I grinned wickedly as I walked back to my house with German on my heels. He was smiling like he’d gone for a nice stroll around the block. Inside, Cara stood in a pair of jeans and a tank top, her mouth hanging open, her eyes wide with fear.
German collapsed onto the couch and sighed contently. He’d be buzzed and happy for a while.
“I guess you saw that.” I stared at Cara, wishing she really had kept that lingerie on. My heart was racing and my blood was up from the fight, and nothing was better than a soft, wet pussy to fuck after beating the shit out of a couple Irish bastards.
She nodded slowly. “What happened?”
“Maher.” I walked past her and into the kitchen. I splashed water on my face and blood rolled off my skin.
“Let me see.” I turned and she dabbed at me with a towel. She chewed her lip. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine.” I stared into her eyes and could still taste her lips, her nipple, feel her skin beneath my hands. “I told you not to get changed.”
“You can’t always get what you want.” She sighed and shook her head. “They know I’m here, don’t they?”
“Maher does. I don’t think he’s told anyone yet.”
“But he will.”
“Probably.”
She dabbed the towel against my forehead again. I sucked in a breath and grabbed her wrist and held it there. My skin shivered with the touch, and she didn’t move, inches from me.
“This might need stitches,” she whispered.
“I’ll take care of it.”
She released the towel. I took it from her and pressed it against the wound. She lingered near me, staring for a long, wild second, then walked way. I watched her go, ass shaking with every step, and clenched my jaw. She disappeared into her room and slammed the door behind her.
“I wish she’d give me that treatment too,” German said.
“Shut up, idiot.” I glared at him and he laughed. “Call the doctor. I need stitches.”
“Will do, boss.”
“And get yourself looked after.”
He frowned and touched his face. His fingers came back bloody. “Not mine,” he said.
“Call the doctor.” I went back into the kitchen and snatched up that mug of coffee, gone cold now. I took a long sip and grimaced as I dabbed at the cut with the towel.
I didn’t know what to do about Maher. He’d come again and next time he’d bring more heat. I could move, but Maher knew me too well for that to matter for long. It might buy me a day, maybe two, but not much more than that. He’d hunt me like a fox and take Cara away if I let him.
Which meant I had to figure out what to do about the Lionettis before he could catch me off guard.
It didn’t help that all I wanted was her legs wrapped around my hips, her hips rolling in soft, slow waves with my cock buried inside of her.
6
Cara
That night, alone in my bed, I kept seeing Luke get punched in the face over and over again.
He smiled when it happened. In my dreams, he looked back over his shoulder and laughed. Why aren’t you wearing that outfit for me, princess?
I woke up sweating to weak morning sunlight. I sat up and chewed on my lip, trying to steady myself, but I was a shaky mess.
I never should’ve put on that lingerie and let him follow me into my room. I should’ve told him to stop, to back off. He would’ve listened, we both knew it, but he liked the game and so did I.
I wanted him to take me like that. I wanted to fight—and I wanted to lose.
What did that say about me?
Nothing good.
I got up and showered. I heard him stir as I pulled on a pair of yoga pants, a sports bra, and a dark tank top. He stood in the hallway shirtless and gorgeous when I stepped out to head downstairs.
“Morning.” He looked at me and something seemed to click. “You look good.”
“I’m in workout clothes.”
“And I love it.” He cocked his head. “But you could lose that top.”
I rolled my eyes. “You never give it a rest, do you?”
“Not when you look like that.”
“I’m making coffee. Want some?”
“Definitely.” He disappeared into the bathroom.
After the fight, a doctor showed up, a squirrelly little guy with a lisp. He stitched up Luke, checked over German, and left with a wad of cash. The little man barely gave me a second look, like he was afraid or something, but the stitches seemed good enough.
I made coffee and toast then stared out the back window at a tree cresting up along the back fence. It had long, tear-shaped leaves and skinny gray bark. There was a tree like it in the empty lot near my house growing up, and I remembered climbing it once, getting much too high, the branches bending under my weight. Get the fuck down from there, my dad yelled. You fat little cow, you’re gonna break some shit and I’m not gonna be responsible for it, you hear me?