Chapter 23
Chapter Twenty-Three
PRESENT
The house breathes in the quiet of the night, its walls humming with the faint chirp of crickets and the soft groan of settling wood. I lie awake, staring at the ceiling, my mind caught in the undertow of everything that has unfolded today. Every thought finds its way back to her.
Kat. Her name is on repeat and causes insomnia. Anyone who knows the tossing and turning of a sleepless night understands how much that amplifies emotion. I can’t get her out of my head. Her gaze wanted to believe in something but didn’t know how. Her eyes—those stormy, beautiful blue eyes—held so much more than words ever could. And her touch, brief as it was, still burns on my skin.
I comb my fingers through my hair and sit up. The room is too small, too stifling. I’ve been telling myself to leave her be, to give her space, but the thought of her just down the hall, alone with her worries, is a tide pulling me out to sea. It’s reckless. I know it is. But I also know I won’t sleep unless I see her.
I slip out of bed and allow the cool wooden floor to ground me for a moment before grabbing a pair of boxer briefs in my walk-in closet. I step into the hallway.
Her door is open just enough to tease me. Just enough to tempt me to destroy everything I’ve spent the last thirteen years trying to bury. I should walk away. I should turn around, go back to my room, and remind myself of all the reasons I can’t have her. But my feet don’t listen. My fucking heart doesn’t listen. I knock, knowing I’ve already lost this fight.
After our kiss, I talked myself down and convinced myself I could be her friend. That I could do all of this without touching her again. That I could, with the help of GhostEye, get to the bottom of it before the foster agency comes knocking again.
I’m supposed to inform them of any household changes like relationships… certainly of another kid being in my home.
But I’m not going to because I have to have faith that this can be resolved soon.
It also means I cannot let myself fall deeper, because catching whoever is behind this is only half the problem if I submit to these feelings.
And yet, helpless as I was to resist thirteen years ago, here I am .
Her voice floats through the crack. “Yes?”
“It’s me.”
There’s a pause, just long enough to make me question myself…
“Come in.”
I push the door open. She’s perched on the edge of the bed, her hair falling in messy waves over one shoulder, her skin kissed by the soft glow of the lamp. Her eyes lift to mine, and fuck—fuck—she looks at me like she wants me to ruin her. Like she knows I will. Her gaze drags down my chest, slow and consuming, and my skin tightens under the weight of it. If she touched me, I’d probably come undone right there.
“Is everything all right?” she asks.
I close the door behind me, leaning back against it as I take her in. “I couldn’t sleep,” I admit. “I wanted to check on you.”
She studies me for a long moment, her lips pressing together as if deciding whether or not to say why she’s not sleeping either.
“I’m fine,” she says, not believing herself any more than I do.
I cross the room and sit next to her on the bed, both of us wear next to nothing. I’m vulnerable to even the slightest cock twitch in these boxer briefs, and her pajamas are wafer-thin. Why the fuck did I come in here? Seriously, why did I really come in here?
Because I’m not done with her. My mind, body, and soul have unfinished business… that’s why I can’t sleep. Why I’m creeping across floorboards.
I have to remember what’s at stake. If the social worker finds out I’m involved with someone—it could slow down the entire process. Or halt it, especially given Kat’s situation.
Fuck, she’s not some ordinary single mom. She has the FBI and the ’Ndrangheta after her, for fuck’s sake.
What are you doing Santi?
That question is easy to answer with her looking the way she does, curves served up like temptation itself. I want to throw her down and have her, again and again until she’s mine again.
Kat lets out a defeated sigh, gripping the edge of the bed like it’s the only thing keeping her grounded. “I can’t sleep. I’m scared as hell right now if I’m honest.”
“You’re safe here.”
Her simple statement speaks volumes. “I’m all Theo has.”
I want to tell her he has me now, too, but it would sound wild. But it’s true. I’d take that kid under my wing in an instant if he needed it. If he wanted it. But why is it just her and Theo? Why and how did she end up staying all those years in a loveless, abusive relationship when she’s everything a decent man would want?
A lot has changed in Kat since we were younger. She wasn’t the cautious type back then. Even in the face of her father, an absolute tyrant, she was ready to ride or die with me. She wasn’t afraid of being poor, of having nobody but me… we were both reckless but we loved that about us.
Our wild sides have wilted in the wake of responsibility. I know her decision to stay probably had everything to do with Theo. Abusers are manipulative, but I still want to understand why Kat would have stayed with him.
