His to Take (9 page)

J
OAQUIN jumped to his feet and rushed to Bailey. Shit, she looked ghostly white. Her
pupils had gone nearly as wide as those of her child self in the photo.

He knelt and grabbed her shoulders. “Tatia—” No, she didn’t want him to call her that.
“Bailey?”

No answer. She looked through him. His gut clenched.

“Baby girl,” he crooned. She’d responded when he’d called her that before, liked it.
He didn’t really want to stop and think about the fact that he enjoyed saying it to
her.

“T-that girl . . . it’s me.”

Her four small words should probably have filled him with triumph or thrill or something
other than this sick, roiling churn. He tried to reassure her with a soft voice. “I
know.”

“I . . . I don’t understand.” She finally blinked at him, and tears swam in her big
blue eyes. Disillusion broke across her face. She looked so fragile, it tore at his
fucking heart.

“I know it’s a lot to take in.” He caressed her arms. “I’m so sorry.”

“We’ll leave you two for now,” Sean murmured, turning to Thorpe.

The club owner nodded. “Let us know if you need anything. Take care of her.”

A subtle warning. Joaquin barely heard it as Bailey began to sob. He brought her to
her feet and pulled her close. She fell limp against him, her legs barely supporting
her. Now what?

Hell, he didn’t do crying women. He didn’t even do emotion. What he needed was a manual,
training, or backup—something. But Sean and Thorpe were already shutting the door
behind them.

As she clutched at his shirt and cast a begging blue stare at him, Joaquin knew he
was on his own. He’d stirred the shit pot to avenge Nate, so he had to deal. Still,
he panicked a little at the thought. When was the last time he’d been this close to
a woman unless he was fucking a one-night stand? Hmm . . . Never.

“They lied to me,” Bailey cried into his shirt, then abruptly pulled away, turning
her back to him and wrapping her arms around herself.

“Your adoptive parents?” He watched her cross the room and fought the urge to follow.
What was wrong with him? He should be happy that she wasn’t sobbing on him anymore.
Instead, guilt flayed him raw.

Bailey nodded, her light brown hair brushing the length of her narrow back, the ends
curling toward her waist. She was so damn tiny, and he’d heaped a shit ton of problems
on her shoulders. He had to be careful or he’d break her. Somewhere, his logical brain
asked why the hell she mattered. Joaquin wanted to say it was because, as Tatiana
Aslanov, she might know something useful. But he wasn’t good at bullshitting himself.

Oh, fuck. Wanting to sleep with her he understood. But this crappy remorse cocktail
with its anxiety chaser swirling through his veins? It wasn’t easy lust. He’d wanted
to kiss her earlier—no mistake. In fact, he’d wanted to rip Thorpe’s head off for
interrupting them because he’d been aching to strip off that too-big T-shirt and get
his mouth all over her pretty hard nipples while he worked his way into her pussy.

Right now, he wanted to kick his own ass for crushing the world as she’d always known
it. Doing so was safer for her. She’d be better equipped to elude danger if she understood
it. But in less than a few hours, he’d ripped away the veneer of her existence to
expose its secret underbelly. She couldn’t take more now.

And for some fucking reason he didn’t understand, he wanted to fix everything in her
life so she had no reason to do anything except smile.

“Of course!” she shouted back. “Whoever they really were. They lied to me about everything.
Who I am, where I came from . . .” She clenched her fists and turned on him with a
little red nose and trembling lips. “They made me think I was crazy. By the time I
was seven, I was seeing a shrink for my ‘delusions.’ And all that time, they spoon-fed
me my school lessons, made me home-cooked meals, drove me to dance class, and placated
me about spats with friends or boys who didn’t like me. It was all just a lie. So
if they weren’t really parents, what were they? Babysitters? Bodyguards? Brainwashers?”

In the face of her furious hurt, remorse smacked him again. He probably could have
handled her more gently.
What could be kinder than barking questions, digging through her memories, and shoving
pictures at her until you ripped apart her identity, dumbass?

Joaquin dragged in a deep breath. “I wasn’t able to get a lot of information about
your identity before I took you. Since then, I’ve been trying to fill in the blanks.
Some of the info is coming faster than other bits, so I don’t have a complete picture
yet. I’ve got a few people working on it.”

