Page 21 of Only For Your Touch
Chapter Seven
“Your girl coming in tonight?”
Sasha arched an eyebrow as he lifted the tumbler of Vodka and took a deep sip, welcoming the burn. Killian watched him, a knowing gleam in his eyes. A faint bruise darkened his friend’s jaw, and a quick glance down revealed scraped and swollen knuckles. Fresh from a fight.
“She’s not ‘my girl,’” Sasha retorted. “It’s not like that.” He arched his eyebrow higher. “As you should know.” They both took part in what The Loft had to offer, as Killian’s spanking demonstration in the playroom the night before attested to.
“Oh, so she’s just a fuck toy,” Killian drawled. A white-hot flash of anger blew through Sasha, and considering the smirk curling his friend’s mouth, Killian knew it. “Uh-uh. That’s what I thought.”
“Who kicked the goddamn bucket and made you Dr. Drew?” Sasha snarled. He wanted to be angry, but fuck it. What was the point?
Turning away, he sipped his drink again. Killian was just posing the question that had been plaguing him since the night before. What were they? Or better yet: what could they possibly be?
Yes, he’d shared more with her than he’d ever confided in anyone other than Rion and Killian. Yes, he wanted her more than he’d ever craved another woman. Even now his skin itched to touch hers. Hell, as many times as he’d been inside her last night, he should probably be in a postcoital coma. But, no, just the thought of her had his flesh stirring.
Yet, the issues, the obstacles that had been there at the onset of this thing between them still existed. Sex—mind-blowing, soul-shattering sex—hadn’t changed those facts.
Her father was still the head of a crime family, and a relationship with her would draw him, his friends, and their business into a world they’d barely managed to escape the first time.
And then there was what she did to him.
Let go. I have you, baby.
Her words taunted him. Tempted him. Because in that moment, more than his next breath, he’d wanted her to be there to catch him. He’d wanted her to be his safety net. But after the haze of orgasm faded, after he’d ushered her into a waiting car last night, he’d been left with fear. The trust between him, Rion, and Killian had been earned. They’d gone through hell and come out together on the other side.
Still…the people who should’ve loved him unconditionally, should’ve been there for him even when he fell, even when he disappointed them, had abandoned him. It wasn’t until after he lay in that bed upstairs with Corrine curled against him that he acknowledged how much their desertion had hurt him. Cut him so deep, it’d remained hidden until he’d ripped the scab off with their conversation.
He was scared to trust her. Afraid she’d run once she realized he wasn’t worthy of her. Just like his parents had.
“Sasha Merchant?”
The sound of his name jerked him out of his morose, panicked thoughts.Thank God. He focused on the two men standing in front of him. Tall. Wearing suits that appeared tailored to their lean frames. Late twenties, maybe early thirties. Dark hair, one wearing it slicked back, the other in one of those annoying-ass fauxhawk styles. But it was the green eyes that gave them away. He’d pegged them for relatives, but the eyes told him who else they were related to.
Corrine’s family.
A quiet fell over him, and he tensed, although he didn’t alter his sprawl against the bar. Beside him, the same tension invaded Killian. Only because Sasha knew the man so well did he catch the almost imperceptible change in his body. The subtle shift that telegraphed a readiness to move with lightning speed and take down any opponent.
“Yes, and you are?” Sasha asked, sipping from his glass but clenching the tumbler so tightly, the triangular pattern bit into his fingers.
“My name is Gianni Salvaggi, and this is my brother Marco. We believe you know our sister,” the taller of the two said, then paused. “Corrine.”
Sasha remained silent, didn’t confirm or deny.
“Are we right?” the other man, Marco, questioned, impatience edging his voice. Clearly the younger and more hotheaded brother.
“What can I do for you?” Sasha asked, keeping his tone bland, flat, revealing nothing. Not the rising anger or the panic gnawing at his gut.You’ve been waiting for this, a small voice whispered against his skull.You knew this could happen. Yeah, and he’d ignored the possibility, and as his father had said to him before kicking Sasha out of his home:Chto posyeyesh’, to i pozhnyosh’. What you plant, you will harvest.
In other words, his actions were coming around to bite him in the ass.
“Maybe we should talk in private,” Gianni suggested, glancing at Killian.
“And maybe we shouldn’t,” Sasha countered. “Killian is part owner here, and I’m assuming that whatever has brought you here is about business.”
“Our sister is our business,” Marco said with the same hard edge.
“Quiet,” Gianni hissed at his brother. Definitely the older—smarter—one. He turned to Killian. “Killian Vincent?” He extended a hand. “You looked familiar to me. I’ve seen you fight several times. You’re good.”
Killian shook the hand but didn’t reply to the compliment, instead fixing a steady, steely gaze on their visitors.
