Her Claim: Legally Bound Book 2

by Rebecca Grace Allen

  Make it real.

  25

  Early Saturday morning, Cassie was picked up by a limo and brought to her parents’ house to help Elísa get ready for her big day. Patrick would be arriving at the ceremony later, but waking up next to him in cool, white sheets with the ocean lapping silently outside their windows had made her not want to get out of bed. She’d cuddled close to him, tracing the lines on his face until he’d squinted one eye open.

  “Creeper,” he’d mumbled over a kiss. Groaning, she’d heaved herself out of bed and into the shower, where’d she’d tried to wade through her thoughts.

  Asking him yesterday about traveling to Cuba and Spain had been a test. A careful analysis to see his reaction. He hadn’t shot it down, but he hadn’t enthusiastically replied either. She didn’t know what to think, unsure what she wanted, or what the future held. It was odd to notice though that she hadn’t been fighting with herself since she’d been back here, hadn’t been struggling with which Cassie to be. Instead she was simply herself: lawyer, sister, daughter…girlfriend. No one had asked her any questions, the pressure she was usually under lessened with Patrick by her side.

  It was only a show, but was it? Patrick had always been good at playing games, from his seduction of her through pretending to be her boyfriend. But it all felt too real to be fake, from the way he’d looked at her at her parents’ house to the way he’d surprised her yesterday morning.

  When she’d stepped into those beautiful new shoes, her heart pounded at the feel of them sliding on. The bottoms were a bit slippery—she was going to hate scuffing up that red on the concrete, but it was the only way to break in a new pair. Thank God she had solid calf muscles because these babies were seriously high. Walking in them, she felt like a tightrope walker and a princess at the same time.

  The same way she’d felt yesterday morning in bed.

  The memory of his hand around her throat had sent shivers pinwheeling down her spine. He’d been completely in control, and she’d felt even more bound to him than if he were inside her.

  She craved the feeling now, of being bonded like that. But thinking about a future with him was fruitless. After all, she was supposed to be taking stock. Figuring out what she wanted. If she wanted kids, or if she was going to marry her career. Patrick didn’t want children, but if she somehow decided she did, where did that leave her on the odd chance that he wanted to pursue more than this short-term thing?

  It left her needing to figure out what the hell she wanted. And to get her ass downstairs.

  Her morning was full of maid-of-honor duties—getting her sister ready, consoling her tearful mother, making sure all the bridesmaids were set. Dressed in variations of black lace and carrying bouquets of vibrant red roses, they went one by one down the aisle. Cassie found Patrick immediately in the back row, looking like royalty in a sharp black tux and red pocket square.

  The ceremony went off without a hitch, and Cassie got tearful over the I do’s. She remained her sister’s shadow afterward, tucking up her bustle and organizing the receiving line. Once Elísa and Hector were off to take pictures and the guests were traveling to the reception site, she and Patrick finally had a few moments alone together. He kissed up her neck as soon as they were in the rental car.

  “You look incredible,” he breathed.

  Cassie closed her eyes as his hand strayed across the gearshift to where the lace of her dress played against her cleavage. “Gonna get me all messed up,” she protested, but it was a weak objection. She wanted him to mess her up, and get her wild and unkempt the way he always did.

  “Later,” he said, then broke off and stared at her with a deep, steadying breath. “Later.”

  The reception was at a club in Coral Gables with a Spanish tile roof and candelabras everywhere. A band played before a shining dance floor, the exposed beams were draped with brilliant red fabric, and black lace runners lined all the tables. Patrick stayed close by Cassie’s side, smiling and clapping when the newlyweds were introduced.

  “They look happy,” Patrick said.

  “They are,” she replied, watching her sister on the dance floor.

  “And you? Are you happy?”

  She looked at him, got caught up in those eyes that glittered with sinful mischief and felt like a safe haven all at once. “I am. Right now.”

  With you.

