The car pulled to a stop as Stephanie finished talking, and holding my shit together in that moment was the hardest thing I’d ever done because I wanted to roar how wrong she was. I wanted to make her believe me, and make it stick.
The door opened and I helped her out, taking her hand so I could lead her to the front door. She was silent beside me. I could feel her gaze on me. Christ, she thought she had it all figured out.
I shut and locked the door behind us, made sure the security system was on, and carried on up the stairs to my room and gently nudged Steph to sit on the bed.
I grabbed a T-shirt out of my drawer. “Wear this, Angel.” I tossed it on the bed beside her and shut myself in the bathroom. Resting my hands on the counter, I closed my eyes and took calming breaths. I wasn’t angry at her, never her. But what had happened to her, and how deeply had it affected her? Fuck, I was afraid the scars on her soul were as permanent as the ones on her skin.
Guilt clawed at me. How could I have not seen the signs back then? How could I have missed it? I was a fucking expert on the type of cowards who hit women, who preyed on those physically weaker than them. I knew, and yet I’d fucking missed it and I’d kept on missing it the few times I’d seen her at Stilettos before Ryan had nearly killed her.
You were too busy avoiding her.
Idiot. I thought I was doing the right thing, that staying away was for the best. She was married and I was me, an ex-thug turned criminal. Angry and twisted and selfish. A sinner.
That call from Stephanie—finding her near death on her bathroom floor—my world had changed that day. She changed me, and I’d spent the last year trying to be worthy of her. Right now she was sitting in my room, on my bed, and she’d convinced herself that she wasn’t worth it.
I shook my head. The woman had no idea what she meant to me, and I fucking knew she wasn’t ready to hear it despite the dance she did for me tonight, the song she’d selected. And I felt fucking helpless, something I hadn’t felt since I was a little kid living in a home full of violence and fear.
Pushing away from the counter, I splashed water on my face, stripped off and tugged on the pajama bottoms I wore when she was in my bed, and walked out. She was still sitting where I’d left her, but she’d done as I asked and put on the shirt. That dark, possessive side of me loved seeing her in my clothes. Like a wild animal marking what was his. Yeah, fucked up, but I’d embraced that side of myself a long time ago. Dark and twisted or not, I would never, could never, do anything to hurt her.
I’d give it all up, everything, for her.
She looked up at me, eyes wide, and I walked to her and pulled her to her feet, leading her to her side of the bed and flicking back the sheets. “Climb in, Steph.”
She did and watched me as I switched off the lights and climbed in beside her, letting me pull her into my side and wrap her in my arms. Her body was a little stiff beside me, and I could only imagine what was going on in her head, the toxic shit she’d convinced herself was true.
“I need to make one thing very clear,” I said and held her tight to me. “I’m not a man that does things I don’t want to do. There aren’t many people that I care about in this world, even less that I let close. You, Stephanie, are at the top of that list.”
She sucked in a breath and her fingers dug into my ribs.
“When you say you’re…” I had to take in a steadying breath and when I spoke again, my voice was pure gravel. “When you say you’re not worth it, that fucking guts me. That’s him talking, that’s him still taking up real estate in your head, and it’s wrong. So fucking wrong.” I gently tilted her head back and looked down at her. “You are everything, Stephanie Gable. Fucking everything, understand?”
Her eyes were wide in the dark, her lips soft, slightly parted. She nodded.
I rolled her to her side and wrapped myself around her, face buried in her warm hair, holding her in a way I hoped showed her how fucking precious she was to me. How worth it she was to me.
“And, Steph?” I rasped against her ear.
“Yes,” she said softly.
“There’s nothing casual about what we’re doing here.”
Stephanie
A car horn broke through my foggy brain and I rolled over, blinking at the dusky gray light trying to burst through the curtains. I was in Tomas’s bed, in his room. I’d been sleeping in here every night. I didn’t know how it happened but it just seemed right. I liked sleeping beside him.
The bed beside me was empty now, though. I glanced around the room. The bathroom door was open and I couldn’t hear him moving about in there. I sat up tentatively. After all the drinks I’d had last night, I expected a hangover. Surprisingly, I felt okay. More than okay. The big glass of water on the bedside table and the bottle of aspirin beside it were more than likely the reason for that. Tomas had made me take them after we’d talked.
The things he’d said to me flew through my mind.
“There’s nothing casual about what we’re doing here.”
I sucked in a steadying breath. I’d been pretty drunk last night, and I’d said a lot of things I wouldn’t usually. I’d let all my insecurities show, and Tomas hadn’t let me go to sleep until he’d addressed them.
I should probably have felt freaked by his admission, but I didn’t, I felt…
A smile curled my lips. I lifted my fingers to my mouth, stunned by the happiness bubbling up inside me. My heart raced and my hands grew clammy. Yes, there was some fear there. Letting in that happiness felt foreign. I’d avoided any kind of real happiness in my life for a long time. I hadn’t trusted it.
But with Tomas it was different.
I wanted this.
And above all else, I trusted him.
Throwing back the covers, I headed for the door. I didn’t bother putting something over my borrowed T-shirt, and jogged down the stairs to the ground floor.
