Chapter 16
POPE
“Do you two really have to do that in here?”
I land another blow on the heavy bag, and Atlas and I both glance at Isaac, where he reclines in the huge leather chair in front of his fireplace, his feet kicked up on the footstool, a file spread out across his thighs.
Scowling at him, I wipe my arm across my forehead, trying to keep the sweat out of my eyes. “You know the answer to that.”
He’s just giving us shit for the sake of giving us shit.
Plus, having the extra people in his place for the past few days has to be starting to wear on him, too.
It sure as hell hasn’t been comfortable for us, and we’re the ones invading their space. Still, he could lose the attitude, especially when he can see how worked up I am.
I turn back toward the heavy bag and unleash another volley of strikes. Each time my glove connects with the red leather, Atlas rocks back slightly, trying to hold it steady for me, which typically isn’t a problem for him. But today, I have the kind of fury I’m not sure I’ve ever felt before pouring out of me, along with the sweat.
With each swing I take, I picture Roselli’s face in the center of the bag, my punches and jabs pummeling him and beating him senseless, destroying him the way he keeps trying to us.
Over and over again.
Strike after strike.
Every hit containing all the pent-up rage I have for that “man” and the lengths he’s gone to trying to get to Allie and Benjamin.
Finally, my muscles burn and ache too much for me to keep going. I drop my arms, panting heavily, the sweat trickling down my head and across my chest into the waistband of my gym shorts and dripping onto Isaac’s living room tile.
He glances down at the forming puddle. “I suggest you clean it up before the girls get done with whatever it is they’re doing back there, or you two are going to have to explain that to Jack.”
His blue gaze darts toward the hallway that leads back to his kids’ bedrooms and the guest one where Allie, Benjamin, and I have crashed the last two nights.
Atlas releases his hold on the bag and crosses his arms over his massive chest, his tattooed arms flexing as he scans me from head to toe. “Not half-bad, considering you haven’t been to the gym in what, two months?”
I snort and shake my head. “You say that like I had a choice.”
He holds up his hands with a grin. “Just saying, your cardio could use some work.”
No shit.
My normal routine went out the window the day that hurricane hit New Orleans and Allie came tearing back into my life. There hasn’t been time for morning runs and an hour of lifting, and even if there were, I wouldn’t be able to justify leaving them alone for my vain attempts to maintain my physique.
Still, Atlas doesn’t need to comment on it.
Or maybe he does.
He has always been a real smartass, loving to jab at people as much outside the ring as he does inside—and family is no exception. The words probably tumbled out of his mouth before his brain even knew he was saying them.
I scowl at him and hold up my gloves so he can unwrap them. He steps forward and does it, tossing them onto the floor beside the bag stand he dragged over from his place.
One of his blond brows rises. “Are you sure you don’t want to go down to the gym? Do a couple of rounds in the ring with me?”
I mop my head with a towel and shake it. “I’m not that stupid.”
Isaac laughs. “Apparently not, since it seems you finally worked things out with Allie.”
And there it is…
I’ve been waiting for them to say something about the fact that we’re sharing a bedroom since the moment I brought them back here after Nora examined them post-fire.
Everyone was so shaken, worried, even though the girls and Benjamin are completely fine, that no one said a word when Allie said she’d share my room instead of bunking with Viviana.
Frankly, I’m surprised it took this long for them to bring it up.
They’ve likely been waiting for the perfect opportunity to do it without prying ears from little ones like Vivi or people who tell them to mind their own business—like Allie and Jack—milling around.
But there’s no avoiding the inquisition.
Especially when Isaac is leading it.
I never thought anyone would out-lawyer Uncle Stone, but Isaac has managed to step into his father’s shoes and relish his new role as the primary attorney for Hawke Enterprises since Stone almost died.
He’s damn good at it, which is why trying to wriggle my way out of this line of questioning is pointless. There is no pleading the fifth with Isaac Hawke.
“I’m glad you guys approve…”
I sigh and lower myself down onto the coffee table, knowing full well that if I sit on any other piece of Jack’s furniture while I’m a sweaty, disgusting mess, she’ll lose her mind. Resting my elbows on my knees, I let my head hang down as I try to catch my breath.
Maybe Atlas was right about the cardio thing.
When all this is over, I need to get back to the gym regularly.
Isaac snorts, flipping the page in the file he’s reading. He’s had his nose in it for the last hour since the girls disappeared and Atlas suggested we do a little boxing to release some of the tension I’m feeling.
I narrow my eyes on him. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
No one makes that noise unless they have something else to say, and it isn’t like him to hold anything back.