  The first dance ended, and the band invited everyone onto the dance floor. Annalisa ran up to Patrick and asked him to dance. Cassie told them to go on, and Patrick accepted the invitation, looking carefree and relaxed as he twirled her niece around. Cassie waited for that moment, for her biological clock to finally kick into action as she watched the man she…yes, she had to admit it now—loved—dance with a child.

  It didn’t.

  The band started up a quick reggaeton dance—the rhythm a mix of Jamaican reggae, merengue, salsa and house beats. Annalisa ran back to her parents, and Patrick strolled over to Cassie and held out a hand.

  “Shall we?”

  A mess of emotions ran through her, but she wanted to feel this with him, one more time. He led her to the floor, and they easily found the beat, picking up a quick salsa. With one hand tight on her hip, his eyes stayed on her the way they always did—careful, hungry and paying attention.

  “I’d say we’re stealing your sister’s thunder, if you hadn’t been stealing it already,” he said.

  “How am I doing that?”

  Patrick slid his hand down her leg, pulling her against him. “Don’t you know? You’re the most beautiful woman here.”

  Melting was the only way to describe what he was doing to her, and yet he was setting her on fire at the same time.

  “And I was lying when I said I’d wanted you since we met,” he said.

  Cassie tensed, ready for him to say this had been a ruse and to blow it all apart, but he shook his head.

  “It was more than just wanting you. You tested my mettle. Challenged me in a way no woman ever had. We’ve both got walls up, but you knocked mine down. You made me remember what it was like to care again. And everything I’ve learned about you since then has only made me care about you more.”

  Her breath got stuck in her throat, along with her heart. “I was wrong when I said I didn’t like you,” she said. “You’re kind of perfect for me.”

  He smiled that dazzling smile before pushing her back out and spinning her around, and the truth of what she’d said hit home. Patrick wasn’t the masked playboy she’d imagined. She knew the man behind that wealthy exterior now, knew what troubled him and what made his eyes blaze with hunger. He was passionate and intelligent. Commanding and sexual, he was strong enough to fight her and comfort her, to defile her without losing respect. And he’d made her comfortable with her desires, erasing the guilt and shame she’d felt about them.

  Suddenly, she wanted to make time stop, or undo that rule she’d made. To go tell herself not to make that awful devil’s bargain, because she’d been wrong, so wrong about everything, and she didn’t want admitting emotions to be her way out. She wanted it to be their beginning.

  The song came to an end, and he rubbed his nose along hers—a soft, sweet move.

  “You’re kind of perfect for me too,” he said.

  And in that moment, everything became clear.

  She didn’t want kids, and that was okay. She was all right with who she was—a powerhouse attorney. A biracial woman who was a lady in la calle and a freak in la cama. And she wanted to be that person with him. He didn’t want kids either, and she knew he didn’t get involved, but they were already involved, weren’t they? He cared about her, and that was most definitely an emotion. Maybe he was feeling the same things she was.

  Maybe this didn’t have to end.

  Her mother called out for her. Cassie glanced over her shoulder, then back at Patrick. “Can we talk more later?”

  “Of course.”

  The party went late into the evening, and Cassie allowed herself to celebrate,
skipping a cocktail but indulging in the medianoche sandwiches and several of those guava and cream cheese pastelitos she’d been craving. Bring on the calories—she’d dance until her feet throbbed to compensate. Elísa had skipped out on the customary Money Dance, because no way was she letting anything get pinned to her gown, but had kept the traditional Cuban wedding cake—a coconut tres leches flavor filled with ribbons on the bottom layer, one of which was attached to a ring. It was the equivalent of the bouquet toss, and Cassie conveniently busied herself with seeing out a few older family members when all the single ladies were called the dance floor.

  She didn’t want to risk not being the one to find the ribbon with the ring, because for the first time, she wanted it to be her.

  When the last guests had finally left and the bride and groom were on their way, Patrick ushered Cassie into the car. She dozed on the drive back to South Beach and was out of it as they made their way through the lobby. She slapped her cheeks to wake herself up in the elevator, wanting to be alert enough to talk to him about the future. Thinking some ice water would help, she grabbed the bucket, insisting she was fine to go fill it when Patrick protested. She needed a minute alone to compile her thoughts.

