THE FIRST SIN (32 page)

He shrugged and turned back to his plate. “Yeah.” “You’ll have to tell me, sometime,” I said, but he stuffed a big piece of roast beef into his mouth.

My stomach growled. Okay, I was going to have a piece of that roast beef before I died.

Pure bliss. I made orgasmic sounds as I ate. “You are amazing.” My mouth was working double-time as I caught his gaze. “You’re as good a cook as you are in bed.” Those blue eyes didn’t even blink as he looked at me. “I know there are quite a few things that smart-ass mouth of yours excels at.”

My body went on immediate overload. The ache between my thighs was instant.

“Eating.” Where the heat in my cheeks came from, when I started the whole thing, I don’t know. I stabbed another piece of roast beef. “My mouth’s real good at that.” “Uh-huh.” From the corner of my eye I was sure I saw that almost-smile again.

Everything was heaven. Even if I hadn’t spent time in captivity drinking only broth, I would have been in a puddle at Donovan’s feet just over this dinner.

The charged silence while we ate had my entire body prickling. Those inches between us might as well have not been there at all. With every bite I took, I could swear my body brushed his. That his hand was on my thigh. Moving higher. And higher.

Unfortunately, it was all wishful fantasizing because Donovan kept his hands to himself.

The cushions threatened to swallow me again when I sagged back after stuffing myself.

“Hey, where are all the pillows?” I asked. Lots had been scattered throughout the room on the couch, the settee, and the chairs the last time I was here.

Donovan looked almost sheepish. “I’ve got to pick up some new ones.”

If I wasn’t so tired I would have laughed. “You abused them, didn’t you?” I pictured him pummeling the crap out of every pillow in Kristin’s living room while I was gone. “At least you didn’t kill the walls.”

“Gotta get this mess cleaned up,” he said without looking at me.

“Let me help, since you cooked,” I said, even though I wasn’t sure my body would agree to me getting up off my butt. “Uh-uh.” Donovan leaned down and caught me by surprise when he scooped me into his arms. “It’s bed for you.” “Mmmm. I snuggled against him as he carried me to the guest room.

How did he smell so freaking good? “In a hurry tonight? Works for me.”

He settled me on the edge of the bed. “Steele, you never slow down.”

I clenched my fists in his soft blue T-shirt. “Right now I don’t want it slow at all.”

Donovan shook his head. “You need rest. Not sex.”

“It’s the other way around.”

What a tight ass he had as he walked to my duffel and pulled out the long Red Sox T-shirt I usually slept in. A sigh made my chest rise and fall. “Not going to give in, are you?”

“Nope.” He brought the T-shirt to me.

I raised my cast. “You’re gonna help me into that shirt, right?”

“You need rest.” He tossed me the shirt and I caught it with my good hand.

“And I doubt you’ll behave.” “That’s because behaving’s no fun.” I looked down at my shirt and back up at him. “Don’t trust me, Donovan?” “Never.”

Still he came toward me and knelt to help me out of my shirt. He was so careful and so slow that there was plenty of time for that burn inside of me to grow until I was ready to tackle him. The air didn’t feel cool at all when my shirt was off. I hadn’t worn a bra because all Donovan had brought to the infirmary were my jeans, panties, and a loose T-shirt.

“You had that planned all along.” My voice was husky as I spoke. “Forgetting to grab a bra when you got the rest of my stuff.”

An electrical sensation traveled straight between my thighs as he skimmed his fingers over my belly when he went for the button of my jeans.

Bye-bye, sleepiness. Hello, horniness.

“Stand,” he said, his voice low and rough. Yeah, I was going to be a regular electrical transformer and explode by the time he finished with me. Damn, he was good. It didn’t take him long to unfasten my jeans and slide them over my hips straight to the floor. I kicked them out of the way, totally ready for Donovan to take me into his arms. He stepped around me and pulled the covers aside.

Straight to the bed, fine by me. Who was on top or bottom, I didn’t care.

He helped me lie on my back while he knelt between my thighs. “Does your lower half hurt?”

I grinned. “Not at all.”

Donovan slowly pulled down my underwear and tossed it on the floor. “I missed this,” he said as he started lowering himself.

