by J. L. Beck
Picking up my pace, I make my way to the kitchen and head straight for the fridge without bothering to turn on the light.
I find some leftovers—a few pre-made sandwiches and some fresh cut fruit. I pull out a small tray from the cabinet and pile it on. It’s so fucking weird that nothing seems to have changed.
Every item in the house is in the same location. Just as I close the fridge and place two bottles of water on the platter, I hear it: a faint cry echoing through the house.
For a moment, I panic, thinking it’s Keira, but then I realize it sounds more like a child…a baby even, and I pause. My ears strain to hear more cries, and I turn my head toward where I think it’s coming from.
Then it stops.
Shaking my head, I take the platter and make my way upstairs.
I must have had a little more to drink than I thought.
A baby? In this fucking house? That’s hilarious.
I push the stupid thought away, and by the time I enter the bathroom, the tub is filled all the way. Only Keira's head is above the water.
I set the tray down on the counter and pick up a sandwich. Kneeling beside the tub, I hold it in front of her mouth, urging her to eat. She eyes it curiously before taking her hands out of the water to grab it.
“No, I’ll feed you. Your hands are all wet and soapy. Plus, it’s the least I can do after...” my voice trails off. I know she came. I felt her pussy gripping my cock, but it doesn’t make the fact that I treated her as badly as one of my fucking lays back at the strip club, or how I treated her after dinner. She means more than that to me.
“Please stop. It’s okay, Damon. It’s not like I didn’t enjoy it too.” She smiles softly and lets her hands fall below the water while she opens her perfect mouth to take a bite. Her pink tongue darts out over her bottom lip, and I want to kiss her instead of feed her right now.
“If you don’t like this, I brought a variety of foods you can try.”
“I see that.” She smiles while chewing. “This is really good. I like it.”
I feed her the whole sandwich, bite after bite, and I don’t know how, but my cock starts to harden all over again. I had no fucking clue feeding someone could be so erotic.
But, fuck, it is. The way her plump lips from around the bread, grazing my fingers…it’s so fucking sexy. I want to fuck her again. Now.
I tamp the need down, though, and grab the bottle of water, twisting off the cap. I hand it to her and watch her finish almost the whole bottle.
God, I am horrible. Clearly, she was hungry and thirsty. I should’ve taken care of her needs before taking care of mine, and for that, I am a prick—a big ass prick.
“I’m sorry, baby. I’m sorry. I was a selfish prick tonight. I should’ve made sure you had food and water sent up.” I lean over the tub and press a soft kiss to her forehead. “It won’t happen again.”
Keira sighs, sounding as if she’s enjoying the luxury of being pampered, and I must say, I’m enjoying it too.
I grab a washcloth from the cabinet under the sink, then kneel back down beside the tub. She rests her head on the rim and stares at me in awe as I take the cloth and start to wash her body.
She closes her eyes and lets out a low moan, sounding as if this is the best thing she’s ever felt. I will have to make note of the things she enjoys so I can do them more often.
As I wash lower down her belly and between her legs, I am extra careful my movements are slow and graceful. I watch for any signs of discomfort. Her eyebrows pull together, and her delicate features tense up as I brush the washcloth over her thigh.
She is trying to hide that I hurt her, and I don’t understand why—not when we both know I see it. Her teeth sink into her bottom lip, and she whines when I go over the sensitive area.
Seeing the pain in her eyes makes me want to stab myself in the heart a hundred times. She is so fragile—so fucking innocent in every way—and I took her like a fucking savage. I tore her from the inside out, making her bleed. My insides feel like they’re being ripped from my body. I should’ve stopped. I should’ve taken her slower. I should’ve prepared her. Made her come once or twice. But I was so caught up in the need to make her mine, everything but my lust for her slipped my mind.
“It’s okay,” she tells me, as if reading my mind.
