Trust (55 page)

Sophia stood on her tiptoes and kissed him on the lips. “I’ll wait for you here, Handsome,” and flashed him a broad smile. She pushed him with her hands on his hips, her thumbs brushing his already semi-hard member.

He leaned down to nibble her earlobe and whispered in her ear, “You’re playing with fire, Sophia.”

“Maybe I want to get burned,” she answered in a throaty voice, turning and leaving him standing. He watched her, mesmerized as she walked to the edge of the riverbank.

He shook his head again, slower this time, not sure if he should be amused. He returned to the restaurant to look for a waiter.
I’ve been shaking my head too much, lately
.

A smile of pure joy appeared on his face as he strolled inside, lighthearted, whistling one of the songs from Sophia’s playlist under his breath.

11.12 p.m.

Alistair narrowed his eyes at the scene by the river. Sophia laughed at something a blond man said. Rage boiled in his veins as the man leaned near her to say something. She laughed harder and put a hand over her right breast, an unconsciously sensual gesture. The man put a hand on her shoulder and squeezed as she spoke and giggled.

Before Alistair knew what he was doing, he strode up to them with the liquid grace of a panther.

Alistair stopped beside them. Neither one had noticed him as they laughed on. He cleared his throat. “I’m not intruding, am I?”

“Alistair!” Sophia jumped and then smiled at him. “No, of course not. This is Judge Albert Ackerman. Albert, this is a friend of mine, Alistair MacCraig.”

“Mr. MacCraig, how do you do?” The blond man stretched his hand to shake Alistair’s.

“How do you do?” Alistair shook it briefly and discouraging further intimacy, turned to Sophia informing her in an icy voice, “I have ordered that our drinks and cigars are brought to
our private
garden.” He stressed the words and grabbed Sophia’s hand. He bowed his head in a sharp movement to the blond man, “Good night, Your Honor.” And he lugged Sophia, who waved hastily to her friend and she tripped behind Alistair.

“Wait, wait!” Sophia pulled his hand and stopped when they arrived at the cottage door. She squinted to peruse his expression in the moonless night and took a deep breath when she felt his dark mood.

“What do you think you’re doing?” His voice was low and laden with distrust. “This is a friend of mine, Alistair MacCraig,” he mimicked.

“Well, I wasn’t quite sure how to introduce you,” she answered shakily. “I didn’t mean-”

“Boyfriend, date, lover, whatever.” He threw a hand up, exasperated. “Not a friend.” He released the doorknob, leaving the door open, and moved aggressively toward her. “Never a simple friend,” he snarled. “Do you fuck your friends, Sophia?”

“Alistair,” she was thoroughly shocked at his sudden rage.

“I told you we were dating. I’m in a relationship with you, just as you asked me. But still, I’m a friend?” He put his forearms on the outer wall of the cottage and caged her between his arms and body. “What were you two chatting about?” His voice was icy and his eyes narrowed to thin slits.

“We were just talking about a funny case he heard yester-”

Alistair’s large hand shot to her throat and he tightened his long fingers around it, cutting her air.

Her head banged on the wall. Her eyes became huge with astonishment.

“Don’t lie,” he warned and tightened the grip, “I noticed your body language. It was too intimate.”

When her cold hand wrapped around his wrist, he released her throat, astonished at his violent reaction, moving his hand up to cup her face.

Sophia felt her own fingers, still wrapped around his wrist, against her jaw. It was almost a tender gesture despite the anger in his eyes. She gasped and coughed lightly, cupping her throat in her other hand. She glared at him.

“Are you crazy?” she graveled. “Release me. Now.”

He winced at the sign of his violent gesture. The familiar jealousy ran hot through his veins and reminded him of another time and woman.

In his efforts to prove himself to Sophia, forget Heather’s betrayal, and forgive himself, he’d been suppressing his darkest desires. However, restraining his aggressive nature wore him down. The only thing that kept him in check was the difference he had seen from the beginning in his experiences with Sophia - different from any other women he had known. He felt his recent tenuous hold on his self-control nearly gone.

