Chapter 24
24
MARI
Steam wisped from my skin as I stepped out of the bathroom, pulling the fluffy sweater Alan had provided down over my stomach. My muscles ached, but the extra training Robe insisted on honed both my body and my mind. The additional mental work I garnered in Robe’s office helped keep that muscle toned too.
I knew without looking that Robe watched me, increasing the heat in the otherwise cool room. Ignoring him, I balled my filthy clothes into a bundle and tossed them toward the hamper in one corner of the room without breaking my stride to tumble face-first onto the bed.
“Oh, my fucking God. That feels good.”
“My little Mari, swearing?”
I raised my head just enough to crack one eye open and stared at him blearily. “Not even close.” I face-planted back into the pillow, letting out a small moan at the soft comfort against aching muscles. Even my face hurt.
“You shouldn’t make sounds like that, Mari.” Heavy footballs announced that his presence was now a whole lot closer than where he’d stood a moment before. “You never know which monsters might be listening.”
“Donchuntas amunnsster,” I mumbled into the blankets.
“Your definition of monsters is skewed.” Robe interpreted Mari-speak with proficiency as he planted himself beside me. The hard mattress that felt like cloud heaven dipped to accommodate his bulk.
“Maybe?” I rolled into him under the weight of gravity. Broad hands rested on my shoulders and began to work the soreness from my strained muscles, tracing circles on my spine. “Don’t stop. Keep going.”
“What’s the magic word? You do have those in Britain, right?”
Britain felt a world away right now, one I never wanted to go back to. Ever. Much . “Fuck you.”
“More cussing. Such a dirty mouth.”
A ripple of tension followed his fingers as he resumed his massage. “I think I said don’t stop.” His fingers halted their progress. “Please?” The words slipped out of my mouth. I winced and waited for some testosterone-fueled repartee to strike me down, too tired to go on the offense.
But he didn’t insult me as he worked each muscle group, warming my skin and easing the soreness I’d acquired at his behest. I moaned into his blankets, dropping my face back into the welcoming darkness.
“Remember what I said about monsters, Mari?” His hands closed around my ribs, almost encircling my spine to my stomach. “Jesus, you’re tiny.”
“Nope, you’re just so big.”
A heavy silence fell between us. “We’re doing this?” Robe shifted, plucking at my sweater. “Take this off.”
That I couldn’t ignore. “What?” I took his advice and thought about the monster in the room, deciding I wanted him.
“Mari.” His voice lowered impossibly, and anticipation swept along my spine. “Take this off so I can finish your massage.”
“Oh. I thought you were suggesting….”
Breath rushed from him, and he pressed down a little harder, digging calloused hands into my skin. “Are you disappointed?”
I rubbed my lips together, burrowing back into the bedding, and didn’t answer him, afraid of what might come out if I did.
“Get up. Pants and sweater off. Now.” Robe left me where I lay.
Clutching the hem, I turned in time to see him dive into the en suite I’d recently vacated. I tugged the material over my head and shed the pants before sliding between crisp black sheets. Something about being naked in his bed left me in a wanton state of mind. Then I remembered how I woke like this in his room the first night I stayed in his house, then the night he first made love to me with Jon wrapped around us both. The memories didn’t make me feel any less aroused.
“I really was suggesting something else.” He knelt on the bed, holding a bottle in one gigantic hand. “Roll over.”
I stuffed my face into his pillow, breathing in the scent of him and Jon combined. “Oh, yeah?” I teased, slapping on my best American tough-girl persona, though my voice came out so muffled by the hard pillow that felt so fluffy after hours of training with Miller and Jon that my tone lost most of its effect.
The bed depressed as he settled his weight, straddling me with an enormous thigh on either side of my hips. I dared to take a breath, but he didn’t squash me like I expected. Something cool hit my back, and then his fingers slipped across my body. He resumed his massage aided by the oily slick that let him work me deeper.
I relaxed, lifting my head the barest minimum to speak. “Where did you get massage oils? Is there something you want to tell me about the sleeping arrangements here, Robe?” I yawned into the pillow and plopped my head back down.
Robe paused. “My sister,” he said shortly.
Of course I knew about his sister—her creams and body lotions were the feminine products I used. One more link to the outside world, along with Alan and Miller.
“She sounds like a good sister,” I murmured. “You must miss her.”
“I do.” Robe’s voice cracked like sharp toffee. He sighed. “She’s all the family I have left. None of us have much to keep us here, yet here we stay.”
He worked his hands a little too hard over my shoulder, but I let it ride. The damage there healed long ago, and I sensed his need to release whatever was eating him inside.
“You have each other, you know. Ow.” A whimper busted through my short-lived vow of silence.
“You’re right. We do.” He paused. “Sorry.”
“For attacking my back, or for not valuing the wonderful collection of broken things you’ve mended here?”
“You do sound like the professional shrink.” Robe kept working, rolling his knuckles against stubborn spots.
After a few minutes, the tension in my muscles began to ease, and I suspected the remaining aches could be attributed to other stresses during my time in the cabin that went beyond working out.
I closed my eyes and let out a soft sigh. “That feels so good.” Releasing my death grip on the pillow, I arched my back.
He stuffed what felt like a stiff tower of pillows beneath me. My spine appreciated the support, and I mumbled my thanks to the pillows, floating on fluffy darkness. An oxymoron as well as a mixed metaphor, perhaps, but it suited him.
