TEN
Adalind
I woke up before him, still nestled against his chest.
I spent the next fifteen minutes carefully inching away, not wanting to wake him up, finding that in sleep, his face was at peace. Not soft, because a man like him could never be soft. But at-ease.
I didn't want to take that away.
Besides, I got the feeling that he was not a man accustomed to much sleep, and that he likely needed some more of it.
So I carefully padded across the room, taking the clean shirt he had taken out for me that had fallen to the floor during our, ah, activities, and went into the bathroom to take a quick shower, dress, and make my way quietly back out to the kitchen to make coffee.
And maybe salivate over the view for a bit.
Though with the quiet apartment, and nothing to keep my mind occupied, it wandered.
I could imagine a lot of things. My mind was good at spinning crazy theories when I was watching an arc play out over a season of a show, sure I knew what way they were going to twist all the threads together.
But even with my imagination, I never could have come up with his story.
And maybe that was a good thing.
Because knowing that that kind of evil exists in the world - because, let's face it, for every dead Walt, there were a dozen ones still walking around creating terror - was making a heavy weight settle on my chest.
Maybe it was so strong because I knew someone who had faced that evil, who had suffered in a basement for two years, who was a map of scars because of it, who could have died time and time again.
And even through all that, he was a good man.
Was he necessarily well-adjusted? No. But considering all he had been through, it was a miracle he wasn't sitting in a corner rocking.
He had gotten out. He had struggled. But then he built something pretty great for himself. He was wealthy. He had power that he had never had all his life. And, whether he was aware of it or not, there was sweetness in him as well. Maybe I was the only one who got to see it, maybe something about my helpless situation that night brought it out of him, made him want to help me for all the times no one could help him. Hell, maybe he just didn't like seeing a woman hurt. Whatever the reason, he had shown me such goodness for someone who was not familiar with the sensation.
You're warm, Addy.
Those words had melted me.
I had been gooey inside until I fell asleep.
Even now, just remembering it, I felt the warm liquid feeling in my belly.
I wanted to be that for him too.
His warmth.
In a life of coldness.
I wanted to be able to offer him that.
I wasn't sure, though, if he would allow it, if maybe he would get a good night of sleep, then rethink allowing me to be in his life.
Even the thought of that made my belly drop.
It was too soon to feel that way, to be so invested, to worry about this being all it might be.
But regardless of the logic - or lack thereof - it was how I felt.
"Addy, why didn't you wake me?" his voice called, making me jump, suddenly thankful that I had mainlined my coffee, or I would have spilled it all down myself as I spun to face him.
And there he was.
In all his bed-tossed glory.
He had pulled on a pair of black and gray plaid pajama pants, slung indecently low on his hips. And I damn sure wasn't complaining at getting an eyeful of his abs first thing in the, ah, afternoon.
"You needed some sleep," I told him as he moved toward the coffee machine, filling a cup, and taking a long sip.
"Six hours," he said, shaking his head. "I don't think I have ever had six hours of sleep." He looked out the window for a second before looking over at me. "Come over here," he demanded, leaning back against the counter.
And, well, when a sexy as all get-out man who had saved you, protected you, gave you incredible orgasms, then opened up to you told you to come, you went.
It was as simple as that.
I put my cup down on the counter as he did the same, stopping a few feet in front of him, not exactly sure what he wanted.
But then his hands sank into my hips, and he dragged me forward, his lips claiming mine.
It was sweet, deep, promising, and by the time he was done, I was all but swaying on my feet.
"Didn't decide I was a mess you didn't want to clean up, huh?" he asked, tucking me into his side as he reached for his coffee.
"You're not a mess," I rushed to say, not particularly liking him thinking that way of himself, let alone believing that I might feel the same. Then, deciding the moment was maybe a bit too tense, I tried to lighten the mood. "Besides, I believe I was promised lunch."
There was a low, rumbling chuckle, making me crane up my neck to look at him, seeing that this time - maybe just barely, but it counted - the smile actually reached his eyes.
"That I did," he agreed
So then we ordered lunch. I got some fancy sandwich which had some ingredients I didn't actually recognize that came with a pear and spinach salad with raspberry vinaigrette and some drink that included, I kid you not, papaya green tea, hibiscus, plum, and ginger.
"Just order another one," Ross said a couple minutes later as I moaned through my last sip of a drink I was pretty sure I had been looking for my entire life.
