• Thirty •
· Thirty ·
I was completely green with envy of the woman he’d one day fall in love with and marry.
Briar
When I’d imagined Storm Kingston’s home, this was nothing at all like I’d expected. The size of it wasn’t surprising. I had known the man was wealthy. They all were. Wealth and power came with being in the Mafia. They did illegal things and got away with it. Money came with those illegal things. I tried not to think too hard about what those things all consisted of.
“What do you think?” he asked me as we stepped inside the front door.
Although the style reminded me of something found in the South, pre–Civil War era, it wasn’t old. It was new. You could just tell that this was meant to reflect that era of style, but it wasn’t from that time. We’d passed his parents’ home on our drive back here, and it was an authentic Greek revival home. It had been dark, and the lights were off there, but from what I’d been able to see, it was a stunning house. I’d love to see the inside of it. Not that I would ever ask.
“It’s …” I said as my gaze roamed over every detail. “Not what I was expecting.”
He moved closer to my side. “And what were you expecting exactly?”
I shrugged. “A modern-looking bachelor pad sort of thing.”
“This is family land. The house was built with my future in mind,” he explained. “Since I won’t be moving or selling it.”
I nodded. That made sense. I could see him having a family here, although the idea of some woman living here as his wife with children running around made my insides twist in uncomfortable ways. I shoved that thought aside. Not something I needed to think about. The envy crawling just under my skin was difficult to get under control though. I was jealous of some woman in his future. I had let him in, and that was a mistake. He was starting to take up residence in parts of my body he didn’t belong.
“It’s beautiful,” I told him.
And the lucky bitch who would live here one day had better deserve it.
Storm’s pleased expression made me think he actually gave a crap what I thought. Maybe he did. He was acting differently toward me. The disgust was gone, and it had happened so quickly that I was struggling to believe it or this new version of him. I kept waiting for him to go back into complete asshole mode and potentially shatter me. I wasn’t sure how deep these feelings I’d developed for him went, but I feared they were much deeper than anything else I’d ever felt.
“I considered different styles and worked with my dad on a few other blueprints, but I decided with my parents’ house being a historical home, I didn’t need to build something on the same property that didn’t fit the same era.”
You couldn’t see his parents’ house from here, but I understood his meaning. The trees we had passed down the long road that led back here fit with the house. They reminded me of an old Southern homestead.
“Let me show you the back,” he said as he took my hand in his.
I glanced down as our fingers intertwined before falling into step beside him. Why did our holding hands this way feel like something … more? We’d had sex, done very naughty things together, but this was different. It made everything we had shared seem real rather than fleeting. I had to stop my head from going there, or I might never come back from it. What then? I’d be on the run with Dovie while always looking back, wondering where he was. What he was doing. Who he was with. If he had met the woman he’d marry before bringing her into this home to live with him.
Yuck. I hated thinking about it. No! I didn’t want to believe she was out there. This was Storm’s home, and it would only be him living here. I’d tell myself that and hope it stuck.
Realizing I was missing everything because of my internal battle, I tried to pay more attention to the detail. There wasn’t much in the way of personal effects. It could be a show home really. One that people vacationed in, but not one that appeared truly lived in. Much like the places where Dovie and I stayed. No photographs or portraits to signify who lived here. Who he loved enough to see on his walls or sitting about on display.
When we reached a set of glass doors, he opened one, then waved his hand for me to go out first. Stepping out onto the wide back porch, I noticed a swinging bed to the right and a fireplace. I started to say something about it when a sweet smell wafted up to us.
I inhaled deeply, then turned to look back at Storm. “What is that smell?” I asked, breathing it in again.
He walked over and flipped a switch. The backyard was suddenly lit with lights illuminating the trees. There were so many large, beautiful trees. Only a few feet from the house, rows began and seemed to go on forever in the darkness.
“Peaches are starting to get ripe,” he said simply.
“Peaches!” I gasped, walking closer to the edge of the porch to look out at them. “Those are all peach trees?”
“Yes,” he replied. “I have some that I picked today in the kitchen if you’d like one.”
Scratch the jealousy thing. I was completely green with envy of the woman he’d one day fall in love with and marry. The man had peach trees! Was it not enough that he was sexy as hell, had a magical tongue, a big and pierced cock, and a house straight out of a dream?
“You have peach trees,” I muttered aloud.
Storm moved up behind me, and I felt the heat from his body, wishing I didn’t want to turn around and bury myself in his chest. Cling to him like he was mine. Although nothing would ever be mine. I didn’t have that kind of luxury.
