Consent (The Loan Shark Duet 2)

Lightning flashes outside, and the storm erupts in full force.

When he lifts on his arms to look at me, his cock slips free. I moan, not wanting to lose him, yet.

“Cold?” He rubs my arm.

“No.”

He kicks his shoes free and removes his pants. I watch with mesmerized fascination as he undresses. There are still scars on his body, but they are different, now. Whatever he did, he underwent severe surgery. I don’t care what he looks like, but I miss the marks I got to know, the ones that defined him. No matter. I’ll get to know his new scars.

Catching my gaze on him, he says in a low voice, “What are you thinking?”

“That my husband had scars like that.”

He doesn’t offer an explanation, and I don’t push. What I don’t want is more lies between us.

“Take this.” He helps me to pull on his shirt. I can’t help but inhale deeply. The clean, spicy smell is from before Gabriel became Gregor.

Lifting me into his arms, he carries me to the reclining chair, settles down with me in his lap, and covers us with a throw from the chair back. Our cocoon is safe and warm. Together, we listen to the sound of the rain on the roof and watch the sky darken through the window.

He strokes my hip under the throw. “Where’s your son?”

“With friends.”

He tenses. “Reliable ones?”

“The guys you met at the market.”

His tension doesn’t ease. “Can they handle a baby?”

“As good as any mom I know.”

“You sure?”

I can’t resist teasing. “For a first date, you’re very concerned about a single mom’s baby.”

He brushes a stray hair from my face. “He’s cute.” He says it like it explains his interest in Connor. “You said a single mom.” He hesitates. “Are you?”

“Would I have been here if I wasn’t?”

He doesn’t answer.

A part of me wants to dive into this relationship and grab everything with a sweep of my arm, but I remind myself to be patient. I’m not doing this by force or manipulation. This time, it will be out of both our free wills.

I turn his wrist to the light to read the time on his watch. It’s past five. “I have to go, soon.”

His arm tightens around me. “Already?”

“I said I’d be back to feed Connor before bedtime. His bath is at six.”

My heart contracts painfully for the longing that flashes in his eyes. He looks at me for a long time, and when he finally speaks, he pushes the words out, as if they are hard for him to say.

“Valentina, you’re a very desirable woman.”

“But?”

“But this wasn’t a first date.”

“What was it?”

His eyes search mine for something I can’t name. He takes a breath and licks his lips. “A mistake.”

Hurt twists my heart, but I brush it aside. I won’t allow him to derail me. “This may not be a conventional date, but it wasn’t a mistake.”

“You don’t know me, and when you do, you’ll run. This is every kind of wrong.”

“What we just did in your kitchen, did it feel wrong?”

“No. Every bit of it was right, but that’s not what I meant, and you know it.”

“Then we’ll just focus on what feels right.”

“No, Valentina.” His voice is harsh. “It won’t work.”

I was so ready to tell him I know the truth, but he’s not ready to hear it. I believe he’s ready for us, or he wouldn’t have come back and looked for me, but if I force things, I may screw this up.

I push on his chest to get up. “I have to go.”

He locks me in a tight embrace. “Not while it’s raining so hard. Too unsafe on the road.”

“Connor––”

“Nothing will happen if you’re thirty minutes late. Call your friends and tell them you’re waiting out the storm.”

Always protective. God knows, I need the extra time with him. “I’ll get my phone.”

“Stay put.” He shifts out from under me and fetches my bag from the kitchen.

I use the opportunity to study him more. If he thought I wouldn’t recognize the chiseled perfection of his ass, he really didn’t know that each part of his body is forever imprinted in my mind. I don’t care what face he wears, scared or handsome, I want the man underneath.

“Here you go.” He hands me my bag and gives me space to make the call.

While I speak to Rhett, the smell of freshly brewed coffee fills the space. When I cut the call, he carries a steaming mug to me. Two sugars and milk, just the way I like.

“I would’ve offered you wine, but I don’t want you to drink and drive.”

“Thanks.” I smile at his protectiveness. “That’s very considerate.”

“Would you like something to eat?”

“I’m good.”

For the remainder of the time, we sip our coffee in comfortable silence while he plays with my hair, almost like in the days when I sat at his feet in his study at night. When only a light mist rain remains, he helps me gather my clothes, but shoves my ripped panties in his pocket. He buttons up my coat and walks me to my car, holding my umbrella for me.