  The full bucket in one hand, Cassie used her key card to buzz the door back open with the other, but everything was dark when she stepped inside.

  “Patrick?”

  No answer. Was she in the wrong room? No, the key card wouldn’t have let her in. She took a step farther in inside. “Patrick? Are you here?”

  All of the sudden, Cassie was violently slammed against the wall.

  The bucket clattered to the floor. Fear shot through her. Her heartbeat went on overdrive as an arm locked across her back, forcing her still as she tried to breathe. She started to yell, but a hand clamped over her mouth.

  “Oh, you’re a tough little bitch aren’t you.” A deadly calm chuckle sounded in her ear. “Go ahead. Try to fight me off. But you’re not gonna win.”

  26

  Patrick.

  Cassie’s senses were off—she was still woozy from the drive and the dark made it difficult to find her bearings. She knew it was him, knew what he was doing, but this felt incredibly real too, and any comfort she felt in his presence was coupled with the razor’s edge of fear.

  Cassie fought back, but Patrick’s grip tightened.

  “Keep trying. Watching you struggle just turns me on more.” Even his voice was different. Sharp. Gritty. “It’s up to you, princess. This can go easy for you, or it can go a lot harder.”

  Excitement and rage shivered through her. Cassie made herself go limp.

  “Good decision.” Patrick let go of her mouth and wrestled her arms behind her back. “I wanted to be nice, but you’ve been teasing me all night in that dress and those shoes. And now I’m going to get you back for it.”

  She tried to shove her way free, but Patrick’s hold on her was vicious as he easily pinned her body between his and the wall. Seizing her by the hair, he wrenched her head back so she was looking up at him, then wrapped his other hand around her throat. The threat of pressure and his thumb on her jaw had Cassie’s heart pounding. He’d never been this rough with her.

  “I guess you’re not as smart as you look.” His cutting remark was as cruel as his expression. “Looks like we’re gonna do this the hard way.”

  He kissed her then—mean, sharp kisses that scraped and bit and hurt. Desire tinged with adrenaline, the pleasure of his hot, wet mouth meshing with his relentless and cruel hold. Fire lit through every limb, burning her with the need to run and the need to stay exactly where she was.

  She bit at his lower lip until he broke off the kiss. “Fuck you.”

  Patrick grinned. What little light there was caught the mean streak in his eyes. “Oh, you’re gonna.”

  He yanked her backward, dragging her into the bathroom. When he threw the light on, she got a glimpse of him in the mirror. He was still in his crisp white shirt and tuxedo pants, and his erection pushed at the fabric. Cassie tried to fend him off, but it was useless. She couldn’t get her balance back, not in these heels. With a strength she hadn’t known he possessed, Patrick knocked her to her knees and then forced her down until her torso made contact with the floor. His weight came down on her, his body caging hers. Cassie heard the sound of fabric rustling—his tie coming loose?

  “Get off me!” she shouted.

  He leaned in by her ear and hissed, “No.”

  He held her down and unzipped her dress, cruelly yanking it down. Her nipples betrayed her, growing hard as they raked across the cold tiles. He heaved her sideways and managed to get the whole thing off her, kicking it to the side. Cassie tried to use the moment to work her way out of his grasp, but he pressed her down with a Herculean might and began binding her upper arms with his tie.

  “I could’ve gagged you with this.” His breathing was labored with the effort of what he was doing, hogtying her until she was immobile and helpless. “But I have other plans for your mouth.”

  “What makes you think I’m gonna do anything for you?”

  One hand formed a fist in her hair and wrenched her head backward. “You don’t know when to shut the fuck up, do you?”

  Her breathing quickened with that delicious edge of fear and arousal, and her neck burned when he let her go. Something sharp bit into Cassie’s wrists, and then he grabbed her by the hair again, dragging her up until she was kneeling. Her spike heels dug into her thighs, and the pain of his grip at her scalp made her eyes water until he let go and came to stand in front of her.

