talk to Rafe, the weight of what he doesn’t know crushes me. I don’t even know how it happened. I don’t know how I can possibly explain it to him. I would never betray him. I hate anyone who has. I hate myself for allowing this to happen. I feel like an emotional wreck, and he still looks so put-together. While he looks tired, he’s still capable of functioning and interacting. Maybe I just need to sleep. Or to get past the alcohol fog. Alcohol fog probably doesn’t help.
Relief washes over me when Adrian pulls into the driveway. I’m home. I’m home and no one can ever make me leave again—unless Mateo doesn’t want me anymore.
My mind conjures images of that, of Mateo hurling horrible, heartbreaking words at me. The anguish of seeing him hurting and not being able to fix it.
I squeeze him a little tighter.
In response to the slight tightening, Mateo leans his head closer and asks quietly, “Are you okay?”
I sit up just enough to give him a kiss. Given I’m drained and we’re in the car with Rafe and Adrian, I only intended a light expression of affection, but Mateo’s hand moves up my back and around my neck to hold me close while he deepens it.
After a moment, he pulls back. He surveys me, checking on me, doing one of his reads. Finally, he rests his forehead against mine and tells me, “Everything’s going to be all right.”
“Promise?” I ask.
Nodding once, he gives me a comforting squeeze as he guides me back into the safe haven of his chest. “I promise.”
Chapter Nineteen
Mia
When Mateo takes my hand and leads me upstairs, I expect him to take me to my bedroom, but we go to his.
Once we’re inside, he closes the door on the outside world. It’s the first time I feel like I can breathe again since coming home. This is where I’m safest—when it’s just me and him, carefully installed in our own little bubble, isolated from the outside world.
Mateo steps forward, his warm brown eyes moving over me, taking inventory of his property, making sure all the right pieces and parts are still there. His strong hands move to my hips, his signature grip, and it makes my heart flip over as he pulls me against him and presses his forehead to mine, closing his eyes and just soaking up my presence.
“I’m so sorry,” I finally say, my voice small. “I should’ve known better.”
He pulls me tighter, faintly shaking his head. “You’re safe now, that’s all that matters.”
There’s still so much between us, so much he doesn’t know. So much I need to tell him. I don’t want to, but it weighs on me. I have no idea where to begin. I swallow, hating the world, resenting Vince for taking me, furious at myself for letting any of thi
s happen. Mateo deserves someone stronger. Someone more wily and less pliable.
Sniffling a little, I ask, “Where’s Meg?”
“With the girls.”
I nod, wrapping my arms around his neck and puling myself close to him. “I missed you so much it hurt.”
His hand skims my back tenderly. “I couldn’t find you,” he murmurs back. “I knew you were with him, but I couldn’t find you and it scared me to death.”
“Can we just lie together for a little while?” I ask. I’ve missed being in his arms more than anything. I need to feel him against me, to bask in his strength and control when I feel so opposite those things right now.
Wordlessly he moves his hands under my ass and lifts me. I wrap my legs around his waist and he carries me over to the bed, dropping a gentle kiss on my lips before lowering me to the bed.
Finally something stirs. Finally something pushes through the murkiness in my mind, the heaviness of all my emotions, and the sight of him crawling across the bed toward me strikes a primal chord. Relief follows right on its heels because I still want this man so much, and I can see in his eyes he still wants me. He has to assume since Vince took me that someone else’s hands were on me, even if he doesn’t have verification yet. I wish we never had to discuss anything that happened. I need him to unleash himself inside me and blow away everything that isn’t him.
He climbs into his spot and pulls me into his arms. For just a few minutes, he gives me wordless comfort. He holds me, kisses me, caresses me—he gives me his love, letting me know I still have it. It doesn’t make me feel any better, though; he doesn’t know there’s any reason I shouldn’t—aside from fucking blatant stupidity, and the fact that he deserves someone smarter and more capable than me.
My voice is like tires over gravel when I finally get out, “I feel like I failed you.”
Mateo sighs, pulling me close for a hug, then pulling me back to look down at me. “Don’t feel that way, Mia.”
“I feel dirty.”
Putting a finger beneath my chin, he forces my chin up, forcing me to meet his gaze. His eyes burn with intensity, like it angers him I would even say that. “You are not dirty.”
I shake my head, my eyes moving away from his. “You don’t know what I did.”
“It doesn’t matter what you did,” he states, implacably. “Look at me.”
He uses his authoritative tone to make the command, so I do, even if I feel like I don’t deserve to look at him.
“Don’t do that, Mia. Don’t get lost. You’re home and you’re in my arms again; nothing else matters. It doesn’t matter what you had to do to get here. I don’t care, and I don’t want you to care. No one else can touch you. You’re mine—that’s it. I would never let what someone else does to you ruin what’s between us. I’m not a weak man, Mia; I’m not Vince.”
“But you don’t know…” I trail off, my face crumbling.
“Then tell me.”
I shake my head, burying my face in his chest. It’s too terrible.
Mateo rubs my back, giving me comfort I don’t deserve. I understand what he’s saying. I know he thinks Vince forced me, and that’s something he can get past. But he doesn’t know what my stupid, drunk, slutty, needy alter ego did. He would never expect that of me, because he believes I’m loyal to him. And I am, that’s the worst part. I would rather die than hurt him, and I don’t know how to explain to him what happened. I don’t know how to explain that I was following commands, and that he reminded me of him, and that I let someone else touch me.
I also feel guilty ratting Rafe out like that. He was clear that he didn’t want me to tell Mateo about it, and despite Mateo’s claim that it’s all fine, I don’t know what he’ll do in response to this. I can’t imagine it would end well for Rafe if Mateo knew, and he is the one who brought me home. Maybe it took something awful to get him on my side, but it got me here. It brought me back to Mateo.