I lean back against the headboard and prop my legs up. “I don’t want to sound insensitive, but why did you stay with Nicholas? You could have been married to a guy like me by now.”
I try to tease, to lighten the mood, but she cocks an eyebrow with pleasure or with warning, I can’t tell, but at least my humor isn’t misplaced.
I guess her opportunity to speak her truth puts her at ease because she wiggles up the length of the bed. She tucks her bare legs back under the covers next to me and it’s a good thing, too, because I’m struggling not to climb between them.
Kat takes a long inhale as if preparing herself. “I tried to leave when Theo was four years old after he first went off to preschool. Theo, maybe because of his home life, and the fact that Nic did often shout at me, he’s always been a reserved, quiet boy. A bit of a loner. It only became more evident when he went to school. Already boys his age were joining different Pee Wee leagues or tiny tots’ tennis. Theo just wasn’t into team sports and was introverted even back then. Nicholas said cruel things to him about not being normal. Not being a real man. He was only four, and Nic made him cry on more than one occasion. Just… making Theo feel less than. He was four, for God’s sake.”
I thread my fingers through hers, as any friend might do. But the way she squeezes mine as she speaks is taking me back to the barn.
“That was when it set in the kind of father Nicholas was going to be. I didn’t think to leave when Nic tore me away from friends, stopped me from painting, or even physically shoved me for stepping out of my place. After all, I grew up in a home not too dissimilar from the one I was in with Nic. But watching Nic with Theo? It’s weird how much we tolerate for ourselves that we never would for a loved one. ”
How true that is.
“I didn’t know how I’d leave. I had no job. No skills. Shit, I dropped out of college after I got pregnant. I don’t have an education. I’m not good at math, I’m dyslexic, but I figured I could make my way. And maybe I could even ask my dad. When I finally got brave enough to talk about divorce with Nicholas,” she takes in a ragged breath, “he had me committed.”
“Committed?”
She wraps her arms around herself. “Yeah, to a mental hospital.”
The fuck? “Jesus, Kat…”
“Nic had a friend, Dr. Frazer, who issued a warrant for detention, without ever seeing me or talking to me. And I was committed. I spent two weeks with drugs pumped into me, no contact with my son… it was like a fifties horror movie.”
Holy shit… I want to stop and wrap my arms around her, lay my palm over her head… but thankfully, talking seems cathartic for her.
“When I got out, he made it clear: if I ever tried to leave again, he’d make sure I’d lose Theo. He knew I couldn’t risk it.”
The air is heavier, the weight of her story has settled into the room. I want to punch something, to rage at how fucking cruel this man was.
She laughs humorlessly. “Of course, my father believed I had mental problems. Probably because I was pretty depressed as a teenager, but what did he expect? Mom left because of his cheating, Dad worked all the time and frankly isn’t a kind person. Without my father believing me, I had nobody to turn to. All I had was Theo so I resigned myself to a sentence of eighteen years until my son might legally move out and maybe I could do it then, too.”
No wonder she’s lost all trust. Nobody ever earned it from her.
My fingers curl tightly around hers. “Whatever happens, I won’t let you down.”
I mean it… I mean it as more than a friend and I’m a fool to think I can have this goddess in my home and not worship at her feet.
Her eyes lift to mine, glistening in the sliver of moonlight coming in through the curtains. Tears sparkle on her baby blues, and the whole world slows down. Seeing her like this knocks the air out of my lungs. There’s so much in those eyes—fear, doubt, hope, our past…
Her voice is barely audible. “Why would you want someone so goddamn broken?”
“You’re not broken to me.” I tangle my fingers in her hair, tilting her head back just enough to keep her eyes locked on mine. “You’re a masterpiece,” I drop my lips closer. “Every part of you is a treasure I’d fight to claim.”
A tear traces the curve of her round cheek.
I slide my hand around the delicate curve of her neck, feeling the pound of her pulse beneath my thumb. “I wish I didn’t—goddamn, I wish I didn’t… But I need you.”
We’re so close now, our noses nearly touching. Her breath brushes my skin, warm and shaky, and my hands slide up to her waist, anchoring her to me.
“Santi,” she murmurs, her voice breaking.
Fuck it.
I close the space between us. It’s not just a kiss. It’s a slow unraveling, a quiet surrender to everything I’ve tried to bury. It’s giving in to the desire that’s been burning beneath my skin since the second I saw her again .
