I shivered, chilled despite the feel of his torso pressed up against my back.

My butt still stung. But it hadn’t hurt…not exactly. I felt the ridge of his cock against me, and I instinctively pressed back against him.

He pulled away in the next second.

I sensed more than saw him bending over and then he was behind me again, draping the borrowed shirt over my shoulders. “You’re cold,” he said softly.

I think it had more to do with reaction than anything else, but I was grateful for the shirt.

As I put it on, Brooks moved around me and sat on the bed, holding out his hand.

Slowly, I put mine in his, and he drew me closer, tugging me into his lap. The rough gentleness was a sharp contrast to the dispassionate way he’d spanked me. I curled into him, my mind swimming with too much input, too many sensations, and too much data.

His arms came around me, and a shudder wracked him.

Without conscious thought, I stroked his arm up to his neck, then down to his wrist. “I’m okay, Brooks,” I said.

He didn’t respond so I wiggled free of his tight grasp. I slipped a leg over and straddled his lap. I wrapped my arms around him and tugged his face down, cradling him. Eyes closed, I breathed in the scent of him while he did the same with me.

“I’m okay,” I told him again.

This time, he nodded. “I know. You’re going to stay that way.” He eased back and reached up to cradle my cheek. “It will all work out, Daria. I know things in your life have been flipped upside down, but I’ll take care of you.”

I couldn’t help the scowl. “There was a time in my life when I took care of me. I don’t really like having everything out of control.”

“I understand the feeling,” he said gently. He traced his fingers over the area that had once been purpled with a bruise, courtesy of Marcos. “Up until I met you, there was little in my personal life that I couldn’t control.”

“Only your personal life?” I cocked a brow at him. I didn’t see him ceding control in any aspect of his life.

“I control what I can.” He pushed his hand through my hair and cupped the back of my neck, his fingers digging into the tight muscle there. “There are certain things, decisions, and matters that are up to my father.”

“But you choose to keep working for him. You control that.”

His brow lifted. “He’s my father.”

I nodded, although I didn’t really see what difference that made. Maybe it was because I’d been living with guardians for so much of my life, but I couldn’t understand blind loyalty to anybody simply based on blood.

“Are you happy?” I asked him softly.

The question startled him. His eyes came to mine, a little wider than normal and speculation lit the deep blue. “Am I happy about what?”

“Your life. Everything.” I shrugged. Up until I met him, I’d been mostly content with my life, and there were plenty of things that had made me happy. My career, for one. Dancing. Being here in the United States, on a path to a new life. Those things had made me happy.

But they weren’t enough now. Knowing that Burov was connected to whatever convoluted, cruel schemes were taking place in the Miami clubs had forced me to reconsider my bond with both her and her school. How could I be happy and thrive there knowing what she did in secret? I had no idea if I could get into another school, although lately, I was more and more tempted to try.

Even if I failed, I had come to the decision that I couldn’t stay at Nadia Burov’s school. The woman was too involved in her arrangement with the Castellanos, and I couldn’t continue any sort of relationship with anyone who had come so close to ruining my life.

Brooks was quiet for so long, I almost forgot I’d even asked a question. His eyes met mine, and I saw something I didn’t think he wanted me to see.

Doubt.

“I’m happy enough,” he said softly.

“Your family is involved in the illegal trade and sale of weapons,” I said. “I’ve read up on arms dealing. Your family sells to the highest bidder, right?”

He didn’t respond, his entire body stiff with tension.

“If a drug cartel in Mexico puts in a request, would you sell?”

His lids flickered. “Life isn’t as black and white as people make it out to be sometimes, Daria.”

“The Russian mafia gets involved in gunrunning.” I knew I was pushing things, the look in his eyes made that clear. He wanted me to drop it. I couldn’t. Not anymore. “When I was thirteen, a girl at the school had to leave after her family was killed. She wasn’t there on scholarship like I was. Her family paid her way. Both her parents and her little brother, Petrov, were killed in a gunfight at their home. Her father was a doctor. Her mother was a teacher. I doubt they’d ever harmed a soul in their entire life. Are you trying to tell me that what happened to them falls into the shade of gray?”

He couldn’t answer that. I knew why.

“Can you tell me that no innocent person has ever been killed by a weapon your family sold?”

“The US military has killed plenty of innocent people,” he said stiffly. “So has the Russian government.”

“I’m not sitting in the lap of either the US military or the Russian government.” I lifted a shoulder, still holding his gaze, although I very much wanted to look away. I very much wanted to stop discussing this. But I couldn’t seem to let it go.

His fingers curled over my hips, tightening slightly.

“If you think I’ve never considered any of these things, you’re wrong,” he said finally.

“Then why do you stay? Is your loyalty to your family worth so very much? Even your soul?”

“Fuck, Daria.” He shifted me out of his lap and left me sitting on the bed as he rose to his feet.

Chilled, I grabbed the corner of the blanket and pulled it around me. It didn’t quite cover all of me, but the warmth was soothing.

He paced over to the window, then turned and looked at me.

“What do you want me to do?” he demanded. “You knew what I was involved in almost from the first. Why the sudden change of heart?”

“I’m not having a change of heart,” I said, shaking my head. “I had reservations the moment you told me about your family, about the Castellanos. Part of me still wants to run away and hide from all of this. But…” I took a deep breath. “I’ve got some idea now of what it’s like to have your life all but destroyed because of the actions of others. How many lives has your family helped destroy, Brooks?”

He flinched, and I knew I’d gone too far.

Compassion for the position he was in made me whisper, “I’m sorry.”

“Do you regret falling in love with me?” he asked, voice raw.

I looked away. “No. And a huge part of me isn’t happy about that, either.”

“What…loving me or not regretting it?”

“Both.” I looked back at him as I answered.

His lids drooped, shielding his eyes.

I slid from the bed, dragging the blanket with me. I stood in front of him, the blanket wrapped tight. His arms slowly came around me, enveloping me in a loving cocoon. After a moment, he rubbed his lips across my forehead. “You make everything complicated, Daria.”

“So do you,” I replied.

The tension drained away from him, and I turned my face into his chest, nuzzling him.

His breath caught.

I caught his hand and twined our fingers.

I watched his face as I backed up to the bed, tugging him along with me. He acquiesced as I nudged him back on the mattress.

The blanket fell away as I straddled his hips, running my fingers through his hair, loving the feel of the thick, soft strands.

He angled his head, leaning against the touch.

But when I leaned down and kissed him, he caught my shoulders and held me steady.

Bereft, I stared at him.

I could feel the heated column of his cock pressed against me, but the look he gave me was shuttered, eyes carefully blank.

Had I said too much?

Had I done too much?

“You need to rest,” Brooks said gently. “You’ve had a rough few days.”

I wanted to argue with him, wanted to tell him that what I needed was the man in front of me.

Before I could decide if I should try to press the issue, he had eased me off his lap and nudged me back until I lay on the bed. He grabbed the blanket and pulled it over us as he unfolded himself next to me.

I squeezed my eyes closed, wondering if I’d destroyed anything that might have been growing between us.

I prayed I hadn’t.

But at the same time, I knew I couldn’t have stayed quiet about everything I felt. Not for long, at least. It would have eaten at me like a cancer, and eventually, my silence would have destroyed us.

After what felt like an age, he shifted and pushed up onto his elbow, staring down at me.

“Do you want a shower?” he asked softly. “I need one, but you can go first if you want.”

Wordlessly, I nodded. Lifting my head, I pressed a kiss to his chin, then slid out of the bed.