Chapter 16
Sixteen
Drake
The rest of the afternoon passes in a blur. Phone calls. Cleanup. The weight of what happened pressing down on my shoulders with every passing hour.
Fuck.
I beat my brother and then disowned him.
The thought circles through my mind as I pace my office, as I bark orders at underlings who flinch at the blood still staining my shirt, as I watch Katriana through the glass walls where she sits curled on the leather sofa with a cup of tea someone brought her.
She hasn't said much since we left the conference room. Just watches me with those brown eyes, tracking my movements, processing everything she witnessed.
I'm terrified.
Not of Jonah and not of the fallout. Not even the violence that still simmers in my blood scares me. I’ve lived with problems day in and out all my life. The adrenaline eventually leaves and I sort out the issues. I have full control over every aspect of my life.
Until her.
I'm terrified that she's finally seen what I really am.
A killer. A monster. The kind of man who would choke his own brother to death. The reason doesn’t matter. She’s seen I’m the kind of man whose first instinct is always violence, always destruction, always blood.
She's going to leave and there’s not a damn thing I can do about it.
The certainty settles in my gut like a thousand pound lead weight as I watch her through the glass walls of my office. She sits curled on the leather sofa, tea untouched, her eyes distant with thoughts I wish I could read.
I beat my brother half to death in front of her. Called him a piece of shit. Wrapped my hand around his throat and squeezed until his eyes bulged.
How could she want me after that?
By the time we return to the penthouse that evening, the sun has set and I've worked myself into a state of quiet desperation. Dinner is silent. Katriana picks at her food, lost in thought. I can't eat at all.
She retreats to her room after we finish, murmuring something about needing time. I don't argue. Just watch her disappear through the connecting door and tell myself it's better this way.
I pour myself a whiskey and stand at the windows, staring at Chicago without seeing it.
He's not worth it, she said. And she's right. Jonah isn't worth the blood on my hands or the ache in my ribs or the guilt churning in my stomach.
But the guilt is there anyway. Not for the beating. For the boy I raised who became the man I had to destroy.
The darkness in this city turns people if they allow it. Jonah is just one of many who drank the poison and let it rot him from the inside out. I tried to protect him from that darkness. Tried to give him every opportunity to choose a different path.
He chose wrong. That's on him.
But it's also on me. For not seeing it sooner. For hoping that blood meant something when all the evidence pointed to the contrary.
I finish my whiskey and pour another. The burn does nothing to quiet the thoughts spiraling through my head.
Eventually, I retreat to my bedroom. The bed feels enormous without her in it. I've grown accustomed to her warmth in just a week. The vanilla scent on my pillows. The soft sounds she makes in her sleep.
Sleep won't come. I lie in the darkness, replaying the moment that gun swung toward her chest. The calculation in Jonah's eyes. The way his finger moved toward the trigger.
If I'd been slower. If he'd fired before I reached him.
I could have lost her. That thought alone will haunt me for the rest of my life.
I give up on sleep around midnight. The need clawing at me has shifted from emotional to physical, my body desperate for any kind of release from the tension that's been building all day. All week.
I shove down my boxer briefs and wrap my hand around my cock. I'm already hard, the stress and fear transmuting into arousal the way it always does after violence. I stroke myself slowly, eyes closed, thinking of her.
The sweet taste of her on my tongue. The feminine sounds she makes when she gives me her release. Her softness under my touch. The way those pretty brown eyes lock with mine and she holds me captive. She looks at me like I'm not a monster. Like I'm a man worth trusting.
My hand moves faster. My breath comes shorter. I'm close, the pressure building—
The door opens.
I freeze, my hand still wrapped around my shaft, my heart slamming against my ribs.
She's standing in the doorway between our rooms. Wearing one of my shirts and nothing else.
The buttons are undone, revealing a delicious sight of creamy skin and bare folds.
The hem falls to mid-thigh, revealing miles of bare leg.
Her hair is loose and wild around her face.
Her feet are bare against the hardwood floor.
She's watching me. And she doesn't look away.
"Don't stop." Her voice is soft but steady. "I want to see."
My brain short-circuits. Every rational thought evaporates.
But I don't move. Don't resume stroking. Just stare at her, my chest heaving, my cock throbbing in my grip.
