17. Declan
17
DECLAN
“ N o!” I bellowed it again, tightening my abs as I braced for the hit.
Cara ran into this stall to protect the horse, but the sight of her so near danger threatened to choke me. I held my breath, tense and livid, so furiously enraged.
She didn’t protest my rushing up to her, and even though she’d bravely put her arm up to take the whip lashing to spare the horse, I was taller. I raised my arm, not only deflecting any strike but also pushing forward to counter the hit.
I caught the stable hand by surprise. He stumbled in his clumsy step, and the loss of his balance threw off his upraised arm. The whip didn’t fly forward. Instead, I was quick enough to push the fool back hard enough that his head smacked on the wood beams of the stall wall.
“Shh. Easy. Easy.”
Cara had already pivoted. Giving the horse all her attention, she spoke confidently and calmly, reaching up to smooth her hand over the animal’s back as it panicked from the commotion in the tight confines of its stall.
“What the fuck were you doing?” I yelled, unsure who I was asking, this stable hand who reeked of booze or Cara who nudged her foot at me and shot me a stern look.
“Quiet. Stop yelling. You’ll scare the horse more,” she cautioned, scolding me.
The horse bucked and kicked, frantic and not at ease.
I doubted my yell could be worse than the line of blood from the man’s whipping, but now wasn’t the time to argue with my wife. Not like this.
Still, I reached out for her to pull her back to safety, but she jammed her arm back at me, warding me off.
“Stop,” she said as the stable hand stood again.
“What’s… Huh?” he slurred as he tried to remain upright.
“You fucking bastard.” I grabbed the front of his shirt and hauled him up clear enough to punch him. And again. And again. Other stable workers ran up to see what was going on, and I practically shoved the man at him.
“He’s drunk.”
Another worker shook his head. “Using a whip on her?”
They cursed and grumbled, dragging the man out of the stall. I’d let them deal with him. As I turned back ready to remove Cara from the stall, I stopped short.
She’d soothed the horse. No longer kicking and frantic with wide-open eyes of fear, the animal shook her mane lightly and nickered gently.
“Easy,” Cara cooed, calming the big horse like she’d done it a hundred times before. Maybe she had. I had no fucking clue. All I could tell was that she wasn’t afraid to approach and intervene. More than that, she was skilled and knowledgeable about how to handle a fussy horse. She held a strip of fabric to the worst depth of the whipping gash, rubbing her hand over the horse’s side as she compressed the wound.
“What in the fuck is going on here?” I demanded, keeping my tone low and as natural as possible. It felt impossible. I was furious. Livid. So damn mad—that the stable hand had resorted to hurting the horse, that Cara threw herself into danger without a second thought, and that she had the gall to tell me to be quiet.
“Shh.”
I narrowed my eyes, daring her to issue that to me, not the horse.
“Cara,” I repeated.
“It’ll be fine,” she said, but I didn’t know what she was talking about. Again, I mistook her speaking in a reply to me, but she was addressing the horse, soothing it further with her sweet, firm voice.
I watched her, amazed and confused. I’d never seen a woman in the stables, much less my wife. Erin hated being outside at all. Caitlin was too skittish and nervous to be near any animals.
But Cara?
I marveled in her patience, seeing firsthand that she had a big heart. And she knew her way around animals. Around this horse, like she’d done it many times before.
“Cara.” I tugged her back as the stable’s main vet on staff entered the stall to take over tending to the wound.
She was reluctant. I could tell she wanted to remain with the horse, but one look at me convinced her to leave the stall.
As we walked away from the area, leaving the building altogether, I looked her over in a new light. I already assumed she wasn’t scared to take risks. But running in to save a panicked animal from harm required a lot of gumption.
She was selfless, I realized, and I hated that she could be so giving at the cost of her own safety.
“What?” she snapped, proving that she wasn’t impervious to my stare on her. “Why are you looking at me like that?” She lifted her hands, checking them. “I don’t think there’s any blood on me.”
“You could’ve been hurt.”
She shrugged, smirking at me as we walked back toward the house. “So? I’m not pregnant right now. What does it matter?”
I gritted my teeth, pissed at her reply. I hated that she’d even think that, much less say it. I couldn’t lose the thought that she did matter. Maybe as more than just a woman to give me an heir.
“Tell me more about yourself, Cara.” It seemed safer and more normal to make a demand of her rather than to open up and confess how quickly she was coming to matter. First, she’d blown me away when I fucked her last week. Then, I fell into the habit of thinking about her and missing her submission, wishing for it again. Now, I had a deeper look into what kind of a generous, compassionate woman she was to protect an animal.
“It doesn’t matter. It’s not going to make a difference whether you know a million little facts about me or you delegate me to be a figure in your home.”
“Don’t tell me what matters and what doesn’t. I’ll decide that.”
She shook her head, gracefully walking through the wet grass. “You’ve made it perfectly clear that I’m nothing more than a brood mare. A vessel. A body to carry your heir.”
At the double doors to the house, she pushed inside with pent-up anger. “So, like I said before, you may as well get it over with and then disappear again.”
Is that what she thinks? That I want to leave after fucking her? I had to work and tend to business. If I had the choice, I’d lie around with her wrapped around my dick all day long.
Annoyed that I wanted to fuck her not only for an heir but to sample her submission again, I hurried after her as she rushed up the stairs. She wouldn’t have the last word.
