Traitor (5 page)

He pressed my back up against my door, pushing it closed with my body. But as he leaned down for me again, the light fell on the dark shadow on his jaw. I reached up for him and gently touched my fingers to his face. Although I knew that the pressure was too light to cause him pain, he flinched away from me.

“What happened?” I asked quietly.

His eyes clouded over, and he released me abruptly.

“Nothing,” he said shortly.

I reached out and grabbed his arm, keeping him close to me. “You can talk to me,” I breathed. Lines appeared around his eyes, and his lips pressed together. I remembered how he had been holding his head in his hands when I had first found him at my door, his shoulders slumped. “Why are you really here, Sean?” I asked quietly.

His muscles were corded beneath my touch. I could see him pulling up his walls, and the sight pained me. It was awful to see him compartmentalizing the pain, taking on the weight of it. I knew what that felt like. It was only recently that Sean had made me realize what a terrible burden it was.

And I was more than a little hurt that he wouldn’t trust me enough to open up to me after all that I had revealed to him about myself. It occurred to me that he had broken me down, and while I had glimpsed his internal anguish, he had never really shared with me.

“Please,” I said. “You can trust me.” A thread of the hurt that I felt must have colored my tone, because his eyes softened.

“I know,” he said quietly.

But as I heard those two simple words, guilt twisted my gut.
“You can trust me”?
Had anyone ever been less deserving of trust?

I swallowed back my consternation, telling myself that my intentions were pure; I really did want to ease his pain.

I tugged on his arm gently, guiding him into my living room. He sat down beside me on the couch, dropping back onto it heavily. His thigh brushed up against mine, our bodies unwilling to break contact. But he wouldn’t meet my eye. I gently cupped his uninjured cheek in my hand and guided his face to mine. He didn’t resist.

His eyes locked with mine, and I saw turmoil in their green depths.

“Who hurt you?” My voice was gentle, but my question was direct, not allowing him the option of reticence. Uncharacteristically, he was allowing me to take control.

He let out a long breath. “My father,” he admitted.

Anger bubbled up within me, and I fought to keep it from showing on my face. “You fought him?” I asked.

Something akin to shame flickered his eyes. “No,” he said hollowly. “He’s my father.”

I felt my body stiffen as fury flooded me, and I couldn’t hold back my angry words. “He’s a cruel asshole, and he would deserve anything you gave him. I know that he’s hurt you, Sean. More than this one time. Why do you let him?”

Now it was his face that drew down in anger. “You don’t understand,” he said, his voice tight.

“Then explain it to me,” I demanded.

He shot me a level look. “You don’t fight Roman Reynolds. You take what he gives you and you keep your mouth shut. That’s just the way it is.”

“Then ‘the way it is’ is stupid,” I insisted.

Sean’s expression hardened. “I won’t allow you to say anything against him,” he said, his eyes blazing.

“Why are you defending him?” I asked, exasperated and more than a little annoyed that he was telling me what I wasn’t
allowed
to do again.

“He’s a dangerous man, Claudia,” Sean said, struggling to keep an even tone. “You wouldn’t talk about him that way if you knew what was good for you.”

I threw up my hands. “You can’t just expect me to stand idly by when he hurts you.”

His face twisted in anger, and I fought the urge to shrink away from him as he called upon his powerful aura. “You can and you will,” he said harshly.

We glared at each other for a long moment. But then it struck me that I was antagonizing him after I had begged him to open up to me. I knew that what I was doing wasn’t fair to him, and it would only make him more unwilling to talk to me in the future.

I sighed heavily, all the fight going out of me. “Okay,” I conceded. “I’m sorry for snapping at you. I just can’t…” I cut myself off. “Thank you for telling me.”

“You’re welcome,” he said, but his jaw was still tight.

I couldn’t bear the sudden coolness between us; I needed to drive it away with heat. Helplessly drawn to him, compelled by the need to erase his pain, I leaned into him quickly. His eyes widened in surprise, but he responded almost instantly, closing the distance between us. This time it was my tongue that traced the line of his lips, demanding that he open for me.

His hand closed around the front of my throat, pushing me away. He was smiling at me cruelly. “I don’t think so, little one,” he said softly.

