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“I… I was just expecting something smaller.” Her laugh is light and stunned. “It’s really beautiful, Cain. Not what I expected, but beautiful. More than beautiful,” she murmurs as Deeks exits the side gate, accessing the security lounge. “Hey!” Lauren chirps happily, waving as the big, bald fucker heads our way.
“Hey, girl! Glad to have you back.” He ambles over as I exit and walk around the bonnet to help Lauren. She flings her arms around the dodgy guy's neck and breathes in deeply. He folds her in a brotherly hug, lifting her off the ground. “Need help with your bags?”
“You work here?” My girl pulls back, looking between us both.
Deeks snorts, lowering her to my side. “Don’t give the man ideas. I like my freedom.” He grunts, moving to pop the boot and pull out the few bags Lauren packed. Deeks is far from a free man. You don’t get as high in the food chain of crime as he is without making enemies or working for someone dangerous. He is as cagey about his connections as he is devoted to looking out for Lauren.
“He’s checking you’re okay,” I inform Lauren, and Deeks gives her a once over and levels me with a hard stare. We may not agree on much, but we have one thing in common, and it's enough mutuality to forget the rest.
“I’m okay,” she assures him when he works his neck. “I needed a breather, Deeks. It got a bit too much, but I'm good, really good.” Lauren steps back into my chest, and I drop my chin on top of her head.
“That's all I need to hear.” He heaves her bags up and walks them towards the door.
“I'm sorry!” she shouts, and he stops and frowns back at her, his eyes shielded from the sun. “For leaving that night and not telling you I was going.” My hand flexes on her hip—she’s talking about the accident. Her being wired up in hospital rips through my mind, and I shift uncomfortably at the reminder. He blames me for all her pain. I happen to agree with him, but it’s no use telling him. It doesn’t ease his anger. Kelvin Deeks is not the kind of man I wanted in my pocket, but where Lauren is concerned, he is the only man I need. He has loitered at Carson Court for her return, working to ensure no one was a threat to Lauren. I suspect he will keep tabs, even now she is home.
“Youhave nothing to be sorry about. I’ll put these inside. Moneybags can take them upstairs.” He juts his chin at me, and I snort.
“He’ll warm to you.” Lauren smiles apologetically, twisting to wrap her arms around my neck.
“He cares about you. That's all I give a shit about,” I admit. “I don’t need him to like me. He’s not from good people, Lauren, but he’s good to you and, in turn, me. It’s enough.” Her brows furrow and I run my finger across the line, smoothening it out. She knows just as well as I do that Kelvin Deeks is involved with the kind of people she would cross the road to avoid. She’s damn lucky he took such a shine to her. Her good nature and air of innocence, despite being able to hold her own, has put her under the wing of a man who breaks bread with the worst of them. I narrow my gaze as I watch the big guy head inside with her bags. Lauren must sense the tension in me because she leans up and pecks my lips, pulling my attention back to her. I slide my palms over her bottom and tug her flush to me.
“Is it silly for me to ask to be carried over the threshold?” Her eyes twinkle, her cheeks heating a little. She feels silly, and I don’t want that. Pecking her lips, I shake my head. No, it’s not silly. It’s what she deserves.
“It was what I planned until Kat and Deeks stomped all over it with their sour moods.” I swing her into my arms and make my way to the main doors. “Welcome home, pretty girl,” I hum as I step inside. The two-storey foyer is gleaming, the handrails of the staircase glinting under the chandelier as it reflects light from the long windows. Justine has taken it upon herself to order flowers each week, and the light pink and white arrangement sits proudly on the centre table.
“Cain,” she exclaims, whispering softly, her fingers rising to her lips as she looks around. “I can't believe you grew up here.”
“Let me show you around.” I hold out my hand, flexing my spread fingers, encouraging her to take it. She does, her smaller palms folding and linking us together. Her neck swings each way, peering through open doors and up at the second-floor landing.
Deeks appears as we move towards the room to our left. “I’ll call you later. I have an errand to run.” He passes us, dipping to peck Lauren’s cheek, picking his jacket up on the way out and leaving us in peace. Alone. No noise. Just us.
“This is the formal living room,” I announce, pushing the door wide for us to step in, and Lauren hums approvingly, taking in the ornate furnishing and looking down to my father’s bar in the far corner.
“And what does one do in a formal living room?” She is terrible at disguising her humour, and I squeeze her ribs playfully.
“Quit being smart.” I close the space between us and bite her shoulder softly. “One will be fucking in here lots,” I inform in a rough murmur. Her gasp doesn’t go unnoticed, no matter how quickly she tries to swallow it back.
She steps away, putting a little distance between us. “Just in here?” she wants to know, twisting to stare at me through her lashes, sultry and playful.
“No, not just in here,” I respond. “Everywhere.”
“That's a lot of rooms,” she ponders, running her fingers back and forth over the sideboard. The cherry wood picks up her light skin and reflects it back at me. I can’t wait to get my lips back on her and see the small pink blemishes that my stubble and teeth cause.
“Over eighteen thousand square feet.” I grin.
“Minus Kat’s space.”
“Minus that.”
“Are we just going to stay in here and talk about fucking, or are you going to keep showing me around?” Her brow quips, and my heart thuds with excitement. Adrenaline scatters along my spine and sends my dick into overdrive. I want her, and I drop my gaze and let her know it.
“Cain.” She breathes lightly, her fingers shaking in their path across the glossy wood.
Clearing my throat, I nod her towards the door. “Follow me.” I side-step, showing my intention, but I keep my gait small, allowing her to make the final move. Waiting for her to essentially decide our next move.
“Where?” She's breathless, and her cheeks are pink with desire.
“Master bedroom—the tour can wait.”
