Covet (Beautiful Sinner Series Book 2)

by Elena M. Reyes

“Share with the class, Gem.”

  “Why me?” That question isn’t directed at me, and I don’t reply. Instead, I just wait. Leave her to reconcile the truth with what she already knows. “But then again, I knew it. I heard you sentence that man to death while your men listened. You sent me home with an employee that looked more like a hired hit man than a driver.”

  And yet, she remains with her perky arse perched on my thighs. Straddling the devil reborn.

  While talking to herself, Aurora turned her face from mine, but I rectify this with the tips of two fingers. “Eyes on me always. I don’t like it when you look away.”

  “Why are you doing this?”

  “Why are you fighting this?” Now, our mouths hover and her lips slacken, that tiny pink tongue coming out to wet the bottom one as I come a little closer.

  She looks down at my lip and then up again. “We shouldn’t.”

  Not that we won’t. No real conviction behind the words.

  For a minute or two I hold her stare, and then when a small whimper slips past her lips, I slant my mouth over hers, kissing her deeply while the arguing girl in my lap succumbs to my touch. Moving closer. Matching my hunger.

  Tiny fingers embed themselves in my hair and pull, eliciting a deep grunt from me as she presses her core against my cock, wetness coating my taut skin. It’s a move I welcome and reciprocate with a hard bite to her lower lip that I soothe with my tongue.

  I swallow her moans.

  I can feel each drop of her juices as it rolls down my shaft and onto my balls.

  Moreover, she’s proving my point. She might hate what I do, but wants this. Me.

  Slowing the kiss, I peck her lips twice more and pull back. “Are you going to run again?”

  “Yes, run.” The lost look on her face is comical and I chuckle, loving how easily she gets lost in us. It’s natural. Alluring. “If you do, Gem, I’ll follow. Remember that. I’ll always be

  but a few steps behind.”

  Something about those words resonates with her, but they also cause her to frown, an action that causes my heart to clench. I can literally feel her sadness, and it’s the most intoxicating yet confusing thing.

  Why do I feel so connected to her?

  “Please don’t make promises you won’t keep.”

  “I’m a man of my word.” Bringing a hand up, I cup her face and rub my thumb across her cheek. “Can you try and believe that?”

  She shrugs. “Promises are broken every day.”

  “Who let you down?”

  “I’ve seen this story in the past, you know.” Aurora closes her eyes then, a sad and wistful smile on her lips. It’s the most unguarded expression I’ve seen on her. “My mother met my father when she was eighteen and fell head over heels in love with his bigger-than-life persona. A few years older than her and charming, the man was in Chicago for college—her freshman year to his third—and they became inseparable. It was a whirlwind romance, the kind where she claimed to have been swept off her feet and made to feel like a princess. Almost two years later, that same love resulted in me.” My sweet girl pauses to reach for the sheet bunched up by my hip, pulling it over her shoulders.

  “Are you cold?” I ask, rubbing her hip beneath the fabric with my free hand. “Need me to turn up the temperature?”

  “No, and a little.” Gem nods. She leans forward, pressing her forehead against mine. The move covers us both and causes my hand on her face to fall. I want to protest, love the feel of her skin beneath my fingertips in any capacity, but the private cocoon brings a level of comfort in her body, so I choose to remain quiet. “Now, back to my story on why we are completely wrong. Why this will end in disaster.”

  “That’s bullshit and you know it, love. You can feel it.”

  “As I was saying.” My mouth opens, the rebuttal sitting on the tip of my tongue, but she shakes her head. “You asked me to let you in, and now I’m saying to just listen.”

  “Okay.”

  “Thank you.” Her wild brown tresses move across her skin as she situates herself a little down my lap and away from my cock. For this conversation it’s better this way, even if I miss her soft warmth immediately. So, I focus on the long strands as they sweep over her shoulder and the top of her perky right breast, on how they move with her every inhale.

  After a minute, I push them back, letting my hand linger on the back of her neck. Massaging the tense muscles there until she releases a sigh. “Go on, Gem.”