She pushed him back, palming his chest with both hands, and stepped forward, hissing, “I will talk to whomever I want, whenever I want, about whatever I-”

Alistair grabbed her, one hand gripping her hair and the other sliding down her thigh. He propelled her back until she felt the cold wall against her back through her dress. His hard body aligned with hers forcefully.

“You are mine, Sophia. I don’t want to see another man’s hands on you. Ever.” He yanked her head back, “Never, do you understand, Sophia? You don’t want to see me lose control,” he hissed through clenched teeth, so close to her face that his breath fanned her cheeks.

He parted her mouth violently with his tongue and caught her bottom lip with his teeth, biting down.

Sophia shoved her hands in his hair and tugged back trying to free herself from the kiss, but the movement just spurred his lust.

His hand slid over the curve of her back, massaging it with his long fingers. He wasn’t being careful or gentle now.

Alistair lifted her left leg, pulling her thigh around his hip and pressing her between him and the wall. His huge erection imprinted itself on her belly, leaving no room for doubt about his state of arousal. Her shawl dropped, rustling to the ground.

“Why do I feel you slipping through my fingers?” he grunted, his mouth trailing down the column of her neck.

“I’m not going anywhere, I’m yours,” she avowed in a raw voice, “Nobody else’s.”
My goodness! The man is more jealous than Gabriel and Ethan put together
.

“That wasn’t what I saw.” He nipped her bare shoulder. “And I’ve told you before: I don’t share.”

“Neither do I,” she said, breathless from his bold caresses.

His fingers slid under her dress and up her thigh, teasing the skin encased in black thigh-highs until it reached her frilly lace thong.

“Christ, this is-” His hands seized the thin, delicate embellishment and ripped it apart.

“God, Alistair,” she breathed, “have you gone completely insane?”

“Aye.” His eyes glinted green flames in the semi-darkness. “You make me unhinged. In so many ways, I can’t start recounting now.” He smiled dangerously before pressing his lips to her ear, “Is this for me?” He held up the torn thong for a second before fisting it in his closed hand.

“Yes,” she reached up and grasped a fistful of his hair, dragging his head down and hissing fervently on his lips, “for you. Only you. Always you.”

Without warning, Alistair lifted her, pressing her against the cold wall.

“Don’t,” she gasped. “We’re going to get caught.”

“One of these days, I’m going to have my wicked way with you.” He let her glide down his body.

He picked up her shawl and put it around her shoulders. He brought the thong to his nose, inhaling her scent, shoved it in the inner pocket of his jacket, and towed her inside the cottage with sparse movements. “Someday, I’m going to tie you down, really tie you,” he said with a gruff voice, “and not allow any movements and drive you mad with desire - just like you torture me - until you beg me to fill you and let you come.”

Oh, my
. She didn’t think it would be possible for her to become aroused after what had just happened, but she was wrong. Images of herself bound and subject to his every whim sent a bolt of desire into her pelvis. She shivered and panted.

He locked their room door and pressed her against the silk paneled wall of the sitting room of their suite. His hands ripped away her shawl, flinging it across the room. It fell on the floor but neither one noticed. “I can see you like the idea.”

Oh, yeah, I do
. She liked that idea too damn much, if her reaction was any clue.

“I’m going to fuck you. Here. Standing. Against the wall,” he hissed in her ear as he took his wallet from his back pocket and pulled out a condom, shoving it between her teeth, “Open it.” With his left hand, he unzipped his trousers, shoving them and his boxers, lower onto his hips.

She clamped her teeth on the foil and he pulled, taking out the condom and sheathing himself.

His hands gripped her dress and shoved it up, binding it around her waist. He grabbed her buttocks. His lips kissed her neck, he pushed their hips closer. He lifted her easily. “Put your legs around my waist,” he commanded in a husky voice, “and hold on to me.”

The long, thin heels of Sophia’s delicate booties caught the curves of his butt and he groaned, his eyes sizzling her.

Sophia had a hard time organizing her thoughts. She gave up and let them scatter away when he pressed his massive length on her bare skin.

Alistair had never been a quiet man when it came to sex. He owned his sexuality in a raw, dark way. However, he had yet to unleash it completely with Sophia. But the thought of another man having her after she had been his, snapped his control.

He drove into her in one hard thrust and she closed her eyes tight, moaning.