"No, it's too good. It needs to be a special treat thing so I don't get sick of it," I informed him, it being one of my favorite pieces of advice my mother had ever given me after I binged so hard one summer on salted caramel gelato that I never had a taste for it again.
After informing him of this, his head cocked to the side, watching me as I picked at a salad I wasn't sure I was going to like, and didn't want to not like in front of him since I was sure it was absurdly expensive.
"I just realized that, for maybe the first time in my life, I have told someone I barely know anything about my whole fucking life story."
"I told you about me at Famiglia," I reminded him, shrugging. "There really isn't much more to tell."
"That's not true."
"Really, Ross, my life hasn't been all that interesting."
"How about I decide that?"
I wasn't being self-deprecating.
In comparison to him especially, my life was that of a darn cheesy sitcom where the mom is a housewife, slaving away cooking, cleaning, driving me here and there, and sacrificing everything for other people.
My father worked long hours, usually making it home for a late dinner that my mother left wrapped on the stove, eating by himself most nights long after I had gone to sleep.
I saw him mostly on weekends when we would go for hikes or, in the winter, skiing.
I had been an only child because - though she wouldn't admit this to me until I was much older - my mother didn't think she could handle any more.
But growing up in a sleepy town where everyone trusted everyone else, the kids were just allowed to roam from yard to yard, or hang out in the nearby park behind the school, completely without adult supervision.
Until I heard Ross' story, I don't think I ever truly comprehended just how careless that probably was. If Cohen could be taken from somewhere like Montana, something like that could absolutely have happened in Vermont as well.
My childhood was simply that of a bygone era, coming in when the streetlights came on, never spending more than a rainy day here or there in front of a television set.
My teens involved after school activities, dances, community events, and some dating, first heartbreak, all the normal, everyday things.
I wasn't valedictorian or prom queen.
I didn't impress anyone with Ivy League prospects.
I just graduated and got a job at a local office, taking weekends to care for my grandmother.
"Were you close?" Ross asked, not sounding bored which, well, he probably should have been, but instead, treating it like it was somehow the most important information he had ever been privy to before.
"She was like a second mother to me," I admitted.
And, like my mother, she was sweet, soft, protective, and maybe just the smallest bit naive about the world.
Then she got sick.
And I spent every day and night at her bedside until she finally passed.
"I found out a week or so later that she had left me a small inheritance along with a note begging me to go on an adventure. But, well," I said, smiling a little, shaking my head at myself, "I'm kind of scared of flying. And I get seasick. So my options were rather limited. I decided the biggest adventure I could possibly have would be to start over somewhere new. So that's what I did. And here I am."
"Were your parents upset?"
"Upset? No. I think they were just surprised? I guess they figured that I would want the exact same life they did."
"You don't?"
"That's the thing... I had no idea. All I had ever known was their life. I wanted to see maybe if there was something else I could want. I told them I would give this a year. If I wasn't happy here, I would move back there."
"Have you been happy here?"
"I've been scrambling a bit," I admitted, realizing that the salad was actually almost as good as the drink. Almost. "I didn't realize how different things would be here. More expensive most prominently," I told him, shrugging. "For the rent I pay here, I could have a duplex up there, fully furnished on my salary. And, I mean, I have no friends here, no family. It's been..."
"Lonely?" he supplied, sounding almost tense at the word.
"I don't know if lonely is the right word. But I've somehow felt more isolated here than I did there, even though everything in my old town closed at eight, and there wasn't even a local bar there. I mean, I've been out more in the past week than I have been in all the months I have been here."
"Do you like going out?"
"Yeah. I mean, I like staying in a lot too. But occasionally. It's kind of nice to actually get to see parts of the town."
"I got work tonight," he told me, though I already knew that. "But you want to see more of the town tomorrow night?"
Hell yeah, I did!
I bit that back just in time, but there seemed to be no way to avoid the huge smile I felt tugging at my lips. Because he hadn't woken up and thought that letting me in was a mistake. He wasn't going to try to put guards up again. He was just going to accept it. He was willing to keep moving forward.
Would that mean it would go smoothly?
No.
Did it guarantee he wouldn't have times of guardedness or coolness again?
Of course not.
But he wasn't going to let it get in the way of trying.
No useless angst.
"Where are you taking me?"
"I got an idea."
"You're not going to tell me?"
"Nope."
"Okay, well, surprise dates are only sexy if you're dressed appropriately for them. Heels? Dress?"