Isaac sighs and looks up from the file. “Nothing. We’re all happy for you guys. Really. Now we won’t have to worry about the frostbite from those icy looks you two kept throwing each other at Sunday dinners.”
I smirk at him. “Yeah. Hopefully, it’ll warm up a little bit. Is Nana still pissed we all missed this week?”
He nods. “Oh, yeah. I talked to her earlier, and her exact words were, and I quote”—he holds up a finger—“‘whoever this asshole is who’s messing up my family dinners needs to be taken care of.’”
Atlas rests his arm on the top of the bag, eyes wide. “Whoa. Are you telling me Nana authorized murder?”
Isaac’s eyebrows rise. “Does that really surprise you? I mean, Grandpa wasn’t exactly on the up-and-up. He was deeply connected with Abello and worked for him doing some shady stuff, and we all know what my dad did for the man…”
That sends an icy chill through the room, cooling any further humor.
Atlas runs a hand over his blond, spiky hair. “Well, I think I’m going to get this thing out of here and back to my place before your fiancée comes out here and kicks my ass.”
“Oh, great.” I throw up a hand. “So, you’re just going to leave me here to take the punishment?”
He laughs. “I bet if you hurry, you can clean it up before she notices.”
Isaac snorts again. “It’s still going to smell like a gym in here…”
Shit.
We definitely didn’t think this through, but options are severely limited when we’re stuck living at Isaac and Jack’s place—the second most defensible position we could think of since the smoke damage prevents us from returning to my condo anytime soon.
Something that, the more we look into it, seems very deliberate.
While the search continues for Roselli and any evidence tolink him directly to the fire, pretty much everyone agrees he must be behind it.
We know the residents of the building too well for any of them to have been reckless enough to throw a lit cigarette into a garbage can. And Gabe, Dad, and Bishop have personally interviewed each and every one of them about what they saw or heard that night, seeking out any suspicious behavior from anyone.
But nothing has come of them putting the screws to my neighbors.
Which likely means someone else somehow got in past Dad and the rest of the security team and started that fire.
It would be easy enough to review the surveillance cameras to attempt to identify whoever did it—if the security office weren’t right next to the room where the fire started, ensuring any evidence was destroyed almost immediately.
This was no accident.
It’s too calculated.
Of all the potential attacks Roselli could have initiated, no one ever thought to worry about something as simple as burning us out—and now we’re stuck here, invading Isaac and Jack’s home—and turning their living room into a gym since we’re banned from going out to Atlas’ real one to burn off some energy there.
Atlas unhooks the bag from the stand and inclines his head toward his place. “Hey, asshole. Get the door for me.”
I scowl at him and groan as I climb to my feet and trudge over to pull it open. Just as it has every time I’ve done this since we got here, the hair on the back of my neck rises, and my gaze drifts to the elevator and the stairwell.
Assessing.
Watching.
Anticipating.
Logically, I know this building is just as safe as my own, if not more so, with the amount of security Gabe and Dad have added, but if one lit cigarette could undo our best defenses there, I can’t help feeling like anything is possible. The electronic keypad and code needed to operate the elevator up here or to access the stairwell seem somehow insufficient—but it’s likely only my paranoia talking.
Even walking across the hall to have a little training session with our resident light heavyweight belt contender at his place—where we wouldn’t risk Giacomina’s ire—was out of the question. Because just being across the hall from Allie and Benjamin is enough to give me hives.
How the hell am I going to get through my shift tonight?
Atlas easily lifts the 100-pound bag onto his shoulder like it’s nothing and carries it across the hall to his place. His blue gaze cuts to me over his shoulder. “This one, too?”
I roll my eyes and cross the hall, opening his door for him.
He steps through and drops the heavy bag onto his floor, then follows me back for the stand. After he unloads it at his place, he turns back to me. “I know we will definitely give you a lot of shit about the you and Allie thing, but I haven’t seen you or her this happy in a long time. And you both have every reason not to be with what’s going on. So, that makes me think this is probably a very good thing for both of you.”
“Thanks.”
I didn’t need his support or blessing, but knowing someone else recognizes how good we are together does make it easier to take their constant badgering.
“I’d do anything for you both.” He shrugs and leans against the jamb. “You know I’ll be the first one out here, guns blazing, if we get a trail on Roselli.”
I nod and smack him on the shoulder. “I know, and I appreciate it. Really, I do. I’m going to get back in there and clean up before Jack catches me.”
He smirks. “Good luck.”