Her words make it worse. She is trusting me with everything—with her life, her body, her heart. And I’ve done nothing but fail her. It’s me who’s responsible for her safety now. Me who’s supposed to make sure no one hurts her. Above all, it should never be me that hurts hers. I slow my movements and pull the washcloth from the water. There’s a red tinge on it, and I squeeze my eyelids shut, tossing the fucking thing over my shoulder.
“It’s not okay, and it won’t happen again. It shouldn't have happened at all. And it will not happen again.” I say it more to myself than her. She doesn’t control my body, or my fucked up mind, so it’s not her fault I lost my cool.
“But I want it to happen again.”
I shake my head, the frustration in me mounting. “You don’t mean that, Keira.” I run my knuckles along her cheek, feeling how fragile her skin and bones are beneath my touch. I’ve killed people. I’ve bathed in their blood, but when I’m with Keira, I want to forget that part of myself. I want to cherish and hold her.
I stare down at her. “You don’t have to pretend with me. I’ll protect you no matter what, no matter how. You don’t have to pretend you like being hurt because you’re scared.”
“I’m not scared,” she admits with a shy grin. “I just…I want you to be satisfied, and I want to be the one satisfying you. I don’t want you to feel like you have to go somewhere else for your needs—even more so now that I know we’re getting married. I want to be able to take whatever you give me…whenever you want.”
“Is this about what Hayley said? Did she tell you I didn’t want you? That’d I’d leave you?” Anger doesn’t even begin to describe how I am feeling.
“Listen to me, Keira.” I grip her chin firmly now. “Don’t fucking believe a single word she says. She’s no one. A fucking whore. And not that it matters, but this has nothing to do with being satisfied. I was satisfied making love to you. I was satisfied fucking you…being inside you. Hell, I was satisfied just with the simple fact that you let me touch you.”
Her eyes fill with tears. “But there’s a difference between all those things and tonight. The difference has everything to do with me and the fact that I let my anger get out of control. I let it cloud my thoughts and my judgement. And I took that anger out on the one person who didn’t deserve it.”
I feel my own eyes begin to water, but I blink the emotions away. “I hurt you, and I’ll never let myself get that out of control again. I’ll find another way to manage, but it won’t mean fucking you when I’m that far gone.”
She gives me the sweetest smile I’ve ever seen, and I lean down and press my lips against hers tenderly. My heart starts beating out of my chest, and the pain of what I did pumps through my veins. I knew when she first told me she loved me I loved her too. I was just too weak...to consumed with fear to say it.
But after tonight, I won’t hold back anymore. I let the words fall helplessly from my lips. “I love you, Keira. And I cannot wait for you to become my wife.”
19
Keira
His words replay on repeat. I love you, Keira…
Shock isn’t even a word I could use to describe or explain how I feel. I’d been saying I love you to him for a while, but I didn’t think he would actually say the words to me—and never out loud.
It’s like he’s changed. Something inside him has cracked, and he’s finally slipping his mask off and letting me in. He’s been acting like he cares for me—but is it love?
I didn’t think it was possible for a man like Damon to admit he was is in love. Yet, here we are, in the bathroom of this giant house where he grew up with his brother, his tiny little secret right down the hall. If Damon
was ever going to tell me he loved me, I didn’t suspect it would happen here.
“Come on. Your hands are turning to prunes. Let’s get you dried off and into bed.”
As I stand, I notice my legs are still weak, causing my knees to threaten to buckle beneath my weight. I was seriously exhausted before stepping into this hot bath, and now my muscles are relaxed, making me even hungrier for sleep.
When I step out of the tub and into the large, fluffy towel Damon is holding out, the soreness between my legs flares, reminding me of the rough way he took me earlier. I was shocked at first—and he did hurt me in the beginning—but once my body adjusted, I enjoyed the way he took me.
He was hot and possessive, and he made my body shake with need. The orgasm was mind blowing. I’m so confused by the way he made me feel, I don’t think I can explain it to Damon in a way he’ll understand—at least not tonight. But I do hope he does it again, because there was something so primal about the way he wanted me, needed me. Like he had to have me. Thinking about it makes my muscles clench and my body hum.