"Katriana." Her name comes out rough. "What are you doing here? I thought after today..."
She takes a step into the room. Then another. The shirt rides up with each movement. A blast of heat shoots through me.
"I couldn't sleep." She stops at the foot of the bed. "I kept thinking about what happened. About what you did for me."
"I almost killed him." The confession tears out of me.
This whole situation is all my fault. I wanted to flaunt Katriana in front of my brother and look what my actions caused.
How stupid of me. "My own brother, Katriana.
I wanted to kill him. For pointing that gun at you.
For calling you—" I can't repeat the word.
"If you hadn't stopped me, I would have. "
"I know." She climbs onto the bed, and my whole body tenses. With every movement she makes, I'm gifted with the sight of her beautiful breasts and more. "I saw everything, remember."
That’s the problem. Or part of it. "And you're still here?"
She tilts her head. "I'm still here."
She slowly crawls toward me across the large bed, her eyes never leaving mine. When she's kneeling beside me, close enough to touch but not quite touching, she speaks again.
"I watched you bleed for me today. I watched you put yourself between me and danger without hesitating. Without thinking about what it would cost you."
"It cost me nothing. He’s not the boy I raised anymore. In all honesty, he hasn’t been for a very long time."
"He was your brother. You will mend the broken glass that is keeping you two apart. Some day. Hopefully soon. You have to have that hope."
"He pointed a gun at you." My voice breaks on the words. "Blood means nothing after that when it comes to you. I meant what I told him. I'll pick you every time."
Her hand reaches out, touching my face. Her thumb brushes over the cut on my lip that's scabbed over but still tender.
She nods slowly. "I've spent years feeling like a transaction. Like my body was currency to be traded for debts I didn't owe. Jonah made me feel like I was broken for having boundaries. Victor made me feel like I was property."
"You're neither of those things."
Her hand drifts to settle over my heart. "I know." She smiles, soft and certain. "Because of you. You make me feel precious. Chosen. Like I matter more than contracts or heirs or family blood. But that doesn’t mean you can’t have a relationship with your brother."
She takes my hand—the one still wrapped around my cock—and gently pulls it away. Then she replaces it with her own.
I hiss at the heat of her touch. Her delicate fingers are softer than mine, her grip lighter, her touch curious and exploratory. She strokes experimentally, watching my face.
"Let me." Her voice drops to a whisper. "I want to give back. I want to taste you. I want to have my first everything with you and I want to start here."
First everything? I hold in a gasp when she tightens her grip. "You don't have to—"
She shifts slightly and when her eyes come up to meet mine the air between us changes. "I know I don't have to." She leans down, her breath warm against my shaft. "I want to. I've wanted to for a while, but I was scared."
My hand traces circles on her smooth thigh. "Of what?"
Her brow raises. "Of not being good enough. Of doing it wrong." She looks up through her lashes. "I've never done this before, Drake. There’s a million things to be afraid of. Not being good enough is highest on the list."
The vulnerability in her confession makes my chest ache. I weigh that against the attack on my senses. It’s hard to focus when the curve of her hip, the promise of what she wants to do with those sweet lips and the heat of her skin against me all fight for my attention.
"You could never do it wrong," I counter when I can finally find my voice again. I cup her face in my palm. "Not with me. Not ever."
She holds my gaze for a heartbeat longer. Then she lowers her mouth to my cock.
The first touch of her lips nearly undoes me. Soft. Warm. Tentative. She kisses the thick tip, testing, learning. Her tongue darts out to taste the moisture gathered there, and she makes a small sound of discovery that vibrates through my entire body.
"Like that?"
"Fuck. Yes." The words come out strangled. "Just like that. Whatever you want."
She takes me deeper. Slowly, inch by inch, her mouth stretching around my girth. Her hand wraps around the base, gripping where her lips can't reach. She's clumsy but eager, her technique unpracticed, and somehow that makes it better than anything I've ever experienced.
Something primal unfurls inside me and makes my hunger for her grow.
Because it's her. Because she chose this. Because she's giving me something she's never given anyone else.
I guide her gently, my fingers tangled in her hair without pushing. "That's it, baby girl. You're perfect. You feel so good."
