Chapter 17 Rem
REM
Ican’t stop touching her. Little touches, the entire way back to the penthouse.
I had two of my soldiers pick us up, one to drive, one to act as an extra guard as I hold her close in the back seat.
I’m more convinced than ever that Lena needs to be surrounded by me and bulletproof glass, all the time.
The drive back to mine is short but fraught.
After Lena confirms she isn’t hurt and that her side feels no worse than usual, neither of us speaks.
Lena probably because she’s exhausted. Me because I can’t trust myself not to say something I don’t want one of my men overhearing.
Such as how fucking terrified I was that she was going to get killed and I wasn’t going to be able to do anything to stop it.
I have enough will power to keep my mouth shut for the brief drive, but I can’t keep my hands to myself.
Not that Lena seems to mind. I run the fingers of one hand through her hair as she leans her head on my shoulder. With my other, I spin the diamond ring around, over and over, until she interlaces our fingers together, resting our hands in her lap.
We’re still holding hands when Lorenzo races into the underground garage and pulls the car to an abrupt stop in front of the second, smaller of my private elevators.
I hate using it. It’s too cramped. I feel like I can’t breathe when I’m in it, the journey to the fortieth floor too long for such a claustrophobic space.
But since it has direct access from my secured section of the garage, set behind three bulletproof doors, all requiring a different ten-digit access code, it is the most guarded entry point into my apartment.
One Lena seems to be familiar with when she casually punches the button inside, the one that takes us all the way up.
Pulling Lena even tighter into my side, I keep my breathing as calm as I can by pressing my nose into her hair.
And try not to think horrible, horrible things about my best friend’s wife when Lena’s behavior confirms that this is the route she and Bianca used earlier today to bypass my guards at the penthouse’s front door.
Men who, unlike Bruce, cannot be bought with Bianca’s baking.
The instant we’re into my apartment and the elevator doors close behind us, I take my first full breath in what feels like hours. And drag Lena through the maze of hallways to my bedroom.
We’re barely into the room when I take her mouth with mine.
She gasps into the kiss, surprised. I take advantage, lick my tongue deep, taste her.
The coffee she had with Bianca. The blood from where she cut the inside of her cheek during her escape.
She’s bitter and sweet and so fucking intoxicating I want to drink down as much of her as I can.
“I’m going to lock you in here,” I growl, teeth catching her bottom limp. She whimpers at the bite, and moans when I lick away the sting.
“You wouldn’t dare.”
My hands tangled deep in Lena’s hair, I push her back against the wall just inside the entrance.
My bedroom door is wide open. Guards are patrolling the apartment, on high alert after what’s happened.
There’s nothing to stop one from walking by, from hearing Lena’s gasps of pleasure. From seeing us devouring each other.
I’m so worked up, I don’t even care. Let them see the truth for what it is.
Lena’s mine.
I will take what’s mine.
Ever since Johnny relayed Bruce’s 911 message, since I found out Bianca and Lena were under attack, fear has been clawing at the back of my throat.
Fear, and fury that Lena would dare to leave the safety of my penthouse.
That she’d risk her life like that. But since pulling her from the elevator, I’ve been consumed by the need to claim her all over again. To prove to myself that she’s okay.
I drag my lips over hers, inhaling the breath that escapes when Lena opens her jaw wider, her head tipping back in my hands as she welcomes my invasion again and again. We savor each other, her fingers digging into the back of my neck as I let go of her hair.
I press my palms against the wall, caging her in. With effort, I break contact, and swallow down a groan when it takes Lena several seconds to focus her lust-filled eyes on my face.
“You shouldn’t have left,” I say.
“I know.”
“You could’ve gotten hurt.”
“I know.”
I pound my fist against the wall, making her jump. “You could’ve been killed, Lena.”
She tries to cup my face in her hands, but I retreat out of reach.
“I know,” she says, her voice hardening even as her body stays pliant, propped up by the wall.
“I realize, now, how risky it was. But with everything Bianca said, all the plans she made to get us out and back safely, I didn’t think—”
“That’s right.” I move into her space so fast Lena stops talking.
“You didn’t fucking think. About any of it.
About the fact that someone is actively trying to kill you.
Or that no one can guarantee your safety outside of this house.
Or that Bianca could’ve been caught in the crossfire. Or how I would feel if—”
Just thinking about Lena dying slaughters my ability to speak. She stares at me, eyes searching for the truth I’m struggling to acknowledge.
“If what, Rem?”
“If,” I answer on a ragged breath, “anything happened to you and I couldn’t do anything to stop it.”
Lena stares at me, her thoughts a whirl behind her deep, dark eyes. A series of questions, of choices, too many for her to process all at once.
Well, fuck that. She made a whole lot of choices today that landed us where we are now. The thing that Lena seems to forget is that in this world I’m boss. It’s well past time she realized it.
I put more distance between us. A little frown forms between her brows. She looks so small against the wall, toes sticking out from pants that are too long when she isn’t wearing boots. She lost them at the garage, she said. Her new coat too.
Her hair, even more wild than usual, has formed a chaotic halo around her head and shoulders. Her lips are red, kiss stained. Her breasts rising rapidly beneath the cashmere sweater, the delicate fabric snagged at the hem and elbows from her fight with the attacker.
