Savage Redemption (The Caraksay Brotherhood #10)

Chapter 18

CHAPTER 18

A dan

“When do you leave?”

“Tomorrow.” I pour myself a glass of water. “Do you want one, Rosie?” It’s a struggle, getting used to her real name, but I’m trying.

Rosie shakes her head, fighting back tears. “Why not just… go off somewhere? We could find a place to hide, somewhere he can’t find us.”

“We?” I regard her across the room. I was discharged from the tender mercies of the lovely doctor Megan two days ago and allocated a guest room in the main castle. It’s small but comfortable. “I’m not expecting you to come with me.”

“I want to. And Erin. We’re a family.”

Are we? It’s a pleasant enough thought, but way beyond my expectations and not what I planned for. A relationship with my daughter, just the certainty that she’s safe, and happy, that was what I set out to achieve. I had assumed any relationship with Rosa — sorry, Rosie — was history. It had to be, surely, considering everything.

“Rosie, I’m not sure…” Maybe, if we were starting from scratch, no baggage, perhaps then we could be together. Maybe we could have some sort of a chance. But after all that’s happened, how can I be sure this is even what she wants?

She appears to harbour no doubts at all. “I am. I’ve never been more sure of anything. I… I love you, Adan.”

“How is that even possible? After… everything.”

“You sound just like my father.”

Why am I not surprised. The man loathes me, and I can’t really argue.

“We can’t just ignore what happened before. Your father has a point.”

“It’s my life.” She leaps to her feet. “He’ll understand, eventually. He has to.”

I’m not so sure. Nathan Darke has made his opinion of me perfectly clear, and I really can’t blame him. I’d have burnt alive any man who treated my Erin the way I treated his daughter. I’m getting off lightly with his threats to go to the police, not that he’s likely to be able to make anything stick. Evidence has a way of evaporating, I find, if you throw enough money at it and target the right places.

“What if he never comes around?” I stroll across to her and tip up her chin. “I can tell you and your father were close. Still are.”

“Yes, but?—”

I brush my lips across hers. “It’s not just that. Apart from losing contact with your family, would you really want a lifetime of looking over your shoulder? Men like Kaminski, they have a long reach and long memories.” I should know, I’m a man just like Kaminski, or I used to be. “We’d be forever putting down roots, just to have to move on at a moment’s notice. Would you want that for our little girl?”

“We’d cope,” she protests, “as long as we’re together.”

I gather her in close to me and savour the moment, the feeling of simply holding her. I never dreamed of this during those months I languished in Kaminski’s cells, but I could get used to it. If the circumstances were different.

I step back, lay my hands on her shoulders and hold her gaze. “I won’t be away long.” With luck. “I’ll come back, once things are settled. Or send for you.”

“How long?”

“A few days, probably.”

“Will you keep in touch? Let me know what’s happening?”

“Yes, if I can.”

“What if I don’t hear from you?”

“Then you move on. Make a life for yourself and Erin.”

“I can’t. I won’t,” she sobs.

I give her shoulders a light squeeze. “You can and you will. That’s what this has all been about, ever since I learned that Erin existed. Promise me.”

She shakes her head. “Please, take me with you.”

“That isn’t possible. I need you to promise me. I need you to be happy.”

Her jaw firms. She looks up and meets my gaze. “You can make me happy.”

I sigh. “I can’t take you back to Tenerife, micorazón . It’s too dangerous.”

“Make love to me. Here, now.”

“A tempting offer, amor .” The best I’ve had in years, in fact. “We can’t?—”

“Yes, we can. I want to.”

“Me, too, but?—”

“Your hands have healed enough. Megan said so.”

“It’s not that.” The burns were superficial in any case.

“What, then? Do you not want me?”

I groan. Christ. “Yes, I want you,” I manage to grind out. I always did, which is why I was so selfish.

She steps away and reaches for the buttons on her shirt. “You always liked me naked, I recall.”

That’s true but hardly the point…

“Rosie, don’t?—”

The buttons part. She slips the shirt off to reveal a pale-cream lacy bra.

