Kincaid: Cerberus Mc Book 1 (31 page)

“You’re hurt?”

I raise his shirt up at the same time he’s telling me he’s fine, but a sob escapes my lips when I see a huge purple bruise on the upper right portion of his chest. I shoot my eyes up to him.

“What happened?” My eyes dart back and forth to his.

“I got shot.” He shrugs his shoulders like it’s an everyday occurrence.

Tears well in my eyes and cascade down my cheeks before I can even wipe them away with the back of my hand.

“Shot?” I look back down at his chest and run my hand over the dark bruises.

He reaches up, clasps my hand in his, and brings it to his mouth. “I was wearing a vest, Em. I’m fine.”

“Bobby?” I ask with a hitch in my voice. I can only imagine what happens to someone when they shoot and don’t kill the person they were targeting.

“Wrench shot me, not Bobby.” My eyes go wide again.

“He hated you so much that he shot you!” What kind of man does that? I guess the same type of man that was going to rape his President’s girl.

He nods.

“Was Bobby with him?” I have to ask.

“Bobby was with him.” He looks me in the eye and runs a finger down my jaw. “He shot a cop twice in the chest.”

“Oh no! Is the cop ok?”

He nods but his face is crestfallen. “Emmalyn,” He lowers his eyes. “I couldn’t let him shoot someone else.”

I know immediately what he’s telling me before he even says the words.

“Bobby is dead.” It’s a statement, not a question.

He nods again.

My pulse pounds in my ears at the news. You’d think after years of spending my life with a man that I’d have some level of concern for his death, but I just can’t muster any. “He’ll never hurt me again?”

“Never,” he whispers softly. I lay against his chest again but more to the left side, so I don’t hurt him again.

Another tear rolls down my cheek and is caught in the fabric of his shirt. “Thank you,” I whisper as my body begins to tremble uncontrollably.

He holds me through it. He runs a soothing hand over my back and tells me he loves me a dozen times in my ears as I cry against his chest. I’ve lived all of my adult life in fear. Fear that was systematically beaten into me by a man that was supposed to honor and protect me. Even after I left with Diego, that fear was always there. Until this very moment in time I had to always wonder when he would come for me, knowing if he ever tracked me down it would be the last time.

A split second decision on Diego’s part when he saw Bobby hit me in the dark hallway at
Drifter’s
set into motion the events that would lead to my eventual freedom. For years, I was held captive by the abuse and threats of what he would do to me if I ever told anyone, or worse yet if I tried to leave.

Freedom.

A simple word so many people take for granted. Seven letters, that to someone who never had theirs threatened, mean absolutely nothing.

I hold him tighter as I begin to wonder what the next step is.

“What happens now?” I ask softly without pulling my head from his chest.

“Now we begin our lives, Emmalyn.” He hooks his finger under my chin and caresses my face with his thumb as I look in his eyes. “Together, Em. We begin our lives together.”

“You still want me?”

He laughs and shakes his head, my question apparently the craziest thing he’s ever heard.

“Absolutely.”

He leans in to kiss me, and I part my lips instantly when his warm mouth touches mine. His tongue is soft and coaxing as it sweeps across mine. This kiss isn’t one that leads to sex; this kiss is a promise of what’s to come. It’s a hint of the love we will share as the days, weeks, and years come and go.

“Shower with me?” He asks running his hands up and down my arms.

I stand from his lap and make my way to the bathroom, stripping unceremoniously out of the clothes as I walk.

My head is firing ninety to nothing, and I can’t keep track of all of the thoughts as they invade at a rapid speed. Technically I’m a widow, and I don’t even know what that entails. Diego, although protecting others, pulled the trigger on the gun that caused Bobby’s death. I have no idea what that means as far as prosecution. He’s not acting like a man who thinks he’s going to be arrested, but that doesn’t mean it’s not going to happen.

As much as I want to get into the details of what happened tonight and what it means for our future, I have no intentions of asking. I want to be in this moment with him. I need to hold him tight, knowing that even though I have the ability to go and do anything in the world I set my mind to, I choose to stay right here, with him.

I step into the shower before the water has time to warm. The shock from the cold is instantly abated when Diego wraps his arms around my waist and holds me against his warm chest.

“Wash me?” He asks reaching for a sponge in the caddy hanging below the shower head.

“Of course,” I say, turning his arms after squirting a liberal amount of masculine shower gel onto the sponge.

I gingerly wash over his chest, paying close attention to the pressure I apply to his injured area.

“I want a lifetime of this,” he says as his eyes flutter closed.

I bite my lip as I wash down his abdomen. “What? You want someone else to bathe you?”

“That wouldn’t be too bad, either, but I want a lifetime of moments like this with you. Moments where absolutely nothing else in the world matters but you and me.”

He groans when I brush against his growing erection on my way down to wash his thighs. What was a moment of just being together is quickly turning into sexual need, and not just for him.

The sight of his naked body reacting to my touch is enough to cause my body to prepare to take him inside of me. I grow slick and my hands begin to tremble slightly, but I don’t engage. I wash him and tell my own body that there will always be time for us to be together like that, and the last thing I want on my first night as a totally free woman is to have shower sex.

