Page 33 of Glorious Sinner

“He forced you?” he said, voice like rusted steel.

And there it was again, that look in his eyes. I was back to being his broken little bird. I hated it. So. Damn. Much. “Don’t,” I said. “Don’t look at me like that.”

He flinched. “Like what?”

“Like I’m some wounded creature that you’re afraid will break if you don’t handle it like it’s fragile. I’m not fragile, Tomas.”

His eyes didn’t leave mine, his thumb brushing over my cheek. “Baby, you think I don’t know how strong you are? Christ, woman, I’ve never, never known anyone stronger than you. But someone hurt you, someone you trusted, someone who should have worshiped the ground you walked on. You don’t just get over that.” Another brush of his thumb. “So, no, I don’t think you’re fragile, but, Angel, I don’t want to do anything to hurt you or, fuck”—his expression grew more intense—“scare you. It would fucking kill me if I ever did that. So I need you to be open with me, tell me what’s okay and what’s not. You have the control in this. All of it. Understand?”

My lip started to quiver and my eyes stung. God, what was he doing to me?

His eyes softened. “You’re not fragile, Steph, but I’m always going to treat you with care. Always. So get used to it.”

The emotion welling inside me overflowed and I pressed my face against his chest, wrapping my arms around him, and hung on as the tears started flowing. He held me as well, just as tight, and I realized something, something huge.

I was totally and completely in love with Tomas Mendoza.

And there was no going back.

Tomas

I could hear the music coming from the gym, a sexy pulsing beat as I walked down the hall. Steph had been going down there every afternoon for the past week. My angel loved to dance. But it wasn’t just the act of dancing she craved. I knew that when she danced at Stilettos, on stage at least, it had given her an escape, a measure of control. Something she had definitely needed then.

I knew she missed it since she wasn’t working.

She’d agreed not to go into the club until we found Ryan. And I’d started seeing a change in her the last few days especially. She seemed antsy, on edge, until she came down here, turned up the music, and lost herself.

That feeling wasn’t something I could give her. She needed the stage and the lights, the audience. I was doing everything I could to give her what I thought she needed, and it fucking killed me that it wasn’t enough.

I pushed the door open and, like always, the sight of her moving to the music stole my breath. As I watched her, so soft and beautiful—my angel—I had to fight down the rage inside me. I was doing my best to keep it from her, all of it, my life outside this house, and the clawing need to find Ryan and end him. He’d abused her in every way a man could a woman, and she was still standing, so fucking strong, so brave.

That fucking piece of shit wouldn’t be standing when I was done with him.

He wouldn’t be breathing either.

I’d made her come for me many times this last week until she was boneless, until she passed out. I just wanted to make her happy. Giving that to her was fucking everything, and as much as I wanted her under me, until she was ready, until she looked me in the eyes and asked me to take it there, I’d give her what she could handle.

Pleasuring her, fuck, nothing felt so good. Every time she screamed my name, coming around my fingers, against my mouth, rubbing up on me, that motherfucker got pushed farther and farther away. She hadn’t frozen up on me or gone into her own head, not this past week.

Ryan wasn’t with us, he wasn’t in the room, forcing his way into her mind when I touched her, not anymore. It was just her and me.

She spun, her beautiful red hair sliding across her back, and she spotted me standing by the door. She stopped dancing and jogged to her phone to turn off the song she had pumping through the speakers.

“Hey,” she said, walking toward me, cheeks flushed.

I caught her up in my arms when she reached me.

“Have you finished for the day?” she asked.

“I have.” I tucked her hair behind her ear.

She grinned. “So you what? Got bored and thought you’d come looking for a private dance?”

I loved her like this, after she’d been down here dancing. The stress that I saw on her face would go for a little while. She liked to tease me. I fucking loved it.

“You know there’s no other stripper I’d rather have in my lap.”

She poked me in the chest. “I prefer exotic dancer, thank you very much. I’m a professional, and moves like mine don’t come cheap.”