Caught for Christmas (Stripped 3.50)

“God, Bianca. You really can’t believe anyone wants to help you? To be with you?”

I flinch because he’s right.

He pulls me to the sofa. “Baby, you’re an incredible woman. Strong. Smart. Obviously gorgeous. Any man would trip over his dick trying to be with you.” He makes a face. “I should have said that better.”

I smile, feeling shy. “I think you said it pretty great.”

He sighs. “I hate that you doubt yourself, that you won’t let yourself trust me.”

A knot tightens my throat. “I do trust you.”

As much as I trust anyone, which admittedly isn’t much.

His eyes study mine. “When I first met you, I wanted to be with you. And the way you looked at me, it seemed like you wanted me too.”

“I did.” At his wry expression, I laugh a little. How can he make me laugh, even now? “I do want you.”

“But every time I got close, you backed away. At first I was going to respect that. No matter that you looked at me like you wanted to touch me, no matter that I was dying to taste you.”

My eyebrows go up. “I was a little surprised that you…you know. Did that. While I was tied up.”

He gets a strange expression, and I have the feeling that if I touched his cheeks they would be warm. He’s blushing. “Then I saw you struggling and refusing help from anyone—not from me or the other girls. You were getting thinner, and I could see the fear in your eyes. Then you went and tried to steal from the Grand—”

“I’m so sorry,” I whisper.

“I’m not angry, baby. I’m just explaining why I couldn’t hold back any more. I couldn’t watch you destroy yourself. I came to care about you, despite you pushing me away, despite my best efforts not to care, and I couldn’t let anyone hurt you—not even yourself.”

I shiver. “And not my parents.”

“Definitely not them.” His expression turns cold, and I realize this is the face of the soldier, the man who fought multiple tours overseas. This is what his enemies saw. “They should have protected you.”

“I’m not going to defend them. I spent too long giving them excuses.”

“You don’t ever need to see them again.” The way he says it, I can almost believe it’s true.

I look down at my loose T-shirt and shorts rolled up at the waistband. I feel even more helpless without my clothes. That’s just an illusion, though. I was already as helpless as possible, whether I’m wearing flip-flops or stilettos or nothing at all. “What about me?”

He looks down, seeming almost vulnerable. “I hope you’ll stay with me.” He pauses. “At least until the New Year. We don’t have to decide anything right away, and you’ll be safe here. I’ll have Blue send someone to bring your clothes.”

It can’t be that simple. “What about Ivan?”

“What about him?”

“Umm, I broke into his club.”

“Only because we let you.” West smiles a little at my glare. Then he sobers. “Ivan doesn’t have to know.”

“He might find out. You’d lose your job.” I don’t add that he would more likely lose his life.

A fierce light enters his eyes. “I’ll protect you from anyone, Bianca. And I’ll just need to keep saying it until you believe me. If Ivan came after you, I’d keep you safe. If anyone even thinks about touching you, I’d make them wish they were never born.”

There he is again, the warrior. It makes me shiver. “Okay,” I whisper.

“Good.” He smiles, looking almost normal. Like a hot guy you’d meet at a coffee shop—not terrifying and intense. Not like he’s going to battle the world just to keep me alive. “Now come have breakfast. Do you want omelets or pancakes? Wait, what am I saying? I’ll make both.”

Chapter Seventeen

Breakfast is just the beginning, and I spend the rest of the day cocooned in a warmth I’ve only dreamed about. I find a box of microwave popcorn in the pantry, and West pulls out a needle and thread from an impressive first-aid kit. We create edible garland that we string up around his loft, adding a bit of festive charm to the stark space.