Suited us.
Robe squeezed my sides, and I knew we both valued the warmth and silence of the moment he’d created.
For nearly six months, every inch of me had been terrified of Robe—and wanted him pressed against me at the same time, while he worried I might freak out or sneak away. And I had my own hang-ups. But suddenly, none of them seemed as important as they had before. The trust we’d generated over our time together that had stretched out inch by coveted inch landed us… here.
And I didn’t want to leave.
I strangled the pillow in tight arms that undid all the work he’d put into my back.
“You’re not the only one who feels… good.” Robe snorted and started to free up my muscles again. “The girl who has my boys in knots fantasizing about what they think they can’t have.”
“They don’t think that.” I paused, letting my mind wander. Alan had said plenty of things along those lines while flirting. “Maybe one,” I conceded.
“You’re too nice, sweetheart.” He traced a word on my back, too fast for me to make out. “Do you enjoy working on the accounts?”
“You told me to do it. It’s not like anything else is taking up my time.”
“Isn’t it?” He hesitated over my ribs. “We need to cover you up before you get too cold. Are you tired?”
“Which do you want me to answer first?” I yawned again. By the time I managed to mumble some inaudible response, I’d forgotten half his questions. “I’m not bored with the work, exactly. I like to be active, and I like to feel useful. That somehow I can help. That was why—” My breath caught, but he didn’t push. I swallowed. “Why I chose the job I did.”
“You’re helping.”
“How so? The job feels fake, like it’s something you could all do without me, something to, I don’t know, keep me here. Occupied. I take up everyone’s time, alcohol, food, and hot water. According to Alan, I am a pretty cu—um, pussy you all want to fuck.” I closed my eyes and stopped—everything.
Stopped worrying, stopped fighting the edge of sleep and combating my fears.
Robe’s presence left me safer than I could ever ask for. Nothing could hurt me here, and if he stayed, I would sleep heavy and dreamless.
Which sounded pretty dandy at that moment.
Robe stilled. “A pretty pink cunt to fuck,” he amended, adding his own touch to another man’s words.
Shit. My tongue got loose with this man. Noted. “Okay, so I paraphrased.”
“Did you?”
I winced. “It’s pretty close?”
He growled, all low and protective and sexy as all get-out. “That boy doesn’t know when to leave well enough alone.”
“He’s doing what the rest of you feel you can’t.” Okay, so I could add grump to my tired repertoire.
“Sassy girl.” He caught my hair, turning my head to the side, and traced his oiled fingertips across my bottom lip.
My eyes flew open, fixing on him as he arced over me. I shifted my hips, trying to alleviate some of the pressure on the body parts we’d been talking about that came to life all on their own.
“Don’t do that.” Robe’s voice deepened.
“Huh?” I twisted, but my body wasn’t having it. I flopped back down. His other hand rested in the middle of my back, stroking across the curve of my waist in an intimate caress. “Robe?—”
“This is a bad fucking idea today, Mari. My mood…. Stop,” he breathed, fingers fisted through my hair, holding me in place. “Distract me. Who do you like training with the best?”
“I don’t know.” I considered wiggling my hips again, but he’d asked me to stop. How many times had I said the same thing to him in the beginning?
So… training. Was anyone an answer? I didn’t spend half as much time with Robe as I did the other boys, despite wishing I had him to myself more often. He might be intense as hell, but my connection with him overshadowed the ones I had with everyone else by far… even Alan.
All of them had their own brand of damage, each man broken like me.
Alan’s flirtatious nature concealed an intelligent boy who couldn’t trust anyone, and he kept his mind—and hands—busy behind the bar. Jon’s steadfastness melded with a savageness within that he let out in violent sessions with his axe. Will appeared soft and easygoing until I looked a little deeper and found a darkness welling beneath his shy smile. Not that I trusted a pretty face any longer, knowing his lethality made him as dangerous as the rest of them.
In fact, the only one brutal enough to train me the way I knew Robe wanted?—
“Miller.” The angry man’s name left my mouth and felt right.
“Miller?” He snorted. “You do have a death wish.”
“Maybe.” I didn’t have a better answer.
Robe resumed his massage. “Why?”
“He doesn’t go easier because I’m not one of you. I mean, you’re all nice and cute and look after me and spoil me, but… I learn more from him. Sure, he’s grumpy like you, and stubborn. Plus, he has skills. I respect that now that I know more of what and who is out here. I know he doesn’t like me, and I know he doesn’t trust me. Hell, in his place, I might not like me either. He’s protecting you. And he loves you. That makes him important.”
Robe didn’t answer me for a long moment, silent in his concentration. He pressed a hand between my shoulder blades that didn’t feel quite so slippery, like I’d absorbed most of the oil.
“You fit better than you know,” he said softly. “Despite the way you arrived, I’m glad you’re here.”
I smiled as he leaned down and pressed a chaste kiss to my temple. Tension melted from me as he shifted his weight, sitting at my side instead of on top of me, like he had no intention of moving all night. One hand trailed my ribs in the lightest touch, my lower body falling into sync with the gentle pressure there.
A heaviness pressed over me in an invisible blanket of security, my eyes drifting shut before I dropped into the realm of sleep and dreams.
“Me too.”