25. Robin
ROBIN
For several minutes, I don’t know where I am.
Not really.
I know clean sheets twist beneath me. Warm lamplight glows against cracked plaster.
I know Cruz is beside me.
My body feels boneless.
Ruined, but in the best way.
The post-sex fog slowly clears.
What the fuck just happened to me?
I blink at the wall. The bed is too comfortable. The sheets are too clean.
And I…
I’m…not myself.
Since when do I enjoy getting spanked?
I’ve never been spanked before during sex. It’s not something I ever thought I’d want.
But with Cruz, it was just what the doctor ordered.
Is it because of the circumstances?
I’m not a psychologist. I can’t understand why I wanted what I wanted.
All I know is it was magnificent.
I drag in a breath and let it out slowly.
Think.
I’m good at thinking.
My life is built on thinking. On reading behavior. I have to be good at it as a vet because animals can’t talk.
For the life of me, though, I can’t read what just happened between Cruz and me.
I close my eyes.
I’ve never asked a man to be rough with me.
I’ve never asked to be hurt, even in a controlled way.
I’ve never wanted that. Usually, I prefer tenderness.
Hands that move slowly. A mouth that takes its time.
Soft sheets and soft words and the kind of touch that makes a woman feel cherished instead of claimed.
Apparently I don’t know a damned thing about myself, because tonight I looked at Cruz, my captor-turned-rescuer, the man who once stood between me and freedom, and I wanted something dark.
Dark and dangerous.
I wanted the sharp edge of it. I wanted to take what was terrifying and make it mine.
Or maybe I just wanted Cruz to stop treating me like I was fragile.
I shouldn’t like it so much.
Cruz shifts beside me. Moves toward me, settles his hand on my back.
“You okay?” he asks, his voice slow.
I keep my eyes closed. “If you ask me that again, I’ll smother you with this pillow.”
He lets out a low chuckle.
I tug the sheet higher over myself, though we’re past modesty at this point.
God, I’m in trouble.
Cruz should be a means to an end. An ally of necessity.
That is all.
Except it’s not all.
It didn’t end like a transaction.
It began that way. I walked to the bed naked because I wanted to keep him close. I wanted him loyal. I wanted him invested. I wanted him too distracted by me to think about what betraying Vega might cost him.
That was the plan.
A practical plan.
Then the plan got slippery.
Strategy turned into sensation, sensation turned into wanting, and wanting turned into me lying here unable to remember the exact moment I stopped controlling and started begging.
I press the heel of my hand to my forehead. “Jesus.”
Cruz props himself up slightly. “What?”
“Nothing.”
He closes his eyes, lets out a soft snore.
This is unreal. Cruz isn’t even my type. I’m not supposed to fall for a damned mobster. I’m supposed to fall for someone like Shane.
Mild-mannered, respectable Shane, who works beside me at the Bellamy ranch and treats injured animals. Shane, who would bring my mother flowers if he came to Sunday dinner. I’ve seen the way he looks at me when he thinks I’m not watching. He’s interested.
Any sane woman would choose Shane.
But I’m a Bellamy, and Bellamys have always savored a challenge when it comes to love.
Falcon fell for Savannah, his parole officer—already someone he shouldn’t have been messing with—and then we found out she was part of the Bianchi crime family. All that did was draw my oldest brother in more.
Raven fell for Savannah’s brother Vinnie because apparently one criminally complicated romance wasn’t enough for this family. And Hawk went for Daniela, a woman ten years his junior, who happened to be married to Vinnie at the time.
And now here I am.
A fourth Bellamy, naked in a brothel bed in Colombia, trying not to feel anything for a man who helped put me in a cell before deciding to become my personal guard dog with a guilty conscience and a very talented mouth and dick.
It would almost be funny if it weren’t my life.
I close my eyes.
No.
I’m not falling for Cruz.
I’m in harm’s way. I need to remember that. Vega still wants me. Zabala is probably furious. My family has no idea where I am. I don’t even know my precise location, beyond somewhere dangerous in a country where too many people owe their loyalty to dead men who refuse to stay dead.
I can’t untangle my feelings for Cruz until I’m back in Texas and safely in my own home.
Cruz shifts again, and the sheet slips lower on his waist. I can’t help looking. The man is a god.
I don’t want to sleep, but I’m freaking exhausted. Drained in a way that feels almost peaceful.
Cruz lies on his back now, one arm behind his head, the other resting near me but not touching. I sigh and snuggle against him.
The second I do, his arm snakes around me.
His body is warm. Alive. Real.
I shouldn’t find it comforting, but I do.
For the first time in days, I let myself fall.
I let myself fall against the man who is my captor.
And it’s the safest I’ve ever felt.