"Comfortable. Flats."
"Interesting," I said, pushing my plate to the side, reaching for one of the fries he hadn't eaten from his plate. "Should I eat before?"
"I'll feed you."
"The mystery thickens. What time?"
"How about seven-thirty. You get out of work at five, right? Is that enough time to get ready?" I snorted at that. "What?" he asked, smirking.
"This is pretty much as 'ready' as I get. It took five minutes. Well, and add pants."
He chuckled again at that. "Doll, anytime you want to go without pants, I am a full supporter of that."
"Careful what you wish for. I'm about as opposed to pants as I am to bras."
"Still not seeing a problem here."
And with that, the smile didn't just toy with his eyes.
Oh, no.
It lit them the hell up.
It might have been the most brilliant sight in the world.
"Now if we could negotiate the panties and shirt, shit will be ideal."
"Naked all the time, huh?" I asked, moving to get up and grab another cup of coffee before I started blushing.
"That's the goal," he agreed, snagging me as I went to pass him, pulling me down on his lap.
And it was just then that my phone decided to start ringing. Then stop. Then ring again.
I sighed, shaking my head. "That would be my mom," I informed him. "She decided to stop calling me at night."
"Why's that?"
Ah, crap.
There was really no way that I could tell him that I had told her that the night after Famiglia, that I was seeing someone. That was full-on crazy chick.
"I made the mistake of telling her that I was out with a man when I missed her call one night. She, ah, got ideas."
I went to pull away, but his arm held me tighter.
"What kind of ideas?"
Oh, boy.
Okay.
"The kind where she thinks I am, ah, seeing someone."
"Well, since you are, that no calls at night thing kinda does shake out, don't you think?"
It was never that easy.
Not even with 'normal' guys, guys without his guards, his past, his, ah, criminal present.
At least, not in my experience.
You always had to pry it out of them, force them to admit that you were more than just screwing around, or casually dating.
Then again, I guess I had only ever dated guys.
Ross Ward was a man.
And he was mature, confident, and stable.
Men like that knew their own mind.
Then acted on it.
Without hesitation.
Was there anything sexier than that?
"Yeah," I agreed, hopping up to go fetch my phone because I didn't want him to see the hope I knew was in my eyes at that.
Maybe it was soon, everything was new, but things had gotten intense fast. And I had a feeling that a man like Ross Ward didn't dip his toe in things; he jumped in.
And if he was jumping, so was I.
"Hey, Mom," I said, picking up the phone after the fourth time in a row she called.
"Now I know you have some dirt to spill," she said, voice teasing. "No way you missed three calls unless you were... otherwise engaged."
As if on cue, Ross walked up behind me, kissing my temple, and saying down by my free ear that he was taking a shower.
I was never so disappointed as not to be joining him. But when you got my mom on the phone, you were stuck for at least an hour.
By the time I was done, Ross was in one of his suits that I maybe wanted to peel back off, the food was gone, the coffee pot was cleaned out, and it seemed like Ross was about ready to be heading into work.
Which made sense since it was already closing in on five, much to my utter disappointment.
He led me back to my car, kissing me long and hard and borderline indecent before watching me pull off, telling me he would text me later when he had some free time.
He did.
Around eleven.
Telling me to lock my deadbolt.
I passed out early, the night before catching up with me, and the threat of work the next day making me realize I needed my beauty sleep.
Work had started with Dr. Wilmer fussing over my stitches - that I told him came from a simple fall - like a mama hen, clucking his tongue, telling me that if I was feeling even the least bit achy, that he demanded I take myself right back to bed. Then it was just hours of filing and appointments and phone calls.
Before I knew it, it was twenty past five, and Dr. Wilmer was at the side of my desk, offering to walk me to my car.
Which I accepted, suddenly finding my footsteps bouncy as my body loaded up with anticipation.
I had a surprise date!
A date that didn't involve squeezing into a tight dress that wouldn't let me breathe, and would make me worry about eating too much.
So I went home, washed the day away, spending ten minutes trying to get a good look at my stitches in the mirror before deciding they looked healed enough for me to be able to let my hair stay down for the night, hiding them completely. Another ten days, and they would be gone completely. I could sleep normally again.
And, well, I could get to feel what it was like to be under Ross too.
Let's face it, that was much more exciting than being able to roll over in bed at night to find the cool side of the mattress.