“But you think they were FBI agents?”

“That’s my best guess.”

“Tell me what you know,” she demanded through clenched teeth.

He understood the anger. It was bolstering her, and without it she feared falling
apart. “They obviously raised you and kept you safe. I’m sure that was their number
one job. Any memories of your past or hints that you remembered a life before them
would need to be squelched. Not because they wanted to hurt you. Tatiana Aslanov disappearing
kept you safe and gave you an opportunity to grow up normally. You probably resent
the hell out of them right now, but most likely, those two agents accepted a thirteen-year
assignment, knowing they might never see field action again. They had to shed their
previous lives, abandon their own family. They had to become mom and dad to a stranger
until you turned legal. They might not have been perfect, but they did their job.
It was a shitload better than you growing up in some government detention facility.”

“I-I . . .” She gasped in an agitated breath, fighting her temper. “You’re probably
right about them making sacrifices to bring me up in a safe environment. They did
that well. On the other hand, they made me believe we were a family, then they allowed
themselves to ‘die’ shortly after I turned eighteen. They abandoned me. And you’re
defending that?”

“No.”
Crap.
“They may not have had a choice. I was just trying to make you see the other side
of the coin. I doubt it was easy for them, either.”

“Obviously, they haven’t missed me much, since neither of them has attempted to make
contact with me in about three years.”

“I’m sure they would have been prohibited from doing that.”

“Which tells me they value their jobs more than the girl they raised as their daughter.
And what about you? You’re with another government agency, so you’re here to . . .
what? Be my lover? Does Uncle Sam think you need to crawl between my legs in order
to watch over me?”

Joaquin ground his jaw. She was hitting low, and the logical part of him understood
that she was hurt, so she was lashing out at the messenger because she didn’t have
anyone else. But that didn’t stop his temper from getting swept up in her cyclone
of emotion. “I’m not here on anyone’s orders. In fact, I’ll probably be fired for
pursuing this case because Tatiana Aslanov isn’t on my boss’s radar. When it became
obvious the agency intended to do nothing, I couldn’t leave you to that horrific death.
So here we are. But let me clue you in, baby girl. Uncle Sam doesn’t tell me who to
fuck. I can’t fake an erection, even for the sake of God and country. That kiss we
almost shared? That was me wanting you because just being in the same room with you
makes me want to strip off everything you’re wearing and impale you with every inch
I’ve got.”

When he eased closer to Bailey, she squared her shoulders and raised her chin. “Don’t
come near me.”

That defiance made him wish again that he were a spanking kind of guy. He’d really
like to melt that starch in her spine. If she wasn’t going to let him comfort her,
he’d be more than happy to adjust her attitude with a good smack or ten on her ass,
then follow it up with a thorough fucking. A nice handful of orgasms would do them
both a world of good.

“I am so done with people lying to me,” she ground out.

That pissed him off. “You think I’m lying to you? About which part? Your parents being
agents? That I’m sorry? Or that my cock is aching to fill your little pussy until
you dig your nails into my back and wail out in pleasure?”

Her face turned pink. “You’re not sorry about any of this. I’m also not buying your
sudden desire bullshit.”

“I will be more than happy to prove you wrong right now.” He reached for the button
of his jeans. “I’m ready if you are.”

In some distant corner of his brain, Joaquin realized that combating her hurt with
challenge wasn’t going over well. On the other hand, something about arguing with
her while he’d been imagining her underneath him hadn’t gotten his blood just flowing,
but boiling. If fucking her would, in any way, prove to her that he wasn’t lying,
he was beyond down with getting busy. If she let him, he’d give it to her hard and
wicked—repeatedly.

“No!” She managed to look indignant, but her cheeks had gone rosy. The pulse at her
neck was pounding. Her nipples poked at her borrowed shirt angrily.

He put his hands on his hips. If she looked down, she’d see his straining zipper.
“Do you still think I’m lying?”

“I’m done with this conversation.”

“If you’re telling yourself you don’t want me at all, then you’re the one lying.”

