Page 37 of Forbidden

“It’s not important.”

Anger was a steady burn next to my heart these days. But her words made it spark. I closed the distance between us, not touching, just needing her to see my eyes. To know what I said was true.

“Everything about you is essential. Every need, no matter how small, is important.” I wanted to seal my sentiment with a kiss. Wanted her to feel how much I meant them.

Grace sucked in a breath as I leaned forward. I wanted to press my lips to hers. To that adorable freckle I was obsessed with. Instead, I touched my mouth to her forehead.

It could be seen as a friendly gesture, but there was nothing friendly about the way my cock hardened when I felt her soft skin. Or heard her sweet exhale. Still, I pulled back.

Her royal blue eyes swirled with emotion as she stood rooted to the spot. I slowly and gently brushed a strand of hair behind her ear. “Now, what did you need?”

“Umm…” She licked her lips, and I had to suppress a groan so I didn’t scare her. For years, I’d shoved away any fantasy of her. I refused to let them in because otherwise, I’d spend every night masturbating to the image of my sister-in-law.

Since we’d gotten married, my mind flooded with them. Ideas. Ways I wanted to touch her. Make her feel good.

And little things like that, licking her lip, filled my veins with lust. Made me think of those lips wrapped around my cock. Of her big eyes, wide and glazed in pleasure as I fucked her face.

“There’s something I need to talk to you about. The business your uncle was in. Sex trafficking.”

Her words pulled my racing thoughts back to the present. My dick tried to wither and die at the memories. I took a step away from her. I could almost see the kiss I’d left on her skin, staining it. Corrupting her with the darkness in me.

“Why would you want to talk about that?” My voice was rougher than I meant it to be, but I had to harden myself against the horrific images.

“It was just something Alessandra said to me the other day.” She twisted her hands together, and the look of worry on her face was enough to crack me open. I’d give her anything she wanted, including my painful past. I’d lay myself bare if she’d do the same for me.

“What did she tell you?” I asked as I crossed to the bar. Just because I would do it didn’t mean it wouldn’t hurt. A whiskey would take the edge off, dull the pain. “Do you want one?”

“No, thanks.” When I turned back, she was sitting on the chair. I handed her a glass filled with the juice she liked. She looked at it curiously as I sat on the couch across from her. “She said that if you’d—I mean, you and your cousins — had known what Mitchell did you wouldn’t have allowed it.”

The whiskey burned, but it wasn’t enough to take away the guilt that tried to choke me. “She was right.”

“Because of what your uncle did? Made you and Mitchell do?”

“Not Mitchell. Angelo and I.”

We were the oldest. We did everything to protect our younger brothers, including taking the hit to our own souls.

“Wh-what did he make you do?” Her voice wavered, and the whiskey in my gut soured. If I told her, she’d never look at me the same. She’d never allow me to touch her, no matter how much time passed.

“We had to keep them in line. The women he took.” I shot my gaze to her. She shrunk back in her chair, and I knew she saw me for what I was. A gangster. A monster. “I won’t give you the details. You don’t need the nightmares.”

They still haunted me. The women’s faces floated through my mind at night when my defenses were down. The things I’d done to them made my stomach turn. And I’d done it all to protect a brother who hadn’t been worth it. Who turned out to be even worse than me.

“Thank you.” Her throat bobbed, and I got lost in the delicate line of her neck. “I have enough.”

“Still?”

“Well, not every night, but yes.” Her eyes clouded with pain, recalling the nightmares. Replaying the days she woke up screaming from them. Her brows pinched. “Wait, you know I have nightmares?”

Shame and embarrassment exploded inside me. How could I tell her I slept outside her door for the first six months I’d lived here? That when I heard her having a nightmare, I stood by her bed and whispered to her that she was okay until she fell back asleep. I never touched her because I knew if I did, I would never stop.

I would look like a stalker. I would seem insane. So I told her a half-truth. “I heard you a few times.”

“Oh.” Her cheeks reddened, and I hated that I made her uncomfortable. So I talked through it, hoping it would stop her from being embarrassed. Hoping it would explain what Alessandra said. That I would appear less like a monster.

“My uncle was a sadistic, ruthless son of a bitch. So when we took over, we swore it would be different. We shut down the sex trafficking. Killed anyone who’d helped him. And vowed never to hurt an innocent.”

We promised to burn it to the ground if any of us faltered because the money wasn’t worth it if we didn’t have a soul.

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