  “Sadly for her, his love came with an expiration date,” Gem whispers and I stop all movement, keeping my hand where it is as I take in the painful lilt to her tone. The small shake in her limbs. “His engagement to another woman three years after I was born broke my mother. Annihilated her trust in men while he just moved back to Boston and assumed his role. She had no notice. No knowledge of the plans my grandfather had for his prodigal son—the same man that didn’t even know I existed until I was five and a knock came to our door.”

  “Your father is a cunt, Aurora,” I say, keeping my voice soft. “End of. No real man does that.”

  My girl sits back then, taking my face between her hands, while the expression in her eyes begs me to understand. “He walked away because the family came first. Not us. Not his child. The business demanded, and he gave in always.” Two fat tears roll down her cheeks and I quickly wipe them away with my free hand, watching as her bottom lip trembles. “So, you see, I know all about what’s expected from a man like you.”

  “The blood on my hands, or the type of man you think I am?”

  “I’m the daughter of a mob boss, Casper, and I’d be a hypocrite to judge you for what I’ll never crucify my father for. However, I do hate that he left us. That he chose the business above us, when we would’ve proudly stood at his side.”

  I nod in understanding. “Did he provide for you at all?”

  “My mother came from a pretty well-off family, and whatever money he gave her each month, she put away in a savings account for me.” Even her shrug is listless. The hurt and exhaustion this topic brings is palpable. “But when it mattered, when I needed him the most, he was never there. I know the disappointment and heartache that follows, Casper—I saw it every day—and I refuse to follow down that same rabbit hole. It’s why we can’t be anything more than these last few days. I won’t repeat their history.”

  “I’m not him.”

  “You have the potential to be worse.” That’s the rubbish she’s fighting to believe, but I won’t allow it. This woman, beautiful and a bit heartbroken, has a hold on me that refuses to budge no matter how hard she pushes. Fight this. Us. “Until the very end, she waited for him.”

  Past tense. And while I know there’s more to it—her mother’s story—I’ll wait for her to come share on her own, confirming what I already know. I also don’t need to ask for clarification on something that if you read between the lines is clear to see.

  “I’m not walking away, Aurora. Can’t.” Needing her closer, I grip the back of her neck and guide her lips to mine until they’re almost touching. “All I want is the chance to show you. Let me in, gorgeous. Get to know me before placing me in a category I don’t belong in.”

  “We don’t even live in the same country, for God’s sake.” It’s a weak rebuttal at best, and we both know it. One that I don’t answer to, and her sigh of defeat a few minutes later is an admission of that same truth if nothing else. “Just don’t hurt me. I don’t think I can handle any more disappointment, Casper.”

  “I don’t think I ever could.” At my words, her body falls against mine and I wrap my arms around her much smaller frame. This is her giving an inch, and it’s enough for now.

  Even if she doesn’t realize it yet, Aurora has already let me in.

  Slowly. Effortlessly.

  I’ll show her who I am, too.

  I might be a bastard. An unapologetic arsehole.

  But I’m not a liar.

  11

  THE NEXT TIME I awake, I’m al
one in bed.

  There’s a cover thrown over my body and the scent of fresh coffee lingering in the air—that, and the low hum of his voice coming from the room’s balcony. There’s a gravely timbre to it. A low and dangerous thrum that’s both hypnotizing and scary.

  He’s not yelling. However, the angry cadence makes me sit up, throw my legs over the edge of the mattress, and stand up. The need to be closer becomes overwhelming the more alert I become.

  “Why can’t I fight this pull,” I whisper under my breath, reaching over to grab the same bedsheet to cover up my nakedness. Before it’s secure around my torso, I’m walking closer to where he is. Each step makes my body ache for his touch. Each inhale bonds my DNA with his scent.

  I’ve lost my ever-loving mind.

  Coming to a stop just before the partially-open sliding glass door, I admire his form. This view gives me the perfect view of his other persona. Casper’s but a few feet from me and facing the Mediterranean Sea, wearing a pair of pajama bottoms and nothing else, hair disheveled, but the danger radiating off his skin sears me.

