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“You really were shielded, but then it was just you. No brothers that needed to be toughened up for a future of being a made man,” he said. “The outfit likes its women to be virginal and decorative and its men to be vicious and as promiscuous as they please, I suppose. I got off easy though. I had friends who got introduced to the ways of made men earlier than sixteen.”
I looked up at his handsome face, conflicted and tinged with darkness. “I’m sorry that happened to you.”
He wiped the water from his face and turned to face me fully. As he did, I caught a flash of the brand on the back of his calf. “It’s just part of the job. All part of following in our father’s footsteps. Now all Lucien and I have to do is find a woman we hate to marry, have a few kids to neglect, get fucked up with PTSD, and cycle through barely legal mistresses.”
There was a bitter edge to his voice and I heard how deep his resentment towards his father ran. I moved closer, sliding up against him as the water ran over our bodies. He grasped my upper arms and pulled me closer and there was tenderness in his touch.
“I never asked you about the brand on your leg,” I said after a while.
He sighed. “When I was about eighteen, I got captured by the Russians. They didn’t intend to kill me, they were using me to send a message. So they tattooed their symbol on me and sent me back to the outfit. My father didn’t tolerate weakness so he used a brand to burn it off. Apparently I’d disappointed him by allowing myself to get caught.”
I gasped, unable to wrap my head around the cruelty of his father. “I’m so sorry.”
He shrugged. “My father was a fucking dick.”
“You’re worried you’ll be like him, aren’t you?” I said softly.
There was a long silence and I worried I’d stepped over the line. Then he sighed. “Every single day.”
I thought about his fury when I’d looked at his laptop, scarcely able to reconcile this man with the other who had drugged me and taken me to the mansion.
“Why did you bring me back to your house?” I asked.
“Because you looked at my personal files and I flipped the fuck out so I acted without thinking,” he said. “Then once I found out who you were, I realized I might have made a mistake, so I needed some time to figure out what to do next. And then after that I didn’t want to send you back. I’m not a good man, Iris, I’m selfish and I wanted you for myself.”
The words should have brought indignation, but instead they sent a thrill through my body. He was being fully honest with me tonight and the nakedness in his dark eyes took my breath away. I stepped back to allow a hair’s breadth between us and he perused my body with the tips of his fingers, dipping between my thighs for a moment. Then he leaned closer, water beading on his face and dripping from the tip of his nose, and kissed my mouth. Slowly and luxuriously, as though he had all the time in the world.
I pulled back after a while, my fingernails digging into the small of his back and my breasts heaving. He watched me intently, still playing absently with my left nipple.
“Dear God, you’re beautiful, Iris,” he murmured.
“So are you,” I said without thinking.
He smiled. “Thank you, I’ve been called a lot of things, but never beautiful.”
“Well, it’s true.”
“We should go to bed or we’ll be horribly jet lagged,” he said.
“Let me return the favor from earlier,” I whispered.
I slide onto my knees beneath the hot spray of the shower and his cock hardened at once. One of his big hands gathered my wet hair back and the other guided the side of my head toward his manhood. It was hot and wet as it slid between my lips and brushed the roof of my mouth, sending delicious shivers through me. He gave a primal groan that went right to my sex, warming my lower belly and thighs.
I sucked him off slowly, letting him enjoy himself. He held me with a firm grip as he thrust slowly into my mouth and every noise of pleasure from him sent a thrill through my body.
After a while I tasted the sweet saltiness of his precum and he grew harder, bumping against the back of my throat. His thrusts became less controlled and his breath moved faster, his chest heaving in ragged movements. Then his fingers seized in my hair and he pushed deep into my mouth, his groin shuddering, and spilled himself down my throat. I swallowed and looked up at him.
“Fuck, you’re so sexy,” he rasped. “You make me so hard I could go for round two.”
Pleased, I rose and kissed him. Then I stepped from the shower and went to dry off and slip back into bed. He was in the bathroom a little longer and then he walked back into the bedroom, drying his tousled hair. He had a contemplative expression on his face as he laid aside the towel and got into bed.
I flipped onto my side and he moved up behind me, his arm snaking around my waist and palm resting on my lower belly. His presence filled me with a sense of peace and I let my eyes drift closed.
Chapter Eight
I woke late the next morning feeling slow and still tired. Duran’s side of the bed was cold so he must have been up for a little while. I pushed myself up against the pillow and rubbed the sleep from my eyes. The memory of last night came rushing back, Duran’s face when he finally opened himself up to me stark in my mind. Would he feel differently this morning? Would he regret admitting that he felt something for me?
I closed my eyes. God, I hoped not. As confusing as it was that I wanted him to feel something genuine for me, the prospect that he didn’t care was far worse. I desperately wanted this perplexing, passionate man to feel something for me, something that went beyond just sexual desire.
