Her brows are furled together in pain. Even in sleep. It fucks with my head to know I’m responsible for that pain. I took away her crutches. They were going to kill her otherwise. I rub at the back of my neck as I watch her from the chair in my room. It’s two in the afternoon and she’s still out of it. Probably for the best. As soon as she wakes up and realizes what I plan to do, she’ll hate me.
Baggage.
That’s what Miles told me Sophia was. And it’s the truth. Girl has more baggage than an airport carousel. Normally, I’d be done with a chick and have moved on by now. But with Soph? I can’t. I can’t fucking move on. She’s so goddamned broken and she needs me.
Dammit, I need her too.
I need to see her smiles and hear her laughter.
My phone buzzes and I see that it’s Miles.
Miles: Long says to send her there after school Monday. It’s done. He’ll take her on.
I let out a sigh of relief and respond.
Me: Thank you.
His response is immediate.
Miles: Those Rowe girls sure know how to make a man fucking crazy.
Ain’t that the truth?
Me: You guys still planning to come over Sunday to cook out? I think Sophia could use to see her sister.
Miles: We’ll be there.
I let out a sigh of relief. Knowing that Sophia is going to start working with Coach Long—whether she likes it or not—is a huge weight off my shoulders. She has too much time on her hands. Her dad isn’t home often and her sister moved out. That leaves a depressed, drug-addicted girl to sit and wallow in her pity for far too many hours of the day. Coach is going to let her learn some sports medicine and treat injuries. I’ve seen the anatomy book she carries around in her big ass purse. I know she’s trying to learn about her hip injury. Working for Coach will be a good fit for her. And when she’s not working for him, I’ve already decided to open up an intern spot for her at the clinic. James and Johnna are going to have a fit but they’ll get the fuck over it.
I need for this to work.
Soph is running out of options and quickly.
My mind flits to Thursday afternoon and rage burns under my skin. I’d wanted to kill those punks. I’d even knocked the shit out of the one called Curtis. Even though she dropped the phone, I heard everything. Her confusion, her slurred words, her pleading with them to stop. Sure, she was high as fuck and went with it, but somewhere in her mind, she found the sense to ask them to stop.
They. Didn’t. Stop.
Had I not shown up, they’d have both fucked her. Fucked what’s mine. And she is mine, goddammit. I don’t know why I saddled myself with such a problem, but it’s my problem. I want to solve it. I want to solve her.
She stirs and lets out a moan. A bad moan. A pained moan. The hairs on my arms stand on end. I rise from the chair and walk over to the bedside table beside her.
“Eat,” I mutter as I pick up a banana and peel it for her. She groggily opens her eyes and frowns. When she tugs at her arm and realizes she’s handcuffed to the bed, she lets out a hiss of curse words.
“You can’t imprison me! It’s illegal!” she yells, her voice hoarse from sleep.
I give her a bored stare and hand her the fruit. Reluctantly, she takes it. Even though she’s glaring daggers at me, she devours the banana. She must have been sweating off her withdrawals because her hair sticks to her face and her shirt is damp. When I hand her a bottle of water and a Tramadol, relief flickers in her eyes. As soon as she downs it, her lip curls up.
“Don’t start,” I snap. “It’s done. You’re here. No more drugs that aren’t prescribed to you. No more abusing the drugs that are prescribed to you. If you can’t take them properly, then I’ll make sure you do.”
She winces at my words. “I need to pee.”
With a nod, I produce the key from my pocket and unlock the cuff around the bed post. Then, I snap it around my wrist before she can do anything stupid. A furious growl escapes her but she doesn’t have the strength to fight. I can’t carry her now that we’re hooked together but I use my other arm to hold her up as we make our way to the bathroom. She sits gingerly on the commode, the pain from her hip evident, and shoots venom at me with her eyes as she pees. I stare unabashedly at her pussy as she wipes and then flushes the toilet.
Those fuckers touched her.
They touched my girl.
I’m practically raging as she washes her hands and wets mine in the process.
“I want to shower,” she bites. Her face is pale. Fuck, is it pale.
I shrug. “Later. We’re going to do some therapy.”