Little one.
He had never called me that before. And although I knew that I should feel indignant at the diminutive moniker, it sounded sweet in my ears, a term of affection. With his gentle grip on my neck, reminding me of his dominance, the name felt… right. It reinforced how fragile I was in his strong arms, driving home his power over me. It was everything that drew me towards him, that made me lust for him.

I gasped as he squeezed, applying the slightest pressure as he guided me onto my back, pressing me into the couch as his body settled over mine. A low, husky moan escaped me at the eroticism of the act, and I could feel him hardening against my hip. I hungered to have him inside me again, to fill the emptiness within me.

He was staring down at me. “Fuck, Claudia,” his voice caressed my name. His free hand moved to cup my cheek. “You are so beautiful.”

I blushed at his praise, warmth filling my chest. He groaned, and his thumb traced the line of my cheekbone. “Do you have any idea how delicious that color is?”

I shuddered beneath him, my sex tingling at the lust that darkened his tone. My nipples were almost painfully hard as they pressed against the inside of my bra. I let out a low whine and ground my hips up against him, physically demonstrating my intense need. I remembered how he had punished me before for moving against him without his permission, and I found myself longing for his harsh correction.

I watched his expression turn forbidding, and his dominant aura washed over me. I was caught up in it, my mind swept away by the raging torrent of it.

Then he released me suddenly, drawing away from me and sitting upright. I gasped at the abrupt deprivation of his touch, and the world seemed to crash back down into existence around me. My gut twisted as I was flooded with a sense of rejection. I pushed myself away from him, hugging my arms across my stomach.

“What’s wrong?” I asked, unable to keep the tremor from my voice.

He wasn’t looking at me. “You don’t want this, Claudia,” he said, his tone detached.

I blinked, confused. How had my actions indicated that in any way? “What?” I asked faintly.

He turned to me, his eyes hard. “You said that you wanted to take things slow. You aren’t ready for this. I’m manipulating you again.” He ran a hand through his hair in frustration, mussing it in that way that I loved.

Yes, I had asked if we could take things slowly. But that was when I was determined not to let him touch me, to pull me in. It was too late for that now; I was lost already, inexorably drawn in by his beauty and his pain.

“You’re not,” I insisted. “
I
kissed
you
, in case you don’t recall.”

“There’s a difference between a kiss and what I want to do to you,” he said roughly.

Heat flared between my legs at his words. “Oh,” I said quietly. “But what if I want that too?”

He closed his eyes for a moment, and when he opened them again I could see intense longing tinged with a hint of anguish.

“You don’t know what you’re saying,” he insisted. “You don’t know what you’re asking for.”

I remembered the ferocity of our passionate coupling after I had found the contents of his locked drawer, and I couldn’t hold back the small smirk that played across my lips. “I think I have a pretty good idea.”

“No,” he said harshly. “You don’t. You’ve had one other sexual partner, and I know that you have no idea what you are asking for when you say that you want me.”

I didn’t appreciate that he was treating me like an ignorant child, and his reference to my inexperience stung. “I saw your drawer, and I didn’t run, did I?” I demanded.

His expression tightened. “No, you didn’t,” he conceded. “But if you knew…” He hesitated. “What I want to do to you is wrong, Claudia. I know that it’s sick, but I can’t help myself.”

“Don’t you say that, Sean,” I said angrily. “Don’t you dare. Okay, so maybe I’m inexperienced. That doesn’t mean that I’m completely naïve. Maybe your desires aren’t everyone’s cup of tea, but you are by no means alone in your tastes. And I’m assuming that you know that based on the fact that you seem to know what you’re doing. There must have been plenty of other willing women…” I trailed off, jealousy filling my gut at the thought of Sean with other partners.

His expression was tormented. “But you’re different, Claudia,” he insisted. “The way that we met, the way that I trapped you with me… You couldn’t escape me, and I took advantage of you. And I can’t forgive myself for that.”

My expression hardened. “Well, you’re going to have to,” I ordered. “Because it took both of us to do what we did. What we’re doing. I want this. I want
you.
And you beating yourself up about it isn’t going to change that.”

