Because You Are Mine (Because You Are Mine #1)(67)
Author: Beth Kery

“Were you curious about who he is? Are you?”

“Only insofar as I’d like the knowledge in order to kill the bloody bastard.”

Her mouth fell open in shock. She hadn’t expected his focused, intense aggression. “Why?”

He closed his eyes briefly, and she wondered if she’d gone too far. Would he retreat now?

“Whoever he was, he must have taken advantage of my mother. I don’t know if that means out-and-out rape or the seduction of a very vulnerable, sick woman, but whatever the case, I definitely carry the genes of a fucking degenerate.”

“Oh, Ian,” she whispered, her heart swelling with compassion. What a nightmare for a young boy to live with. What a nightmare for an adult man. “And you never saw him, he never came around?”

He shook his head, his eyelids still closed.

“And your mother, she never—”

He opened his eyes and met her stare. “She grew anxious every time I brought it up as a kid, started doing some of her repetitive, ritualistic behaviors. After a while, I avoided the topic of my father’s identity like the plague. But inside, I grew to hate him. He’d done that to her, made her that scared and nervous. Somehow I just knew it.”

“But she already was ill . . . schizophrenic . . .”

“Yes, but there was something about the mention of him that never failed to send her into a bad period . . . a dark one.”

She couldn’t stand that expression on his face. It pierced her from the inside out. She hugged him tight. “Ian, I’m so sorry.”

He grunted at her energetic embrace, and then chuckled softly. He resumed stroking her hair. “Do you think squeezing me like a python is going to make it all better, lovely?”

“No,” she muttered, her mouth moving next to his bare chest. “But it couldn’t hurt.”

He encircled her in his arms and laid her on her back, coming down over her. “That it couldn’t,” he murmured, before he leaned down and kissed her in that masterful Ian-like way that made her forget everything for a period of time . . . even his suffering.

* * *

Francesca knew she’d remember that night spent in Ian’s arms, and in his bed, forever. It’d been sublime to have him open up to her . . . even a little. In the past, he’d told her that their relationship would be a purely sexual one, and there could be little doubt that their attraction—their obsession—with each other sexually was powerful stuff.

But that night, their exchange had been more than about sex. Or so Francesca had thought . . .

She woke up to brilliant golden sunlight filtering around the lush drapery. She blinked sleepily, noticing she was alone in the luxurious mussed bed where she’d spent so many erotic, intimate hours with Ian last night.

“Ian?” she called, her voice still rough from sleep.

He came walking out of the bathroom, looking amazing in a pair of dark blue trousers, a stark white button-down shirt, a black silk tie with pale blue stripes, and that belt buckle that always distracted her so much riding low on his lean hips. Had she really seen him completely naked last night, truly seen his awesome reflection in those mirrors, all of those lean, bulging muscles flexed tight as he fucked her?

Had it been a dream, having him hold and make love to her all night?

“Good morning,” he said, walking toward the bed and fastening a cuff link with deft fingers.

“Good morning,” she said groggily, smiling up at him, feeling content in the warm sunshine, sublime at the sight of him.

“I’m afraid I have to leave town for a while. I’m not sure when I’ll be back.”

Her giddy grin faded. His words echoed around her skull like a ricocheting gunshot.

“I’ve spoken to Jacob, and he’s going to give you a lesson on motorcycles. I’d like you to get that license at the same time he takes you to get your vehicle license. Lin is sending you the “Rules of the Road” for motorcycles. I’m leaving you my tablet to use for studying,” he said, pointing to the table in the sitting area of his bedroom suite. His brisk no-nonsense manner only furthered her stunned disbelief.

“Excuse me, Ian? I’m still sort of stuck on ‘I’m leaving town, and I’m not sure when I’ll be back,’” she said, sitting up partially in bed, propping her upper body on her elbow.

“I received a call this morning.” Was he avoiding her eyes? “I have an emergency to attend to.”

“Ian, don’t.”

He paused at her sharp tone, his hand still at his shirt cuff. His eyes flashed.

“Don’t what?” he asked.

“Don’t leave,” burst out of her throat.

For an anxious, awful moment, silence reigned.

“I know you probably feel vulnerable about last night, but don’t run away,” she pleaded, a little shocked at herself. Had she secretly feared this very thing all night as they talked and made love and truly shared of themselves? Had she been worried all along he would abandon her in the aftermath of intimacy?

“I’m not sure what you’re talking about,” he said, dropping his arms. “I have no choice but to leave, Francesca. Surely you understand I have business that takes me away at times.”

“Oh, I see,” she said, emotion bubbling in her breast. “Your flying away right now has nothing to do with what happened last night.”

“No. It doesn’t,” he said sharply. “Where is all this coming from?”

She stared down at the bedsheet, not wanting him to see the tears that stung her eyes. She wanted to spit in anger . . . in hurt. “Yes. Where’s it coming from?” she mused bitterly. “Stupid, naive Francesca. Why didn’t I remember this was just a sexual thing, a matter of convenience for you? Oh, and your cock, of course. Let’s not forget that crucial player in the game.”

“You’re acting foolishly. I got a phone call. I must leave. That’s all there is to it.”

“Why?” she demanded. “What’s the emergency? Tell me.”

He blinked, obviously taken aback by her blunt demand. She noticed the corners of his mouth had gone pale in anger. “Because I need to. There are certain things that are unavoidable, and this is one of them. I’m not leaving for any other cause than that. It should be reason enough for you. Besides, your sullen behavior hardly makes me want to confide in you,” he added under his breath, striding away. Fury rose in her. It was too much, having him dismiss her in this way yet again, especially after she’d laid herself open to him last night . . . after she’d thought he’d done the same to her.