“You’re so tight, so hot, you make me harder than I’ve ever been. I can’t wait to come.” He nipped her neck.

Sophia couldn’t answer. She was caught up in the frenzy of his desire and lowered her mouth to his neck, biting him to avoid screaming. A fire burned hot in her veins, her very being a bubbling volcano. She threaded her fingers in his silky soft hair and her nails dug into his scalp. She moaned low and long and pleaded, “Alistair, please, make me come.”

He shifted his hold on her butt to free one arm. He shoved a hand between their bodies and pressed his thumb on her clitoris. “That’s it,” he said through clenched teeth as he thrust deeply into her, over and over, their desire spiking. “Come with me. I’m so close.” He groaned and his cock jerked within her in agreement.

A flash travelled through her spine and her body sizzled with it. She lifted her head and yanked his down to a scorching, primal kiss. Her muscles contracted around him, as he pushed deeper and stilled, pressing her onto the wall. With a low scream, she exploded with passion. She convulsed in his arms, trembling so hard she was sure she was being torn apart. Her limbs weakened and she tumbled against him as her inner muscles narrowed one last time around his length.

Alistair grunted loudly as lightning speared through his spine and exploded behind his eyes, making him dizzy with the force of his incoming orgasm.

He heaved and gasped out loud.

“Sophia.” His low whisper became a plea of devotion. He repeated her name over and over as he came violently.

Her hard breathing on his neck made him shudder with renewed desire.

He kissed her mussed up hair. “Christ, Sophia.” His green eyes were flaming. “You’re mine,” he rumbled in his chest. “Mine, do you understand?” He embraced her tightly against his chest, anxiety burrowing deep in his soul.

“Yes,” she breathed in his scent, “yours.” She loved his smell. A scent unlike anyone else’s in the entire world.
Sublimely Alistair
.

He walked them to the bedroom with careful strides, his trousers still on his hips and laid her down on the bed. He went to the bathroom and flung the condom in the wastepaper basket. He shed his clothes quickly, leaving them on the chair there.

When he returned to the room, she was already under the sheets. She rested against a mound of white pillows, her raven hair framing her face and upper body. Despite her beauty, the troubled look in her eyes caught his attention. He paused in the middle of the room, uncertain of what to do.

Sophia held out a hand to him, motioning to the empty space next to her. “Alistair, I deserve your trust.”

He winced when she spoke, her voice raspy and low, which confirmed his previous brutality. He walked slowly to a chest of drawers and grabbed a T-shirt and pajama shorts. He dressed and sat on the edge of the bed, scowling.

She waited for his apology in silence. She had no idea what had brought about the outburst or what he would say next. His erratic behavior unnerved her.

“Did I hurt you, Sophia?”

What do you think?
Thousands of thoughts went through her mind in a rush.
You’re a lawyer, Sophia. You’ve defended women who have been assaulted, battered, and raped
. She shoved a hand in her hair, still studying him.
What are you going to say to a man who just assaulted you before having wild, absolutely amazing sex?

For the first time in her whole life, she began to understand the dilemma of many women in denouncing their companions. It wasn’t that easy to distinguish and decide what was right when so many emotions where involved.

“Sophia?” he coached, gently.

“It’s okay,” she cleared her throat, trying to get her voice back to normal.

His hand stretched to caress her hair but stopped midair.

Her hand met his halfway and she entwined her fingers with his, putting their hands on her lap. She looked down from his face to their interlaced hands and up again, staring deeply into his green eyes.

Alistair noticed that her eyes were not the beautiful yellow-diamond color he saw when she was turned on or sated after making love. He so loved that color.

She hooded her eyes when she noticed him studying them. But he had already seen that they were tinged with a light brown and it made a strange emotion unfurl in his chest.

A knock sounded on the door, startling them and breaking the awkward silence that had descended in the room.

“I’ll answer it,” he whispered and rose from the bed.

Sophia could hear another male voice.
The waiter, probably
. She had completely forgotten about the Armagnac and cigars she had wanted.

She jumped off the bed and took a wrap from the closet, donning it. When she heard the door closing, she quietly entered the sitting room and saw Alistair standing in the middle of it. He lowered his head and ran a hand over his nape, frowning. His posture echoed his utter dejection.