I open my mouth to utter more in the way of discouragement, but the words die in my throat.

She slides the shirt from her body and drops it to the carpet, to be closely followed by the bra.

I find my voice. “Rosie. Stop. Listen to me…”

She obliges me at last. Hitching her hip on the arm of the sofa, she regards me with interest. “What is it you want to say, Adan?”

What indeed? I find myself momentarily mesmerised by the delightful sight of her naked breasts. She was always a slender little thing, still is, but her breasts seem fuller now. Motherhood, perhaps. I give my head a mental shake. This isn’t right, not after what I did.

Not after how it was between us.

“We need to talk.”

“Okay. Talk.” She lifts a delicately arched eyebrow. “But be quick. I don’t have all day.”

I stifle my grin. She was never this sassy. I find I rather like it. “I’ll try not to hold you up, amor , but I need some answers from you first.”

“First? So, you are going to?—?”

“Answers,” I repeat, cutting her off in a belated attempt to regain some sort of control here.

She shrugs. “Okay. Ask your questions.”

I start with the one that’s been swirling round my head ever since Bartosz told me that he had phoned her father to get him to come and collect her. Rosie had asked him to do that, or more specifically, she appealed to Bartosz’s wife to help her by contacting her family and telling them where she was.

“Why didn’t you ask me to contact your father?”

“What?”

I’ve clearly caught her off guard. I repeat my question. “If you were so desperate to go home, why didn’t you say so? I would have contacted your father. You weren’t a prisoner.”

She tips up her chin. “Wasn’t I? I certainly felt like one.”

“Oh yes, initially. I get that. In the US and with my cousins. I know you were treated like dirt by some seriously nasty bastards. But that wasn’t me. I didn’t do that.”

“You were a gangster, or Mafia, or whatever they call it. I was terrified of you.”

“Were you?” I’m genuinely surprised. “I didn’t threaten you, or… or ill treat you. Did I?”

“No, but…”

I close the distance between us and cup her face between my hands. “Tell me why you were frightened, micorazón. What did you think I might do?”

“Y-you had all the power. You could do anything, anything you liked. No one would stop you. If I was a nuisance, if I stopped co-operating, stopped being sweet and obedient, you’d just sell me and get another girl to fuck.”

“Oh, Christ…” I drop my head to rest my forehead against hers. “You thought that? You actually believed…?” It becomes clear to me at last, the blatant glaring truth that was staring me in the face. “Rosie, I would never have done that.”

“Well, I didn’t know. And I couldn’t take the risk. You were always nice to me, until, suddenly, one day, you weren’t.”

“What do you?—?”

“Oh, that day never came. We were attacked in that cottage. You were taken prisoner, I was released. It was all over. You never had the chance to get bored with me.”

“It would never have been like that. If things had not been right between us, I would never have passed you on like some old used car.”

“I was property. I was told that often enough.”

“But never by me. I never saw you that way.”

“You must have…”

“I found you in that safe flat and offered you a choice. Come with me to Madrid or remain where you were. Or, I suppose, go anywhere else you wanted. You chose to come with me, and as far as I was concerned, that was it. You could just as easily choose to leave again. I wouldn’t have stopped you.”

“Yes, you would. I was a valuable piece of merchandise.” She stiffens her shoulders as though challenging me to deny her worth.

“Holy fuck, amor , you were fucking gorgeous. I loved having you around and I’m a selfish bastard who never stopped to consider what you might like. What you wanted. But valuable? Yes, probably, but not in any financial sense. I valued you for you .”

“Me? Why? I was… nothing.”

“You made me laugh. You were good company. I need hardly add you were exciting and responsive in bed. The best I ever had, actually.”

“Now I know you’re lying.” She wrenches herself away from me. “You could have had any woman. You still can.”

She has a point. There’s always plenty of pussy on offer to a man like me, but it never much interested me before I happened upon Rosie in that flat. I wanted her from the beginning and could have simply taken what I fancied and moved on. But there was something about her. Vulnerability? Inner strength? A challenge?