On that thought, I slipped into some pretty panties, a pair of lightweight wine-colored linen pants, and a simple, lightweight black long-sleeve tee. Sans the bra. Because I thought he would enjoy that.
I finger-combed my hair, put a little lip balm on, slipped into black ballet flats, grabbed my purse, and waited.
And Ross Ward, I would find, was someone who had very concrete rules about being on time.
As such, he knocked on my door at seven-twenty-eight.
I would like to say I didn't, but I totally did fly at the door, working the locks with somewhat frantic fingers, pulling the door open to reveal Ross. In another of his suits. Because the only time he didn't wear them, apparently, was when he was having sex or sleeping.
I wasn't complaining, though.
The man could sure hang a suit.
"Perfect," he declared, eyes raking over me for a moment before he reached out to pull me against him, kissing me hard, but quick, before pulling me out to the hall with him.
"Are you going to tell me where we're going?" I asked as we were nestled in the car, driving out toward the very edge of Navesink Bank, so far out, in fact, that I could smell the salt water of the beach.
"Nope," he told me, turning into a street that led into a parking lot of... a duel lighthouse?
"What is this?" I asked as he cut the engine.
"Navesink Lights. The Twin Lights. The Sandy Hook Lights. People have a lot of names for them."
"It's a historical site," I observed, noticing the lit sign leading toward a path around the front.
"Yeah."
"Are we allowed to be here?"
"In daylight hours of operation, sure," he informed me, smile wicked.
My lips twitched even though my belly was spinning a bit. "Your idea for a date is breaking and entering a protected historical site?"
"Don't worry; I bribed the security guards not to come back until midnight."
"That's not helping your case!" I called as he closed the door and moved around the hood to open mine.
Let's just say I had always been on the straight and narrow of life. I never got into trouble with my parents growing up. I sure never got in trouble with the law. I hadn't ever even gotten a speeding ticket.
But I was about to break and enter?
"Addy," Ross said, and I looked up to find him watching me carefully. "I promise it's fine. You're not going to get into any trouble. I fucking promise," he added, ducking his head, holding my eyes. "I wouldn't do that to you."
Maybe it was the emphasis in his words.
Maybe it was genuine curiosity for what he had planned.
But whatever it was, it had me nodding, letting his hand go to my lower back, and leading me toward a door.
"Oh, um--" Was there a polite way to say 'hell no' to a guy who planned a date for you in a lighthouse? Because, well, I don't know what I had been expecting, but these see-through wrought iron triangular steps that hugged the walls of the lighthouse were, um, not exactly tempting. Circular stairs, as a general rule, were a pretty firm 'no thanks' for me. But these were steep and see-through to boot? That was just begging me to fall to my untimely, bloody death.
"I'll go up behind you. You won't fall."
"Except if I lose my step, hit you unexpectedly, and we both plummet to our deaths," I offered, small-eyeing his amused chuckle. "I don't want my only newspaper heading in my life to say that I died scaling the circular steps of a building I was breaking into."
He smiled big at that, nudging me forward. "Fast is better if you're afraid. Otherwise, it will take all night if you keep over-thinking it."
Ugh.
Was there really much of a choice?
I really did want to see what he had planned for me.
And the only way to do that was to get to the top.
I took a deep breath that I decided from then on to hold, grabbed the railing, and took off toward the stairs at almost a run.
"Baby, you need to breathe," he informed me about a third of the way up, one arm on the railing, one around my stomach. So I took a deep breath, pulled away, then took off again.
The only problem was, when I stopped for a breath the next time, my stupid ass looked down.
"Uh-oh," he said with what sounded like a smile in his voice as both my arms shot out, one a death grip on the railing, the other holding onto the white-painted brick wall. I was pretty sure I started shaking too.
Stupid, stupid see-through stairs.
"Um, I am going to live here now," I informed him. "Right here. There is no way I am going to be able to go down these stairs."
"Luckily for you, you don't have to think about the down for a while," he informed me before making me literally shriek when I felt his arm wrap around my lower belly, then lift me off my feet, carrying me up the remaining dozen or so stairs tucked under his arm like a watermelon at the farmer's market. "Alright, doll, the stairs are gone," he informed me, still sounding just the tiniest bit amused by my predicament. "Take a breath," he instructed, pulling me in close to his side, kissing my temple. And, if I wasn't mistaken, he was smiling as he did so.
"Just so you know," I told him as I tried to steady my hammering heart, burying my face in his chest for a moment, "for future date ideas, skydiving, bungee jumping, zip-lining, and speedboating are all off the table."
