37. Brady
Brady
I drive my wife home as the sun rises. I could tell she wanted to ask if I was okay to drive, but we both know that I proved how strong I am. And then some. She handed me the keys without protest. The keys that she stole.
“Since when do you know how to drive stick?” I ask, downshifting instead of braking for the light.
“Since I wanted to be able to steal Connor’s car.” She grins at me from the passenger seat, and I shake my head in amazement. I keep learning yet more pieces of the puzzle box that is my wife. And I’m impressed by every new piece I learn.
“What kind of car?” I ask.
“Vintage Mustang. A fastback, but she was slow. Cormac was into classic cars, so naturally he assumed his son would be too. Bought the pony for Connor when he was eleven.” She gives a little noise of disgust. I don’t comment on the fact that she calls her father by his first name.
“And you?” I ask. “Are you into classic cars?” I secretly hope not. My Cora deserves a fast beauty.
“Not at all,” she says, and I grin inside.
“What did you drive, then?” If it’s still in production, I’ll buy her the latest model. But she just barks out a laugh.
“Nothing. I happened to choose the week before my sixteenth birthday to start protesting the Church. Spitting out the Eucharist got me out of Mass, but it got my car privileges revoked too.”
“Seriously?” I laugh so hard my throat gets sore again. “You spat out the Eucharist? You really are a sinner.”
“An unrepentant one.”
When I turn onto our street, she sighs contentedly. The view is idyllic. The rising sun peeking through the buildings. The tree-lined sidewalks empty. The parked cars still asleep. I turn off a block early for the garage. I don’t want my wife to have to see the place where she was attacked.
The place where I failed her.
I grip the steering wheel so tight my knuckles crack. Cora eyes me skeptically.
“It’s just a sidewalk,” she says.
I snap my gaze to her. The woman’s a goddamn mind reader. I try to discern her expression about it, but we’ve pulled into the garage, and her gorgeous face is in shadow.
When we get up to our penthouse, Cora turns toward her room, but I catch her by the hand.
“I’m going to bed,” she says.
“Sleep with me.” I phrase it like a command, but by the way she tilts her head, she knows it’s not.
“I was planning to take a shower first.”
“Shower with me.” I pull her by the hand, and she lets me lead her into my bedroom.
Our bedroom.
The cascading water over her naked body is even better than I’d imagined. After I’ve toweled her off, jealous of the luxe Turkish cotton against her soft skin, I pick her up and carry her to the bed.
“Our bed,” I tell her as I lie down beside her. She settles catlike onto her side, facing me.
“Our bed?” she asks.
“Of course.” I brush a damp tendril of hair from her face.
“Our life?”
I pause, my fingers hovering at her temple. There’s too much anticipation in her question.
Our life. What the hell would that look like? Me and Cora together, but the background’s a blur.
She waits for me to answer. The rise and fall of her naked breasts is utterly distracting. I realize the background doesn’t matter. This woman is perfect, and she’s perfect for me.
“Yes,” I say at last. “Our life.”
“I need to be more involved.” She doesn’t miss a beat, and I feel like she’s blasted me in the chest. There was a goddamn 12-gauge behind her question.
“No.”
“Yes.”
“It’s too dangerous.”
“I’ve proved I can handle it.” She props herself up on her elbow so she can look down at me on the pillow next to hers. But I match her pose to bring us level again.
“It’s not a question of whether you can handle it. I know you can.”
“Then let me in. I’m an asset. I’ll be an asset to you and everything you do. It’s the smart move,” she baits.
I know it’s the smart move. Not halving my power, but doubling it. I still don’t like the thought of her anywhere near danger. Of me putting her in harm’s way by allowing this shit.
“I’m fucking deadly,” she reminds me. The challenge in her eyes makes me want to challenge her in return.
“How did you kill him?” I ask, pleased to see her look taken aback. Then she hardens her features again.
“What does that matter?”
“Answer the question,” I order. It’s the same question I’d ask any new recruit who claimed he’d killed someone.
“I seduced him,” she says through gritted teeth. Brutal honesty. “Told him I was into breath play and then strangled him with his own belt. Staged it like an autoerotic accident.”
Jesus, she’s brilliant. An asset indeed, and an unrepentant sinner to boot.
“Was he the only one?” I demand. It’s a confrontation now. If she wants me to let her in, then this is the test I’m setting.
“That I seduced or that I killed?” she asks, rising to meet me.
With both of us so close beneath the sheets, the heat between our bodies intensifies with each combative exchange.
She’s challenging me to ask for her sexual history, but I don’t want to know it.
My wife has never had a cock like mine before, and she’ll never have another cock again.
That’s all that matters. But apparently I need to remind her of it.
With my free hand, I pinch her nipple hard.
“That you killed.”
“Yes,” she tells the truth, gasping a little. “Unfortunately.”
“Unfortunately?” I let go, smoothing my thumb over her nipple, my way of telling her she’s doing well. Because she is doing well, however much I don’t like it.
“I wanted to kill the man who attacked me.” She narrows her ice-blue eyes. “But you robbed me of that pleasure.”
The word pleasure from her pouty lips makes my cock twitch. And she’s using it to describe the thrill of violence. All the more arousing. I want to reach down between us and show her what pleasure really is, then actually rob her of it. I’ve done it before.
“I will kill any man who tries to hurt my wife. It’s my duty to protect you.”
“And it’s my duty to protect you too,” she snaps. “I’m not going to sit around at home while you go out throwing yourself into danger. I don’t want to lose you any more than you want to lose me.”
“It isn’t safe,” I growl.
“Nothing in this life is safe. But what makes it even more dangerous is you putting yourself at risk. Risk that could be avoided if you’d just let me be at your side.”
She’s telling the truth, but not the whole truth. I almost missed her veiled threat.
I’m not going to sit around at home.
Even when I froze the elevator, she didn’t stay put.
She climbed down all thirteen hundred steps to come after me.
She slipped her guards. She’s fucking stubborn, I knew that right away.
She’ll follow my orders, but only up to a point.
If she gets it into her head to act on something by herself, she will.
She’s too much like me. My equal in so many ways.
I take a deep breath in. If she’s at my side, then at least I can keep her in my sight. It’s still too dangerous for my liking. But like she said, Nothing in this life is safe.
“Alright,” I say, letting out my breath. “But not because you’ve earned it.”
“Excuse me?” Her dark brows pinch together.
She’s been so intent on proving herself that we’ve both missed the bigger picture. Yes, she’s capable and deadly. And yes, I’ve admired every talent that I’ve seen from her. But it’s how those pieces fit together as a whole. I’m so damn detail-oriented that it took me too long to realize.
I want this woman at my side for the rest of my life.
“Because you’re you,” I tell her. “Because you’re me.”