She moans around me, and the vibration sends sparks up my spine. Her head bobs faster, finding a rhythm, growing confident with every stroke.
The need to release coils low in my body. My cock thickens and the little sound she makes nearly sends me over the edge right then and there.
I'm close. Too close, too fast. I've been wound tight for so long, and having her mouth on me after the day I've had is more than I can handle.
"Katriana." I tug at her hair. "I'm going to—"
She doesn't pull away. If anything, she takes me deeper into her mouth until the tip of my cock hits the softness of her throat.
“Fuck, baby girl. Don’t–”
It’s too late. I flex my hips as I hold her head in place and sink a fraction deeper. My orgasm crashes through me. I groan her name as I spill into her mouth, my hips jerking, my vision whiting out. She swallows around me, taking everything, and the feeling prolongs the pleasure until I'm shaking.
She releases me slowly, licking her lips, her eyes bright with triumph.
I haul her up to lay beside me. I wrap my arms around her and hold her body to mine.
Our breaths mingle. Our eyes hold each other and then my lips are on hers, tasting my release on her tongue.
She fists a handful of my hair and eases me closer and I give her what she wants.
I’ve been starving for this. Not with just anyone, but with Katriana.
My hand slides beneath the shirt and I skim my hands up her back, the physical contact of skin on skin grounding me to this moment. To this woman. My woman.
"Why?" I ask against her mouth when we finally break apart. "After everything you saw today? Why did you pick this moment? Please help me understand."
She pulls back to meet my eyes. Her hand touches my face again, gentle over the split lip.
"Because I understand now. More importantly I see where I fit into your life now." Her voice is steady, certain. "I'm not just a contract to you. I'm not just a person who can fulfill an heir clause or promise. I matter."
"You matter more than I know how to describe."
Her breath catches. It’s a soft sound that fills me with the need to make sure this woman never suffers a broken heart again in her life.
"And you matter to me." Her chest rises with a steady breath. "The darkness in this city turns people. You said that. But you're not turned, Drake. You're not rotten. You use the darkness to protect the people you love."
"Katriana—"
"I'm ready."
The words hit me like lightning.
My God this woman is going to ruin me. I know what she means, but I have to ask. I want to hear the words from her lips. "Ready for what, little rose?"
I watch her gather herself. The resilience she possess humbles me. There’s not a soft bone in my body and I’ve accepted my soul is blackened with my sin. But she makes me want to be better, do better.
"You, Drake." She leans over me, the ends of her hair brushing my bare chest, and kisses me softly. "All of you. I'm choosing you, Drake. Not because of the contract. Not because I owe you. Because I want you."
I search her face for doubt. Hesitation. Any sign that she's not sure.
I find only certainty.
I cup her face and draw her in until our noses nearly touch. "Once we do this," I say slowly, "there's no going back."
"I'm counting on it."
I flip her onto her back. She gasps as I hover over her, my weight braced on my forearms, my body caging hers. I slip between her thighs, my cock nudging her bare pussy.
Oh, fuck me. She’s slick, swollen and so fucking hot. It’s all I can do not to fist my length and feed her every fucking throbbing inch of me right now. But I need to take this slow. She’s too important to me. I can’t hurt her.
My shirt opens to reveal her beautiful breasts. Her nipples harden under my attentive gaze and the sight is beyond heaven.
I drag my gaze to hers. "You're sure?"
She spreads her thighs more, offering even more of her to me. "I've never been more sure of anything."
I kiss her. Deep, slow, thorough. My hands find the hem of my shirt she's wearing and ease it up over her hips, her stomach, her breasts. She raises her arms, and then she's bare beneath me.
I worship her with my mouth. Her lips. Her jaw. The column of her throat. The swell of her breasts, each nipple drawn tight beneath my tongue. The soft plane of her stomach. The flare of her hips.
By the time I settle back between her thighs, she's panting, her fingers twisted in the sheets.
"You have all the control," I tell her. "If you say stop, we stop. No questions."
I pause. “And Katriana. We do this, I want to feel every inch of you. I have to give you every drop of my seed. You know what that means.”
"I understand. If it happens it happens. I want you, too. And Drake, don't you dare stop."