His door swings closed, and I push my way back into Isaac and Jack’s condo as footsteps sound down the hallway.
Shit.
I might be too late.
Vivi comes barreling out into the living room, her long, dark hair in two French braids with pink ribbons wound into them. “Daddy, Daddy, look at my hair.”
She jumps onto Isaac’s lap, sending papers flying, and he catches her, laughing when the old Isaac would’ve lost his fucking mind that his files got disturbed and out of order.
He examines her hair. “I love it. Is this what you guys were up to back there?”
She nods. “Mom and Aunt Allie washed my hair and used the blow dryer!” Her excitement draws a matching grin across her father’s face. “What were you doing out here, Daddy?”
Isaac’s gaze immediately darts to the wet floor and me, still sweating, standing by the door.
Motioning toward it, I hustle to the kitchen. “I am going to clean that up quick.”
He tosses his thumb toward the hallway. “I would hurry if you value your life.”
I grab a spray bottle of cleaner and a roll of paper towels and race back to the living room. While he whispers conspiratorially with Vivi, I do my best to wipe up our little makeshift workout area, removing any incriminating evidence before Giacomina returns and chews my head off.
Allie and Jack’s voices grow louder, echoing down toward us as they move closer to the living room. I push to my feet just as they reappear, both of them narrowing their eyes on me.
Jack props her hands on her hips, her amber eyes flashing. “What are you doing?”
“Oh, I…”—I clear my throat—“spilled something, but it’s all good.”
Allie fights a smirk, evidently not buying my bullshit answer. “Well, Giovanni and Benjamin are both sound asleep in the nursery. I think the afternoon at the ‘salon’ was too much for them.”
Chuckling, I wander back to the kitchen, return the cleaner to the cabinet under the sink, and shove the dirty paper towels into the garbage can.
Soft footsteps follow me. Allie’s arms wrap around me from behind, but she immediately backs away. “Eww. Why are you so sweaty?”
I turn and smile at her, tugging her against me. “Atlas and I were doing a little workout.”
“Oh, I see…or should I say, I smell it.” She motions back toward their living room. “Is that what you just lied to Jack about?”
“Was it that obvious?”
“To me, it was.”
I press a kiss to her neck. “You read me too well. Hopefully, Jack didn’t pick up on that.”
She grins. “You afraid of her?”
I raise a brow. “Wouldn’t you be?”
Daughter of a mafia queen and a ruthless killer—she is not the kind of woman I want to tangle with, under any circumstances. I don’t care if she’s basically family or not.
Allie leans in and presses a quick kiss to my lips. “Just steer clear of her the best you can for a while. When do you have to leave for work?”
I check my watch and groan. “About an hour, and I need to shower and get ready…”
Though I would much rather stay here with them, especially after what happened the last time I went in for a shift. But I can’t take any more time off without risking my job, and there is no way Allie will let me do that.
She winks at me. “I’ll distract her so you can sneak back to the room.”
God, I fucking love this woman.
We’ve so easily fallen right back into this comfort zone with each other. All that animosity and uncertainty left behind in favor of us enjoying being together as much as we can and pretending—for brief moments like this—that the world isn’t out to get us.
I wish it could go on forever.
But the fact of the matter is that Roselli won’t stay on ice much longer, and the plan we formulated to draw him out makes me far more nervous than I ever let on.
Nervous enough to want to defy Allie’s order to go back to work and instead stay here with her and Benjamin to ensure they’re safe, but I don’t need two Hawke women pissed at me today.
One is more than enough.
* * *
ALESSANDRA
I closethe bedroom door behind me and throw the lock, then stride straight toward the bathroom, stripping off my dress on the way, letting it fall to the floor. The sound of rushing water filters out to me through the cracked door, immediately bringing me a mental image of Pope naked under the spray.
It shuts off just as I step into the steamy bathroom, and Pope runs his hands over his head and face, then slides back the frosted glass door and steps out, reaching for his towel.
His eyes land on me and he freezes, his brow furrowing. “What are you doing in here? Is everything okay?”
I take a step in, then another, nudging the door closed behind me, then lean back against it and take a minute to appreciate Pope Clarke in all his God-given glory.
It should be a sin to look like that and be a brilliant doctor.
And so insanely attentive and caring.
And incredible in bed.
Truly.
Not fair to my libido.
My pussy clenches as I grin at him and the way his gaze travels over me in the black bra and thong. “What does it look like I’m doing?”
He narrows his eyes and grabs the towel, wrapping it around his waist, but not fast enough to conceal his growing cock. “Something you shouldn’t be. You were just in a fire a few days ago.”
