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“You weren’t old enough to consent to it. Did Denver orchestrate it?”
“He allowed it.” Lifting his free hand, he crooks a finger. “Closer.”
“Did he allow all the women to touch you?” I take another step. “Will I be forced to do that?”
“Are you interested?”
“You know I’m not. Will I have a choice?”
“Gretchen loved to fuck.” His teeth dent his bottom lip, and he strokes himself harder. “She wasn’t like the others.”
A dark, depraved feeling sinks through me, sickening me with guilt.
I’m so fucking glad that woman is dead. That vile, selfish woman sexually abused Leo and emotionally abused Wolf. I hate her for hurting them. More than that, I hate that fifteen years later, Leo still gets aroused thinking about her.
“How…?” A mess of protectiveness and jealousy knots in my chest. “How was she different?”
“She was fearless. Sexual. Cruel.” His lips part, accommodating faster breaths as he chases his release. “Spread your legs.”
My shoulders hitch, and I fight them down. He’s not asking me to remove my pajamas. Given how he devours my body with smoldering eyes, I’m certain he’s picturing himself rutting inside me. I should shut this down right now. But he’s talking. He’s finally answering questions.
I inch my feet apart and hold my arms at my sides, trembling with awkwardness. “How many times did she assault you?”
“She didn’t—”
“How many times, Leo?”
“I don’t know,” he snaps, nostrils flaring as his hooded eyes molest me from head to toe, touching me everywhere and always returning to the V of my legs. “I want to see your cunt.”
“No. When did it start?”
“When I was eleven.”
I can’t keep the horror off my face. My God, he was just a baby. And it lasted until he was fifteen? Sixteen?
“Have you ever had consensual sex?” I ask as gently as possible. “Have you been with anyone else?”
“She’s the only woman I’ve had sex with.”
A soft huff of relief escapes my lips. “Why? Were the others not required?”
“The women are off-limits.”
Surprise kicks my head back. “There are rules? But you said—”
“No rules.”
“I don’t understand.”
There’s something he’s leaving out. A catch.
I think through the last five weeks, the flirting, the stolen kisses, the cryptic comments…
Sex is optional.
The wolf eats the lamb, and the lion eats the wolf.
I’m not doing this with you.
You will.
They’ve all alluded to it, to the inevitability of something.
“The women are off-limits to you.” I watch him eat me alive with his gaze, his hand never slowing on his dick. “Unless…”
His jaw ticks. His pelvis grinds into his fist, and he moans. “Unless we make a deal.”
“What deal?”
“The devil’s bargain.” His movements change rhythm, the strokes shortening into rapid pumps beneath the head of his cock. He’s going to come.
I’m running out of time. “The devil’s bargain? What does that mean?”
His mismatched eyes penetrate. Cords stand out in his neck, and a long, sensual growl erupts from his chest. “Surrender.”
I barely hear his answer beneath the roar of my heart as thick ropes of come spurt across his scarred abs. “Is Denver the devil?”
“Your turn.”
With a long, slow blink, I try to process the abrupt command. “You want me to masturbate for you?”
“That’s a start.”
“That’s a no.”
“Then get out.” He drops his head back on the loveseat and closes his eyes. “You’re dismissed.”
“What?” The nerve of this man! I anchor my hands on my hips. “We’re not fin—”
“Leave.” Flicking a finger as if to brush away my existence, he doesn’t bother looking at me.
“You will not throw me out like a piece of trash.”
“Get the fuck out!”
29
Frankie
—
Here’s the thing about me and bossy men.
If he orders me to terminate my pregnancy, I will leave his ass.
If he yells at me to get out, I will get in his face.
Doesn’t matter if he’s rich or dangerous or built like a god. When I’m in my feelings, I act on them.
This man has something I need—answers—and I’m not leaving until I decide to go.
I open my mouth to tell him that, but the flicker in his eyes gives me pause.
It’s not a flicker of warning.
It’s a flicker of hurt.
He looks away, shielding it, but I know what I saw. The same emotion shone in his eyes on the video when his teenage face lolled toward the camera.
Hopeless.
Haunted.
Did he fight back? Is that why Gretchen stabbed him? Did she prey on Kodiak and Wolf, too? Was she on the same side as Denver? Are there other videos like this one?
I want to blurt all the questions, but that’s not what Leonid needs.
He wants me to leave, but that’s not what he needs, either.
In the twenty-seven years he’s been at Hoss, has anyone ever held him? Just opened their arms and offered comfort?
He hasn’t moved a muscle since he ordered me to leave. He hasn’t softened his glare, tucked away his dick, or wiped the come off his torso. It’s as if he shot his last fuck to give when he shot his load.
