Page 29 of Vow to Protect
Crumbs shed her clothes as she jumps to bare feet. “Oh, I see who you really are. The high and mighty Brett De Courcy, who doesn't want to kiss another Cartier sister in case he knocks her up too,” she mocks with a dramatic eye roll.
“You know how babies are made, right?” Why does my spine tingle at that thought?
She swallows hard. “Yeah, and you screwed my big sister. An artist isn’t as sexy as a stripper. Not flirty enough. Not pretty enough. Is that it?”
A blast of air shoots down my nose. “That statement couldn’t be farther from the truth.” I cross my arms, and she immediately copies me. “It’s no big deal. I would rather not take advantage of you when you're upset,” I lie, stuffing my hands into my pockets, utterly buzzed and riled up when she flicks her hair.
Her eyebrows hitch. “Bullshit. Don’t worry, I get it.” She rashly peels off the cashmere jumper. Skin. Fucking sun-kissed glorious bare skin. “I wouldn’t fuck me either if I had to look at this monstrosity. All the fancy salves and balms in the world won’t get rid of it.”
My fists ball. The uneven sequence of a racing pulse brews with the ludicrous words in her statement. She’s beautiful, and the scar only adds to her artistry of exquisiteness. Emotions charge like a herd of rhinos on a path of destruction. I hate Blaine for inflicting misery on this woman. I detest him for disfiguring her body with a threat that will always be eye-catching. Yet her prominent scars only mirror my invisible ruin. We have an affinity, a crazy molten affinity that’s been ripping me apart since the evening we met, one second at a time.
I stand in silence, desperately trying to regroup, to piece myself together and leave. As much as I try to deny it, she’s snared me in a trap where all I want is to be free of my dark days. She makes me crave a future—with another woman.
Was my love for Syrah a lie?
“We all have our scars, Raen. You wear yours on the outside. Mine are within.” An ache surges around my chest, lifting my ribcage as I try to inhale. My blood hisses and spits. It’s been too long since I craved, tasted, teased and fucked a woman. With her positioned before me, flesh and femininity, I’m reminded of those facts with a powerful thrum.
Even now, as she waits, timid and unsure, her shoulders remain high, and her impenetrable eyes render me the liar I am. She can see my zipper bulge from my attention starved dick. It’s begging for satisfaction—it’s begging for this one woman after months of deprivation.
Daunted by this attraction, I drag my fingers through my hair and glance over at the life size canvas where a younger Raen eyes me with suspicion. A pretty young girl with hope and dreams, a life free from storms. Years later, she survived a shipwreck as the only survivor.
When I look back to the woman in the room with me, her poise depicts bravery, raw and new. Her soul cries out of suffering and vindication. She deserves better, and truthfully, I’m sorely tempted to use her as my rehabilitation. For the first time in months, I’m mindlessly enticed to fuck.
“Forget it.” Arms unfold and hands slam to her hips. I turn away, but the urge swells like a starved monster inside me. “Do I remind you of my sister?”
“No.” Not one bit. “Like I said before, I wouldn’t have guessed you were related.”
“She was the good-looking one. The fun, flirty girl. All the guys chased her.”
I peer over my shoulder. Soft curves. Thick lashes. Parted lips. “It has nothing to do with Natalie, and everything to do with me.”
“Ah, the age old ‘it’s a you problem’, huh?” The ghost of disbelief dances on her lips when she feigns a smile.
My willpower goes up in flames. I angle around and march towards her, reserving a distinct barrier of space. Leaning into the side of her face, I struggle to control the fire alight in my soul. “Put your hands behind your back.” My dick pulsates at the command.
“Why?” Her chest lifts. Visible prickles sprinkle her bare flesh. It’s intoxicating to watch the reaction.
“My rules apply. No touching. Can you deal with that?”What the hell am I doing?
When her forehead creases, she shifts her shoulders back. “What are you going to do to me?” Uncertainty flares her black pupils.
Every vein throbs with the challenge I’ve set myself. It’s only a onetime thing. Pleasure versus pain. “I’ll give us both what we need right now. Make sure your hands stay behind your back. Trust me.” I stare into green eyes with amber flecks, like the forest bed during an autumn sunrise. “I promise you, Raen, I won’t hurt you.”
I back up and stride into the sitting room where the dog leash rests on the arm of the couch. Hypnotic excitement awakens in my core, bursting down every vertebra. The hairs on my head prick at the root. I’m pumped and one hundred percent adamant this won't be any different to a night alone with my imagination.
“Champ. Come here,” I command. Once he appears with purple frosting on his snout, I beckon for him to lie down and offer a treat from my pocket. “Stay here, big guy. I won’t be long.”
When I return to the bedroom, she’s nibbling a fingernail, waiting in the same spot I left her, wearing only a pair of nude panties. Candy sweetness masks the sexuality, electrifying the energy in the room. The scent of cake will activate my hunger for sex, now and forever.
She stands tall, except for the fingers lightly padding her mouth. It seems like a seductive act, but her forearm subtly hides the scar. A surge of anger builds, fusing with impatient lust.
Pull yourself together. I’m a wealthy business executive, not a monk in a monastery.
I’ve fucked women before and walked away without attachment. I mock my nerves and sense of disharmony.
“I told you to keep your wrists behind your back.” I stalk closer, doubting every second of this crazy idea. “Can you follow my rules, or not?”
“Why are there rules?” Her lower lip slips between her teeth.