Her fingers twist into my shirt, yanking me down, and the second our mouths crash, it’s a fucking mess. Desperate, wet, all tongue and teeth. I fist the sheets beside her head, trying—failing—to control myself. She moans into my mouth; her hips roll against mine. I’m already so far gone.
I need to mark her. I need to hear her scream my fucking name.
Her hands glide up my bare chest, gently clawing at my skin. I guide her down on the bed and every inch of my body is on fire, every thought about caution or consequences… gone. She’s all that exists—her warmth, her scent, the way she clings to me like I’m the only thing keeping her steady.
I run my hands up the length of her torso, and she lifts her arms so I can tug off her flimsy tank top. Full breasts fall to the sides. I take a mouthful of flesh, sucking in her sweet scent and soft skin. Her satisfaction purrs in my ear.
She locks her legs around my waist, anchoring me to her as if she’s afraid I’ll slip away. Or maybe I’m the one who’s afraid. Afraid that if I let myself have this—her—I’ll never be able to stop.
Our bare stomachs brush, heat licking up my spine, and when I grind my hips into the cradle of her thighs, a sharp moan leaves her lips. There’s barely anything between us. Just two scraps of fabric keeping me from sinking into the woman I never forgot. The one who makes me reckless and unhinged, but somehow still seen—like she knows every flaw in me and doesn’t care.
I hook my fingers into the waistband of her pajama shorts and drag the elastic lower down. She shifts her hips, restless, urging me on. Her tongue dances with mine. When she hums into my mouth, the sound spikes through my bloodstream like a goddamn drug .
The way she moves against me—slow, deliberate, torturous—has me rock-hard in seconds. Even with my boxers on, the friction of my cock on her naked pussy is blinding. Mind-erasing.
What the fuck am I doing?
We’re not kids anymore. We’ve lived entire lives apart. Made mistakes. Tried to forget.
But none of that stops my hands from knowing exactly where they belong. None of it stops the fire between her legs from pulling me under.
I drag my tongue over the hollow at the base of her throat. A shiver rips through her, sharp and familiar. Her head drops back, her back arches… and I take.
I sink my teeth into her neck—just enough to make her gasp, just enough to leave a whisper of a mark. Maybe it’ll fade. Maybe it won’t.
I hope it doesn’t.
I flick my thumb over her nipple, watching the way her body reacts, the way she feels me. Then I rise, taking in the sight of her—flushed, breathtaking, mine.
“How are you still so damn beautiful?”
Her eyes flutter open. Her hips still, the slow stroke of her body against mine coming to a halt. “Nobody’s told me I’m beautiful since… you.”
I rub my chest against hers, my God her heat and softness drive me crazy. I nibble her lip. “If I had my way, I’d be the only person seeing this body ever again. And I wouldn’t let a day go by without you knowing how sexy you are.”
I am so fucking hard for her. I take her hand and guide it to my cock.
“Feel that? You own me.”
She studies my face, searching, like she’s trying to believe this moment is real but her hand tightens around my shaft and I know she isn’t going anywhere.
And neither am I.
“Are you scared to do this?” She murmurs.
Scared doesn’t begin to explain it. This woman could be the death of me. “Yes.”
Her gaze is too much—too raw, too knowing—so I drop my mouth to her nipple, pressing a slow, reverent kiss onto the stiff peak.
Then, her fingers ignite the sensitive skin beneath the waistband of my boxer briefs.
“I want you, cowboy…”
There’s a vulnerability in her eyes I know too well. Not the desperation of having no choice, but the quiet ache of finally facing the inevitable.
I still have to hear it. “Are you sure?”
She simply nods and I don’t wait for words.
At that, I leave a trail of bitten skin down her belly then stare up.
“Spread your legs for me, Michi .” My voice is rough, barely human. “Let me see what’s mine.”
She moans, head tipping back against the pillow as she does exactly what I ask.
“Fuck,” I stare at her glistening pussy then run my fingers through her swollen folds, bringing them to my mouth to lick them clean. I’m going to devour her. “You’re dripping for me.”
Just the sight of her is killing me, beads of precum blot the bed and I reach down to give my cock a moment of relief. I’m so damn hard. “You want to be mine, Kat?” Pump. “You want me to fill you up with my fingers?” Pump. “With this cock that’s all yours?”
Her voice is husky. “ Yes.”
A dark laugh leaves my lips. “Say it. Say you want me inside you.”