The first thing I noticed was the front door was open. I started across the black and white tiled floor, and spotted Tomas standing on the stoop when I got closer. He was wearing his black pajama pants, his feet and chest bare, and his gaze was fixed on something or someone across the street. He was so focused he didn’t hear me moving up behind him.
I watched as he lifted a hand and crooked his finger, beckoning whoever it was to him. His face was in profile and the expression transforming his features was dark as hell, filled with rage.
I followed his gaze and jerked to a stop.
Ryan stood across the street, cars rushing past between them, staring back. He was bouncing on the balls of his feet, looking edgy and angry, but he didn’t make a move toward Tomas, and that didn’t surprise me. Ryan was a coward. He’d never take on Tomas, never in a million years. I realized that was why, when confronted with my abuser for the first time since he’d almost killed me a year ago, I didn’t run in fear. I didn’t shatter.
Tomas wouldn’t let him anywhere near me.
And I would never let that asshole hurt me again. I wouldn’t let him destroy my hard-won happiness. Something I’d been sure I’d never truly feel again.
My gaze moved back to Tomas and my heart thumped hard against the back of my ribs. He held himself rigid, every muscle taut, fists clenched, the veins and tendons in his arms bulging. And he was shaking with rage. Suddenly, he made a sound, a mix between a growl and a snarl, and took the first step, about to go after Ryan.
“Don’t, Tomas,” I said moving closer. “Please.”
He stopped suddenly, shoulders stiffening, fingers curling and uncurling at his side. If he went out there he would kill Ryan. He’d kill him in the street in front of everyone and then I’d lose him. I would not to lose him now that I finally had him. I squared my shoulders, refused to acknowledge the echoes of past fear, the shadows trying to creep in, and summoning all my courage, walked out the door.
I only spared Ryan a glance and I won’t deny the look on his face when he saw me gave me satisfaction. I’d never seen that look on his face before. Complete and utter desolation. Had he really thought I’d take him back? That I’d let him anywhere near me?
I focused on Tomas, not caring what Ryan felt or did. He was nothing. A ghost.
Moving up behind Tomas, I pressed my palms to his back. His skin was hot under my hands, even hotter against my lips when I kissed the spot between his shoulder blades.
When he didn’t move, I slid my arms around his waist, hands settling over his stomach. His abs tightened under my palms. “Come back inside,” I said softly.
“Go back upstairs, Steph,” he said, the words forced through gritted teeth. “I need to do this.”
I squeezed him tighter. “Please, Tomas.”
“Stephanie…”
“He’s not worth it,” I said and kissed his heated skin again. “Please…please come inside with me.”
I glanced over at Ryan, who wasn’t looking at us anymore. His gaze was locked on two men dressed in dark suits, crossing the street, rushing toward him. Tomas’s men. Ryan spun away and started to run off, with Tomas’s men going after him.
Tomas stiffened like he was about to do the same, but I clung tighter. “He’s not worth it. He’s not worth me losing you,” I said, pleading with him because I knew with everything in me it wouldn’t end well. Tomas was vibrating in my arms, his rage beyond any kind of control.
There was a beat of silence, another, then Tomas turned sharply in my arms, scooped me up, and carried me back inside, kicking the door closed behind him.
I held onto him as he carried on into his office. He held me even tighter.
“Fuck, Angel,” he choked out. “I’m so sorry. I’m so fucking sorry.”
He kicked the door to the office closed as well and leaned against it, holding me to him like he needed the solid oak at his back for support.
I searched his face, confused. “You have nothing to be sorry for, you—”
“I should have known,” he gritted out. “I should have known what that fucker was doing to you. I should have been there. I didn’t protect you.”
I’d never seen him like this. “Tomas, no…”
“He nearly killed you. Jesus fucking Christ, he nearly killed you. I nearly lost you because I was so damn blind, so focused on my own path, my need to prove I was something, that I was more, and I missed it. How the fuck could I have not seen it? I failed you, Stephanie. I fucking failed you.”
“Stop,” I said. “You’re wrong…”
“You called me. That was you, wasn’t it, Angel? You’d call and not speak. I knew it was, but I never thought—”
“You didn’t fail me.” I cupped his face. “You never have. Don’t you see that you saved me?”
He shook his head, expression hard, trying to conceal the emotions hammering him. But there was no hiding the way his big body shook from it, from all he was feeling.
“You saved me,” I said again and pressed my forehead to his chest, kissing him there.
The fingers of one of his hands slid into my hair.
“Angel,’ he rasped.
I kissed him again a little lower, and he shuddered, a soft groan coming from his beautiful mouth. He needed more from me—he had for a while—and he hadn’t pushed. I wanted to give him more now. I needed to do that for him, wanted to so badly I was trembling as well. I started trailing kisses down his chest.
“Steph…”
I wrapped my lips around one of his hard little nipples and sucked.
“Fuck.”
I kissed lower, moving down over his tight abdominal muscles.
“Angel,” he rasped. “You don’t need to do that.”
