by J. L. Beck
She doesn’t even bother not to look relieved. The offer was nothing more than to finish things between us. If she were anyone else, I could appreciate her sheer practicality. I’d never shied away from doing what was necessary, if even distasteful, to take care of business. But she’s not anyone else with that hair, and those eyes, and her sweet little body I’ve seen more than I can handle since I saved her life.
I focus on her face, ignoring the relief to watch for any other signs. “You believe me when I say we won’t go to bed together until you’re feeling better.”
She shrugs, and I shift up the bed until I can look into her eyes, only inches from her face. “I don’t like lies. It’s what drew me to you in the first place. As long as you’re honest with me, I’ll be honest with you. Tell me you understand.”
She clears her injured throat gently. “I understand,” she whispers.
I tilt her chin up so I can stare into her big doe eyes, hunting for the conviction I saw at the party that night. At the conviction I saw when she came to me for aid. “I have no reason to lie to you. Trust me, I intend to take you to bed, just not right now.”
This time, she nods, and I take her word she believes me. What else can I do? I release her chin and check her bandages. Everything is still in place, and I can breathe a little easier. “The IV was placed in there because you needed nutrients. I can take it out now if you’d like?”
She gives me another nod, this one more urgent. I get up and gather the alcohol swabs and a Band-Aid. I’ve had so many IVs and given a few myself, so removing hers is nothing. She doesn’t even flinch as I clean the tiny puncture wound and place the waterproof bandage over it.
“How are you feeling?” I ask, needing something to focus on besides the creamy pink of her inner thighs.
“Fine. But I feel kind of gross. I want to take a shower.”
“I’ve been giving you sponge baths since I brought you here, but taking a bath would be good. You don’t have any open wounds now, and if you soak in some Epsom salt, it will help bring down some of your bruising.”
I look up to find her smiling at me. No guile, no subterfuge, nothing but pure light. And damn, how I’m going to take it for myself. “How do you know that? About soaking in the salt, I mean.”
“You met me at the casino when we had a fight. You’re too young to know that I used to be a fighter. My father thought it would help beef me up.”
She raises an eyebrow at that, pointedly staring at my shoulders and arms.
“This was when I was nothing more than a kid. I hadn’t hit my growth spurt, nor had I taken up lifting yet.”
I secure the IV so it doesn’t leak, and then come around the bed to scoop her up into my arms. She wraps her hands around my neck. The bandages scratch against my skin, but I don’t care, not with so much of her body against mine.
She weighs nothing as I carry her to the bathroom, and I worry she won’t be able to handle me. I’m not giving her up, but I’ll have to be gentle, careful with her so I don’t hurt her. Even more so than I usually try to be with women.
I set her gently on the marble surround of the tub and turn on the water. Then I dig out the Epsom salt, pour in a generous amount, and turn to her. Her cheeks are flaming pink, and it hits me that she’s embarrassed.
I brush her fumbling fingers aside, then quickly unhook the buttons down the shirt and peel it off her shoulders. With equal practicality, despite the hard-on digging against my fly, I gently unwind the gauze from her wrists and ankles to find the skin is still bright pink. Seeing the bruises from the ropes cools the heat in my blood enough for me to focus on her.
She stares down at her wrists and gently touches her left one. I can tell she wants to know what happened, but she’s not brave enough to ask yet. Until she is, she won’t be able to handle it, nor what I’m going to do to Sal when I get my hands on him.
I gently lift her again, and she gives a little squeal of surprise. Then I slowly lower her into the water, even as it climbs higher, wetting my sleeves and shirt.
Once she’s settled in the tub, I release her, and she lets out a long sigh. “That feels good.”
The needy hint in her voice doesn’t help my erection. Fucking focus.
I grab some of my shampoo from the shower stall on the other end of the bathroom and set it on the marble. “I’m going to wash your hair now.”
She eases forward in the tub and bites her lip as she looks at the bottle.
“What? You don’t like this brand?”
“It’s not that. It’s just that my hair maintenance is complicated. The curls and all require extra care.”
I put the bottle down and kneel beside the tub. “Then tell me what to do. I’ll be taking care of you from now on, so I need to know things like this.”
She studies me, as if gauging my sincerity, then decides in my favor I guess since she continues. “Well, wash it, then I have to use a lot of conditioner before you brush it out. It’s not a big deal if it dries on its own or anything. It’s not like I can go anywhere with all these bruises.”
I gently nudge her back into the water, and she wets her hair. It doesn’t take long to wash it, then I follow her instructions to condition it and brush it out, careful not to pull at her scalp. Once satisfied, she nods and leans back on the tub. “I just need to let it sit for a second before we rinse.”
The way she says we sends another surge of need through me. I’m already barely hanging on to my control after digging my hands into her hair as she moaned her pleasure with every press of my fingers.
She washes her body even though I offer, and then I help her rinse. Once her skin is a soft glowing pink, dotted with bruises, I strip out of my soaking wet clothes and wrap her in a towel.
Her eyes are wide as I carry her back to the bed. My towel is huge around her shoulders, covering her from collarbone to ankle.