I realize we, once again, didn’t use a condom, and my mind shifts to the secret down the hall.
When will Xander tell his brother about his son? How long will I have to keep this secret from Damon?
Damon’s touch pulls me from my thoughts as he wraps me up in the towel, pulling me into his chest. As he starts to dry me off, I thank the good Lord for delivering a man to me who I consider to be one the best alive. My eyes comb his well-defined upper body, his shoulders and the cords of muscles in his throat. His biceps flex, and my core clenches. My gaze slips lower over his abdomen and down to his V. His muscles tighten with every move he makes, and I can’t stop the urge I have to reach out and touch him. I want to feel him under my fingertips.
I trace his pecs, enjoying how smooth and warm his skin feels and how hard the muscle is beneath it. It’s so small, I almost miss it, but when my fingers go back over the same patch of skin, I notice a small blemish—an abnormality on an almost perfect surface.
“What’s this?” I trace the small indentation, becoming aware Damon is done drying me off and now staring down at me as I feel him up.
“It’s a bullet wound,” Damon says, as if it’s obvious I’d know that.
“Yeah. I gathered that it was a wound. Why? Who shot you?” I have a fierce need to protect Damon—which is strange since he can kill with his bare hands. I love him, and the thought of someone shooting or hurting him bothers me a lot.
He tosses the towel over his shoulders, pads out of the bathroom, brushing past me, and I worry he may not give me an answer.
As fast as my legs allow, I follow behind him, watching as he walks to his dresser and pulls out a T-shirt and a pair of boxers.
“Here, you can sleep in these. I forgot to bring the luggage inside, and I don’t want to go back out to get it.” He gives me a soft smile. “Hope that’s okay.”
I narrow my gaze. “Who shot you, Damon?”
His eyes darken. “I don’t think you’re ready to hear the dirty details about my family, baby. We’re a seriously fucked up crowd, and I intend to keep you as far away from it all as I can.”
For as long as I’ve known Damon, I’ve been a pushover. I’ve allowed him to sweep things under the rug, but if I’m going to marry him and make it through a life with him, then I’m going to need to tighten my backbone. I’m going to need to say what I want to, when I want to.
“It’s a little late to save me from the gory details. I know things now. Things that can’t be unseen or unheard.” I soften my voice. “And I know it’s in the past—a past that doesn’t include me—but I am part of your life now, and if you’re seriously going to marry me, I’ll be part of your future for a long time. I want to protect you like you protect me. I want to hear about your problems…your fears. I want to be your equal. So, dammit, just tell me.”
When my eyes meet Damon’s. I expect to see anger, maybe even fury, but there’s humor in his gaze and smile.
“I don’t know how you do it, Keira, but you make me fucking want you more and more every day. It’s sickening and terrifies the fuck out of me.”
His response warms my heart and makes me smile. I cross the room and get dressed in the items he set out, waiting impatiently for him to tell me. I have to roll the boxers more than a couple times to get them to stay on my waist, and when I pull on his shirt, it lands at my knees. I feel and look like I’ve been swallowed by cotton.
When I settle onto the mattress, Damon sits beside me and reaches for my hand—like he needs to be touching me in some way to tell me this story. I don’t mind. His touch is comforting, kind, and I love that he’s finally showing me his different sides. He reminds of a kaleidoscope. I see a different shape and color every time I look, and then they become clearer.
“My dad shot me. That scar is from the bullet. It was the same night Xander shot him.”
Damon’s gaze seems far away, and I wonder if he’s thinking back to that night.
“Actually, it was the reason Xander shot him. My father tried to kill me. He wanted Xander to do it. When by brother refused, my dad shot me instead. It’s a good thing he’s a lousy shot. If not, I’m sure I wouldn’t be here today.” He grins, but it makes me feel sick. I’m sure he’s smiling to lessen the blow, but it doesn’t. Unfortunately, he can’t protect me from all the bad in this world.
