Page 51 of The Devil's Weakness

“He’s going to be okay, right?” I ask Hawk.

“His lifestyle will need to change a bit, but yeah. He’s going to be just fine.”

“Thanks, Hawk,” I say before Sasha grabs my attention again. “Hey, let’s get you upstairs. Then, I’ll come back down and get us some food. Sound good?”

“I’m not hungry,” she mutters.

She may not be hungry, but I am. Only, not for food. I lift her chin so that I can look into her eyes. There is something there. I don’t believe I would call it hunger, same as mine, but there’s a yearning for something in them. I can feel my pupils dilate as my cock grows hard again. I take her by the hand and lead her from the room.

We pass my brothers, who are surrounding the dining room table. Stone and Bon-Bon have joined them. Stone doesn’t look at us as we pass, and I don’t miss the questioning stare on all of their faces. There will be many questions to answer, but all of them will need to wait until tomorrow.?

I need to take care of my girl first. I told her I didn’t do gentle lovemaking, but that’s the only thing I can think about right now. I want to devour every inch of her body until there isn’t one patch of skin I don’t recognize. I want to hold her and make her feel safe and cared for. I want to kiss her from head to toe and massage the worry and pain from her body.

And then I want to fuck her again; until she forgets her name. Until she forgets why she’s here, how our paths came to cross this time, and the shitty way I’ve treated her over the past few days. I want to erase the pain she’s felt, both at my hands as well as at the hands of my brothers, and replace it with earth-shattering orgasms.?

This may not be the future that she wanted, but she’s stuck with me now.?

Fuck.?

I know I don’t deserve her. I don’t deserve her time, her affection, her loyalty. But I’m a sad, selfish bastard, and when I want something bad enough, there isn’t anyone or anything that’s going to stop me from taking it.

Chapter Sixteen

Blade leadsme past the packed dining room table once more, but this time I know better than to look at the men surrounding it. We turn the corner and pass the bathroom I used only hours earlier, but it feels like it’s been days, weeks even. I look down at the ground in the entryway and see that the table has been righted once again. I briefly wonder if any of my skin is still stuck to the corner of it from when that bastard threw me down.

I follow him up the stairs almost mindlessly. I have no idea what to do or say. I just…am. I feel like I’m here, but not here at the same time. Briefly, I wonder if I’m in shock.

I can’t think. I don’t know how to feel. It sure as hell feels like shock.

At the top of the stairs, Blade stops in front of a closet door and opens it. I watch as he pulls out two towels, and I wait for my anxiety to kick in at the thought of being naked in front of him again. But it’s nowhere to be found. One thought finally pushes its way through the fog—a shower would be an incredible thing right now. Chances are slim that Blade will leave me alone to bathe by myself.

My thoughts are proven correct when he closes and locks the door behind us.

“Get undressed,” he commands as he unlaces his boots.

I’m frozen in place, not ready for him to see my body again, even though he’d already gotten a good look at me—twice—already. My arms hug my torso, pinning his shirt to my body, rather than ridding myself of it, and I stare at him while he continues taking his shoes off.

As he’s bent over, he doesn’t realize that I’ve disobeyed him. I ready myself for his temper to come roaring back once he notices, but I can’t move. I’m having a hell of a time sorting through my feelings at the moment. I think back to when he first kissed me down in the basement. I wanted it to happen, but I couldn’t be the one to initiate it. I needed him to. Giving my decisions to him is dangerous yet freeing. Feeling anything for him, wanting his touch, his kiss… it’s insane after all that he’s put me through.

How fucked up am I that I feel any type of pleasure right now?

His back is to me when he stands upright again. I watch him in the bathroom mirror as he unbuttons his pants and pulls the zipper down, revealing even more of the deepVbelow his washboard abs. I can feel the excess saliva pour into my mouth at the sight of him. He’s both dangerous and safe, sin and penance. He’s a merciful heaven and a torturous hell, all wrapped up in one complicated and fucked up package.

Finally, his eyes catch sight of me, backed against the wall and staring at him, conflicted by both reluctance and need. I wait for his temper to surface. I wait for him to turn around and tear the shirt from my body again, just like he did before he took me on top of the workbench. Recalling it sends an ache through me and has me squeezing my thighs together to quell it.

He turns around and slowly stalks toward me. There is no anger in his step, no violence in his stare. Stopping in front of me, he lifts the hem of the shirt I’m draped in so he can get to my shorts. His eyes don’t leave mine as he unbuttons them, pulls the zipper down, and lets them fall to the ground. I step out of them and gently kick them toward the sink.

Fuck being an idiot. Fuck everything that happened down in that basement. My emotions are all over the place. I silently plead for him to recognize my struggle and distract me from the incessant din of thoughts swirling around in my head.

He fingers the material of the t-shirt and looks down at my partially covered body. The hunger in his stare has returned with a vengeance.

“The sight of you in nothing but my t-shirt sends a ravenous hunger through my body, little girl.”

I can’t speak, but I can feel my eyes widen in response. The heat that I felt last night when he called me by my nickname is back, and it’s burning hotter than ever before.

“My fingers crave to glide along your smooth skin.”

He runs his hand along my stomach.

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