Paradise Found: Cain (Paradise Stories Book 2) (31 page)

Buried within me, the sack of him fighting for entrance as well, he paused to look down at me. His dark eyes were alight with flecks of flame. He looked scary and terrified at the same time.

“Say you mean it. Say it again,” he pleaded, his eyebrows pinching, while he balanced above me. There was something empowering about the tone of his voice. He was the night sky staring down at the shore. I was the liquid ocean under him, hoping to reach him with every rolling wave. He was tender, frightened, uncertain of what lay below him, but he wanted it. He wanted those words as reassurance. My hips curved, pleading with him in my own right to continue what he’d started. His heavy hand forced my body to still. His eyes begged me.

“Say it again,” he groaned low. The intensity in his plea filled me. Drawing strength from his vulnerability and his need for those words, I grew bolder.

“I love you.” He was rough, rougher than he’d ever been with me, and I craved it. I wanted this wild, raw Cain, who was frightened and fierce in the same moment. I hadn’t realized the power those three words could wield on this man. I rolled my hips again, forcing him to move inside me.

“I love you,” I repeated, confident, for the moment, in the strength of my words. He withdrew from me and I thought I’d lost him. I thought I’d scared him so much, he realized that being in me was nothing he’d ever want again.

He surprised me a second time, by taking his time to re-enter me. One. Slow. Pulse. At. A. Time. When his balls kissed my core, I cried out again in a low chorus of monosyllabic praise. I carried that note until he repeated the process, beginning again the slow, rhythmic ritual of making love to me in the most tender manner. The vanquished speed of moments before was cut short by my words that turned this uncontained beast into a god of passion.

He dragged the length of himself through my center, caressing every inch inside me before sliding back, until I clamped my thighs in attempts to hold him in. He held himself over me, watching where he joined me, then closing his eyes in response to the sounds of my pleasure. My fingers crawled over his ears and clasped the back of his head, struggling to pull him down to me, to connect our lips, as well. But he had other plans, to watch the amazing show of our bodies connected as one.

The slow penetration was too much for him, and eventually the motion increased to rapid thrusts. My ankles wrapped over his thighs, as I pulled him upward and into me, with the full force of my strength. I couldn’t get him deep enough, fast enough. I braced myself for the celebration of a lifetime that was building inside of me. Tingling prickles crawled up my legs, scrambling to find an escape as they reached my center and burst forth from me into a million shiny stars. My legs fell off of him, and my body fully surrendered to his. Limp and ragged as the euphoric sensation of him filling me, exploded throughout me, I quickly ignited for a repeat display. Cresting again when I felt the final beat of him thrust forward, I sang out the words that prompted it all.

“I love you.”

Basking in the afterglow of sex seemed almost as foreign a concept as the words she’d said to me.

I love you.

Her voice played on repeat as we rested only briefly, before I had to have her again. I had to make certain she was real. This wasn’t trickery or magic or something unheard. She was under me. I was inside her. We were together.

In the morning, she was slipping out of bed when I reached for her.

“Don’t go,” I commanded, but her sweet smile was the precursor to the brush off.

“I have class,” she said in the dim light of a new day. My heart skipped. I tried to calm my fears that daylight would break the spell of her and I again. I wanted to wrap her up and keep her in this bed for all of eternity. This would be our paradise from the world outside.

She slid out of my grasp and headed for the shower. I fell back on the pillows, ripe with the scent of her. We’d been together twice last night before sleep took her. It had been almost two months, and I wanted her again and again. I’d never be satiated by the fruit of her, but yesterday had been another tough day. She needed to know I was here for her. My father was a viper, and his intimidation of Sofie was not washed away by one night of reunited sex.

On the other hand, her words gave me hope. She was loving me. She was trusting me. She’d come to me wanting answers about Kursch. She came to me with her fear of my father. Sofie wasn’t a simpering girl after me for riches or fame. That glory went number one to my father. A new day reminded me that I had to respond to his threats, because they were meant for me.

I didn’t know where he was staying. He’d only been to Preston one other time that I could recall. He hadn’t been welcome to stay with Abel, as my brother was my opponent at the time. I hadn’t invited him to my home either, although I’m certain he knew where I lived. There wasn’t much I did that my father wasn’t aware of because of Kursch. Loyal bodyguard and general protector, my father was still his primary supporter. Although, most of the funds that were my father’s income came from my labors. All this would change, now that I quit.

Kursch drew the line at Sofie. For whatever reason, he hadn’t told my father the truth. The truth of our marriage. The truth of our divorce. He’d kept my secret as well as he could, until Sofie appeared at the fight. With my mother’s cross and her engagement ring, Sofie’s identity was revealed. It wasn’t something my father would blast to the press for promotion. In fact, he wanted to keep the “situation” as much undercover as possible.

“A wife will ruin your appeal. Women’s interest in the fight is nearly forty-percent of your fans. That’s a huge chunk we can’t risk,” he warned.

I was sick at the thought. After what I’d done with Malinda in front of Sofie, I didn’t want to think of other women. Married women looked all the time. Hell, some even touched, but no other hands were going to be on me again.

Kursch was easy to locate. My father was after that.

