Oh, no.
My body goes still against him. My brain, which has been offline since he stepped between my thighs, starts back with a stutter.
He didn’t just ask that. Adam Maksimov did not just ask me that. He cannot possibly be asking me that. NOW!
“…Adam… baby, we can’t…”
“Aye, love. We can.”
His voice is so calm. So sure. Like he’s telling me the most obvious truth. Like he’s been planning this since he stood on my porch yesterday and I’m only just now catching up.
Lisa, open your mouth. Open your mouth and tell him no. Tell him you need time. Tell him your daughter just walked out of this house thirty minutes ago and she does not know any of this is happening. Tell him your father’s dead and your mother’s dead and there’s no one to walk you down a damn aisle. Tell him you’ve been married before and it almost killed you. Tell him you don’t know him. Tell him…
But I do know him. That’s the thought that goes through me. I know him.
I’ve known him for less than two whole days, and I know him better than I knew Ray after ten years. I know the way his hands feel, the way he takes care of my Jasmine, and the way he made me coffee without asking and got it perfect. I know he came into this house ready to marry a twenty-year-old he’d never met, saw me, and it changed every fucking thing. I know he slept with agun under my pillow and his arm around me so I could rest. I know he got on his knees and ate me out and looked at me like I was the answer to a question he’s been carrying his whole damn life.
I know him. God help me, I know him.
And my body has known since the first look. My body’s been saying yes in every way it can. Wet, soft, open, yes. And my poor, dead heart along with it. The only part of me still saying no is my mind, and my mind is tired. I’m tired of saying no to a man who has not once given me a reason to mean it.
“…Adam…”
“Aye, love?”
His voice is gentle. Not pushing, just waiting. He’s still holding me, waiting for my mind to catch up to the rest of me. It feels like we both know what’s going to come out, and I’m going to let it.
“Yes.” The words fall out of me soft. Almost like a question. Like I’m surprised to hear myself say it.
Adam’s large body relaxes against me, all the way through.
“Good. Now, rest.”
He holds me one second longer, cheek pressed to the top of my head, and I feel him smile into my hair. Then he carries me to bed, lays me down like I’m the most precious thing he’s ever touched, follows me down, and I fall asleep against the warm wall of my Mad Scot’s chest. His beard at the back of my neck, his heart beating slow and steady. Knowing for the first time what it feels like to be wanted, chosen… loved.
Eleven
Adam
I leave Lisa sleeping. Wrecked, her curls messily spread on the pillow, hand curled around my arm. I peel myself out from under her lush, warm body one fucking inch at a time, like I did this morning, only slower because today I’ve fucked her into a coma and she’s not waking for hours.
I tuck the comforter over her soft, round shoulder, kiss her temple, taking my fill of her scent, and stand at the side of the bed for a beat to stare at my woman. So fucking beautiful, my heart hurts. Mine. All of her. This strong, smart, sexy woman is mine and mine only. And soon she’ll be sharing my name… Fuck, she said yes.
I feel myself smiling like a bloody fool. My cock twitches at the sight of her full curves under the covers, my hands balling into fists… if I stand here one more second… I shake myself and go get ready for work.
I find my phone where I left it on the kitchen counter. One textfrom Kostya.All set, boss.
I send back:On my way.
* * *
The warehouse is on the south side of the docks, an old freight depot we rented under a name nobody can trace. He’s at the door when I pull in, nods, and steps aside.
He hands me a folder. I dinnae open it. I dinnae need to. I know which of the men I’m about to see walked first, which one of them came back to steal, and who’s been chatting about what was left in the house.
I take my jacket off and hand it to Kostya. He takes it without a word and hangs it on a hook by the door. I roll my sleeves to the elbow, making a show of it, building tension. My tattoos come out into the dim light of the warehouse. I crack my knuckles, one hand at a time, then twist my rings around my fingers…
The warehouse is cold. Concrete floor. One bare bulb. Three men in chairs in the middle, tied at the wrists and ankles. Tomas Santo on the left, fat, fifty, sweating through a polo shirt. Ray’s second-in-command, who disappeared and left my girls to fend for themselves the second Venn’s body went cold. Johnny Cortana. Him and his brother, Mikey, came back to the Venn estate twice to fill their trunks like fucking vultures.
