Page 14 of Rake

I’d been worried that part of the difficulty here would be lack of physical attraction, not that that’s stopped me before, but turns out it’s a non-issue.

Sasha is a beautiful woman. In an understated way, true. Not the sort of outrageously attractive women I usually go for, but she’s lovely. There’s a rawness to her beauty that intrigues me, and I wonder what she’d look like all done up. Something to consider later.

My bedroom door opens and she leans against the doorframe, standing on one leg with her injured ankle tucked behind her. My shirt hangs almost all the way to her knees. She’s average height for a woman, but I’m used to fucking tall, leggy models. There’s a certain vulnerable femininity about her petite size that appeals to me in a surprising way.

She’s blushing, those big hazel eyes of hers glued to my floor. Her honey blonde hair, still damp from the snow, hangs in loose waves around her shoulders. My eyes linger on the curve of her breasts, and my cock twitches in response.

Yes, no problem with physical attraction at all.

I help her to the couch, enjoying the feel of her warm body against mine. The curves are even more luscious than they look in her ill-fitting clothes. Once she’s settled on the sofa, her eyes sweep the living room and take the fireplace. It’s old, but I had it converted to gas using some of the money my father earmarked to buy off various Charlestown preservation societies.

It’s within scope, after all, and our downstairs tenants were happy for the upgrade. I don’t want to be a slumlord. We left the ornately carved mantelpiece. I didn’t want to disrupt the old-world charm of this place but didn’t want to live in an outdated, stuffy crypt, either.

With a flip of the on-switch the flames flicker to life, casting a warm glow on the soft taupe leather of the couch and on the face of the enticing woman sitting on it. I don’t use the fireplace much myself—I’m hardly ever cold.

But women tend to run cold, and it’s easier to get them naked when the heat is turned up.

When I come back from the bathroom with the elastic bandage, Sasha is leaning toward the fire, her eyes closed and her arms wrapped around her body. She hears my approach, eyes flying open with a flash of panic.

I ignore it and sit on the couch, tapping the cushion between us. The reluctance on her face is delicious. Overcoming her fear is going to be difficult, but the challenge of it turns me on even more.

If I didn’t have my father’s ire to worry about, I’d take my time with her. Alas, time’s not a luxury either of us can afford.

“Ice is next, so you might as well just let me wrap it up.”

As she shivers, I press my lips together to keep from grinning. She slides her leg toward me, good girl that she is.

The yoga pants are too long for her and also a bit tight. I can’t remember who left them here, but whoever it was clearly didn’t have Sasha’s amazing curves. Enjoying the view, I take my time inching the pantleg up.

There’s something to be said for a woman with tits and an ass you can get lost in.

I stroke her ankle with my fingertips. Her skin is cool to the touch, even with the fireplace going. The swelling is acute. I move the bandage around carefully to offer her some support, securing it with two metal clasps. I admire my work for a minute and pull down her pant leg. Her face remains a neutral mask.

I grab a pillow and prop up her foot, placing an ice pack over the swelling. She presses her eyes shut again, obviously in pain. But she’s fighting hard not to show it.

She’s scared; she should be. She strikes me as too intelligent not to be scared.

I pull the cashmere throw from the back of the couch and hand it to her. If she were a different person, I’d tuck her in. That’s not going to get me where I need to go with Sasha, though.

She takes it wordlessly and wraps it around her like some kind of shield.

“So, anyone missing you tonight? Boyfriend maybe?”

Her hazel eyes appear rimmed with gold in the fire light. She’s thinking about lying. I can tell. Instead, she sighs. “No. Haven’t had much time for dating between work and the constant physical therapy.”

She cuts her eyes to me to see if she strikes a nerve with the PT comment, but I don’t react and she continues. “I’m sure my father’s drunk off his ass already and my little brother stays with his friend after swim practice Friday nights. It’s why no one noticed I wasn’t home last time I met your friend P.J.”

Oh shit. P.J. was there too? I confirmed with Hamish that he’d been involved in her kidnapping, but I’d assumed he’d handled it himself. They needed two big men to subdue this small woman? A ripple of guilt passes through me, but I push it aside and hold Sasha’s gaze.

The fire in her voice doesn’t match the fear in her eyes.

“He’s not my friend,” I say coolly. “He’s my father’s business associate.”

“Business associate. Right. Does it feel better to couch it in such sterile language, Finn?”

She is bright.

“Yes,” I say. “It does. Frankly I don’t like to think of someone beating a woman half to death.”

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