“Me, too—“

I gasped as he slid his hands under my ass and put his mouth on me. He licked and sucked while he thrust his fingers inside of me. He teased me, though. Licked around my clit, bringing me to the brink of orgasm and then drawing away. “Damnit, Donovan. I’m so close.” I reached down with my good hand and held the back of his head. “Stop teasing me and make me come. Please.”

He sucked my clit and it was like the world exploded. My hips bucked against his face as he drew out every last bit of strength from me.

Donovan rose up over me, and I tasted my own musk when he kissed me.

“Relaxed now?” he said against my lips. “Oh, yeah.” I looped my good arm around his neck. “I haven’t been this relaxed since the last night we spent in bed.”

“Good.” He kissed me again before climbing off the bed and grabbing my Red Sox T-shirt. “That was for you.” Before I even had a chance to say anything, he snatched up my nightshirt and brought it over my head.

“What—“ The T-shirt muffled me and I sputtered, not able to get a word out until he had my cast through one sleeve, my good arm through the other, and the neckline dropped over my head.

He pushed me backward onto the mattress. “Sleep.”

“But—“

“When you’re better,” he said in a low and hungry tone, “I’m going to fuck you good and hard.”

My glare should have poked him all over, like a million little needles. “You are such a tease.”

“And you need your rest.” He tucked me in, like I was a defiant child, as I narrowed my gaze at him. “As well as some time to recover,” he added.

“You know I’ll get even.”

“I’m sure you will.” He brushed his lips over mine, making me sigh and melting some of the irritation at being sent to bed without the rest of my treat.

Him. Inside me.

Donovan switched off the light, then left the room. I was so relaxed from my orgasm that I think I was asleep before the door closed behind him.

April 23

Tuesday, early, early morning

Nameless, faceless people. I shoot, shoot, shoot. I’m strapped to a chair. I smell the sweat and stink of the Cuban prison. A man slugs me. I see stars, and then the man starts to unzip his pants.

Randolph. Dead. Her face white as she floats face up in the harbor, her throat slashed, her eyes and mouth open in a scream no one will ever hear.

Kristin. I can see her. But she’s so far away. Must get to her! Fire sears my skin, my entire being, as Cabot presses the brand inside my thigh. I scream, then scream louder as he pulls the hot metal from my skin.

The pain goes on forever as I struggle against the bonds on the St. Andrew’s Cross. He’s going to take that horrid metal and brand every bit of my naked flesh. B. C. Benjamin Cabot.

His property.

“No!” I scream over and over again as he heats the metal again in red-hot coals. An orange-red glow from the flaming brand lights the devil’s features as he raises it and brings it toward the inside of my other thigh.

Cabot jabs the brand at me like a fencer going in for the kill. He presses the hot metal so hard and so long against my flesh that I know he’s going to burn it away, through to the bone.

I’ll never stop screaming. I’ll never be able to escape. I’ll be his property forever.

“No, no, no.” The word comes out over and over again before I start begging.

“Please, no. Please, stop!” He laughs. His eyes gleam red, matching the red glow of the coals. He brings the brand up to my breast—

“Lexi!” A male voice shouted at me.

In total darkness, a heavy body pinned me down against something soft. Still I fought, and the man gave a loud “oof” sound when I rammed my elbow into his belly. His shin was hard against my heel and he said, “Lexi!” before holding me tighter.

“No!” I shouted. “Not the brand! I won’t let you do it again!”

I fought and screamed with everything I had. For some reason my right arm wouldn’t move, but my left elbow worked real well.

“Lexi! Stop.” The male voice gave another grunt of pain as I rose and slammed the back of my head into his forehead. “No,” I screamed again. “Get it away. Get it away!”

The man practically growled, “It’s Donovan, Lexi. Donovan. Wake up. You’re having a nightmare. Wake up.” I still struggled, but my movements were more feeble as my mind started to clear.

Donovan. His scent. The hardness of his body. The way he held me so tight, but trying not to hurt me. The mattress was soft beneath me as my whole body went limp. Reality crept to my consciousness. I was away from Cabot.

He couldn’t brand me.

Again.

I pressed my hand to the bandage over my belly button. His initials seemed to burn as hot as the brand that had burned me in my dream.

When I swallowed my throat hurt, probably from screaming.