Like I need the reminder.
Racing down that dark, smoky stairwell behind Bishop, clutching Benjamin to my chest and trying to cover him so he didn’t inhale any of the acrid smoke…
Not knowing who or what might be waiting for us at the bottom…
It was terrifying, but we’re safe now.
And things are really good between us.
Going to sleep and waking in his arms the last few days, even here instead of at his place, helped ease those painful memories—or at least allowed me to lock them away in a vault I won’t open until much later.
It isn’t anything I want to dwell on right now.
Not when I feel so alive.
But I know how guilty and helpless Pope felt, not being there with us.
If I’m going to make him forget, even for a few moments, I have to downplay what happened and pray he buys it.
I offer a shrug. “I feel totally fine. My throat doesn’t hurt. I’m not coughing…”
Pope gives me that look again, the one he always uses when he wants to go all “doctor” on me about something.
But I hold up a hand before he can. “Don’t give me that ‘doctor’ look. Tell me, if I were anyone else, is there any medical reason I wouldn’t be able to suck my boyfriend’s cock and have a quickie with him before he goes to work?”
He runs a hand over his eyes, his whole body tensing. “Jesus, Allie…”
“What?”
His hand falls away, and an inferno blazes in his gaze. “I have to leave for work in twenty minutes, and you come in here looking like that,saying things like that, and calling me your boyfriend.”
It just slipped out.
I hadn’t intended to use that important word and potentially mess up what was supposed to be a nice release for both of us before he leaves for his shift. But now that he’s brought it up, the tiniest hint of uncertainty and regret start to seep in.
Calling me your boyfriend…
“Should I not be?”
He closes the distance between us so quickly. It’s only a split second before he’s on me, pressing his wet body against mine. Taking my cheek in one palm, the other pressed against the door behind me, Pope tilts my face up to him. “You absolutely should be calling me that.” He shakes his head. “Actually, it doesn’t seem like enough for what you are to me. You are so much more than my girlfriend, Al.”
And there he goes, saying things that melt me into a puddle of goo again.
Pope always knows exactly what I need to hear, and he never lets me question what we are together without setting me straight.
I hate the insecurity that sometimes creeps in.
But it has nothing to do with Pope and everything to do with what a mess I’ve made of my life.
Sometimes, it’s hard to believe where I am—here, with this man, on our way to a future I didn’t think could exist. It’s what I dreamed about for so long and always thought was out of reach and could never be real.
Now, my palms pressed flat against his hard, slick chest, he’s very real.
I score my nails down his chest, and he leans into me, his now fully hard cock pressed between us, making my core ache.
Squirming against him, I feather my lips against his. “You have twenty minutes, right?”
He issues a low growl and crushes his lips to mine. A hungry, fervent kiss his only response. But it’s the only one I need. I wrap my arms around his neck and cling to him the best I can, the water making his skin slick.
That clean scent I always associate with him permeates the warm air, and I inhale it and him, wishing I could keep it there, in my lungs, and breathe nothing but this forever. Wishing I could put into words all the things my heart wants to say.
How much I love him.
How much I need him.
How much everything he’s done for Benjamin and me has truly meant.
But even if I tried to say them, they’d get lost in our frantic kisses, our shared breaths, the groping hands and racing hearts.
He reaches between us and unhooks the towel from around his waist. His fingers dig into my hips, and he lifts me to wrap my legs around him so he can pin me to the door. He lightly teases his lips over mine. “You want it hard and fast?”
I nod, grasping his face between my hands and tugging his mouth back to mine fully, desperate to get another taste of him before he walks out of here and leaves me for the night.
It isn’t often we’re going to find time alone like this, but with Isaac and Jack busy with Viviana in the kitchen making dinner and the babies asleep in the nursery, this is the only chance I’m going to get—potentially for a few more days—and Pope seems to understand that, too.
After what happened the other night, we both need this, the carnal reaffirmation that we’re alive and together, that as long as we stay that way, we can fight anything.
He reaches down and tugs at my thong, pulling it to the side. Thick fingertips drag through my arousal, spreading it up over my clit, making me twitch against him.
A low hum of appreciation vibrates in his chest. “Jesus, you’re already wet for me.”
More than ready.
I have been since the moment I saw him in nothing but his gym shorts standing in the kitchen and realized I won’t see him again until he returns tomorrow after his shift.
It’s impossible not to want more of Pope now that I have him again.
Impossible not to crave this.
“Yes…” I nod and keep kissing him, twirling my tongue along his as I thrust my hips forward against his hand. “Please…”
He chuckles, his chest rumbling. “Greedy, aren’t we?”