  I can feel it.

  This almost choking presence that makes goose bumps appear on my skin.

  The corded muscles in his back are tense and the hand not holding onto his cell phone is gripping the veranda tight, almost choking the metal frame.

  This is not the man I fell asleep against just a few hours ago.

  This is not the charismatic devil who made me question my logic.

  No, this man is ire personified. Angry and every bit the reason I ran.

  And yet you still want him.

  “How the hell did this happen?” he snarls, stretching his neck from side to side. “Where was she?” She? There’s a she? “I don’t give a bloody fuck that it was mid-morning and on West End near Burberry, Callum.” There’s another pause as the other person speaks, but Casper only seems to become more agitated. His chest expands with each breath, a rapid succession that worries me. “Why was she alone? Where were her bodyguards?”

  “Who is she?” I mumble under my breath, too low for him to hear as my mind goes straight for the worst-case explanation. There’s a woman in his life that means a lot. That’s important enough for his reaction to be so severe.

  It stings. Literally takes the breath from my lungs, and tears spring to my eyes.

  This is why we—

  “Dad, where’s—” The sudden crack in Casper’s voice stops me from completing that thought. I’m frozen in my spot, watching as his mood flips once more. How his head drops a bit while listening to his father’s account of whatever happened. “And where’s Mum now? Who’s attending her?” Moreover, I feel like an asshole. Like utter crap for thinking the worst when something is wrong with his mother. “Is she...don’t lie to me.” There’s another pause. “Okay.”

  His posture is different, the shift exposing his concern and fear. Seeing him like this hurts me. Reminds me of days when I was in his same position.

  And it’s that concern that brings me outside, stopping just behind him. His head tilts to the side, letting me know he heard me, but he doesn’t look back.

  However, the moment I wrap my arms around his midsection, he exhales. It’s rough. “Tell Callum to...yeah...thanks. See you soon.” The second he hangs up, Casper’s turning around and pulling us chest to chest. His lips are on my temple, breathing me in while I hug him tight. “I have to—”

  “I know.”

  “This isn’t what I had in mind for today.” He pulls back a bit after a few minutes, causing me to look up. “There’s been an accident with my mum and—”

  I silence him by placing a finger over his lips. “No need for an explanation, and more so when it comes to your mom. I understand and don’t hold it against you...I was the same with my own.”

  “You keep speaking in past tense.”

  I give him a sad smile. “That’s because she died a little over two years ago.” And still hurts just the same.

  “I’m so sorry, love.”

  “Thank you.”

  His phone pings three times in his right hand, one after the other, and he nods. “That should be my flight info.”

  “Then don’t let me keep you.” I take a step back, but his own hold doesn’t let me get far. “Go on. It’s okay.”

  Bringing his hand to my face, he sweeps his fingers across my cheek in a soft caress before cupping it. “This isn’t the end of our time together, Gem.”

  “Focus on your mother, Casper.” I’m shaking my head, trying to keep my own emotions in check. To not let him see that this sudden goodbye hurts. Because it does. To me, this is it. “I’ll be fine.”

  “Look at me.”

  “You’re going to be late.”

  “I own the fucking plane and they can very well wait. Look at me, Gem.” Reluctantly, I let him tip my face up. Our eyes meet, and I can’t hold back the small gasp that escapes. Nor can I stop myself from moving closer, pressing my chest once again to his.

  “Please don’t make this any harder.”

  “I’ll come for you, sweet girl. Expect my call.” Then his lips are on mine, kissing me with so much passion I can’t think straight. Can’t understand anything past the feel of his mouth against mine and the taste of him on my tongue. It’s quick and fast and desperate. Sexy. It also breaks me into a million and one pieces.

  Pieces that I doubt will ever be put back together correctly because as Casper walks toward the door and exits, two truths smack me in the face.

  I’ll never be the same.

  There’s no place like home.

