by Maisey Yates
“Yes it does,” she said.
He cut her words off with a fierce kiss, still holding the gem on her necklace. “No,” he said, resting his forehead against hers, “you are not a con woman. You have done dishonest things. I believe that you have conned people. I believe you conned me. But those cons...they are just things you’ve done. They are not you.”
She swallowed hard, her throat so tight she could barely breathe. “I don’t deserve that.”
“Life is nothing but a series of things we don’t deserve. Both good and bad. I say we take the good when it comes, because God knows the bad is never far behind.”
“I don’t...”
“Just accept it. Accept this,” he said, kissing her again.
She squeezed her eyes shut, kissing him back, drowning in him, in this. In the atonement that he offered. He was right, after all. Nothing of life was fair. She had accepted that in terms of the bad, and this was good. So she should take it. While it was here. Touch some of the brightness before it all slipped back into shadow.
Rocco gripped his tie and loosened it, and she helped him pull it through his collar, casting it down onto the floor. Her fingers went to the buttons of his shirt, clumsily undoing two of them, her hands shaking.
She didn’t know what the future held, but she knew she wanted this. She knew that she loved him. And she knew that she wanted this moment. Beyond that, she didn’t care.
He lowered them to the rug that covered the marble floor, not breaking their kisses as he did so. He settled over her, her skirt falling back, the split parting, revealing her leg. Rocco placed his hand on her thigh, the warmth of his touch burning through her skin, through her entire body.
“I have a fantasy,” he said, “of seeing you wearing nothing but this necklace.”
His words heated her body further, filled that empty place inside of her that was so hungry for someone to care. For someone to want her. She was his fantasy.
You’re mine.
And she knew now what that meant to him. Knew now that it was not meant to lessen the connection between them, because she had seen for herself just what a claim of ownership meant to him.
“It’s an easy fantasy to see realized,” she said, kissing him just below the line of his square jaw.
He reached behind her and tugged on the zipper of her dress, pulling the garment that would have cost a couple months of her waitressing wages down and discarding it in a molten gold ball on the floor. She wasn’t wearing a bra, nothing other than a black thong that was little more than a sheer whisper of lace, framing her body more than it concealed it. He curled his fingers over the waistband of her panties, rough skin brushing the most sensitive part of her as he dragged them down her legs.
“Yes,” he said, his breath hissing through his teeth, dark eyes intent on her body. “This is exactly what I wanted.” He reached up and touched the necklace, weighing it in his hands. “This is exactly how I thought it would look.” He let it fall between her breasts, the jewel warm from his touch. “I like having you here, with my collection. You are mine, Charity.”
She lifted her hand and pressed it to his chest, over his shirt, and she could feel his heart raging beneath her palm. “Mine,” she said, the word even more feral on her lips than it had been on his. “If you think you can take possession of me, then I will damn well take it of you.”
“You have it,” he said. “Though, I’m not sure why you would want it.”
“Is that a gift?”
“Yes.” He kissed her neck, the curve of her breast. “It is.”
“I’m up to two then.”
He straightened, undoing the rest of the buttons on his shirt and discarding it. Then he put his hands on his belt, working it free as he took his shoes and socks off, making quick work of his pants and underwear, so soon he was as bare as she was. “All of this is yours, if you want.” She looked at him, his broad shoulders, his hard, well-defined muscles. His dark, intense eyes. “Say you want me,” he said, a note of desperation in his tone.
“You know I do,” she said.
“I need you to say it. Because the first time you felt like you had to strip for me. Now I want you here, naked, because you want to be.”
“I do. I want you.”
It was all the permission he needed. He groaned and kissed her, covering her body with his, easing her thighs apart as he settled between them. He moved his hand to palm her breast, squeezing her nipple between his thumb and forefinger. A sharp shock of pleasure rocked her, curling itself around the emotion that was expanding in her chest, until they were inextricably linked. She would never be able to separate the two again. Pleasure like this would always belong to Rocco, would always be part of the love that she felt for him. The love that she craved from him.
He bent his head, sliding his tongue around one tight bud, then drawing it deeply into his mouth. “Mine,” he said. Then he kissed her lower, beneath her rib cage, beneath her belly button, moving lower still until his lips were hovering over the most sensitive part of her. “Mine,” he said again, the word nearly a growl.
He lowered his head, tasting her deep, teasing the sensitive bundle of nerves at the apex of her thighs before delving deeper still, penetrating her damp core with his tongue. She gasped, arching into him, moving in time with him.
He lifted his head, turned and bit her inner thigh, the sharp jolt of pain rocking her, pushing her closer to climax.
“Mine,” he said. “All of you. All for me.”
He moved back to her mouth, kissing her deeply, the evidence of her own arousal there on his lips.
He thrust deep inside her and she gasped, his possession pushing her over the edge, pleasure roaring through her as she lost herself in this, in him.
In being his.