I don’t bother verbally answering him this time, just dig my nails into the back of his neck, probably hard enough to leave marks, urging him to stop toying with me.
We don’t have time for games, and neither one of us really enjoys playing them anyway.
Not when we don’t need to.
Honesty and openness will be the things that will gets us through the uncertainty, the tough times, the trials and tribulations we’re sure to face—not trying to one-up each other.
Pope grins against my lips, and his hand between my legs vanishes, quickly replaced with the warm, wide head of his cock. He drags it through my wet folds and up across my clit, and I buck against him, gasping and pulling back slightly. My head bangs against the door, rattling it slightly, and we both laugh as he pushes into me slowly, allowing me to adjust to his size.
I squeeze around him, relishing the stretch and burn of taking him.
He grits his teeth. “You know that only makes it harder, Teeny.”
Allowing my gaze to meet his again, I swim in the headiness of seeing the pure fire scorching across his cognac eyes and knowing it burns only for me. “I know.”
He presses his forehead to mine and plunges all the way to the hilt. “Christ, Allie, I fucking love you.”
My mouth falls open on a silent gasp, my body aching and straining to accommodate him while his words cement us together even more than we physically are.
It isn’t the first time he said that to me, but it’s the first time I really feel the words deep down in my soul, a hundred percent confident that nothing and no one will ever break us apart again.
This connection with him has been the only thing that has kept me going through the days and nights I felt like I would completely fall apart, when it seemed like the world was crumbling and I couldn’t do anything to stop it.
In this moment, I can almost pretend that isn’t the case.
With his kiss, his touch, his love, I can almost believe we’re truly safe.
He shattered my heart once, and for all those years, I tried to mend it any other way, when all I needed to do to put it back together was return it to the man who always owned it.
Keeping it from him, trying to ignore this pull, has only hurt both of us in ways we may never truly heal from, but the longer we’re together, the easier it becomes to forget the pain of the past and concentrate on the here and now.
Which is very, very good.
Pope drags his hips back and plunges into me again, the door behind me rattling, but neither of us care. He squeezes my thigh with one hand and grips my chin with the other, angling my head to take my mouth as brutally as he is my pussy.
He pumps into me hard and determined to get both of us there quickly.
Pope has made love to me before, and it was delicious and decadent and beautiful, but this isn’t that.
This is pure and primal.
This is both of us needing the connection and wanting it now.
His hips drive him into me deeper with each thrust, and my body starts trembling—the power and passion he possesses bringing me to another plane of existence.
He kisses my lips, my cheek, over my eyes, his mouth never stopping its movement as our bodies roll and meet. I squeeze around him on each withdrawal, allowing the head of his cock to drag against that perfect spot deep inside me that already has the slow, warm buzz forming at my core.
Pope moves his attention up my neck, and his lips find my ear. He grazes his teeth along it, sending a shiver through me and a spark straight to my clit. This position already gives me the most delicious friction, the perfect angle to get me there quickly, but that sends me completely over the edge.
Oh, God…
He tips my head back and catches my moan with a blistering kiss as my orgasm blindsides me.
A violent cataclysm of darkness and light, joy and pain, love and lust.
He clenches his jaw and comes right behind me, emptying himself deep inside me in hot spurts and baring teeth against my collarbone, like he wants to mark me there.
But he doesn’t need to because I’m already his.
I always have been.
Even when I denied it to myself.
A mistake I won’t make again.
Head still spinning in the post-orgasmic haze, I lift it and he does the same. Our hooded gazes meet, and a slow grin spreads across his lips.
His fingers twine in my hair and tilt my head slightly so he can kiss along my jaw. “Well, now my shift is going to feel even longer.”
“What? Why?”
He presses his lips across my cheek. “Because I want to come home and do it again…”
“Mmmm.” I tilt my neck to give him better access and clench around his still-hard cock buried inside me. “I wouldn’t say no to that.”
A strangled groan falls from his mouth. “But not now…” He pulls back and drags his hips away, his cock sliding out of me. “I have to go.”
Not yet.
I drop to my knees and wrap my hand around him, leaning forward to flick my tongue across the head of his cock—the flavor of our combined releases dancing across it. “Not before I do what I intended to when I came in here.”
“Christ, Al…”—he buries his hands in my hair, tangling the locks around his fingers—“you’re going to make me late for work.”
Grinning, I nod. “Maybe, but I know your boss, and you can come up with a better excuse than my girlfriend wanted to blow me.”