“Why is that look on your face? I’m not going to hurt you now that you’re bathed.”
She shakes her head frantically and lets out a small laugh. “It’s not that. You’re just pretty naked.”
I glance down at my navy boxer briefs. “Pretty sure you’re more naked than I am.”
With her averting her gaze, I grumble, quickly change the sheets, and then gently dry her skin. She protests, but I block it all with a shake of my head. It pleases me when she goes silent, watching me but not scared.
Once she’s dry, I pull out a soft cotton thing that Andrea picked out. It looks like it will cover her to her mid-thighs. The white is lovely on her as I cover all the curves I want so much more than a look at. I kneel on the floor to help her into soft white cotton panties that match her nightgown.
My fingers are shaking as I settle the fabric in place against her delicate hip bones.
“Are you okay? Was I too heavy?”
I give her a look and a snort. “You weigh nothing. Lie back on the pillows and get comfortable.”
She does as ordered, already looking so much better than when I found her almost two weeks ago.
“What are you going to do?”
I nod at the chair. “Sleep, just like you will.”
She shifts in the bed and pats the empty space beside her. “Stay, please. I already feel guilty for taking your bed. I’ll feel even worse if you hurt your back sleeping in that chair.”
I do it only because I’m dying to touch her again. I need it like I need to breathe. If only to reassure myself she will be okay. I ease onto the bed, taking up way more space than she expected. Her eyes rove over my body, and I like the look in her eyes as she trails her gaze down my abs to the waist of my underwear.
I’m so hard that my blood is pounding in my ears. Fuck. I thought I was stronger than this. But I’m not where she is concerned. I take her small hand in my hand and wrap her fingers around my thumb.
She blinks, confused, but does.
“Squeeze,” I grit out.
Again, she follows directions with no hesitation. My breathing is coming
out loud enough to drown out all the other noises. “How does that feel? And don’t lie to me.”
“Fine?”
“Any pain?”
She shakes her head. “You might have noticed,” she whispers. “I have a somewhat high pain tolerance.”
I don’t ask her to explain that statement. I only add one more tally to Sal’s growing debt to her. A debt I’ll extract in blood.
“Good,” I say and ease my underwear off my legs and toss them to the floor. She’s staring now, wide-eyed, right at my cock, and I keep the moan inside as I wrap her hand around me. She hesitates at first, but then I see the curiosity chase across her expressive face. I cover her hand with mine and use my other to lift her chin to meet my eyes. “I’m not going to hurt you, but I need to take the edge off so I stay in control.”
She only nods and swallows loudly. I watch her face as I ease her hand up toward the crown of my dick and then back down. She’s curious, and by the way she’s squeezing her thighs together, she’s feeling other things too. The knowledge I could roll her over and sink into her wet heat sends me to the edge far too quickly.
“Harder,” I grit out. “Squeeze me as hard as you can.”
She starts to pull away from under my hold. “I don’t want to hurt you.”
I meet her eyes again. “You won’t hurt me. This will make me feel good. I need it so I don’t take you right here, right now. Please.” It’s the closest I’ve ever come, or will come, to asking her for what belongs to me.
She nods once and eases her hand back down. I clamp mine tighter around hers, adding the other one. “Am I hurting you?” I ask, between pants.
“No.” She continues the strokes, increasing the pace and squeezing harder as she gets to know the feel of me. It’s this knowledge that makes me shoot my load hard and fast. It’s not nearly as satisfying as I need it to be. I release her hand, but she continues stroking me, spreading my cum down my shaft and back up. One more and then she stops, looking at me for instructions.
I get the damp towel I used to dry her off and clean her hand gently, ensuring her wrist wound is clean and safe.
Then I clean myself and settle in the bed. She turns on her side and allows me to spoon my body against hers.
I’m almost asleep, assuming she’d drifted off way before me, when she speaks again. “I think I liked that. I just don’t know why.” Her voice turns dreamy. “I have to tell Rose.”
And it breaks my fucking heart that she sounds both scared and sad at that fact.
14
Valentina
If I don’t get out of this bed, I’m going to go insane. When it’s time to eat, Adrian wants to feed me. When it’s time to clean myself, Adrian is there to carry me. When it’s time to see the doctor, Adrian hovers, waiting for the verdict. It’s not that I don’t appreciate the tender care he’s given me so far; it’s just that I’m not used to not doing anything.
I also don’t trust it all. This can’t be the deal we made, him waiting on me hand and foot, and no doubt paying an obscene amount of money to the doctor who visits almost every day. He keeps telling me not to worry about anything, but I worry, and I worry some more about when the other shoe is going to drop, and when the other side of him that everyone is so afraid of will come out. He’s been nothing but kind to me, and that’s the problem. I’ve been trapped my whole life, a lamb in the lion's den, and I won’t be that girl ever again.
The doctor checks my vitals one more time and then tucks his stethoscope around his neck. He doesn’t speak to me but turns to Adrian with his report. “She’s perfectly fine. Healing well, no infection. She can get out of bed.”
Relief hits me hard, and I immediately want to jerk back the covers and stand on my own two feet.