I was relieved and delighted when she opted to come back to Spain with me, and I never stopped to consider much beyond that.

I groan. “Jesus, Rosie, if we could just put the past behind us and… and start over, don’t you think I would? Like a fucking shot. But it’s not possible.”

Why not?

“It’s too… too complicated.”

“So you say. It seems simple to me.”

“It would. You’re young, and sweet. And… innocent. You deserve better than me.”

Her jaw firms, and her eyes blaze. “You patronising bastard.”

“What? I don’t?—”

“You heard me. You’re as bad as my dad, convinced I don’t know my own mind. For the avoidance of any remaining doubt, let me take this clear. I am not a kid. I haven’t been a kid since I was abducted and trafficked into slavery. That sort of experience has a way of making you grow up fast.”

“I know that, but?—”

“For fuck’s sake, shut up. I know you’re sorry. I know you regret what happened, what you did. I know if you could you’d go back and do things differently. But you can’t. We can’t. We are where we are, and that’s right here, right now. Our history is what it is, and I for one have heard quite enough about it. There’s only one direction to go in now, and that’s forwards. We can’t change the past, but we don’t have to wallow in it. Frankly, I’m not interested in the past. It’s the future that matters, and that we can change. It’s ours to create.”

I open my mouth to utter more platitudes but close it again in the face of her righteous fury. “ Amor , I?—”

“Enough. Enough excuses. Tell me what it is you want .”

“Want?”

Her brows lower. “Yes. What do you actually want?” She marches away from me, across the room, then whirls to face me. “I know you want Erin. I know you want to be her father, and you are. You will be. But is that all?”

“No,” I manage, catching on at last. “That isn’t all.”

“Go on.”

“I want you. I want… everything. If you’ll have me.”

She gestures to her state of semi-undress. “Have I not made it obvious enough?”

“Not just for now. Not just this once.”

“Now is where we are. Now is what we have. The future is yet to build.”

“I want to build it. With you.”

She smiles at last and walks slowly towards me. “Let’s do it. Together.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

“I have a plan, too.”

“You do?” I wrap her in my arms and bury my face in her hair.

She looks up at me. “Fuck me, San Antonio. Now.”

The next instant, we’re rolling together across the mattress, a tangle of eager limbs and fevered kisses. I fumble with the snapper on her jeans until she pushes my hands away and does the business herself, then shoves the denim down her thighs, taking the rest of her underwear with it. I kneel up and finish the job for her, then take a heady moment to admire her lush body.

“Fuck, you’re beautiful,” I groan.

“And you’re overdressed,” she replies. “Get naked, Mr San Antonio, before I lose interest.”

I shed my clothes in seconds flat, then fling myself down beside her. “Were you ever this bossy before?”

“Of course not. You’ll have to get used to it.”

“I’ll cope.” I’m done talking. Instead, I pin her to the mattress and cover her mouth with mine. The kiss is long, lingering, conveying everything I wish I’d said and done before. Rosie drinks me in, and I feel as though she’s hearing me, really hearing me at last.

“I want you. I want you so much.” Her words are breathed rather than spoken, and I absorb them into my soul.

Her breasts are soft, squashed against my chest. I slide my hands between our bodies to cup them. I take first one taut nipple into my mouth, then the other. They pebble as she arches under me, writhing and moaning. Her thighs are spread wide, and I settle myself between them.

“I want you inside me. Now.”

“Soon,” I promise, edging down the bed. I leave a trail of wet kisses between her breasts across her flat abdomen, then down to her smooth mound. The aroma of her slick pussy fills my nostrils, her arousal a heady cocktail of desire and lust.

I push her thighs wider and lock my lips around her plump clit. I suck, not hard, just enough to draw a long, grateful moan from somewhere deep in her core. I recall she always appreciated this, and I always adored the taste of her pussy.

I flick my tongue across the tip of her clit, then trace a slow trail around her entrance, I make a point and slip my tongue as deep inside her as I can, drinking in the lush tang.