At least his father is dead…I guess.
My chest hurts thinking about what Damon must have went through. His own father tried to kill him, then their father died by the hands of his brother—right in front of him. It sounds horrendous and makes my life problems seem mediocre.
“I’m sorry.” I give him a somber look and squeeze his hand tightly, as if that will take his pain away.
“I am, really. I’m sorry we had to come here. I can’t imagine what being here in this house has done to your head.”
Damon shrugs. “It’s okay, Keira. I don’t want your pity. I wanted to come here, and it was worth it. You make every hard thing worthwhile. If you didn’t bring me back here, it would’ve been my brother with his asshole ways, so don’t feel bad, baby.”
Damon pulls me into his arms and drags me to the bed. We cuddle up in the heavy comforter, and I bask in the feeling of him holding me like this. It feels so good, I almost don’t want to go to sleep.
The last thing I think about before sleep finally claims me is how Damon’s story gives me a newfound appreciation for Xander. Discovering all I did about him tonight shows me there’s more than one side to him—sides he’s trying to hide from the world. The question is: will he ever find someone to pull him out of the darkness he tries to hide himself in?
20
Damon
The girl on the stage—whatever her name is—dances around the poll aimlessly. She’s uncoordinated and looks like she might barf. She also can’t hold my attention for longer than two seconds, so why the fuck would I hire her?
I take a calming breath through my nose and exhale out my mouth.
I look back over my shoulder at Keira sitting at the bar with my laptop in front of her. She finally re-enrolled in classes, and we agreed until I can get a man I trust to guard her, she will take only online courses.
I can’t believe how attached I am to her. Normally, I couldn’t care less for a woman, but Keira isn’t just any fucking woman.
She is the woman.
My soon-to-be wife.
My world.
I turn back around in my chair and hold a fist to my head. This is the first time I’ve been back at the club in almost two weeks, and it’s only because I had to hire some new girls.
No one here knows about our engagement—mostly because I don’t share my personal life with the staff—and because it’s nobody's fucking business. I’m not hiding, but I’m not going to put an X on her fucking back for being hitched to me.
The door opens next to the stage, and three of my best dancers walk in. They smile brightly at m
e as if I’m going to cut them a bigger paycheck for doing so.
“All right. You, you, and you.” I point to the top three girls who auditioned. “These are three of my best dancers. They’re going to show you the night routine. If you can keep up, you’re hired. I’ll let them be the judge.”
My eyes drift to the remaining girls. “The rest of you are welcome to audition again later in the year.”
Two of the girls frown, and the other flips her hair over her shoulder like I inconvenienced her. If this place didn’t make me so much fucking money, I’d burn it to the ground and start over.
I scrub a hand down my face. I want a drink. It’s not late enough in the day, though.
Seconds after the rejected chicks walk out, a long-legged blonde in a pencil skirt walks in, carrying a bunch of folders.
“Hello, I’m Maria, the wedding planner,” she announces, setting off a chain of giggles from the girls who know me. The woman looks shocked as she notes the half-naked girls near us. I’m sure this doesn’t happen every day in her line of work.
“Sorry, lady, you’re at the wrong place if you think someone is getting married here. This is a strip club, not a church.” Georgia snickers, her eyes dazzling with amusement.
I shake my head. She has no fucking clue how wrong she is.
I get up from my chair and hold out my hand. “Don’t mind them. You’re in the right place. We’ve talked a couple times on the phone. I’m Damon.”
“Nice to finally meet in person, Mrs. Rossi?” She seems confused for a moment as she addresses Georgia, clearly thinking she’s Keria. “I brought everything you asked for, and I just need you to choose from the selections.”
“Keira,” I call out, my voice gentle. I turn around and find her standing right beside me. “Why don’t you take Maria to my office where you can have some more privacy? If you need anything, let me know.”
