Page 12 of Risky Fight

“Bath, Lou, you stink like a gutter rat. I am trying to be nice, please.” His temple ticks, and his jaw is clenched tight — Roark is getting angry. Fear seeps in, I have no idea who he is now, how much he has changed, and I shouldn’t challenge him.

I can’t help but feel a mix of emotions swirling inside me. My heart is still pounding from the chase, but being in this beautiful and secluded place with him feels both intimidating and strangely comforting. He looks so angry, yet when he touches me, he doesn’t hurt me.

He insists again I take a bath to wash away the grime and filth from the streets. He turns on the hot water, then leaves me alone to undress the little I have on, in privacy. My feet sting like a mother fucker when they hit the water and I hiss to stop myself from yelping out in pain. I will not be a sissy in front of him.

Once I am emersed in the bathtub it is blissful, and I soak away the tension of a crazy night alone in the beautiful bathroom. I close my eyes and try to sort through the events, and my emotions, about the entire night. Roark is back and he has taken me. Taken me as an insurance policy on my brothers’ bad debts. It’s business, I tell myself, but it feels so deeply personal. He kissed me, and touched me, he said he loved me and it made me want to spit in his face.

I stay in the water as long as I can, needing the time to accept the hint I am in some nightmare or a B-Grade movie. I have been kidnapped by the son of a mafia boss, and even if I do love him, I am in trouble. The water turns tepid, and I shiver even though it’s hot as hell out of the bathtub.

I dry off with the big fluffy grey towel that hangs next to the bath, my feet hurting with each step. The adrenaline has worn off and now I can feel the pain.

When I come out the bathroom, there’s one of his shirts waiting for me to wear. He has put it on the bed, with a travel-sized body lotion and a hairbrush. I button it up, so I am covered, and comb out my hair. Although I have tied it up, the wet ends dripping onto the crisp white shirt have made see-through spots. I don’t know what I am supposed to do, or where he is. But my feet hurt so I stay there.

Sitting on the edge of his bed, nervously fidgeting with the fabric, I startle when he comes in. Roark kneels on the floor in front of me and opens a small first aid box. Gently lifting my foot into his lap, he carefully cleans the cuts and scrapes. He disinfects them, and dresses them with antibacterial ointment and plasters.

I recoil when the sting of disinfectant makes me wince with pain.

“Try to relax,” he says softly, his voice warm and soothing, “I’ll take care of you.” He looks up at me, his deep blue eyes are no longer angry like they were earlier. He slows down, taking extra care not to hurt me.

His fingers gently trace over the scrapes, and a soft sigh escapes my lips without me realizing it. It’s such a tender moment, and I can’t help but feel a flutter of something more than just gratitude for his care. He’s fixing the pain he caused, the softness in his touch and the silence between us is enough to make me forget he stole me.

“Why did you chase me?” I finally muster the courage to ask, my voice trembling slightly. “You could have waited for me to come back.”

Roark looks up, meeting my gaze with intensity in his eyes. His face lights up with a sexy smirk.

“It was more fun to chase you, and I couldn’t let you go,” he admits, his fingers pausing briefly on my skin. “There’s something about the chase knowing I am hunting you down and then when I get you, you’re mine and that makes my cock hard.” His crassness is sexy, and I squeeze my thighs together. His voice alone is turning me on. I move my foot so it’s in his crotch, and I can feel how hard he is beneath the dark jeans he is wearing.

“Lou,” he growls out, “don’t play with me. I will hurt you if I lose control now.” I believe him, and yet his words send a thrill through me, and I find myself tempted to play with fire. Despite the rough words, and threats, there’s a vulnerability in his eyes he’s trying to hide.

It’s as if we both have our walls up, but in this moment where I have the power and the upper hand — or foot — they start to crumble. I slowly rub my foot against his erection while he cleans and cares for the other. Watching him try to concentrate, seeing him squirming with the need for more.

As he continues to tend to my wounds, we share glances and an unspoken desire for this to be more.

“I didn’t expect any of this,” I confess, looking down at his shirt I’m wearing. “I never thought you would come back. You left and never once came home.” He was gone, and I had tried so hard to make sure was forgotten.

Roark smiles, a genuine and tender expression. “Life has a way of surprising us,” he says, his hand cupping my cheek. “And sometimes, the most unexpected moments lead to something extraordinary.” He’s acting weird, and his cryptic words confuse the fuck out of me.

When he traces my lips with his thumb, it sends a shiver through me, and I lean into his hand, craving his closeness. Missing something I didn’t know was gone, until now.

In this moment, I feel safe and cared for, and I know that whatever lies ahead, this is probably the nicest moment I will have with him. I am a prisoner — an insurance policy. I’m not his lover. I am his collateral.

As the moment fades, the sexual tension between us is still lingering in the air. But we both know what we have is more than just physical desire; it’s a connection that goes beyond the surface. We share an unfinished past, and an uncertain future. My body is begging for him to claim it.

Roark looks into my eyes, knowing exactly what I crave and he says, “I am not going to fuck you after you were with another man, Lou. I know you slept with the accountant.” My heart sinks, and I feel ashamed. He’s rejecting me, and it hurts. It is like he has left me all over again. My heart being shredded.

In that moment, as Roark pulls away from me, I let go of any reservations I had, I hate him more than I ever did before. “I told you Lou-Lou, I want you to beg me. I am not having his sloppy seconds. You can stay here with me because I don’t trust you not to run. But I am not going to give you what your soaking wet little pussy craves.” His vicious tone cuts deep. He moves away from me and pulls open the bed covers, then demands, “Get into bed Lou. You look tired.”

I am exhausted and fighting the urge to cry. The corners of my eyes sting as I climb into the bed, put my head on the pillow and turn to face the wall. Not wanting him to see that he has hurt me, I bite the inside of my cheek so he can’t hear me. A silent tear falls down my face and lands on the pillow. Why is he doing this? He left me, he hurt me — I should be the vengeful one.

Chapter8 - Roark

I wake up just before dawn, the soft rays of the morning sun casting a warm glow over the room. Lou is still asleep beside me, her head resting on my chest, and I can feel her gentle breaths against my skin. She smells like my shampoo, and her messy hair is covering her face. I’m not sure what my plan was in bringing her here, I acted on impulse. Today I’ll have some explaining to do, but for now I have her right here in my arms and it feels like the past five years never happened at all. I can’t help but feel a mix of emotions swirling inside me, there’s anger and then there is a possessiveness over her. This need to punish her for living her life after I left is irrational, I had other women — I have a son. Yet I can’t seem to forgive her, the jealousy that overcomes me when I think of her ‘boyfriend’ makes me want to kill him and her pay.

There’s a part of me that wants to keep her close, to have her in my life in every way possible. But there’s also a lingering doubt, a fear she won’t forgive me for what happened on that rooftop. When I think she might not want me, it drives a desire to give her no choice, to force her. I don’t need her permission to make her mine, to claim her. I saw in her eyes she’ll willingly bend to my touch — but a part of me wants her to fight so I can force her.

I’m fucked up, I lost my conscience a long time ago. I’m not sorry I took her, I enjoyed her discomfort and fear. She turned me on when she ran from me, the thrill of the chase made my cock stand to attention.

As I watch her sleeping peacefully, I can’t help but get aroused. There’s something about Lou which sets her apart, something that makes me want to viscously claim her as mine. But at the same time, I know pushing her too hard or trying to possess her would only drive her away. She has to forgive me and come to me — I will not beg or chase a woman. Not a fucking chance.

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