Page 90 of Cash

She jerked her head back, putting distance between us. “You can’t.”

“I can and so can you. We just have to stick together. Be brave with me, Stella. Leave the past where it belongs. Drop the walls, the façade, the mask, Lore, leave it all behind and step out of the darkness with me.”

That moment of hesitation burned but I understood it. Just because I’d waved the white flag and conceded didn’t mean that the fear didn’t linger. If anything, it had grown. I played my hand and now it was up to her to catch my play or drop it.

“For Cara?”

“No, Stella, for us. I see you and part of the reason I do is because you see me. Not the Cash is King bullshit, not my ego, not the armor—me. And there is no way in fuck I’m letting you go.”

She was already shaking her head again.

“Cash—”

I dropped my mouth to hers, cutting off her protest. Words would never work with Stella—she needed proof, she needed action, she needed me to dig that fear out and while I was doing that, I’d let her do the same for me.

No more walls.

No more shields.

“Be brave,” I whispered against her lips before my tongue traced the seam of her lips.

As soon as they parted, I took advantage and got my first taste of the woman who owned me. Her tongue darted in, tangling with mine in a show of power and control. There was nothing tentative about Stella—she was a fighter, she needed dominance to feel safe.

But here in our bed, with my mouth on hers, she was going to learn there was safety in her surrender.

I deepened the kiss. With every stroke of my tongue I felt her soften until I’d stripped back all her layers of control, tasting the power of her submission.

I ended the kiss.

That was enough for now.

“Sleep, baby girl. We’ll talk more tomorrow.”

Her sigh was tinged with so much irritation I nearly smiled.

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

I stared at Cash and Cara. They were sitting on the couch, Cara leaning against Cash’s large frame, smiling as she pointed to something in the book she’d brought home—whoa, not home—to Cash’s house.

As if he knew I was watching, his eyes tipped up from the page and zeroed in on me. And this right here had always been my problem. As soon as those blue eyes touched any part of me, I felt the snap of our connection. He had one thing right last night; he saw me—me, Stella. From the first time I’d sat across the table from him he’d seen past all my bullshit, just as I’d seen past his. Someone with romantic ideas filling their head would call us kindred spirits. I’d call it trauma recognizing trauma. But that didn’t stop my stupid heart from beating a little faster when he was near.

Trauma bonding, nothing more. And maybe a whole lot of lust dressed up in pretty lies. The kind I told myself when I was alone in bed at night convincing myself I could be normal. I could give and receive love when the truth was I could do neither. My father had made sure I’d always know my place, using my brother to reinforce his teachings.

I glanced back at Cara—head bent, finger touching something on the page, a gentle smile on her lips.

Except for her. I’d always love Cara, and maybe if I could do right by her, she’d love me back. And I might even deserve it after a while.

Cash’s phone ringing pulled me from my thoughts. I went back to the laptop in front of me. At Cash’s decree, we were working from home—not home—Cash’s house. I hadn’t finished reading the first sentence of the report Kira had sent over when two things happened at once—neither registering quick enough.

Cash calling out my name and glass shattering.

But he hadn’t called out for Stella. He’d shouted for Lore.

I pitched to the side, hit the floor just as bullets tore through the living room. It took more time than it should’ve for my training to kick in, long enough for fear to saturate and my voice to crack when I screamed, “Cara!”

“Covered,” Cash yelled back over the glass shattering and wood splintering. “Kitchen. Top shelf in the pantry. Glock. MP5.”

I hesitated a moment—Cara or weapons? Trust Cash would protect Cara or go to her and do it myself?