"Duly noted," he agreed, giving me a squeeze. "Come on, look around," he implored, making me take one more deep breath, breathing him in, then pulling back so I could see.
We were at the top, windows encircling all around, dark, of course, given the hour. Outside though, I could see a two-foot wide area completely enclosed by a cage where you could walk around the tower and check out the view. But the space inside was lit. Not with the enormous lighthouse bulb that was in some kind of display case right to my side, but by a huge assortment of lit white candles which - aside from creating the most romantic ambiance possible, also helped to keep the cool space much warmer.
Directly in the center of the room was a small white wrought iron table for two set up with covered plates, wine glasses, and a precious little vase of pink flowers.
It was straight out of a movie. It was the kind of thing all women swooned for, but most real-life men never took the time to invest in.
Ross Ward, I was learning over and over again, was not like most men.
I was not tearing up, okay.
Totally, absolutely not.
I was not going to be that girl.
I had my sexy big-girl panties on, damnit.
I couldn't be brought to blubber over dinner and flowers. Surrounded by candles. In a lighthouse.
Okay. Fine.
I glistened, alright?
Happy.
Just a glisten, easily blinked away.
Though, I was pretty sure, not before Ross got an eyeful.
Luckily, he said nothing.
"This is amazing," I told him because it was true, and when someone put this kind of effort in, you had to make sure they knew you appreciated it. "How did you do all of this?"
"Let's just say I owe a couple of my guys overtime," he admitted with a smirk. "Igor said he hopes you like the food. He was in charge of that," he informed me, leading me over to the table, pulling out my chair.
"He made it?"
"Figure he did," Ross agreed, sitting, pouring me a glass of wine. "He likes cooking almost as much as he likes hitting things for money."
"Can I ask you something?"
"You don't need to ask me if you can ask a question, Addy."
"Does it ever screw with you?"
"Does what ever screw with me?" he asked, reaching across the table to take the top off my plate as I reached forward to stroke one of the petals of the flowers, deciding that I was absolutely taking them home with me and drying them out. No matter what happened down the road, this night, this moment, this was as close to perfect as I had ever known. It deserved to be preserved.
"Having an underground fighting club when you were forced into one as a child?"
"Maybe I was concerned as I was building it that it might. But it never has. My men make a huge salary off their fights. And I cover all their medical expenses. Chiropractors, acupuncturists, and dental included. That, I think, made the difference. No one is being is forced into it. Everyone is taken care of, physically and financially. And, to be honest, these men need the outlet. Igor and Pagan, Grant, Slate, they all need it. Shit builds up. It needs to get out. They get to do that in the ring, and make some money too. It's a win/win."
"I guess that makes sense," I agreed, looking down at the plate to see what had been making my belly grumble as Ross spoke. I found small medium-rare slices of filet mignon to one side of the plate, stalks of white, purple, and green asparagus cutting the plate down the center, and a pile of whole mini yellow and purple potatoes with carrots and rosemary taking up the remainder of the plate.
It was fancy with its minimalist high-brow portion sizes and perfectly plated immaculateness.
I almost found it hard to believe that a man as huge and hulking as Igor could make something so delicate and careful. Those big hands of his that I had seen pound into another man had plated this food.
That was incredible.
"Please tell me he is a chef when he isn't beating the heck out of other people. It would be a shame to waste this."
"He's working on plans for his own restaurant. He's raised the capital with what he's earned, and what I am willing to invest. He's just scouting locations, looking for furniture. He's not in a rush."
I had a bite of the potatoes, cooked perfectly, with the right amount of oil and rosemary and something else that I couldn't quite place. I let out a small moan and nodded. "When it opens, I want a table."
"You'll have it," Ross said without a hesitation.
So then we ate, talking a bit more about his men, then about my day, his, my mom, his plans, lighter stuff. Life stuff. The stuff that actually mattered.
Way too soon, my plate was clean, and I had about three glasses of wine in me, making me a bit light and floaty, maybe a little braver than I normally would have been.
It was the only way to explain why when Ross suggested we take a walk on the little balcony, I had not only agreed, but did so a little too enthusiastically.
The chilly night air bit at my skin as I moved forward, walking around the curve so I could get the full view. The bridge was lit up. Some boats were flashing lights against the calm waters. The wind whispered through the air, sending my hair dancing around my face as I took a deep breath of the salt water air, feeling something I wasn't able to name settle deep, heavy, impossible to ignore, even if I couldn't figure out what it was.