“Disappearing?” I snapped.
She shot me a look as she walked up the stairs.
“I disappear to do business.”
Her hand shot up. “I don’t want to know.”
“And my so-called disappearing acts are good for you, too.”
We reached the top of the stairs. She’d go to the right to her wing, and I’d go straight to mine. At a stalemate, we faced each other off here.
“What?” She shook her head.
“My wives don’t tend to last long,” I deadpanned. “Especially when they’re in my company.”
And it was true. After Caitlin died, I asked Dad if I could just hire a hooker and knock her up for an heir. He said no, that it had to be someone within the Mob world. And that was that. Besides, I doubted even a hooker would agree to it. I wasn’t ashamed of being a hard man, a killer, but it warded off my prospects.
I frowned at Cara’s reaction. I realized she didn’t scare easily, but I didn’t expect her to roll her eyes. “I’m not going to kill myself,” she drawled.
“You know about Caitlin?”
Crossing her arms, she studied me. “Yeah. Riley got chatty earlier. She told me about Erin too.”
I rubbed my jaw, hating that Cara would see how much I needed her to stick now. I didn’t want her to ever think she could hold anything against me. Realizing that I was coming to… like her was bad to begin with.
“Caitlin preferred death over being my wife.”
She narrowed her eyes. “While I’m inclined to admit you are an asshole, I suspect she might have had more reasons than that.”
“But I’m not bad enough to scare you off?”
“Like I’ve had a choice? You only let me outside just now.” She pressed her lips together, looking at me seriously. “Besides, I’ve got too much to worry about to bother with something like taking the easy way of escaping life.”
I didn’t understand. She had nothing to do here. She didn’t have to work. She wasn’t forced to do anything except welcome my cock into her pussy and hope my cum stuck enough to make a baby.
Her wording, and the sober tone, made me realize that she’d suffered before. She’d struggled through life to shape that hard, jaded comment. As I let that fact sink in, I wished it weren’t so.
Something got to me about this woman, bold and beautiful, and brave too.
What’s your real story, Cara?
I wouldn’t waste my time asking. Being with her and not fucking her was a test to my patience.
The more that she let me unravel layers of who she was, I grew excited about what else she might expose. I wasn’t banking on trust. I wouldn’t get my hopes up for any real friendship, but something had shifted between us today.
“Cara.”
She lifted her chin, sassy and sure. “Hmm?”
“I don’t want to get it over with .”
Her lips parted as she stared at me. Curiosity flared with a hint of desire.
I slid my hand around her slender waist, curvy and substantial. Perfect to hold on to. Her face lowered as she registered how I'd stepped into her space.
With her hooded lids, she gazed up at me, almost shyly.
“Because I intend to enjoy you, too.” I licked my lips, and my dick hardened at her troubled gaze locking on that motion.
I walked her back, relishing her awkwardness as she reached out to hold on to my upper arms.
“You’re…” She cleared her throat. Fuck, she was gorgeous when she was angry, but nervous and timid, she was just as sexy. “You’ve said that you’re the boss.”
I nodded. “Never forget it.”
“So, you do whatever you have to do.”
I stopped at the door frame to her suite, ramming my body against hers. “No. You’ll do whatever I want you to do. For me.” Addicted to the allure of owning her body, of being the one in charge of making her submit and surrender, I inhaled a deep breath. Dragging my nose along her jaw, I relished her sweet scent. All her, feminine, light, and sweet. None of that cloying perfume my previous wives had used. Cara was sweet, innocent. With a hint of the outdoors clinging to her, too.
All Cara.
“O–Okay.” She swallowed hard, intimidated at last.
“So if I say kiss me…”
She let out a whimper, reaching up to hurry in pressing her lips to mine.
Too light. Too short. But it would do for the start of this game.
“And if I tell you to get your ass in that room and strip for me…”
She breathed faster, her eyes wild with desire. As she turned to go, I hauled her back into my arms, leaning her into the wall.
“You will do so without any plan to get it over with .”
Shaking her head, she stared at me with such vulnerable need, I wanted to growl and fuck her right here in the hall.
“Now kiss me,” I ordered. “Like you want to.”
She narrowed her eyes, taking insult to how I’d mocked her first attempt.
Threading her fingers through my hair, she gripped the back of my head and pulled me down for another kiss. Her lips remained parted. That sweet tongue of hers slipped out, tasting my mouth as she closed her lips over mine. And with a groan of pure lust, she tangled with my tongue and dueled with the fiery passion I was already coming to associate with her.
Angling her head to the side by moving mine, I sucked on her tongue and battled for dominance in this kiss.
Fuck, yes. Finally.
Keeping my mouth sealed to hers, swallowing her moans and whines for more, I pulled her flush, then lifted her.
I held her juicy ass, each cheek in my hands. She didn’t need my order to wrap her legs around my waist. Her long limbs clung to me immediately. Her arms slid over my shoulders, looping tightly around my neck.
Kissing her—making out like air no longer mattered—I carried her into her room and kicked the door shut behind us.
I set her down, rougher than I intended. There was nothing for it. Grace was out the window. I was feral and ravenous for her, and with my dick this hard, I struggled to walk closer before trying to get my erection adjusted under my jeans.
“What did I tell you?” I growled.
She stood there, wide-eyed with need and panting at me.
“Strip.”