I truly don’t know what answer she wants to hear. A part of me wants to figure that out before I respond—whether she would prefer a man who watched while the man who tortured her was torn apart or a man who took a few of those fingers himself. I want to tell her whatever it is that she wants to hear, because I wantherso badly. I want her to love me. To need me. To trust me.
But I also know, to the depths of my soul, that if there’s ever going to be anything between Ana and me, it has to be built on who we truly are. I helped Viktor torture Alexei; I can’t take that back or change it—and I wouldn’t. So however that changes Ana’s view of me, if it does, I have to be honest.
“Yes,” I tell her bluntly. “I did help. Not—extensively. But I took my pound of flesh, so to speak. And I don’t regret it. I—” I take a breath, looking Ana squarely in her blue eyes, lovely even red and swollen as they are. “I wanted to hurt him for what he did to you. For what he did to all of you. For what he did tome, forcing me to watch you, taken away. I wanted him to die, and I wanted him to suffer. Whatever kind of man that makes me—that’s the truth.”
“Like Alexandre,” Ana says softly.
I let out a long sigh, feeling a wave of exhaustion wash over me. I don’t feel like I’ve had a decent night’s sleep in weeks. “Yes,” I say flatly. “Like Alexandre. But as far as I know, he’s still alive.”
We’re both silent then for a long moment until I ask the question that I’m dreading the answer to—because it would potentially mean taking her back to New York and leaving her there. “Where do you want to go when we leave London tomorrow? Do you have anywhere to stay?”
Ana looks up at me, and I see a fresh hint of tears in her eyes. “No,” she murmurs, shaking her head slowly. “My apartment will be gone by now—I’ve been gone too long without paying rent. I’m sure if I asked Sofia if I could stay with her and Luca, she’d be more than happy to let me, but—” she hesitates. “I feel bad, asking. With a baby on the way—I don’t want to impose on her. And Luca and I don’t hate each other, but we also aren’t close. He’d let me stay for Sofia’s sake and out of his own need to make up for the past, but he wouldn’t be thrilled—Luca is a man who likes his space,” she says with a short laugh. “It would be awkward. And I don’t know how long it will be before I can get a place of my own again.” Her lips press tightly together, and I can see her chin tremble slightly.
“Everything is gone,” she says simply. “My career is gone. I’m literally homeless. Everything I own—” She swallows hard. “I don’t know what I’m going to do for work. My entire adult life so far, I poured everything I was into one thing, and I’ve lost the ability to do that. I didn’t even finish Juilliard or have a chance to dance professionally, so I can’t even open my own studio. I have nothing to entice anyone to take lessons from me. I can’t demonstrate proper techniques, or—” her voice catches, and she looks away. “I don’t know what I’m going to do,” Ana whispers.
“I’m sorry,” she says finally, looking back at me after a moment. “This isn’t your problem. I’ll call Sofia, if I can borrow a phone, and—”
“Stay with me.” The words that I’d been hoping to say to her since she woke up spill out abruptly before I can think of how to say them less bluntly. “I have plenty of room in my penthouse in Boston. You can stay with me until you figure out what you want to do next.”Or forever.I can’t say that, though—I can’t suggest that she immediately trade one man who wanted to keep her forever for another. Before I can have any chance at a relationship with Ana, I will have to gain her trust.
“I can’t ask you to do that.” Ana shakes her head. “We barely know each other. I don’t want to impose on your either. You’ve already done plenty. I can’t ask for more—”
“You’re not asking,” I tell her firmly. “I’m offering. Come stay with me. I have a guest room—two, in fact. If you don’t enjoy living with me, then I’ll fly you back to New York myself, and you can stay with Sofia. But since that’s obviously not an ideal option for you, try my way first.”
Ana hesitates, and I smile at her encouragingly. “I’ll order you to stay with me if I have to,” I tell her teasingly, trying to lighten the mood.
But the instant the words come out of my mouth, she stiffens, her gaze dropping to the sheets. I can see her physically flinching back at the suggestion of an order, her posture becoming more submissive, and I wish I’d never said it.
“I didn’t mean that seriously,” I tell her gently. “You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to. I just want to help, Ana.”
“I have no way to repay you,” she says quietly. “I have no money, I don’t—”
“This isn’t about that.” I let out a short breath, running my hand through my hair again with frustration. I know that none of this is her fault, that she’s more damaged than even I know, both physically and emotionally. But I don’t know how to get through to her, how to break past all that trauma and show her that she can trust me. That I would never, ever hurt her of my own volition.
“I just want to take care of you, Ana,” I tell her as calmly as I can. “I don’t know how clearly I can express to you that I puteverythingon the line to save you. Letting you stay in my apartment while you figure out your next steps is nothing compared to that.”
Ana looks up at me then, blinking slowly, her blue eyes full of confusion. “You came a long way just to get me away from Alexandre. Like you said, you put everything on the line. You left your life behind—” She blinks again, shifting on the bed. “You must want something.”
“I want you—”God, if only I could stop right there.I want so badly to tell her that I want her, that I feel half in love with her already, that I want her to be mine. My lover, my partner, my wife. But I can’t throw all of that at her right now. I can’t overwhelm her with my feelings, not after what happened. “I want—”
But before I can say another word, Ana is already sliding off of the bed, pushing the blankets aside. Her wrinkled lavender dress pools around her as she sinks to her knees on the carpet, reaching for my belt with one hand as the other moves lower, pressing against my already stiffening cock with her palm. “I should do something to repay you,” she murmurs, and I stare down at her.
“That’s not what I meant—” I start to push her hands away, but she has my belt undone already. Her palm is massaging my hardening shaft through my pants, and it’s becoming harder to think by the second. “I want you to be safe, Ana. I want you to be happy—”
It’s like she doesn’t even hear me. She has my zipper down, her long nimble fingers reaching inside to pull out my cock, and when her bare fingers brush against my flesh, I gasp with the sheer pleasure of it.
“Jesus, Mary, and Joseph,” I groan aloud, reaching to push her hand away. “Ana, this isn’t—”
“Let me do something for you,” she whispers. “Liam, please—I should—”
Fuck. Her hand is around my cock, her soft rosy lips parting as she leans forward, her huge blue eyes looking up at me with an expression that’s almost pleading. It’s been less than a day since I was inside of her, since I’d fucked her almost to the point of my own orgasm and then pulled out unfulfilled. I’d tried to jerk off the moment I’d been alone in my hotel room once we’d arrived in London, but I hadn’t been able to. The guilt over what had happened had been too fresh—the moment I’d touched my cock, it had all come rushing back. All I’d been able to think about was Ana, and then Ana on that dining room table, Alexandre forcing me to take her, ruining what I’d dreamed about for so long.
It would be enough to make any man lose his erection.
But now Ana is here. In the flesh, on her knees of her own volition, with no one telling her to do it. Out of some misplaced idea of needing to repay me, sure, but I’m not ordering her to. No one is. She’s looking up at me with those blue eyes, her soft lips an inch from my aching, throbbing cock, her hand slowly stroking the length of it, and I don’t know how I’m going to stop her, how I’m going to tell her no. I need to come so fucking bad, my balls are aching with it, and the woman I want more than I want to breathe is practically begging to suck my cock.
A man can only take so fucking much.
Her pink tongue darts out, flicking over the sensitive, swollen tip as she licks away the droplets of pre-cum beading there, and she lets out a small moan. “You taste good,” she whispers, and I can’t fucking stand it any longer.