"It's beautiful," I told him as he moved behind me, making me have to press slightly forward, almost pressed against the metal bars that prevented any idiots from horsing around and falling.
His arm slid across my lower belly, pulling me back against his solid, warm chest, "Yeah, it is," he agreed, his other arm going to wrap around my upper chest. There was a pause before he spoke again, tone a mix of amused and intense. "You didn't wear a bra?"
I smiled out into the world, happier than I had been in years, maybe ever.
"I thought I remembered something being said about not needing it."
"Think I remember you saying you don't need a lot of things," he agreed, voice thick as his hands moved down toward my waist, slipping under my thin shirt, then stroking up my belly. His fingertips traced the sensitive, soft undersides of my breasts, making a shiver rack through me before closing his hands around the swells, rolling my nipples until my ass was grinding back against his suddenly hard cock.
It felt like forever, yet far too soon, before his hands drifted back down, one slipping easily under the waistband of my pants, then panties, his finger sliding between my slick folds, finding my clit, and working it until my head was pressing back into his shoulder, pain from the stitches be damned.
"Drenched," he told me as his finger left my clit then moved downward, pressing deeply inside me.
My moan echoed off into the quiet night, floating on the breeze, disappearing. His head ducked down, running his lips, tongue, scruff up the column of my neck as his finger started fucking me, fast, demanding, wanting to get me mindless with need.
Then just when I was, his finger pulled out, his hand left my panties entirely.
"Ross, what..." I started to ask as he snagged the material of my shirt, and started dragging it upward.
"Miles and miles of people looking out their windows, driving in their cars, walking their dogs. Out there. Looking around. They could be looking this way right now. But none of them can see you," he told me as the shirt slipped over my breasts, making the nipples tweak hard against the cold air.
It wasn't like me.
I wasn't, ah, adventurous.
I wasn't an exhibitionist at all.
But something about being up here, with him, it made normal boundaries blur.
My arms raised, and the shirt was pulled off, and tossed down on the ground.
The wind whipped, assaulting my sensitive skin, somehow more erotic than simple wind had the right ever to be.
His hands slid downward, snagging the waists to my pants and panties, and slowly dragging down.
All I could think as the material exposed my pussy to the night air was This is crazy.
And it was.
For me.
Crazy.
But also exciting, forbidden, hot.
I could feel Ross' front brushing my back as he lowered himself down behind me, getting my legs free.
There was a second of nothing aside from my complete and utter nudity. Then I felt his teeth nip into my ass before he moved up behind me again.
I heard a zip, then a crinkle.
My belly swirled as my sex tightened in anticipation.
Hell, in that moment, I was too far gone to care if someone actually could look up and see me right then.
"Grab the bars," Ross demanded, reaching out to snag my wrists when I didn't immediately comply, pulling my arms up, and wrapping my fingers around the cold metal bars. My fingers curled to hold on. "Good girl." His hands whispered up my bare arms, pressing in under my shoulder blades, making me arch forward, and my ass to press out toward him. "Fucking amazing view," he said, and I knew it had nothing to do with the beach.
The head of his cock pressed against my ass, then between my thighs, a hard pressure stroking up my slit to press into my clit before moving back down.
And slamming inside me.
There was nothing slow or sweet or gentle.
He claimed me.
Every last inch.
"Fuck," he growled even as my moan drifted out across the air.
There was a pause, his hands drifting up my sides, then moving under to cup my breasts as he started fucking me. Hard, rough, wild. Complete reckless abandon.
Each thrust sent my body jerking forward, the sound of his hips slamming into my ass as he fucked me making an impossibly heavy weight press into my lower stomach.
His fingers pinched and twisted my nipples, a pain/ pleasure mix that nearly pushed me right to the edge.
"You gonna come for me, Addy?" he asked, voice rough, sounding like his teeth were grinding together, like he was struggling to keep control.
I liked that.
I liked that I had the power to take it away from him.
"Y...yes," I whimpered, slamming my ass back into him, wanting, needing more.
"Come," he demanded, slamming even harder.
Then just like that, I did.
Screaming, screaming his name off into the wind, mildly aware of it echoing back as the orgasm ripped through my body hard enough to make my legs give out.