He opened his mouth to protest, but I held up a hand, stopping him.

“You said that you can’t help yourself,” my voice was quieter this time. “Well, I can’t either. I need this just as much as you do. So if your desires are sick, then mine are too. And I’m okay with that.”

I reached for him, and he flinched away from me.

“God damn it, Sean,” I said angrily. “You may control my body when you want to, but my mind is my own.”

Well, mostly,
I admitted to myself. I couldn’t deny that his sway over me affected my decision-making processes. But I didn’t care about that right now. All I wanted was to be with him, to experience more of that dark submission under his dominant touch. I wanted the passion, the release. I wanted to connect with him in that most intimate way, where none of our worldly problems, none of our pain, existed.

“I demand your respect,” I said staunchly.

He regarded me seriously for a moment. “Of course I respect you, Claudia. You’re the strongest woman I’ve ever known.” Then one corner of his mouth pulled up in a small smile. “Sometimes I forget how fiery you are,” he said, his easy amusement returning. Lust clouded his eyes again. “It’s one of the reasons I find you so irresistible.”

I swallowed as he entered my personal space. “And for some reason I feel the same, despite how damn cocky you are.”

He grinned at me. “It’s all part of my charm,” he said. “You love it, really.”

“You wish,” I said. I meant for my voice to be flippant, but instead it came out low and breathy.

I could feel his lips still curved up into a smile as they met mine. I felt a surge of triumph as his mouth came down on me. I might submit to him, but it seemed that I had my own sort of power over him.

His hands were suddenly gripping my waist, jerking me up with him so that we were standing. I twined my arms around the back of his neck, holding him to me so that he couldn’t break the kiss. His hands were fumbling at the buttons of my blouse, trying to expose me for him. But he wasn’t satisfied with his progress. His low growl rumbled through me as his hands fisted in my shirt. With a jerk of his powerful arms, he ripped it open, the buttons flying free, making small popping noises as they bounced against the hardwood floor.

I gasped in delight, not caring that he had just destroyed one of my favorite blouses. I was too caught up in the eroticism of the moment, too caught up in his power over me. My hands were gripping the hem of his t-shirt, my nails raking against his muscles as I shoved it up his torso. He quickly pulled the shirt over his head, and I couldn’t help trailing my fingers over his taut abs, enjoying the way that they rippled under my touch. I made sure to avoid his gunshot wound, but it was now only covered in a small adhesive bandage. The outer tissue was well on its way to mending, and I decided that I wasn’t all that concerned about how it might be affected by physical activity.

His hands were at my back, expertly unsnapping my bra with one hand. I shrugged out of it and pressed myself into his chest, moaning as my hardened nipples brushed up against him.

He was unzipping my slacks, his fingers hooking beneath the top of my panties before he shoved both down my thighs, baring me to him completely. I returned the favor, feverishly tugging at his jeans and boxers until his cock sprang free. I grasped the length of it, marveling at the hard girth as I remembered how it had stretched me mercilessly, filling me. He caught my wrist and jerked my hand away with a warning snarl.

“I didn’t give you permission to touch me,” he said forbiddingly. “What have I told you about teasing me, Claudia?”

He was glaring down at me, and I swallowed hard even as my pussy pulsed at his harsh words. I knew that he was going to punish me again, and I longed for it, for the light pain that would push me over the edge as I was forced to submit to him completely, thrusting me into blissful oblivion.

“On your hands and knees,” he ordered.

My eyes widened. “What?” I asked breathlessly, my independent streak getting the better of me.

His hand fisted in my hair, and he pulled sharply, forcing me down. I fell to my knees, thankful for the thick rug that cushioned the impact. Still, I knew that I would have bruises tomorrow. But I didn’t care. He shoved me forward roughly, and I caught myself on my hands before I collided with the floor. But he applied pressure at the back of my neck, ruthlessly forcing me down until my face was pressed against the carpet. He kept me pinned there, and I became acutely aware of the fact that my ass was raised for him, flagrantly exposed. I could feel cool air caress my sex, making it pulse almost painfully as need built within me. My thighs were wet with my desire.