“I need you to forgive me, but I don’t want to tell you for what,” I finally murmur.
Mateo looks down into my eyes, then nods once. “Done.”
I cock my head skeptically. “You did not just forgive me that fast.”
“Blanket forgiveness. I’m not convinced you’ve done anything that requires forgiveness, but if you did, you have it. I’m not an impractical man, Mia.” He caresses my jawline with his perfect hand and even though I still feel icky, I bring my own hand up, guiding his to my mouth, placing kisses along that hand that I love. I trail my lips over his skin, watching his eyes warm with desire. My need for him kicks in, my need to please him, to worship him.
I let it take over. I don’t want words, words are awful. I want what’s real between us; I want what I can do for him that no one else can. I want to open myself up, to bathe in his darkness and emerge freer and cleaner for it.
“I need you to punish me.”
He watches me for a moment. I’m not sure he’s quite convinced for a second, but then he turns it off. He rises up on his knees, lifting me like a ragdoll and tossing me down on the bed. The breath rushes out of me and relief floods me. I’m nearly weak with it, watching as he undoes his belt and unzips his pants.
“You want my cock, Mia?”
Throbbing between my legs, I tell him, “Yes.”
“Do you think you deserve my cock?”
I swallow a lump of real shame in my throat, shaking my head no.
Fisting a hand in my hair, he pulls me up off the bed, pulling me forward onto my hands and knees. He pushes me down to his cock and I need to taste it, I need to take him into my mouth, but when I try, he jerks back on my hair.
“No. You don’t deserve my cock, remember?”
Hearing that only makes me need it more. “Please.”
Mateo shakes his head, holding me in place, grasping his cock with his other hand. He moves the soft, perfect tip across my lips, but gives my hair a punishing tug when I try to open my mouth for him. I close my mouth obediently, pulsing with need as he rubs his cock in my face but won’t let me have it.
“Please,” I say again. “Please, Mateo. Please.”
“Please what? Tell me what you want.”
“Please let me have your cock. I want it in my mouth. I want to give you pleasure.”
Nodding tersely, he pushes his cock toward my mouth again and I make a faint noise of relief as I close my lips around him, moving my head forward and taking him into my mouth. God, I love this man. I look up at him as I move my mouth over his cock, watching him watch me.
“That’s enough.”
I’m disappointed as he takes his cock away. He didn’t let me have it for long.
“Undress,” he commands, stroking his cock, making me watch.
I yank the dress over my head, tossing it onto the floor. I have the bikini bottoms on underneath, but no bra. I take them off and fling them in the floor. I don’t want anything from Vegas on my body.
He’s still dressed, just with his cock out, so I tentatively go for the buttons on his shirt, glancing up to make sure I’m allowed to undress him. He doesn’t give me anything—not permission, not refusal, nothing. Since he doesn’t stop me, I take his shirt off and drop kisses across his well-muscled chest, down his flat abdomen. I desperately want to suck his cock again, but since he told me to stop I won’t try.
It’s harder to resist when I tug his pants down, and his perfect cock is just right there, tempting me. I want him naked. I want him to fuck me.
Once I get his clothes off, he uses his hold on my hair to pull me up toward his mouth so he can kiss me. I moan as his tongue sweeps into my mouth, the pressure on my hair easing as he cradles my head instead of grasping it. I can’t get close enough to him; I can’t get enough of his tenderness, of his mouth. I want to stay here forever, letting him make love to me. I never want to leave this room. This bed. This man. This embrace. I’ve missed the taste of him, the smell of him, the feel of him. I need him more than I’ve ever needed anything else. I’m not even my who
le self without him.
I’m so disappointed when he breaks the kiss, but then he buries his face in my neck, leaving my favorite kisses along the sensitive skin, and my disappointment ebbs. Still kissing me, he takes my hands and pushes them together behind my back, holding them at the wrist. I tug lightly at his restraint, yearning to touch him, but he doesn’t allow it.
When he pulls away from my neck I’m a little dazed. He moves on his knees beside me, then he shoves me tummy-down on the bed. I gasp, trying to catch myself, but he still has my hands restrained behind me.
“Who do you think about when you touch yourself, Mia?”
“You.”
“Who do you love more than anything?”
“You.”
“Who owns you, Mia?”
“You do.”
“That’s right,” he says, nudging my ass up off the bed. “Nobody has power over you except for me, sweetheart. Nobody.” His free hand moves between my legs, one finger moving inside me as he rubs my clit. “If I want to give you pleasure, you take it. If I say you deserve my cock, you believe it.”
He doesn’t stop touching me, but I can feel the difference in him as he slightly shifts gears for this next part. “If you gave your body to anyone else when I wasn’t there to protect you, that doesn’t matter. You’re smart, Mia, because you understand something a lot of people don’t: your self-esteem doesn’t have to be tied to what is done to you. What do you have to feel ashamed of? Nothing. Whatever was done to your body, whatever you had to do to get through it, to feel better—it’s over and none of that matters now. It shouldn’t make you feel badly about yourself. No one can get to you, Mia. You’ve known that before, so remember it now. It’s over; find your way back to that.” He pauses, letting that sink in while he strokes me, then he shifts back to add, “You only give your power to me, and if you hold onto guilt when I tell you to let it go, do you know what that does, Mia? It gives someone else power over you. I won’t tolerate that.”
I’m a little dizzy from his words and the pleasure he’s stoking as he rubs my pussy. As crazy as it seems, he makes me feel so safe. I walked into this room a mess of instability, and here he is lending me his strength, his rationale, his calm. He’s steadying me. Whatever I need, even if I don’t know what that might be, he gives it to me.