Ross' arms left my breasts, half-shoving me forward against the bars, my breasts actually slipping between them, as he fucked me through it, dragged it out, before jerking deep, and coming with a harsh curse of my name.
I don't know how long we stayed like that, Ross still inside me, his forehead pressed into my shoulder as he struggled to even out his breathing, my torso pressed against the cold bars as I willed life back into my legs.
"You're shivering," he told me, making me aware of it for the first time as well.
He pulled slowly out of me; then I felt his jacket, still warm from his body heat, drape around me as he walked a few feet away toward a small trash can. He came back a second later, wrapping an arm around my center, and dragging me back against his chest as he leaned against the windows to the inside.
And while a part of me was absolutely cold, and would have liked the warmth all the candles could provide, the other part of me wanted to stay just like this, in his jacket, against his warm chest, his arms around me, bodies both post-orgasm contented, looking off into the world.
His lips pressed into my temple, and there was a fluttering in my chest.
I knew then.
There was no mistaking it when you felt it.
There was no logic that could hold it back.
It didn't matter that it was too soon.
It didn't matter that it was born out of a bad situation.
It didn't matter that he wasn't my usual choice.
Sometimes, it wasn't a choice at all.
It just knocked into you.
And took you along for the fall.
I was falling for him.
Harder and faster than I should have, but it was happening nonetheless.
The quiet after that revelation was panic-inducing.
On one hand, my knee-jerk reaction was to ask him why he was so quiet, what he was thinking. But then my brain tried to convince me that by doing so, I would let him know that I was falling in love with him. And that, as we all know, was a really good way to scare off a man.
"You're quiet," he surprised me by saying, never usually being the one to start the conversation. I guess, maybe, that was why he was making the comment.
"My brain isn't working right," I admitted, it being mostly true.
He chuckled at that, pure male self-satisfaction. "Come on, let's get you back inside and dressed," he offered, releasing me to stoop down and find my clothes before leading me inside.
"This was the best date," I informed him when I was fully dressed, but I held onto his jacket, slipping it on, weirdly loving how the sleeves engulfed my hands when I put my arms down at my sides.
"You wanted to see more of Navesink Bank," he told me, grabbing the flowers off the table, like he somehow knew that was exactly what I wanted. "From up here, you can see all of it. Naked," he added, smirk devilish. "You want to head down?" he asked, checking his watch. "It's almost eleven."
"But what about..." I started, waving toward the candles, the table, the mess we had left behind.
He reached inside his pocket, hitting four buttons, then tucking it back away. "By the time we get to the bottom, someone will be here to deal with it."
Okay.
So I had been raised humbly.
We didn't need extravagance.
We had always been happy with what little we had.
But I was starting to see that there were absolutely some perks that came along with wealth.
Then something else snuck through.
When we get to the bottom.
"Oh, right," I grumbled, looking at the doorway with a grimace.
Ross smiled, shaking his head at me. "Thought the wine would take the edge off that anxiety. You can piggy-back if you want to," he offered, lips twitching. And, well, mine twitched too. Because the very idea was ridiculous.
"You go ahead of me. You know, in case I trip. Your body can break my fall."
He gave me a smile, then started down the stairs, leaving me to follow.
Thankfully, fifteen minutes later, with only one mild breakdown, we hit the bottom floor.
And were met almost immediately by Igor and someone dressed in a guard uniform.
"Boss," Igor said, nodding at him, then giving me a small smile.
"That food was amazing. I told Ross that I want a table at your restaurant when you open it."
"Baby girl, you want a home cooked meal at any time, I'm on call," he offered.
"Igor," Ross called, voice firm but amused at the same time, like he wanted Igor to know that it was disrespectful to flirt with me, but also that he knew there was no threat. Even if Igor was definitely attractive in his particular way.
Igor gave me a wink before slapping the guard on the shoulder, then disappearing inside.
"You want to go home?" he asked, handing me my flowers as he opened the door for me. "Or you want to come home with me?"
"Is that really even a question?"
So I went home with him where he promptly stripped me out of my clothes, slid into bed with me, and folded me up.
He, this man who hardly ever got any sleep, passed out well before me, holding me tight, and I swear, it was the safest place in the world.
"Addy, baby," Ross' voice called, forcing me toward consciousness with a very unladylike growl that made him immediately chuckle. "I have fresh coffee, and a phone that won't stop ringing. If you don't get up and take the fucking call, I'm gonna have to answer and introduce myself to your mother."