He kept his eyes locked with hers as he chased his own release, clenching his jaw tight, the fingers of one hand buried deeply in her hair, the other hand holding firmly to her hip.
“Mine, Charity, all mine,” he said, the words ending on a harsh groan as he gave himself up to his own pleasure. He closed his eyes, his body shuddering out its climax, his shaft pulsing deep inside of her as he gave up his control utterly, completely.
He had taken possession of her, but he had given her some of himself.
He had given her a gift.
He was the only one who ever had.
She wrapped her arms around his neck and held him close. The carpet was starting to feel scratchy beneath her back, possibly because her skin was raw from the intensity of their lovemaking. And he was starting to get heavy, his skin hot against hers, slick with sweat. But she didn’t want him to move. She wanted to freeze this moment forever.
It was the happiest moment of her entire life. She realized that with the harsh, sudden force of a blow.
In this moment her entire future stretched out before her, and in it, she wasn’t alone. Because right now, with Rocco as close to her as she could possibly be to another human being, it was impossible to imagine being alone. Right now she had him and their baby. She had security. She had passion.
She had more right now—or at least the promise of more—than ever before. And she was treasuring this moment of possibility more than she could have ever fathomed treasuring anything.
After a long while he shifted position, pulling her against him, wrapping his arm around her waist, his chin resting on her shoulder. She could have stayed like that forever. Barring that, she would take it for the next few hours.
She didn’t sleep. She simply lay there in Rocco’s arms, trying to will the sun to stay sunken into the sea. Because as long as the darkness was drawn over them like a blanket, it felt as if time was standing still.
And when the sky started to turn a lighter shade of gray, she closed her eyes, so she could pretend again.
But inevitably, she knew the time would pass. She knew this moment would pass. And all of the incredible possibilities would dissolve, as future became the present.
But not now. Right now, she was in Rocco’s arms.
And that was all she would think about.
CHAPTER NINE
CHARITY’S PHONE RANG at about three in the morning. Rocco opened his eyes and looked through the dark, his eyes focusing on the ceiling. But he didn’t move. Beside him, she groaned and stirred, and he felt the mattress depressing as she sat up.
“Hello?” Her voice was gruff, sleepy, and he found it unaccountably sexy. “What do you want? Why are you calling me?” Abruptly, her voice sharpened. He felt her get out of bed, and he remained motionless.
“I could be in jail for all you know,” she said, her tone a fierce whisper now. “Not that you bothered to check.”
Her father. It had to be her father. He didn’t move. He wanted her to stay in the room, to keep talking. Mostly, he wanted to take the phone out of her hand and yell at the man on the other end.
And it wasn’t so he could get his money back.
For some reason, in this moment, Rocco was angry because that man had left his own daughter to take the fall for his actions.
And you made sure it was quite a fall.
His stomach twisted, guilt turning over inside of him.
“You would have seen it on the news? That’s nice.”
The door to the bedroom opened, and Charity’s voice became fainter.
He rolled sideways, swinging his legs over the edge of the mattress and standing. Then he made his way to the door, keeping his footsteps silent. She had left it open a crack, and he took full advantage of that, lingering in the shadow as he did the best he could to catch the rest of her conversation, filtering in from the hallway.
“You have to return the money,” she was saying now.
His breath caught in his chest, settling there like a rock. If her father returned the money, much of his leverage would be gone.
Certainly, legally he would still have a claim, but the entire goal was to see the return of his property. At least, in the beginning it had been. And Charity knew that.
The simple fact was, he would not have her thrown in jail. Not now. He would protect her, no matter what. But, if she knew that, she might not stay. And that was unacceptable.
He needed his leverage.
“He knows. He knows who I am.” There was a pause. “I’m with him now.” Another pause. “None of your damn business what I’m doing with him.”
He assumed her father was speaking again. “Yes, as a matter of fact I am sleeping with him. Again, not that it’s your business.” She paced a few steps. “His whore? That’s rich coming from you. You’re a thief. And you’re really trying to take the moral high ground? Return the money. Because if there’s one thing I can’t do, it’s protect you from him. He’ll do what he wants. I don’t have any control over it.”
She must have hung up, because a moment later she put her hand down to her side and he heard her whisper a short, sharp curse.
Rocco turned away from the door and got back into bed, waiting for her to return.
“Who was that?” he asked, waiting to see what she would say.
“No one,” she said, getting into bed beside him.
Disappointment gripped his throat, and he wasn’t sure why.
Maybe he was disappointed because, as far as he could tell, there had been no reason for her to keep the phone call a secret. Except that she didn’t trust him.
“Wrong number?” he asked.
“Yes,” she said, her voice muted. “No,” she said abruptly, rolling over to her side. “It was my father. I’m sorry, lying to you seemed easier.”
A rush of relief flooded him. “I know, I was eavesdropping. In the spirit of honesty,” he said, “I figured I should confess, too.”
“Oh. You were going to let me get away with lying?”
“Yes.”
