“Cara…”
She sobs again at the sound of her name. “The…Bratva. They found me. I-I was at the club with my friends. I had a bodyguard. But…but they took him down.” Her words are cut off as more tears trek down her face. My body reacts before I can stop it, my thumb brushing the tears away gently. “They just took me and—oh God.” She breaks down so entirely, curling in on herself beside me.
I have no idea what to fucking do. My eyes scan her face, her hands, and legs, looking for bruises, for any sign that the Russians had physically hurt her. At first, I’m relieved she wasn’t harmed. Then I’m furious. I’d warned her about the Russians. Offered to have my own men keep an eye on her. But she’d brushed me off, chasing me out of her house. And now look what happened. Yet, I can’t bring myself to be angry with her. Not when she’s like this sitting on my couch in tears.
Pulling her into my arms awkwardly, I let her cry into my chest. My hand brushes her hair back, my cheek pressed against the top of her head as she shakes in my arms. This isn’t exactly how I imagined breaking her as I’d promised. I wanted her to be shaking for an entirely different reason than this. Anger at myself burns through me. I should have done more to try and protect her, especially after the Russians had found me. It’s my fault she was attacked tonight. My fault that she hadn’t been properly protected.
“Cara, please.” I pull back, wiping more tears away. “Stop crying. You’re stronger than this.”
For a split second, fury flashes in her eyes, a faint specter of the Cara I know. “Seriously?” she hisses. “I show up like this, and that’s all you have to say? Stop crying?”
My mouth opens before snapping shut again. She’s still in my arms, her fingers curling into my shirt, clutch forgotten. “What do you want me to say? I told you so?”
Cara scoffs in disgust, shoving me away. I catch myself before falling off the couch. “I can’t fucking believe you.” She stands, letting the blanket drop from her shoulders, and I finally notice what she’s wearing.
The red blouse is far too business-like to be considered sexy, but on her, it’s damn near delicious. She has a red bow around her neck that I can’t help but picture unwrapping before ripping the entire thing over her head. Black leggings hug her ass perfectly as she turns away from me, those red heels making her calves look damn near edible. I force my eyes back up to her face when she whips back around.
“This was a mistake,” she mutters, snatching her clutch from the sofa.
I lunge forward, grabbing her wrist before she can leave. “Wait. Stop.”
She freezes, staring down where my fingers wrap around her arm. “Let me go, Killian.”
“Not until you calm down.” I force her to remain where she stands, unable to let go.
“Let. Me. Go.” Her voice drops, cold and deadly. Those dark eyes flick up to meet mine, full of hurt and anger…and fear.
“No.” I draw her closer. She allows it, stumbling back into my arms. But her face turns away from me, eyes cast downwards. It’s not a good look on her. I want the fire back. The fight. Not this broken doll who can’t find enough steel within her to walk out my door.
Tipping her face towards me, I let my thumb brush against those red lips. The need to kiss her is suddenly overwhelming, too much to fight. She doesn’t move, barely breathing as I let my lips touch hers hesitantly. I expect her to pull away, to slap me. Do something other than just stand there. But she does absolutely nothing.
The need to make her feel better, to fix her, crashes through me. The Russians had scared her tonight, and she’s clearly shaken. I can see the desperate need for safety in her eyes, the fear that she won’t find it here. I kiss her again, longer this time until she finally opens up to me. My hands glide along her curves, from the sides of her breasts down to her hips and back up. She leans into my touch, eyes fluttering closed as a soft whimper slips past her lips.
I can taste victory, but it's not as sweet as I imagined it to be. I don’t want this victory of breaking her now. It wouldn’t be much of a win when she’s like this. But I can make her feel better. I can at least comfort her while still keeping this promise I made to her. She didn’t trust me enough to accept my protection, but maybe now she can trust me enough with this.
Slowly, I push her down onto the couch, my hand gripping the back of her neck gently to hold her in place. Her legs part, allowing me to lay between them, keeping most of my weight on my elbow to avoid crushing her. Her fingers curl at my chest, her body pressing against mine, and it’s all I can do not to take her right then and there. I’m already rock hard, just the feel of her beneath me enough to make me want her.
I release her neck, kissing along her jaw as I let it trail down to her waist. My fingers edge the band at her hips, hesitantly dipping beneath the black fabric. I’m not sure how far she’ll let me go, and it’s not in my nature to force myself on a woman, let alone one who’s broken. But she doesn’t stop me.
Her back arches in response, breasts pressing against my chest as I dip further beneath the waistband of her leggings. I really want to rip them off, toss them to the floor and spread her legs wide. But I know I can’t. I can taste the alcohol on her tongue. The Bratva might have sobered her up, but she’s still not in any condition to deal with this tonight. I start to pull away, feeling embarrassed for kissing her in the first place, but her fingers latch onto my shirt, drawing me back.
“Killian…please.” Her voice is soft as she begs. “I need you to touch me.” I hear what she doesn’t say.
She needs me to make her forget.
I stay where I am, using both hands to slowly draw her leggings down around her knees until I hit her heels. She slowly kicks them off, letting them drop to the floor along with her leggings. My breath catches at the sight of her beneath me, red lace panties on full display around her slender hips. I run my hands along her thighs, reveling in the smoothness of her skin before I kiss her again. This time, I can’t hold back.
She kisses me back hungrily, drawing her legs around my waist to pull me closer. I can feel her desperation, her pain. My hands rove across her skin, trailing the waistband of her panties before yanking them down around her thighs. She gasps a little, hips bucking to allow me to slide them off. My lips move from hers, trailing a blaze of kisses along her jaw, down her neck to her shoulders. Her breath hitches, chest heaving as my fingers slowly untie the ribbon at her throat.
It’s like unwrapping a present. I watch the red fabric slip free, danging over her breasts as her chest heaves with desire. There’s no hiding how she feels now. No lying. All I see is the truth in her eyes. She needs this just as much as I do. I pull her blouse over her head, tossing it to the floor before easing her back against the couch. My lips are back on hers in an instant, craving her taste, her touch. Her scent surrounds me, lilac and rose and the smoke of the club she’d been at tonight. It’s intoxicating. Addicting.
Cara breaks free, tilting her head back as her lips part in a soft gasp. My tongue traces the sharp edges of her collarbone, trailing down between her breasts, still encased in her scarlet bra. I bury my face between them, breathing her in.
“Fuck, Cara…” I look up at her, my hand pausing behind her back, fingers hovering over the clasp of her bra. “Are you sure?”
Her dark eyes flash, though I can see the hesitation. Her teeth graze her lower lip, drawing my eyes to the movement. “I’m sure.” Her hands cup my cheeks, forcing my lips back to hers again hungrily.
I try to hang on to whatever self-control I have left as her bra clasp snaps free.