Christ, I missed this.

Rosie’s fingers are in my hair, clinging to the strands and pressing my face closer to her.

“I’m going to come,” she mutters.

“Not yet. Wait.” I renew my assault on her clit.

“Please,” she wails. “I can’t wait.”

“Do as I say,” I growl, my natural dominance rearing to meet her innate submission. I hesitate. Is this a residual feature of how things used to be?

“Adan, I… I love you,” she breathes. “Please, let me come.”

“Do it, micorazón. Enjoy.” This is no time for introspection.

I insert two fingers deep into her slick channel which is enough to send her soaring. Her inner walls quiver and contract around my digits. Her body arches and tenses, her own fingers clenching into small fists. I scissor my fingers inside her, twisting my hand to increase the friction as the orgasm sweeps her senses away. Her eyes are closed, her eyelids fluttering and her lips slightly parted.

I love to watch her come. She’s beautiful and totally uninhibited, at home in her own body and comfortable in her pleasure.

Her body becomes still. The final waves of ecstasy drift away. Her eyelids lift, her blue gaze unfocussed. “That was…”

“I know.” I drop a soft kiss on her mouth. “We’re not done yet.”

A small, sleepy smile dances on her lips. “I should hope not, San Antonio.”

“Sassy little madam.” I slide back up her body to settle once more in the cradle of her thighs. I reach to position myself at her entrance, but she beats me to it.

“Let me.”

“Go ahead, mi corazón. ”

This is a new task for her, and she fumbles at first, but I resist the temptation to take over. She raises her hips to better accommodate me, and after one or two false starts, the head of my cock slides into her snug channel.

“I’ll take it from here,” I murmur, holding my body motionless, my weight on my elbows and knees.

I inch forward, taking my time, savouring the delicious caress of her tight pussy when she squeezes around me.

“Tell me if I hurt you.”

“Shut up and fuck me.”

“I’ve heard that before somewhere.”

She grins up at me, rolling her hips to urge me on.

I take no more persuasion. With one swift thrust, I sink myself balls-deep inside her.

Rosie lets out a sigh. “Oh, so good. So… oh.”

I start to move. Slowly at first, short, teasing strokes, then getting longer and firmer. I raise myself onto my hands, one planted on either side of her shoulders. She grips my forearms and I gather momentum, burying my cock in her snug heat with every smooth glide. She’s wet and warm and welcoming, her inner walls gripping me like a glove.

“Adan, I…I…”

She lifts her legs and wraps them around my waist, locking her heels behind me. “Harder,” she demands. “Fuck me harder.”

I manage to find another gear. I’m pounding into her, her slender form jerking hard with every punishing stroke, but she relishes all I can give her.

“I need… I need… Ah, yes. That. That.”

That indeed. My balls contract. I’m ready to dump my load inside her, but not yet. Not until…

“I’m almost there. Just a little more. Harder, please. I need… Aaaagh!” Her voice is ragged, wrenched from the depths of her throat.

Her pussy clenches down hard. Her body convulses, her fingernails dig little half-moons in my forearms as her climax seizes her again.

Any slender hold I may have had on my own climax evaporates. I let out a hoarse shout of satisfaction. My balls have their way and my semen pumps up and out to fill her channel. Wet heat envelopes me. The slick sounds of our mutual delight fill the air. My body stiffens and shudders and my release surges forward to meet hers.

We lie motionless, still joined, neither of us wanting to move, reluctant to sever the connection.

Rosie breaks our breathless silence. “I need to get back to Erin. Eva has her, but…”

“I know,” I reply. “And I need to make arrangements for my trip. But I need to say goodbye to her before I leave.”

“Not goodbye,” she blurts. “You’re coming back.”

“Of course,” I lie.

“I don’t want you to go.”

“You know why I have to. This has to end, this thing with Kaminski.”

“Perhaps Ethan could?—”

“No. This is my problem, and I’ll sort it. Trust me, amor .”

“I do. It’s him I don’t trust.”

Me neither. But we shall soon know.