His arms slid around me, and I closed my eyes.
“Yeah, I have peach trees,” he agreed in a husky whisper before he placed a kiss on the side of my bare neck. “I picked some that were especially juicy so that I could lick their juices off your body tonight.”
Why was he doing this? Was it not enough that he’d gotten to me? That he had made me want him? Even after all the hateful things he’d said to me, I craved him. He’d accused me of voodoo, but it was him who was spinning some dark, powerful spell over me.
“Don’t,” I said, trying to step out of his arms, but they tightened around me and held me there.
“Don’t what?” he asked as he trailed his tongue along my earlobe.
Jesus have mercy. Or Satan. Whoever wanted to step in and take control of this situation. I was willing to take help from whoever.
“Storm, what are you doing?” I asked desperately.
He hummed, sending shivers down my body. “Tasting you. Thinking you don’t need any fucking peaches to taste delicious. You’re already the sweetest thing I’ve had in my mouth.”
I wrapped my hands around his wrists, wishing I had the power to rip them away and run. Save myself. If I was even salvageable anymore. I was perhaps too far gone. Wrecked by this man completely.
“I can’t do this,” I said, panting as he licked at the curve of my neck.
“What, baby? What is it you can’t do?”
I shook my head, trying to clear the lust haze that was settling in and about to take over. He made me so weak.
“You.”
A deep chuckle vibrated his chest. “You can absolutely do me. And you’re going to several times before we fall asleep in my bed.”
I tried to take a deep breath, but it was proving impossible. “You …” I said, then let out a small moan as one of his hands slid underneath my shirt, covering a breast. “You’re going to hurt me.”
He kneaded the breast he was holding. “Yeah, but you like it when I hurt you. That pussy creams like a good little kitty when I do.”
I shook my head, biting down hard on my lip until I tasted blood. “Not my body,” I gasped, letting go of my abused lip. “My heart.” There. I had said it.
I’d been honest. More honest than I’d ever been in my entire life. I had laid it out for him. He could say his cruel words and send me packing.
He stilled completely. My heart was already cracking. I was that far gone. He’d not been after my heart, yet I was so damn needy that he’d taken it without meaning to. He didn’t want my heart, and I knew that. I wasn’t naive. Storm Kingston only wanted women to fuck.
“How am I going to do that?” he asked as his hold on me eased.
As if I needed this to get any worse. The man wanted me to spell it out for him. Blurt out that I was falling in love with him. Or some messed-up version of it. I had never been in love, so how was I to know if this was that exactly? It was painful, agonizing, terrifying—all the things I had imagined love to be.
“Briar,” he said firmly, and then he grabbed my shoulders and turned me around to face him.
But I couldn’t look at him. I kept my eyes down, wishing I had said nothing. Just let it happen and licked my wounds in private. I wasn’t one to show weakness, yet with Storm, I had done a list of things I didn’t do. My survival instinct, which had kept me going for so long, had seemed to shrivel up and die when he walked into my life. Slowly, he’d suffocated it until it was gone.
He grabbed my chin and forced it up, making me lift my head. “Say it, Briar.”
I stood there, looking at his hard, demanding face. He was going to make me do this, and for what? To mock me? Was that what he wanted from this?
A whimper escaped me as another part of my soul seemed to crack. Damn him for this. All of it.
He leaned closer until I could feel his warm breath on my cheeks. “Use your words.” The huskiness in his voice sent a tremor through me.
“You know what I meant by it,” I said, wanting to look anywhere but at him.
He brought his mouth to my ear as he pressed the hard length of his erection against my stomach. I let that detail sink in as my body shifted closer, wanting more of it.
“Just because I know doesn’t mean I don’t want to hear it come from those pretty pink lips. Now, tell me, little siren. Is this your way of taking my soul?”
I blinked and took in a long, unsteady breath.
“What?” I asked.
He kissed my cheek, then pulled back until his eyes were locked with mine. “I won’t allow anyone to cause you pain. Not again. Never again. As for me,” he said, brushing his knuckles over my lips, “I’d rather rip my own heart from my chest than damage yours.”
My eyes stung as a lump formed in my throat.
“Mine,” he whispered.
Before Storm, if anyone had ever said that I’d allow a man to call me his, I’d have doubled over, laughing hysterically.
But then my life before Storm was in the past. No matter where we went from here, there would always be two parts in my story. It was the second half I was ready for even though it terrified me.
Loving Storm Kingston was the most reckless thing I’d ever done, but it was also the one thing I couldn’t control. But even if I could stop myself, I didn’t think I would.