I tilted my head back, my gaze colliding with his. “I want to, more than anything.”
His nostrils flared, his lips parting on a sharp breath. “If you have any doubts—”
“I don’t,” I said and tugged the front of his PJ pants lower, pressing a kiss just below his belly button.
His eyes darkened and his lips peeled back, exposing his teeth as he sucked in another breath. He didn’t say anything, just watched me. He wasn’t going to stop me, and the thought of finally touching him, tasting him, had me pulsing with need. Tomas didn’t miss it, the way he affected me, and he gritted out a rough curse.
Biting my lip, I dropped to my knees, squeezing my thighs together at the sight of his hard cock visible through the thin fabric still covering him. He wasn’t wearing anything underneath and I could see everything, the bulging veins snaking up his long, thick shaft, the fat head.
I licked my lips, desperate for a taste of him, and Tomas made another of those growling sounds he often made.
I glanced up at him. “It’s…it’s been a long time since I’ve done this.”
His eyes didn’t leave mine as he brushed his fingers over my cheek and cupped my jaw. “Christ, Steph, all you have to do is look at me and you’re the best I’ve ever had.”
How did he always know what I needed to hear? His words gave me courage and I dragged his pants lower. I moaned softly when his cock sprang free. The man was beautiful everywhere. Pre-come was leaking from the head already, and I gripped him in my hand and darted my tongue out to taste.
Tomas’s hands thumped against the solid wood behind him and he spread his legs wider, getting lower, making it easier for me. I took advantage and tentatively sucked the head of his cock into my mouth. His abs and thighs tightened, his fingers curling into fists.
“Christ, Angel, that feels so fucking good.”
The broken, needy way he said it gave me another shot of confidence and I lapped at his thick length, licking every perfect inch of him. He groaned and hissed and bucked, and God, that made me feel so damn good.
Finally, I took him deeper, giving him a few experimental sucks. His head thumped against the door and one of his hands slid to his abs. It was the sexiest thing I’d ever seen. His lids were lowered, dark eyes focused on me. His whiskered jaw clenched, teeth gritted, lips darker, like he’d been biting them. My gaze went back to that inked, rough-skinned hand resting on his tight, tanned abs.
God, he could be carved in marble. Only I knew how hot his skin was, that there was nothing cold about him when it came to me.
I took him deeper, moved faster, stroking the base of his cock with my hand in time with my mouth. His fingers were suddenly thrust into my hair and I stiffened for a split second, but he didn’t fist it hard or force me to take him deeper. He caressed my cheek and brushed his thumb over my jaw, the corner of my mouth. I looked up at him again, needing his eyes on me. This was Tomas—he’d never do anything I didn’t want, anything to hurt me.
The way he was looking at me right then, I felt like the most powerful woman in the world. I had this strong, intense, sexy—at times dark—man at my mercy. And just like he said, I was the one in control.
It was a feeling I hadn’t had in a long time.
He also made me feel beautiful, every part of me, scars and all. Tomas had awakened a part of me I thought I’d lost forever. He made me feel sexy, alive, confident, and I made sure he saw me drop my hand down between my parted thighs, that he felt my moan when my fingers brushed my clit.
His eyes got darker and his nostrils flared. “You nice and wet?” he said.
I nodded.
He cursed.
His eyes stayed on me, watching my fingers work between my thighs, sliding over my slick clit faster and faster.
“Fuck,” he muttered. “Gonna come, Angel.”
I sucked harder, letting him know I wanted it. I wanted that from him.
He growled, barking out my name, then he was coming, cock pulsing, body stiffening. I took it all, wanting to do that for him and for me as well. I wanted him to experience the way he made me feel every time he touched me, to know how much I loved giving this to him.
His body was bowstring tight, and he pulsed one last time against my tongue before he slumped back, breathing heavily. I watched it all, so turned on I thought I would combust.
My fingers were still moving between my thighs. I was close, so close. Tomas bent down, brushed my hand away, swung me up into his arms, and pressed me into the door at my back. His mouth slammed down on mine as he slid two thick fingers inside me. I cried out and he deepened the kiss, fucking me with his fingers hard and fast. My hips started moving on their own and I tore my mouth from his, my head falling back against the door on a low moan. Tomas sucked and kissed my jaw, my throat, his mouth moving to my ear.
“So wet, Angel. So fucking hot.”
His panted breaths tickled my skin, lifting goose bumps all over my body, and when his thumb swiped my clit, I started gasping and whimpering.
“Fucking beautiful. Everything. All of it. Every part of you. So fucking perfect,” he rasped against my ear.
Another swipe of his thumb and I was coming, crying out, rolling my hips against his hand while his fingers continued to thrust in and out of me, owning me in a way nobody had before in a way I loved, craved.
“That’s it, my angel, that’s it,” he said rough and deep.
I slumped against him, boneless.
He kissed my lips gently before lowering me, but only for a moment, because then he swung me up in his arms, opened the door, and carried me upstairs to his bedroom.
I felt his lips on my forehead as I was drifting off to sleep. “Rest.”
All I could manage was a contented sigh before I was out like a light.