“Take them off,” I order.
“What?” Some of her bite is back and I’m thankful for it. It doesn’t suit my little one to be mild.
“Your clothes. Take them off.”
“No.”
“I’m done with you ignoring my orders, piccolina. They are covered in dirt. They’re ruined. And you’re going to do as you’re fucking told. Take them off.”
“And then what?” Lena looks at me, her chin thrust out, as if she’s daring me to threaten her.
Fine. What my lady wants, my lady gets. “And then, little one, I’m going to teach you a lesson.”
“What lesson is that?” she practically spits back.
“The one,” I say, crossing my arms across my chest, “that makes you understand exactly how absolutely fucking insane I felt when I thought someone was going to hurt you.”
Dumbfounded, Lena stares at me. Her hands flex into fists, her throat works around a tight swallow. Then, having come to an internal decision I can’t begin to guess at, Lena lets the resistance drain from her body.
I can’t read the expression on her face, but my attention plummets south as, miraculously, methodically, Lena starts stripping.
Socks, pants, sweater. They fall to the floor in a heap.
She’s wearing new underwear. Lacy little things in a pink that almost perfectly matches her skin.
The fabric, what little there is, does nothing to hide her nipples.
Those rosy buds peak the instant the air hits them.
And her pussy—it’s a tease behind her panties and trimmed hair, the slightest hint of lushness just waiting for me to touch.
“Those too.”
One breath later, Lena is completely naked.
I don’t waste any time. I’m on my knees, one of her legs thrown over my shoulder, one hand gripping her ass, my mouth open on her core.
What follows is a lesson in madness. When Lena reaches for me, I use one hand to cuff her wrists, pinning them tight to her stomach. With only one foot on the floor, she has to press her back to the wall to keep her balance, which thrusts her hips even closer to my mouth.
Her taste is an instant hit to my bloodstream, a drug I’ll never stop craving.
I drag my tongue through her folds, drawing a line from her entrance to her clit. She’s already so wet. Her heat so welcoming. Above me, Lena whimpers and it just drives me on.
I rub her clit with my tongue, squeeze her ass cheek hard. Drag in a breath so deep I feel like I’m drowning in her scent.
I torture her, pleasure her, coaxing an orgasm closer and closer, her thigh shaking against my shoulder as her stomach clenches in anticipation.
Lena’s breath comes out in little gasps, her head thumping against the wall in a rhythm that tells me she’s so close. If I lick that bundle of nerves one more time, she’ll come.
I don’t want her coming yet.
I pull away, lifting my mouth from her pussy and sliding my hand from her ass into the hollow between her thighs.
“Don’t stop, Rem,” my little one begs. “Why did you stop? I-I was so close.”
I ignore all of Lena’s protests as I watch my fingers run through her folds, her arousal coating my skin.
I want more.
Lena’s arms jerk beneath my grasp as I finger her. My face is inches from her pussy, my lips wet with her arousal, and I watch my finger disappear into her body. Watch her take me, her hips begging for me as I thrust in and out.
She’s so wet now, evidence of how much she’s enjoying this trailing down my palm and arm. Leaning forward, I lick her off my skin, a growl building in my chest as I pick up the rhythm.
“Please, Rem.” Her voice is hoarse, the words pulled from the recesses of her brain. My girl is desperate.
Not quite desperate enough.
Lena gasps when I replace my finger with my tongue, continuing to plunge into her body as I rim her ass with my wet finger. Her entire body is shaking, on edge, but she doesn’t say no. Doesn’t stop me.
I don’t want her silence, though.
“Lena.” I look up at her, my finger still going around and around, but not quite in. “Look at me.”
Slowly, Lena lifts her head from the wall. Her glazed eyes drop to mine. Holding them, I tease her hole with the very tip of my finger. Her eyelids flutter, her mouth falls open. A blush burns across her chest.
“Tell me to stop. This is your only chance to get me to stop.”
Lena bites her lip, her head falling back against the wall like it’s too heavy for her neck. “Don’t stop,” she answers.
I don’t. I pour every ounce of possession I feel for this woman into the way I thrust my tongue into her body. The way I ease my finger into her ass. I have her pinned, her body enslaved to my will. My touch.
I wanted to punish her. To teach her a lesson for being so stupid, for putting herself and my sanity at risk.
But now, with her need to come throbbing through her veins and her pleasure mounting higher and higher as I fill her, my mouth and my hand working together to elicit as much bliss as I possibly can, I don’t want Lena to feel anything other than the truth.
The inconvenient, dangerous, potentially lethal truth—that in a wildly short period of time, this woman who looks so small pinned naked against my bedroom wall has become the largest, most important part of my world.
The all-consuming center.
We’re linked, her and I. Fuck the engagement ring, fuck whatever circumstances brought us together. We’re tethered together, her life inextricably woven with mine.
No sooner do I let the truth loose in my chest, then Lena hits the edge, so close to coming. Her channel throbs around my tongue, her tight muscles pulsing around my finger. Her fingers scrabble at her stomach and her breath is coming out in gasps, a scream building behind them.
“Come, tesoro.” I drag my tongue to her clit and flick. Lena breaks apart, her orgasm consuming her, muscles tightening across her entire body as she cries out her release.