Page 71 of Doubts & Fears

“No, he calls you little love, but voin, that’s one we all agree on. Are you going to answer?”

I dried her off while she remained silent. God, I loved her body. Her skin was flawless and incredibly soft. She held on to my shoulders as I separated her legs and rubbed between her inner thighs.

“Do you always keep it bare?” My fingers itched to be inside her again. My voice sounded gritty, like stones grinding together. I cleared my throat as I knelt in front of her, wondering what she’d do if I leaned in and kissed it.

My eyes flicked up and held hers for several minutes. I took a deep breath before my eyes moved back to her pussy. Her scent called to me; I was so mesmerized. I wanted so muchto taste her.

“Yes,” she whispered, “I had laser hair removal, being a dancer. It was easier. My legs and underarms too.”

I struggled to comprehend how this little triangular piece of her had me fucked up to the point where rational thoughts ceased to exist. And I wasn’t the only one. I couldn’t stop staring, trying to figure it out. I’d slept with so many women over my lifetime that one seemed to blend into another until her.

“What?” she asked as I stared, lost in my thoughts.

“What are you doing to me and my brothers?” I knew I looked as confused as I sounded.

“I’m not trying to do anything to you,” she fumed, her face flushing. “It’s just a pussy, nothing special.” She put her hand under my chin and brought my gaze back up to her face.

“Is it, though?” I asked, as if she knew the answer to the perplexing problem of my infatuation, my obsession with her. My gaze traveled from her face to her nipples, the pink peaks hardening under my stare.

“I don’t want to go to dinner.” Her body collided into mine.

“Then we won’t.” I held her while she cried. “I wish you’d talk to Marcel. He could help you.”

I kept thinking about the significance of the song she was singing, in conjunction with the photos, which made it imperative. No way in hell could I take things to another level with her until she had. I would not risk hurting her.

She pulled back. “You should go. I promise I’ll be a good girl and stay put. You can post a guard on me. Your family will be upset if you’re not there. Plus, I made banoffee pie. Ivan told me it is one of your mother’s favorites.”

Nik came in and stood in the doorway. He casually leaned against it. “What’s going on, Brother?” Unasked questions clouded his eyes. He was wondering if I’d said anything to her. I shook my head.

She reached over and caressed my tattoo, drawing my attention. Her fingertips left my skin tingling, but I ignored it as I dug into my pocket. Maybe this would cheer her up. I held out the blade she had gotten at the sporting goods store.

“You can have this back if you promise to not use it against me. What do you say?”

She grabbed me around the middle and hugged me tightly. “Thank you. You’ve made my night.” She beamed, and my heart melted.

“Promise me, sweetness?”

“I promise not to stab you in your sleep. Since you’ve already touched my pussy, I won’t even add that disclaimer.” She grinned, though a slight blush crept down her neck.

I chuckled and kissed her softly before Nik cleared his throat.

“I’ll have Charles drive us. Marcus can stay with you. Would you like that? He plays a mean game of chess, though, so be warned.”

“Oh yes, I would love that. And chess is my game. I haven’t played in years. This will be fun. Go on, now, and apologize to your parents for me.” She looked more than relieved.

I hated leaving, but her mood shifted entirely when Marcus set up the chessboard, so I resigned myself to getting it over with already. The ride over for dinner was tense.

Ivan’s simmering anger from our earlier conversation hung in the air, creating an icy barrier between us. He was still pissed. Somehow, we both kept our cool.

I gazed listlessly out the window, my mind drifting back to Kinsley, and was startled when Charles pulled up to the house. I couldn’t get the image of her out of my head, the emotional and raw display of vulnerability and her haunting voice.

Dinner itself dragged on, and I didn’t know what was more irritating, my mother’s disappointment in not bringing a date again or the glares Ivan shot my way. My appetite waned with each bite; my thoughts drifted away.

I hated this. Nothing unnerved me more than fighting with him or Nik. Midway through, I reached out to Marcus to check in. In response, he sent me a picture.

The two of them were engrossed in a game of chess. The sight of her concentrated expression elicited a burst of laughter from me. It looked as if the weight of the world rested upon her small shoulders.

Ivan’s mood remained unchanged, and each dark glare he shot my way made for a more intense ride home. The stifling atmosphere became unbearable for Nik, who had finally reached a breaking point. Gotta love that I knew him like the back of my hand.

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