  Without a second thought, I rush back into the room and make a dash for my phone on the nightstand. There’s a lump in my throat that shouldn’t be there; I shouldn’t be emotional when it’s for the best that he left.

  And yet, my eyes prick with tears as I dial my best friend’s number—hands shaking so much that I almost drop the device while waiting for her to pick up. There’s this sudden need in me to run and hide and lick my wounds, which is absurd, but I can’t stop the loneliness from creeping in.

  “Come on,” I grit out with the phone cradled between my neck and ear. The closet is but a few feet away and I walk inside with purpose, pulling things down from the hangers without a care if they rip; it’s all inconsequential at this point.

  There’s a click from the other end after the fourth ring, and Aliana sounds out of breath. “Yolo! How’s the vacation going?”

  I swallow hard, pushing my emotions back so she doesn’t ask too many questions. “It’s going.”

  “What’s wrong?” she asks, her tone holding alarm. “Because that doesn’t sound like you’re having fun on this European escape. Are you hurt?”

  If only she knew the truth.

  Physically? No. But emotionally I am a mess for reasons that don’t compute.

  To be honest, nothing does at the moment.

  Even after telling Casper all the reasons we shouldn’t.

  After he assured me we should.

  I’m lost. Inexplicably and without a doubt confused about what is wrong and right. My path in life has been set for years, but his arrival has shaken that. Made me want something I’ve never craved before. Not like this.

  He’s wrong for me, but I forget all of that when I’m in his arms. And it’s that belonging that I chase.

  It’s idiotic, I know, but I can’t control it either.

  “I’m sick with the plague,” I lie, sniffling at the end from fighting back tears. From choking back my truth. “For days I’ve been feeling off and today it hit me full force. I’m miserable.”

  “Did you see a doctor? Did you eat something bad?” Her concern guts me. I hate liars and now because of him, I am one.

  “No, but I am going to be booking my flight back home. This vacation has been the worst.”

  “Are you sure? Maybe you’ll feel better tomorrow and can enjoy the view?”

  “Between this and my father’s visit in London, I’m done. I want to go h
ome.”

  “He showed up? Seriously?”

  “As a heart attack.”

  “Fucker,” she hisses, and I can see her in my head rolling her eyes. “He won’t give up.”

  “No, he won’t.” Grabbing a pair of cotton hipsters and a sports bra, I drop the blanket and put her on speakerphone while putting them on. The more we talk, the more I begin to relax—shows me how much I needed my friend these last few days. Christ, it’s only been a few days. “But that’s not as much of a surprise to me as my stubbornness is to him. I won’t budge, and he hates it.”

  “Like mother, like daughter.” She laughs, and I can’t help but smile.

  “Proud of it too.” Then, there’s an old pair of jeans I brought with me in case I’d do a walking tour of some sort and wanted the comfort. Those I shimmy into and pair them with a vintage concert tee from my New Kids On The Block obsession phase. “Besides, why should I play nice? I owe him no loyalty and have no desire to play the puppet.”

  “You’re okay with the family entrepreneurship?”

  “Are you with yours?” I counter, because she’s the only person who can understand where I stand—on a slightly smaller scale but still gets the shift. Shady politicians run in her family, while mine is the crime boss funding campaigns to push certain agendas.

  “Touché.” There’s the sound of a doorbell from her end. “About time.”

  “Food?”

  “You know it.”

  After a few seconds of silence, I let out a long and tired sigh. “I’m coming home, Ali. I need to be home.”

  “Are you sure there’s nothing else bothering you?”

  “No.” Yes.

  “Then just come home.” No judgment or further inquiry, even though the small huff on her end tells me she isn’t buying my excuse entirely. “Send me your flight info and I’ll pick you up.”

  “Thank you.”

  “I got you, boo.”

  12

  “I’M SO SORRY, BROTHER.”

  I hear the words, but I’m not quite understanding them. There’s a haze that creates fogginess, then the rapid beating of my heart—a thundering war drum inside my chest—that makes it near impossible for me to digest Callum’s words.