I deserve better, and I can feel that he senses it as well. He retrieves the sponge from my hands, rinses it, and adds my fruity shower gel and returns the favor. He groans and I whimper as the sponge cleans my most erogenous areas, but we take it no further.

“I want you to come home with me tomorrow,” he finally says as he rinses the suds from both our bodies.

“I’ll go wherever you want me to,” I tell him, my mouth pressed gently against his wet chest. “I love you, Diego.”

“I love you, Emmalyn,” he says against the top of my head.

I’m very appreciative of the kids that have been staying here the last couple of days. Waking up this morning I can actually pay attention to my girl, rather than having to take Ollie out to use the restroom. They’ve been keeping him with them in their room. I get the feeling that Axe is going to give me hell because I know their family is going to grow by one when those sweet girls beg him for a puppy.

I’ve been rubbing myself against her for the last fifteen minutes with no response from her. I know she’s awake. Her breathing changed ten minutes ago, and her body is stiffer than an unconscious person would be. I guess she thinks she’s fooling me, but she has to understand that I’m a trained professional. I make a living by being able to read people and understand each situation that I put myself into.

Last night was a fluke I pray never happens again. Had there not been other guys there last night, Wrench would have killed me. He would have realized he missed his mark with the first shot, and he would have recalculated and corrected the problem.

I close my eyes briefly to get the thoughts of it out of my head. I have better things to worry about this morning than analyzing what went down last night. I’ll debrief with my men later, and I’m sure to catch hell from Shadow. He already started in on me last night, but I waived him off because I needed to get to Emmalyn. I’ve only postponed his concern.

We didn’t bother getting dressed when we got out of the shower a few hours ago. I know she’s tired and would love to sleep, but the light streaming through the high window is confusing my circadian rhythm.

There is only one thing in the world that feels better than her skin covering every inch of my chest. The better thing is what I’m looking for this morning, and her coyness right now is preventing that from happening.

“Keep pretending to be asleep, Darlin’ and I’m going to stick this cock in your ass.” She gasps and I grin against the back of her neck.

I lift her leg over my hip, opening her up so my hand can roam over her sex. I’ll never get tired of the way her juices feel coating my fingers.

“So wet already? You’ve been awake for a while, Em.” She moans loudly when I sink two fingers inside of her.

“Who do you think woke you up,” she says with a gasp.

“Little devil,” I say and nip at her bare shoulder.

Her hips begin to rotate and hitch back and forth. I could come easily this very second as she fucks my fingers. I scoop an arm under and cup her breast, my thumb and forefinger pinching her already hardened nipple.

“Is this really how you want to come, Darlin’?” I’m hard as a rock, and my cock is cussing me to no end for not already being buried deep inside of her.

“The first time,” she answers as her core clamps down on my hand and throbs against my fingers.

Pulling my fingers from her drenched center, I quickly clean them with my mouth and smack her ass cheek. My body stiffens immediately when I realize what I just did. I’m about to pull away and apologize, but she reaches behind her and grips my cock in her tiny hand.

“Again,” she pants.

I know it’s all kinds of fucked up, and there may need to be some therapy for both of us in the future, but at the moment who am I to deny the woman what she’s begging for?

I give her what she wants only, this time, my smack is more playful. I pull my hips back and out of her hand so I can line myself up to her entrance. As much as I want to slam into her, I don’t. I slowly glide myself into her heat. I just smacked her ass twice. That’s right, I struck an abuse survivor on the ass in the heat of the moment.

When she whispers, “Stay with me.” I know she can tell I’m too much into my own head. We’ll have to discuss this later but for now me, her, and her tight heat are the only concerns for us.

“Jesus, Em. Grip me.” I slide easily in and out of her. My arms are wrapped completely around her, clutching her to my chest. Her hands are gripping my arms, and we couldn’t get closer if we tried.

“Play with your clit, Em.” I’m begging at this point. You’d think after the numerous times we’ve made love that I’d have more stamina, but I don’t. The closeness of her body, the way my heart beats for her, takes me near the edge before I even sink inside of her.

She releases her grip on my arms and begins to swipe her fingers over her clit. Less than a minute later, she’s screaming my name, and her body is greedily convulsing on my cock. I see stars before my eyes when my orgasm finally hits.

“You’re mine, Emmalyn,” I whisper against her back.

“I’m yours,” she agrees softly.

“Forever, Emmalyn.”

“Forever sounds really good.”

***

Breakfast in the clubhouse feels oddly normal considering two men were killed inside less than eight hours ago. Everyone is excited that the lockdown has been lifted and are talking animatedly about what their plans are next. I cut my eyes to Emmalyn when Snapper asks her about the plans for the strip club. Emmalyn grins shyly but nods her head in confirmation.

I chuckle to myself, clearly my dance yesterday wasn’t enough to keep her away from other strippers. Before I can begin to think of ways to perfect my strip routine, Emmalyn nudges me with her elbow.

“I just want to have friends,” she says quietly. “I’ve never had friends before.”

Just when I think I’ve managed the highest level of sympathy for this beautiful woman, she says something that makes me realize just how horrible her life with Bobby was. Not only is she beginning a life with me, she’s literally beginning her life in general. I’ll give her every experience she wants and every tangible thing she desires, if only to make up for a past I can never wipe from her mind.