“He didn’t tell me anything. He wanted to see if you had found out. And I told him you had. He says he doesn’t have the money anymore. And, as I’m sure you could tell from my tone, he isn’t sorry at all that he left me to fend for myself. He had some choice names for me, actually.”
“You are not my whore,” he said, anger like a ball of molten steel in his chest. “And I am sorry that I ever used the word in connection with you. I am sorry I called you that. I was angry, and I was trying to hurt you. And I knew that those words would be hurtful. Especially after what I had done.” He paused. “I know what it is to be at a disadvantage in life. The fact that I ever put you in that position, where you felt you had to trade your body for your freedom... It was unconscionable. Though I confess freely that I’m a man who has been out of touch with his conscience for a great many years. But I never thought I would become one of those men who took advantage of women in quite this way.”
“Thank you,” she said, burying her face in his shoulder. “Thank you.”
He was sorry. And he regretted the way he had started things between them, and yet he couldn’t regret the place they were in now. And he also couldn’t let her go. An impossible situation.
“I’m not sure I deserve to be thanked.”
“Well, you were wrong. And you were a...a...an absolute beast. And sometimes you still are. But I was hardly an angel. I stole from you. And I lied to you. And I played as innocent as I could in order to make you feel sorry for me. And then, when we went to your hotel room...I forgot everything. I know it started out...like it did. But once we were there...once you kissed me...I forgot everything but wanting you. You didn’t force me. You know you didn’t.”
“I never get tired of hearing that.” He laughed, a hollow, humorless sound. “So, the fact that you have to tell me that says an awful lot about my character.”
“We went over this already. Neither of us had the best of characters when we first met.”
“I disagree,” he said. “You’re a very strong woman. You have made some bad decisions, but I think your character was always strong. To survive the childhood you did...”
“I admit it wasn’t all roses and daffodils. But plenty of people go through hard times and never end up turning to a life of crime.”
“And plenty of people have money stolen from them without blackmailing the thief into bed.”
“I can’t get your money back,” she said, her voice wound tight with regret. “I don’t even know where he is.”
“Then you must stay with me. Marry me.” He had not intended to propose, but the words came out of their own accord, and the moment they did, he realized how very badly he wanted her to say yes. And so, he did what he did best; he took away her choice. “You must. It is the only way you can make restitution for what you took from me.”
“Is this a proposal, or more blackmail? It’s very hard to tell with you.”
“It’s a little of both.”
“It didn’t sound like it was a question.”
He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close. “It wasn’t.”
“What’s the benefit of marriage?”
“I told you, Charity. You are mine now.” He closed his eyes, gritting his teeth against the intense wave of feelings that were coursing through him. He wasn’t used to this. To wanting quite so fiercely. Not anymore. He had got himself to a position in life where he didn’t want anymore. He had. He possessed. He was unaccustomed to feeling as though he was lacking something, but he did now. For some strange reason, he felt as if he was back at square one, scrabbling alone in a dark empty room desperately seeking purchase.
And it made no sense, because he was holding Charity in his arms right now. And yet he could feel something was missing.
It should be simple. As easy as buying
a beautiful painting, but it wasn’t. Because even with her here and now, physically, he felt that it wasn’t complete. It should all fit together. It should all make sense, and yet it didn’t.
“Marriage seems like a good way of making it permanent,” he said finally.
Making her his wife. That would solve it. Turning the lock, ensuring she couldn’t simply leave. More insurance.
“Okay,” she said.
“Is that your answer?”
“It wasn’t a question. You already said that.”
“No,” he said, confirming it yet again. “It wasn’t.” And yet, he couldn’t shake the feeling that a yes from her lips would have been much sweeter than forced compliance.
But if he asked the question, he had to accept the fact that her answer could be no.
He was not prepared to take that risk.
“When do you want to get married then?” she asked.
“Before the baby is born,” he said.
The sooner they made it official the better. It might do something to ease the panic that was rioting through him.
“I suppose I’ll need a dress.”
Some of the pressure in his chest eased. “Well, as it happens I know where you can get one of those.”
He closed his eyes again, relishing the warm weight of Charity’s hand on his chest.
Soon she would have a ring to go with her necklace. And the entire world would know that she belonged to him.
* * *
Charity was having her fitting for her wedding gown, and Rocco was not allowed to attend. Which meant he was planning on going anyway. Currently, he had been banished from her room until the seamstress was finished with the fitting.
It would be a small wedding. They had already decided. It wasn’t as though Rocco had any friends to invite. Though, there were business associates who would be terribly offended if they weren’t allowed to attend.
The media would, whether they wanted them to or not, make a big song and dance about the legendary playboy Rocco Amari settling down and committing for life, so they would have to at least make a show of a genuine wedding anyway. Inevitably, the truth about the baby would come out, too. Particularly since Charity was beginning to show, and three weeks from now when the ceremony was actually held he imagined the evidence of her pregnancy would be even more significant.