“Water therapy?” Hope tinges her words.
“Later, if you’re a good girl.”
We’ve just headed to the bedroom when she spears her hand into my pocket after my key. There’s a struggle which she quickly loses. I pin her to the doorframe by her throat.
“No.”
She spits in my face.
I’m so infuriated with her. She’s risked her life and now she’s acting like a little bitch when all I want to do is help her. With a growl that reeks of warning and punishment, I haul her back to the bedroom. I swap the cuff from my wrist to the bed frame and bend her over the bed. She screams and struggles when I pull her shirt up. The first slap of my hand silences her completely.
The calm before the storm.
I whip her again—hard enough that my hand stings.
Pop! Pop! Pop!
She’s stiff and quiet as I unleash more spankings than I can keep up with. By the time I come to my senses, her ass is bright red and I’m dizzied with a mix of sorrow and fury. Guilt and anger.
Then, cutting through the silence like a hot knife, she wails. A gut-wrenching sob. I scoop her up from her position and lay her out on the bed on her back. Tears stream down her messy face. It rips my heart right from my chest. When I open my mouth to apologize, she speaks.
“I’m s-sorry.”
I kiss her soft mouth and stroke her hair. “Me too. I just want to fix you.”
Her body trembles and she nods. “I want you to fix me.”
I run my palm possessively over her breasts which are covered by my shirt before sliding it down to her hip. She whines when I begin kneading the flesh there.
“I know it hurts,” I murmur against her mouth. “You need to work it out though.”
Through her tears, she nods. I massage her until I’m sure she’s loosened up. Then, I sit up and begin doing her exercises for her. Her sobs have long subsided and she now watches me with an intense, heated stare. Our eyes lock and I don’t let her go. Not like this. Not ever.
“Drew…”
Neediness flashes in her eyes. It manages to make it past the heartache and pain—searching—searching for me. I latch onto it and stroke it. Make promises to it. With one hand, I reach behind me and grab the collar of my shirt before tugging it off my body over my head. I slide off the bed and lose my pants and boxers. Her need morphs into hunger. Desire and desperation.
I climb onto the mattress and settle myself before her spread legs. With locked eyes, I push into her wet body with one hard thrust that makes her groan. Then, I lower myself to where she’s pinned beneath me with my dick deep inside.
I fuck her slow.
With my eyes raking over her exposed vulnerabilities which lie bleeding before me.
She moans and begs and curses and cries.
All for me.
“I’m going to make it all better, crybaby,” I vow, my tone dead serious. “All of it.”
She nods with relief flickering in her gaze. I bury my face against the side of her throat and suckle her sweet flesh that tastes of salt and her. Her earlobe bores the brunt of my teeth and tongue. I nip and suck as I fuck.
Mine.
Fuck, she’s mine.
I curl an arm beneath her and cradle the back of her head as I drive into her. My other palm slides between us so that I can bring her pleasure. She writhes against my touch. Begs and jolts. I work her straight into bliss and then I’m claiming her pouty lips as she screams at me. Her screams are of relief. Of fury. Of frustration. Regardless, she pours it all out and lets me drink it from her. I taste her pain and her self-loathing. I drown in it for her. The feral groan that rips from me is a promise. To heal her. To fucking take care of her. Primal and male. My seed pours into her hot and furious as though it’s sealing a bond that can only be formed with my dick deep inside her. A proclamation. A motherfucking vow.
We’re both out of breath and sweaty. My cock is still hard inside her, draining out my release from within her so that it runs down the crack of her ass to the bed below.
I lift up so that I can see her pretty face. She’s still a mess—makeup smeared everywhere and hair all over the place—but she’s beautiful. With Sophia Rowe, the beauty is more than on her surface. It’s her fire and strength and power that rages beneath. Like a roaring blaze—the colors are brilliant and hot—but if you touch it, you’ll burn. So all you can do is stare.
Her stomach grumbles, cutting through the intense moment like a blade. I smirk at her before kissing her lips. “Think you can be a good girl? I’ll shower you and feed you if you can.”