"Ugh," I grumbled, sitting up. "I'm only getting up because of coffee," I declared, reaching out for the cup he offered me. "What time is it?" I asked as soon as I had a sip, panicked. I didn't have an alarm clock here.
"Relax. You have over an hour to get to work," he informed me, making me realize that, for the first time, he actually wasn't in a suit. No. He was in basketball pants and a wifebeater instead.
"Going to the gym?" I asked, rolling my eyes at my phone as I silenced it. I would text her and tell her I would call her on my lunch break, that I was running late. I actually wanted to talk to her without Ross hanging around so I could gush endlessly about the perfect date. Minus the naked parts, obviously. We were close, but I hoped we would never be that close.
"For a run," he corrected. "Once I drop you off."
"Any grand plans for your day?" I asked, going for casual, but actually fishing around for whether or not I would see him later.
"Hex is closed tonight, but I have some other business to handle for most of the night," he told me, voice almost seeming a little guarded again, which had me stiffening a bit.
So he was busy tonight. And I knew Hex had fights Thursday through Sunday.
That just left Wednesday that I could possibly see him.
I wondered if I would even get that.
"You want to order some breakfast?" he asked, giving me a smirk, knowing how much I liked my food.
"I think I'm good with just the coffee today," I declined, moving to put it down so I could sit up, snagging his shirt from the night before as I did so.
"You okay?" he asked, moving to stand as I did, brows drawn together.
"Yeah, I..." I trailed off as I reached up to run my hand through my hair, jerking slightly at the pain. Feeling wetness, I brought my hand back and saw blood. "Oh," my air whooshed out of me, my stomach feeling a bit wobbly. It was too early in the morning for blood.
"Shit," he said, giving me a sad look as he grabbed my shoulder to turn me. "You must have rolled over onto your stitches." His hands parted my hair carefully, tilting my head forward so he could get a better look. "Looks like you ripped one out."
"Ugh, I don't want to go back to the hospital," I whined. Yes, whined. It was barely seven-thirty in the morning, I was faced with not seeing a guy I was falling for for possibly the better part of a week, and I was bleeding. I earned the right to whine a little.
"I can clean it up and butterfly or glue it if you want," he offered. "You're mostly healed. The stitch probably got yanked out by your hair or something. That's the only reason you're bleeding."
"If you think it will be fine," I agreed, liking the idea of a butterfly or some glue a lot more than an hour in a hospital whose smell reminded me of my grandmother slowly wasting away in one.
"It will be fine. The stitches will dissolve in just another couple of days anyway."
With that, I was led into the bathroom where Ross cleaned out the wound carefully, then put a line of glue on, figuring it was the better choice with all my hair.
I carefully arranged my hair, got dressed, and met Ross in the living room.
I thought I wasn't even going to get a kiss as he pulled up into my lot right next to my car. But before I could reach for my door, he snagged the back of my neck, dragging me over the center console, and kissing me until I forgot all about having a crummy start to my morning.
"I'll text you," he told me as I climbed out.
It wasn't until late that afternoon when Igor, of all people, walked into my office that I started putting the pieces together.
"Hey! You work here," he declared, signing in.
I had been so lost in my swirling negative thoughts that I somehow missed a name like Igor on the schedule for the day.
"I work here," I agreed, giving him as much of a smile as I could muster.
"You alright? You look a little..."
"I tore one of my stitches this morning," I cut him off, not wanting to hear what I really looked like. Sad. Confused. Disappointed.
"Ah that sucks, baby girl," he announced. "So will we see you at the barracks tonight?" he asked.
"The barracks?" I parroted, brows drawing together.
"Oh, shit," he said, looking completely taken aback by something. What? I didn't know. "Just... forget I said anything, okay?" he asked as the door opened and Dr. Wilmer called him in.
Yeah.
Fat chance of that.
I waited until Igor was good and gone, trying to pretend like I did exactly what he demanded - forget he said anything - before I asked my boss.
"Hey, Doc, what are the barracks?"
"The barracks?" he asked, brows together.
"Yeah, I heard someone say this morning that they were going there. I have no idea what they meant."
"Oh, they must mean the old, abandoned army fort. They have barracks over by the water. Creepy over there, I hear. Kids always going in there to get drunk and nonsense. Bad scene. I hope you're staying clear."
He said that as he was walking away, leaving me to wonder.
What the hell was going on at the barracks tonight?
And why was Ross keeping it from me?