Adrian glares over the doctor’s shoulder, a look that’s more order than him using actual words. So I stay put. When he speaks, he talks to the doctor. “It’s been two weeks since she woke up. Are you sure it’s safe for her to be up and around?”
There’s no missing the edge in his tone. A sharp bite that makes me sink into the covers. Not that I fear he’ll turn it on me, but again, I’m waiting for things to change around here. For me to turn into some kind of slave for his fetishes. I don’t look at him while I think this because heaven knows I have no clue what a real fetish might be. Foot stuff? I press my knuckles to my mouth so I don’t laugh out loud and interrupt their conversation.
They lower their voices, and Adrian still has that nip to his tone, which the doctor seems oblivious to. Once they finish talking, the doctor leaves the room without a single word to me. I guess I know where I stand on the hierarchy here.
Then I notice he’s looking at me. I gulp and shift my gaze to him as he approaches the bed and slides in beside me. “The doctor says you are well enough to get out of bed.”
“I feel okay if that helps ease your mind. I know you’re worried.”
He raises one dark eyebrow at my assumption, and I stammer out an explanation. “I mean, you seem worried. Not that I don’t appreciate you taking care of me, I just don’t want you to keep worrying.”
His fingers grip my chin and raise my gaze to his in a split second. My mouth goes dry as his eyes lock with mine. “It is my job to worry about you now. It’s your job to trust me to take care of you and keep you safe.”
Safe. It seems like a foreign concept. He’s the only one who has ever made me feel even close to it. His thumb digs into the bottom of my chin, demanding my attention.
I nod once, as much as I can in his hold. “I understand.”
His eyes narrow. “I understand isn’t the same as I believe you. Say it for me. Tell me you believe that I can keep you safe.”
I want to believe it, and if I want to believe something, I’m very good at tricking myself into thinking it’s true. “I know you can keep me safe.”
He’s still gripping my chin a little too tight, and there’s still a hungry glint in his eyes, but he doesn’t make the demand again. “Since the doctor has given you the all clear, then we have business to settle.”
Shit. My heart starts a running leap against my ribs. “Business?”
Is he going to make me strip for him again? For his men? Will he use me like Sal wanted to use me? The image of my hand around him rushes back to me. We’ve done that multiple times now but never more. He never pushes me for anything else. Maybe because he worried I’d get hurt.
I shake off the sudden spike of fear, forcing myself to remember, yet again, that he’s been wonderful to me since I arrived. He saved me.
“We need to discuss our deal and what it means for our future.”
The way he says our future makes me study his face. He’s staring down at me just as intently.
“Okay. Tell me what you expect of me then, please. I want you to be happy with our deal.” I want him to be happy because I want Sal’s blood running down a storm drain until there’s nothing left of the asshole. My vehemence surprises me, but I shake it off and focus on Adrian again.
“You will belong to me and only to me. No one will touch you. No one will so much as breathe too close to you. Do I make myself clear?”
I nod, about to say so, but he continues. “I’ll know where you are every second of every single day. It’s the only way I can keep you safe.”
I’m tempted to point out that if he kills Sal, then there’s no one else he needs to protect me from. It’s not like my father can stand up to him physically. He could send one of his soldiers, but even they are getting older. In the past year, it seemed to me he only held on to the family seat because of Sal’s men and the ruthlessness they brought to the table.
“Is that all?” I ask. Having him protect me doesn’t sound so bad. “What about…?”
“Sex?” he offers, his tone dry.
I nod, unable to expound on my train of thought.
“We’ll be having plenty of it soon. Don’t you worry.”
My heart takes another go at my ribs, pounding hard and fa
st. “Um…I-I’ve never done…that.”
Something shifts in his face. It’s subtle, but there’s a harder glint in his eyes now as he looks at me. No. Covets me. “I’m aware, Angel, but don’t worry. I’ll take good care of you.”
His words are innocuous, but the deep huskiness in his voice makes them sound positively filthy. I shift in the bed, hoping he can’t tell that I like it when he talks like that. Who the hell am I turning into?
I drag my eyes away from his and stare at the covers. “Is there anything else you want from me? If not, then I still agree to this deal. I…trust you.”
Without a word, he shifts off the bed, goes back to the door, and waves the doctor back into the room. I sit up, arranging the covers around my hips. Why is he back?
The doctor gives him one nod and crosses the room to stand by the bed to look at me. “Are you sure about this?”
I eye him warily. “Yes. I’m sure, but…”
He opens his bag and removes something that looks like an ear-piercing gun. I stare at it a little too long and then over the doctor’s shoulder at Adrian, who’s watching us closely.
The doctor grabs my arm gently and maneuvers it to my wrist and palm face upward. It might be my long-dormant self-preservation instincts kicking up, but I jerk my hand away from him hard.
“Valentina,” Adrian snaps.
He hasn’t used that tone of voice with me, and for a flash of a second, it felt like being at home. Fear threatens to overwhelm me, and I’m suddenly scrambling over the other side of the bed to get away.
Of course, he’s there in an instant, carefully, but bodily putting me back into the bed and holding me down.
I don’t know what the hell is happening, but I agreed to this.