“Hey.” Donovan’s voice, softer now as he let up his tight grip on me. “It’s going to be all right. It was just a nightmare.” “His brand is there. It’s never going to be okay,” I whispered. “We’ll make it okay.” He pressed his lips to my temple and gave me a soft kiss. “But we’ll talk about it in the morning.”

“Hold me. Please.”

“I’m not going anywhere.” Donovan wrapped his arm around my waist and spooned himself against my back. “I’ll hold onto you while you sleep. You’re safe.” “Thank you,” I whispered before I eventually slipped into a dreamless sleep, secure that for the rest of the night Donovan would keep the demons away.

April 23

Tuesday

“Now that you’re broken in,” Michaels said with a smile, once the chain was affixed to a jumbo-sized hook installed in the floor, “I’ll let you have free range in the kitchen and dining nook. With the collar and chain on at all times, of course.” Kristin thought of knives. Kitchens usually meant knives.

He chuckled as if he could read her mind. “I’ve taken out anything lethal.

Just in case you get any kind of strange urges that involve pain for me or death for you.” Kristin blinked. Suicide? That was something that had never come to her mind. She always held tight to the belief that Nick would find her.

She was a psychology major and a realist. She knew she wasn’t going to get out of this mentally intact. It would take loads of therapy, but one day Michaels would be dead or in prison, and she’d be fine. She might not want to have sex for the rest of her life. But kill herself?

Michaels looked her naked body up and down. “Beautiful, as always.”

Every time he did that---appraised her like a prized mare and complimented her—her skin crawled and she wanted to scream. Or cry. Or both.

“Fix my breakfast.” Michaels waved toward the fridge and stove. “I don’t have much time. My first class is in an hour.” He strode away through the swinging doors that were a good ten feet from the end of her chain.

Classes. The semester was nearly over and here she was. Kristin wasn’t in the mood for the thin belt Michaels had used on her when he was ticked that she hadn’t done what he said. She had to make this fast.

She looked around a large kitchen filled with cherrywood cabinets, a granite island, and stainless-steel appliances. Unlike Nick, her cooking skills were so-so, but she could get by. She headed for the pantry. The obviously expensive tile had an uneven texture beneath her bare feet. Windows. What about the windows?

There were plenty.

All shuttered. And her chain didn’t reach that far. For a moment she could only stare at another bit of freedom, so close, but just out of her reach.

Something hard lodged in her chest. She wanted to throw one thing after another at those windows and shatter them all. But that wouldn’t do any good if she wasn’t close enough to them to scream for help, and wasn’t able to get herself out of this collar with its freaking heavy, thick chain. Still—she would keep them in mind.

Kristin pulled her long hair back and twisted it into a knot so that it would stay out of her face.

After searching through the fridge and pantry—the entire time looking for anything that could be used as a lethal weapon—she found pancake mix, frozen sausage links, and eggs.

She scavenged through the utensil drawer. All plastic utensils, like spatulas and spaghetti spoons. Pretty useless if she wanted to inflict any damage.

But in one corner in the back was something Michaels didn’t think would matter—or he didn’t see. A small, flat, metal punch can opener. The punch opener was about three inches long, with a triangular point on one end and a bottle cap opener on the other.

Kristin looked over her shoulder, her heart racing. It wasn’t much, but maybe she could use it to pick at the leather collar, under the strap. If she only had someplace to hide it on her body. The only thing she had on was the half inch thick, inch-wide leather collar, and it wasn’t big enough. The collar was made of a material that was soft and didn’t chafe her, and he didn’t seem to think she needed balm beneath it.

But she still couldn’t hide the can opener there. Instead she’d find someplace he’d never look. She had to get his breakfast done or she’d end up with strap marks from that belt. She ducked under the sink—the idiot had actually left stove cleaner, another thing to think about. She tucked the can opener so far back in the cabinet that she was positive it would never be seen. For good measure she pushed the spray stove cleaner back, too.

Now cook. Fast.

While she made breakfast, the normally delicious smells made her stomach cramp, but she wouldn’t throw up. She had puked on Michaels the first time he’d had her suck him in the bedroom and forced her to swallow. All these weeks later and she swore she could still feel his fists. Who’d have thought a man with zero muscle tone could pack the kind of punch he did?