Drops of water collect along her spine, slipping downward, dragging my attention with them. I hear myself groan as I watch them disappear between the sweet curves of her ass. Hear my own jaw grind as my dick springs to life behind my black boxer briefs.
There’s less than an itch between my cock and her ass, a gap that’s vanishing the longer I stare at her dips and curves, my shaft swelling painfully fast.
Stop it, you fucker. Just stop.
Rationally, I know everything about my reaction to her is inappropriate. Wrong. Not just wrong—wildly inconvenient.
At best, the Pagano woman is my next reliable source of information if Rocco died in tonight’s explosion.
At worst, she’s a distraction to be dealt with until she’s well enough to send far, far away, out of mind and out of reach of the men who wanted to buy her.
Lusting after her goes way past worst-case scenario. It’s a one-way ticket to disaster. A distraction I absolutely cannot afford.
Easier said than done. All rational thought boils down towhite noise, a buzzing sound too easily ignored as I lean her back against me, angling her head and piles of black hair so that I have an unobstructed view of her chest.
Her breathing is shallow but even. Her body temperature consistent, reassuringly normal. I, on the other hand, am chewing air like I’ve just finished a marathon, sweat breaking out on the back of my neck.
Collar bone, breasts, dusky nipples pulled into hard peaks. She’s beautiful. Even after what she’s been through, there’s no concealing how inherently bewitching she is.
Or denying how much I want to trace and taste every sleek line on display.
That’s not the biggest problem, though.
The one that’s really going to fuck me over is that I can feel myself turning feral at the sight of what Pagano and her cousin did to her stomach. They marked her, viciously. Violently. The bruises will vanish with time, but some of the punches broke skin. The deep ones, currently covered by the doctor’s bandages, might scar. Mementos of what her family did to her. Marks she’ll carry with her for life.
Every vengeful feeling I have toward Rocco Pagano multiplies in this moment. With it, the need to know whether or not he died in that fire.
Not that it will save him from my wrath. Not even hell can protect him from theArkhangel. Even if I have to pull him out of the grave, he’ll pay for hurting her.
My thoughts are the absolute opposite of gentle and the woman pressed against me must sense it. Her body tenses, her head shifting against my shoulder as she lets out a pained moan. She starts to struggle against me, but the movements are jerky and weak.
“Shhhhh. Shhh. You’re okay. You’re safe.” My voice is so soft I don’t recognize it. Sure as hell don’t recognize my impulse tosooth her back to sleep. “I’ve got you,moya voitelnitsa. You’re safe now.”
Moments later she’s quiet. Good thing too, because whatever break from reality I’m having, it has to end. Now.
I shove aside every thought about the woman except the most basic, focusing on tipping her head back as I wet her hair, careful to keep her face dry. With every pass of the handheld nozzle, the evidence of her captivity her washes away. It takes several rounds of shampoo to get the strands fully clean, but when I’m done, I feel an irrational sense of pride. Her hair is long, nearly to her waist, thick and inky black. Too damned beautiful.
For fuck’s sake, Alik!She’s clean. Job done.
Time to officially end this torture.
In a matter of minutes, I have her back on the bed and wrapped in the towels I left there. I’m dripping water all over the place and don’t give a damn because I need her dried off, tucked in, and out of sight as fast as possible. I wrap her wet hair in a towel and adjust her position so that she’s lying on the bed, head propped on the pillows, arms carefully tucked at her sides.
I draw the comforter up to her chest and turn to go, so close to escaping when fingers wrap around my wrist. Her grip is surprisingly strong. “Don’t.”
I can barely understand her. “What?”
Her eyes are closed but she darts her tongue across cracked lips. “Don’t go.” Her voice is barely audible. “Don’t leave me. Please. I can’t—I can’t be alone. In the dark.”
I should say no. I’m wet, cold, dick uncomfortably hard. Pissed at myself for saving her and losing Rocco. Pissed at her for being so damn tempting. So incredibly pissed I could punch a hole through the wall and not feel a thing.
I have every reason to say no.
None of them stop me from saying yes.
4
SERA