She gives me a half smile. Sweet and sated. “If not, you’ll just have to spank me again to keep me in line.” She tugs at the handcuff. “But I could do without this.”
My dick throbs inside her. “I kind of like it. Looks good on you.”
“Ass,” she says, her voice smiling like her lips.
“Crybaby.” I wink at her.
After I free her from the cuffs, I help her to the shower. She winces with every step and concern trickles through me. Yes, the drugs are a problem. But her pain is a bigger fucking problem.
“What did the doctor say?”
“Won’t know anything until next week,” she breathes, her face red from exertion.
“After we shower and eat, I want to massage you again,” I tell her, my voice gruff. “I want to see if you’re inflamed.”
“Try to keep your dick in your pants,” she jokes but then whimpers from pain.
I hook an arm under her breasts and carry her into the shower. She sags against me, no longer having the energy to stand on her own. Eventually, I’m able to help her sit on the ledge in the shower and clean her. I can’t tell because water runs down her face but I think she’s crying. Silently. Sadly. Crying.
With furrowed brows, I lean in and kiss her forehead. “We’re going to figure this out, Soph.”
Her green eyes flicker briefly before dimming. “Okay,” she agrees but doesn’t believe me. It only makes me want to try harder for her. Someone has to help this poor girl. She’s mine to help.
After the longest shower known to man, I dry her off and help her into some clothes Olivia retrieved for me. Her hands shake and I know it’s equal parts pain and need for the oxy she’d been popping left and right. Thankfully, she doesn’t ask for pills. I don’t want to have to tell her no. I will but I won’t like it. And she’ll hate it. It’s better if she can be strong for the both of us.
“Can you walk downstairs or do I need to carry you?”
She looks around the room for her cane. “Uh…”
“I didn’t think to grab it in my haste to get you from Brody’s.”
“I’ll need help then,” she admits, her bottom lip wobbling.
Gently, I scoop her into my arms and carry her through the house. Her breathing is soft as she buries her nose against my neck, clinging to me desperately. I’m not sure how Sophia and I drifted together but it happened. Over the course of nearly a year, through mutual annoyance, we somehow began an attraction that hid below the surface of the venom we spewed to one another. All it took was one touch. A simple, brief connection. And then the attraction was too strong. Obliterating. It grows more with each day. This is more than an attraction though. This is a need to fulfill the other. A desire to complete.
I set her on the counter beside the stove and then set to preparing lunch. She watches, a small smile playing on her lips, as I work. Spaghetti is one of the few things I can cook, so I make her my specialty. She samples the sauce and stirs it while I work on a salad. The quiet is comfortable. Eventually, she breaks the silence.
“I’m sorry about everything, Drew.”
I lean in and kiss her mouth. “You’re here and you’re safe. That’s all that matters.”
A breathtaking smile spreads across her face. “What did my sister think about us seeing each other?”
I snort. “She high-fived me and said it was about time.”
“Sounds like Olivia.”
“She also said your dad was going to castrate me when he finds out.” I wince at the thought of Judge Rowe beating my ass. For his fifties, he’s cut like a motherfucker.
She laughs. “It can stay our little secret.”
“For how long?” I growl. I’m not one to keep secrets. I do what I want. And I want Soph. The rest of the world can go to hell.
“I won’t be of age until March.”
“And?”
“Aren’t you afraid of getting arrested?” she retorts.
I abandon the stove to run my palms up her thighs over her yoga pants. “I’m not afraid of anything.” That’s a lie. It scared the fuck out of me seeing her naked and about to get tag teamed by a couple of stoners.
“Your face says otherwise.” Her tone is challenging and her arched eyebrow is sexy as fuck.
“You’re mine now. End of story. That’s all that should matter to anyone.”
“I’m yours,” she mocks with a laugh. “Your what?” Despite her teasing nature, I sense the vulnerability in her words. She wants to be someone’s everything.
“My tits,” I growl as I give them a squeeze. “My mouth.” A nip at her lip. “My pussy.” A rub with my index finger that makes her mewl. “My girl.”
“Well then,” she sighs when I pull away from her. “Glad we got that out of the way.”