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“Stop,” she breathes out. It suddenly dawns on me that I know nothing about her; nothing other than her father owes me quite a bit of money. However, I am enjoying our current interaction too much to think much of it.
“Why?” I ask, cocking my head. I am not touching her, at least not like I want to be touching her.
“I don’t even know you. We don’t know each other.”
I laugh a full-on belly-shaking laugh… “Then why the fuck would you even volunteer to come with me? You do realize that you, well, mostly your body, will be paying your father’s debt, don’t you? Every moan, groan, orgasm, and every spread of those legs will be payment.” Her eyes dilate as her breaths become pants. She couldn’t have been that far gone; she had to have known that she would be coming here for so much more than just helping me.
Suddenly, she finds her voice. “I didn’t have any other option. I would rather be taken than lose my only other parent.” Something about what she says tugs at my heart and in turn pulls me out of the haze that is consuming me. I can tell myself over and over again that I don’t have a heart, but every word that comes from her mouth reminds me that I do.
“Roll over and go to sleep,” I grudgingly command, standing from the bed. She looks at me in confusion, wrinkles marring her beautiful face. I will give her that: she is beautiful unlike anything I am used to. Her face is soft, her cheeks full, and she radiates youthfulness. Her nose is small, and her teeth are straight and white. She is simple, but at the same time not so simple you wouldn’t notice her.
“Did I finally hit a sore spot?” she taunts, sitting up from her lying position. It is strange seeing a woman in my bed.
“No. You merely reminded me that I can’t care for the wounded, sick little puppies like yourself.” It is a knee jerking response to fire back a shitty remark.
“I am not a wounded, sick puppy. I’m a girl who lost her mom to cancer and is doing her father a favor because she doesn’t want him to die.” Her voice echoes off the ceiling and rings in my ears. My veins fill with acid as I stalk over to her. She is small and innocent, but she is prey and is lying in my bed.
“Did you just yell at me?” I ask coolly.
“I didn’t just yell at you. I told you exactly what I had wanted to since you tied me up in my home.” This time she is the one radiating coldness.
“Shut up,” I grit out. She is getting on my last nerve, and the only way I know how to deal with things that get my nerves is to kill them. Except I can’t kill her. I made a deal, and I am a man of my word.
“No. You shut up. You bring me to this house, and I have no idea what’s going on or who you are. You take my entire world away from me, leaving me at your mercy. I’m confused, scared, and trying to figure out how I should approach all of this and you…” I cut her off, my lips sending whatever words that were going to escape back into her.
A groan escapes her lips, and I smile against her mouth knowing full well she enjoys my lips on hers. I coax her lips open, slowly invading her mouth with my own. She smells delectable, and I feel as if I won’t ever be able to get enough of her.
Her small hands skim across my chest and onto my back. Her nails rake my skin, and I am on verge of losing the last shred that is holding me back from taking her on the very first night she is here.
Pulling back, I take in the red splotches spreading across her cheeks as her big, brown, doe eyes look back at me. She looks thoroughly satisfied.
“Not so much of a monster now, am I?” I joke, my finger swiping across her plump bottom lip.
“You’re still a monster…” she retorts, pulling away from me as if she is embarrassed to have kissed me and enjoyed it.
“Remember that, sweetheart, when I bury my face between those creamy thighs of yours,” I smirk. I think I hear her gasp as I walk away, but it could’ve been my imagination. Now I have to take a shower so I can beat myself off. There is no way I am taking her on her first night here. I might be heartless, but I still care… At least a little bit.
When I awake the next morning, my body is overly warm. I feel a small hand placed against my chest and a leg curved into my thigh. Even if she says she hates me, this alone tells me that she craves something—comfort.
I turn to glare at the clock that sits on the nightstand. It is nearly six a.m., and though I don’t normally get up this early, I feel like I need to. I have some built up aggression, and I can’t get through the day if I don’t go work out.
I slip quietly and slowly from the bed so I don’t wake Bree. She is a spitfire. I haven’t given her enough credit. She isn’t okay with anything that I do; in fact, I am sure she is afraid of it—she should be. The mafia is no place for a woman. My mother hadn’t…
The thought enters my mind, but I force it away. I refuse to think about my mother. Refuse. It is a shame because I loved her, but thinking about her opens up a gaping hole in my chest.
“Sir, there is someone here to see you,” Mack announces over the intercom that is located in my bathroom. I slip into the closet and pick out a pair of low-rise blue jeans and a T-shirt. I plan on staying home today, so I pick something that is laid back.
