Alexi’s gaze hardened, as I knew it would. This was his private pain too. Stuff I was supposed to pretend didn’t matter, hadn’t affected him. But it was this secrecy which had made it impossible for Remy to confide in his brother. That needed to end now.
‘What are you talking about?’ he said.
‘We knew,’ I said. ‘About the extent of the abuse, Alexi. The back-handed slaps, the casual violence. We could hear the shouting, the things he said to you late at night when you both thought we were in bed. We saw the bruises, the split lips, the black eyes you pretended were caused by anything else but him. Remy knew how homophobic your father was. He kept his sexuality a secret because he thought he had to, to protect you from having to protect him from your father’s abuse. Again. That night...’
My breathing became ragged, the memories flowing back, the emotion, the pain, as real as the desire. ‘I came to you because I’d overheard your father shouting at you again. He hit you. And you didn’t hit him back, even though you could have. You were bigger and stronger than him, but you took it, the way you always did. I could see how angry you were, how humiliated, and I wanted to help, to make it better somehow.’
‘What are you saying?’ he demanded as he strode round the desk. ‘That the night we made our son was a pity screw? That you sacrificed your virginity to make me feel better about the fact my father hated my guts?’
I stood up and tilted my head so I could look into his eyes, brutally aware of the unyielding strength of his body, the tension vibrating through him and the pulse of desire making my knees dissolve. I shook my head because I had never pitied him, only loved him.
Going with instinct, I touched his cheek. I wasn’t infatuated with him any more, I could see all his weaknesses now, but a part of me still ached for that valiant young man who had always protected his brother.
The bunched muscle in his jaw clenched against my palm as he jerked his head free.
I dropped my hand. I should not have touched him. But, as I stared into his eyes, all I could see was the same rage and pain I’d wanted to soothe that night.
I didn’t want to soothe it an
y more. Because I knew I couldn’t.
‘Don’t touch me, Belle, or you’ll be sorry again,’ he said.
‘I’m not sorry,’ I said, the foolish urge to take away his pain getting the better of me. ‘I’ve never been sorry. I got Cai out of it, and the best sex of my life.’
The only sex of my life.
He swore viciously, but then his own hands cradled my cheeks. ‘Why do you tempt me still?’
I wasn’t sure if it was a question meant for me or himself, but I answered it anyway. ‘I can’t help it,’ I whispered.
His fingers threaded into my hair, sending flying the pins that I’d used to tame the red mass.
‘Tell me to stop,’ he said, his voice tortured as he tilted my head back.
‘I can’t.’ I shuddered, giving him the tacit permission he sought.
The wave of need slammed into me as his lips fastened on my neck, his teeth and tongue feasting on my throat as he sucked on the pulse point. I shivered as his erection pressed into my belly and my fingers gripped his shirt to drag him closer.
His arms banded around my waist at last, his fingers roaming freely under my blouse. Pleasure blossomed inside me, tightening my nipples.
At last his mouth found mine, his tongue plunging deep—tempting, taking, conquering.
I met his demands with demands of my own. It had been so long since I’d felt this need, this desire, so long since I’d been wanted in this way. But, just as my senses surrendered to everything I knew he could do for me, a loud knock sounded at the door.
We jumped apart so fast, it was as if a water cannon had been fired at us.
Alexi rubbed his chin, swearing softly as he stared at me as if I’d grown an extra head, while I struggled to get my breathing under some semblance of control.
It would almost have been funny, like the scene from a bad sitcom, if the implications of what we’d just done....or rather, had almost done...weren’t so catastrophic.
What exactly had I been thinking? I’d pretty much jumped him. I was a grown woman, and a mother. I should have been able to resist the desire that had flared like a firecracker as soon as I touched him.
Alexi was still my kryptonite—that much was obvious.
But I’d paid dearly once before for letting my desire rule my head. And for thinking that sex, especially the stupendous, incendiary sex that was clearly still our MO, was a substitute for emotional engagement.
I’d been emotionally engaged when I’d made love to him the first time. And he had not been. I wouldn’t get sucked into that vortex again.