She widens her legs for me, a sight to fucking behold.
“I want you inside me.”
When I run my tongue along her seam, the taste is heaven. She’s slick, soft, swollen, hot. I stroke my tongue in slow, long motions, almost a tease. But I can’t help myself, soon I’m circling her clit eagerly with my tongue, her bud is hard and standing tall.
Her nails dig into my shoulders.
“Fuck, Santi… More.”
“So eager.”
I take her clit gently between my teeth.
“Holy shit…” She whimpers.
I fill her up with two fingers inside, twist and scissor, and she grinds herself against my hand, hard. Desperate.
Possession swells in my chest, sharp and undeniable. I want her to be mine. I want her here, always. But more than anything—I want her to choose to stay.
The thought of her never leaving, of this being real, shatters my patience. I circle my tongue faster.
She arches her back, her toes curl, and her orgasm bursts through her body. “Santi…” she pants.
I finish her off, savoring every last drop of her release but before she can even stop panting, I pull down my boxers and toss them off the side of the bed with my toe. When I rise to my knees between her legs, my cock points right at her.
“Oh my God,” she’s breathless.
I can’t help the smirk of satisfaction. “Tell me you want my dick.” I stroke myself, urging more blood into my shaft. I’m going to fucking stretch her to the limit.
“I want your dick. ”
I bite my lip, still stroking. I could come in an instant just watching her. “Don’t move from that spot, baby. I’ll get a condom.”
Her fingers dig into my arm as I make a move off the bed.
“I have a coil.”
Shit yes.
“You want me bare?” I growl.
“Yes.”
I place my knees between her wide legs and push them out, opening her up nice and wide. I tug up her knees so she can brace herself. It’ll be hard to be gentle.
“I don’t know how long I’ll last fucking you raw, Kat. You’re the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen.”
I press the tip of my cock to her entrance, teasing, making her feel it before I give her anything. It’s not easy to hold back. Her pussy is perfect, soaked and I want inside now.
“You ready for me?” My voice is all gravel.
She rolls her hips up against my tip, forcing me to dip it into her just a little. “Santi, please?—”
I thrust forward, bottoming out in one slow, agonizing push, and fuck—she’s so tight, so fucking perfect, I nearly lose it right there.
“Jesus, Kat… Your cunt is fucking ecstasy. You’re going to ruin me.”
The rest of the world fades as we lose ourselves in each other until there’s nothing left but heat and connection and a sense of rightness.
My hands grip her full hips while I pump into her with long, deep strokes. She tosses her head to the side, closing her eyes. I bring my other hand up to gather up the hair at the nape of her neck and tug .
I can’t help but ride rougher now. I’m losing control.
Her eyes blast open. “I can take it. Harder.”
“Harder?” My hold body clenches to not break her in two when that word leaves her cherry lips. “You want it harder?”
“Mmmm…”
Her tits bounce with every thrust as I drive us both closer to orgasm. I’m losing control.
The bed creaks beneath us, but I don’t care. Nothing matters except her—the way she feels, the way she tastes, the way she whispers my name like it’s both a question and an answer.
“Santi,” she breathes, her voice trembling but sure. “I’m there…”
I’ve never seen anything as gorgeous as Kat coming on my cock. I chase my release, hips slapping between her legs, my hand still fisting her dark hair. Her pussy clamps down on me, milking me, and I snap.
“Fuck baby, that’s it… take it—” My hips slam into hers, relentless, punishing, until my vision goes white and I come harder than I ever have in my fucking life, claiming every inch of her, branding her from the inside out.
I collapse gracelessly beside her, both of us breathless and spent.
The air is thick with the scent of sex, with her, with us, and I can’t fucking move. My body is wrecked, my mind shattered, and still, I want more.
I trace the curve of her shoulder, wishing I could make this moment last forever.
Moonlight catches in her eyes, stripping her bare. No armor. No walls.
Her fingers tighten around my arms.
“Stay,” she whispers.
She never had to ask. I already know I’m not walking out of this room.
But in the silence, something else lingers. The weight of what we just did. Of what we are. Of what’s coming.
Because this fight isn’t over. The unseen eyes, the threats lurking in the dark, the storm of obligations I should be preparing for?—
I should be thinking about all of that.
But instead, I tangle my fingers in her hair, brush my lips against her temple, and let myself forget.
Just for tonight.
Because come morning, the world will try to take her from me again.