  “Look at you, all tied up. You’re like my own little present.”

  He bent down, hands braced on his thighs. She didn’t know what was biting into her wrists, and for the first time this felt real enough for her to truly be scared.

  “What are you going to do to me?”

  Smiling his jackal smile, Patrick stood and unbuttoned his pants. “Whatever I want.”

  Panic spiked. He was himself and not. Ruthless, heartless in the moment, but still her Patrick.

  Her Patrick.

  His pants hit the floor, forming a puddle around his shoes. He tugged his boxer briefs down and palmed himself, his cock thick and red and wet at the tip. Cassie’s tongue came out to moisten her lip involuntarily, her eyes trained on his hand as he stroked.

  “You’re gonna make me feel good, aren’t you?” Moving toward her, he grabbed a fistful of her hair. “Yes, you are. You’re gonna behave and put that mouth of yours to good use.”

  He guided himself toward her lips, and Cassie glared up at him as she tried to hold her head back, but she couldn’t escape. When his swollen tip glided over her tongue, she tried another tactic. Knowing it would knock him off balance, she drew him in deep, exhaling around that intrusion until her nose brushed the coarse hair at his base.

  “Fuck.”

  There it was—that sound of surprised pleasure, and Cassie knew she’d gotten to him. The momentary crack in his façade made her smile around him.

  “Smug all of the sudden?” Patrick’s hands came up on either side of her head. “Let’s fix that.”

  Shoving himself deep, he fucked her mouth, moving her head with his hands. Cassie struggled to breathe, and tension swirled in her stomach even as her pussy ached. Slick and hot, she could feel how wet she was.

  Wet, kneeling on a bathroom floor in nothing but her panties and heels with her arms bound behind her. Only he could get her like this, turned on and frightened and not sure what was going to happen next. The knowledge was powerful enough to make her eyes sting with tears. A few let loose and slipped down her cheek.

  Patrick looked down at her, then pulled back. He hooked his thumb into her mouth, pulling at her cheek.

  “There’s no exit to this. I hope you know that.”

  His eyes blazed, green and sharp and hot. He was reminding her of her safeword, of her way out. This was her game, her show, her decision to end it all…if she wanted to.

&
nbsp; She sucked on his thumb, then grazed it with her teeth until he slid it free. “We’ll see about that.”

  I’m fine. Keep going. Don’t stop now.

  He slapped her breast. “Talking back, are we?”

  “You’re an asshole.” Her skin stung, the pain echoing in the wet throb between her thighs. “What’s around my wrists?”

  “A zip tie.”

  When the hell had he bought those?

  “I have another one I can use for your ankles if you don’t do what I say.” Patrick bent down, put one hand around her inner thigh and yanked until he’d forced her legs open. “Now, let’s make sure you’re ready for me.”

  He shoved her panties down around her hips, glancing over her clit while the other hand rolled and pinched her nipple. Cassie tried to arch her body away—she didn’t want it to feel good, but he was thrumming his fingers just right. Finding the buttons he knew would make her moan.

  “Look at you,” he said. “Trying to pretend you don’t want it.”

  She would’ve protested, but then he stopped stroking. The loss made her cry out until he started again. Then stopped. Started. Off. On. Stroke. Pause. The second the pain of missing his touch hit her, it folded back into pleasure. A low sound of need escaped her.

  “Little whore doesn’t know what she wants, does she?” He switched to the other breast, fondling, then pinching so hard she yelped. “Oh, yeah. You’re gonna come whether you want to or not.”

  He was right. A shuddery orgasm was bearing down on her. Cassie’s hips rocked with his fingers, a release she didn’t want and couldn’t live without seconds away, until he stopped once again, landing a hard slap on her clit. Cassie’s teeth clenched and she hunched forward, trying to catch her breath.

  He used the hand he’d been touching her with to grab her chin, smearing her wetness over her face.

  “I’d do it, you know. I’d make you come. I’d force you to endure it the way you made me endure looking at you tonight. The whole night, I wanted to find some room to drag you off into and fuck you until you screamed.”