Carrie’s.
I’d been to this strip club on my initial visits to Preston in search of Sofie. She didn’t work at the club, but it was here that I found Elma Montgomery, Joey Montana’s little sister. When charges of murder were dropped, I began to worry about the debts Montana left behind. Winning big was the goal of his fight with me: his last fight. He’d illegally bet on himself then fought with an unhealed concussion. The wrong blow to the head, and he went down like a crumbling brick wall. Thinking he was only unconscious, I didn’t bother to look after him. I’d knocked guys out before. When Montana didn’t revive after a few minutes, the urgency became real. He was dead, leaving behind a mother that relied on him too much and a kid sister in college. The same college as my younger brother. Fate is a tricky mistress. She brought Abel and Elma together.

I entered the dimly lit club to the beat of a sultry tune and a scantily clad college girl shaking her ass all over the stage. A pole and a cage framed the wooden platform. The girl used a chair for her performance. I wasn’t here for the show, though.

I found my father sitting at a table I’d often sat at in the past. I imagine his posture was the same as mine. He was staring forward but not watching the sight before him. I allowed myself a seat across from him. Without breaking his trance, he listened to me speak.

“You have a problem with what I’m doing, you come see me,” I began. “You stay the fuck away from Sofie.”

“Awww,” he mocked. “Isn’t that chivalrous? The knight trying to protect the princess.” He turned slowly to face me. “Only you’re no fucking knight, and she’s not a damn princess.”

My eyes narrowed at the insult. I was well aware of what he thought of Sofie. His first impression of her had been in my bed. He’d called her names, like she was any other woman that I’d shared the sheets with: a woman who was using me as much as I was using her. He had no idea that Sofie was different. From the first moment, she’d been something other than the women who followed me, who threw themselves at me. She hadn’t wanted me the same way as others. She’d wanted only me, even when she didn’t really know me then.

“I don’t care who she is, you come to me with your issues.”

“Of course you don’t care about her. She’s a damn fuck, like them all.”

“Is that how you felt about your wife?” I bit, cursing myself for speaking of my mother in this manner, but wanting to strike back at him.

His hand shook. He was ready to retaliate. I was ten years old again, talking back to him, tempting him to hit me. Only this time, the threat was empty. He couldn’t touch me like he used to.

“Your mother was different.”

So is Sofie
, I wanted to retort. It was the first hint that my father had felt something for our mother before he turned her out.

“You have a problem, you see me, not her.”

My father eyed me. He was onto me with those beady eyes of his. He could see right through me.

“Sofie is off limits,” I clarified, giving my own glare of warning in return.

“You can’t throw it all away for a piece of ass.”

“I’m not throwing anything away.”

“We’ve worked so hard for your success.”

“I’ve worked hard,” I retorted. He’d been my coach and he rode my ass, but it wasn’t his body doing the fighting. I wanted to save that body for something else now.

“I have so much money invested in you,” he growled.

“And it’s been repaid sevenfold,” I barked. The amount of money made by my winnings, sponsorships, and advertisements was beyond any initial backing my father put up for my success.

“She’s only a piece of ass,” he bit again.

“She’s my fucking wife!” I roared, slamming a hand on the sticky wooden table. The area around us grew quiet, and some even hushed us, as if we were disturbing the peace within a strip bar.

My father glared at me, his nostrils flaring. I’d seen this look before. He was attempting to hide his shock. I’d just admitted the worst of sins to him. I was married and I was honoring her by claiming her as such. His hatred of women in general deemed this the ultimate betrayal.

“Divorce her,” he demanded.

“You already tried that with her,” I balked. “She didn’t fall for it either.”

“That bitch,” he hissed, but my hand was at his throat instantly.

“Don’t you ever talk about her like that. Ever. She’s my wife, and you’ll respect her.”

“Or what?” Atom snarked with a choking sound.

“Or I’ll take back every dime that’s mine. It was my work, not yours. I’m not a minor child any longer. Twenty-four is close enough to twenty-five to take my life back for me. I’ve left you in charge for too long. This is
my
life,” I said releasing him with a shove. “Mine. Not yours. I will not be my father’s son.” I stood with a huff and my chair fell back with a loud clatter. Not bothering to pick it up, I took a step to walk away. I was finished with my father, but I knew better than to think he was finished with me.

“There’s only one way I’ll let it go,” he called after me. I should have kept walking. I should have blocked out the hint of hope that there was a way to peacefully end this with my father, once and for all.

“You want out? You fight your brother for real. None of that pussy shit where you told him how to hit, where to throw a punch. A real fight.”

The idea that my father would stop at nothing to prove I was better than Abel was uncanny. There was no stopping him from trying to break Abel. Why? Because my younger brother looked like my mother, because he was more docile like her, or because he viewed Abel as weak like her? I would never have those answers. He was determined that one brother would fight the other, and I would win. It would kill Abel to return to the ring with me. I couldn’t risk it, but I couldn’t risk Sofie. My father had his heel on the throat of the snake, and I was going to be crushed either way.

I was wound tight when I returned to the house but the sight of Sofie barefoot, and in my kitchen, melted away some of the tension. I crept quietly up behind her, where she leaned against the counter cutting something. She was deep in thought as she didn’t hear my approach, or if she did, she wasn’t responding to my presence.