“Pfft. You might know facts about me on paper, but you don’t know
me
.”

“So if I touched your pussy right now, you wouldn’t be wet?”

He’d always liked a good challenge. It was probably one of the reasons he loved his
job. But facing off with her this way made his blood sing, too.

“No.” She shook her head a bit too emphatically. “And you’re not touching me to find
out. Leave me alone.”

“You’re worried that I’d find you juicy. You’re afraid to admit that I turn you on.”
He stalked closer, his footfalls heavy, his eyes narrowing in on her.

“Stay back,” she warned—but her eyes said something else entirely.

“Tell me you’re not attracted to me.” He reached out, his strike fast as a snake’s,
and gripped her arms. He dragged her closer, fitting her lithe little body against
him and holding in a groan when she brushed over his cock. “Tell me you want me to
stop. Remember, you don’t like liars. I don’t, either.”

She didn’t say a word, struggled a bit for show. Mostly, she parted her lips and panted.
Her cheeks heated an even deeper rose. Her chest heaved. Never once did she look away
from him. “I’m involved with someone else.”

“If you think whatever you’ve got going with Blane is going to stop me . . .” He didn’t
bother to finish his sentence; he just laughed.

“So you’re not listening to me say ‘no’? You’re not respecting my feelings for another
guy?”

“Let’s just say I’m proving my sincerity to you.” He tightened his grip. When she
gasped and her stare fell to his lips, triumph raced through his veins. “I’m also
testing you. That pretty mouth of yours might lie to me, but your kisses won’t.”

Joaquin didn’t give her a chance to protest again. Normally, he would have. Women
101 was never to proceed without express consent, but this thick air of tension electrifying
his blood and seizing his lungs was something entirely new and intoxicating. Their
fight seemed to be helping Bailey forget her shock and sadness, not to mention the
fact that it revved her, too. She wasn’t immune to him—not by a long shot. Thank fuck.

Thrusting a fist in her hair, he pinned her in place and lowered his head. His mouth
crashed over hers. The collision impacted his entire system, like a bomb detonating
inside him, like a battering ram flattening his inhibitions. As he groaned into the
kiss, he couldn’t stop himself from shoving her against the nearest wall, forcing
her lips apart, and thrusting his way deep.

Bailey didn’t fight him at all. In fact, she threw her arms around his neck and opened
to him, drawing him in and kissing him as if she might disintegrate without his touch.
One of her legs wrapped around his hip.

In his book, her response was a screaming “hell yes.” And it supercharged his need
with the potency of rocket fuel.

Joaquin dragged in a harsh breath, then sank even more into the tangle of lips. He
curled his arms around her and lifted her up, pressing her body harder into the wall
and taking handfuls of her ass into his palms.

Jesus, he was going up in flames. How long would it take him to get her naked and
screaming his name? As she whimpered and grabbed his face to kiss him even harder,
he hoped it wouldn’t be more than thirty seconds. Otherwise, he would spontaneously
combust.

The kiss had no end. He could breathe inside her. He could feel on top of her. Every
time her heart beat, every time she took a breath, every time she grabbed him a little
tighter, it felt right. Yeah, she wanted this as much as he did. Each cell in his
body celebrated.

As he captured her against him and turned for the bed, he changed the angle of their
kiss, sucked in a desperate gulp of air, and smelled her arousal in the room. God,
she was sweetly pungent, potent. He wanted her right fucking now.

He bent, and her back hit the mattress. As Joaquin climbed between her thighs, he
covered her slender body with his own and trapped her mouth under his again. She wrapped
her legs even tighter around him and lifted her cunt right against his aching erection.

With a grunt, he gripped one hip and did his level best to forge them together. Damn
it, he had to get their clothes off, had to bury himself as deep inside her as he
could, but he didn’t want to leave her mouth long enough to undress.

His free hand snaked under her shirt and found her braless. He enveloped the sweet
mound of her breast with its impossibly hard nipple. Her moan for more half demanded
and half pleaded, sending his desire soaring even higher. He couldn’t remember wanting
any woman even half this much. Holy hell, she was going to be one incredible pleasure
to fuck.