His to Take (Wicked Lovers #9)(84)
Author: Shayla Black

The shower cut off. The glass door opened. A minute of silence later, he emerged with a towel around his waist, skin bronzed and slick, big body tense, hazel eyes watchful.

His wet hair was slicked back from his face. Rivulets of water ran down his bulging chest. He stood in the doorway, taking up all the space. Without meaning to, he sucked the air from the room. Bailey’s mouth went dry. If she stared at him anymore and let herself dwell on the shocking pleasure he’d given her, she was liable to do something stupid, like throw herself at him again.

“Good night.” She forced herself to roll over and turn her back to him.

He’d leave the room soon enough, go back to his and give her some breathing space.

A moment later, she heard rustling cloth, then felt the mattress dip behind her. She swiveled around to watch him—stark naked—climb into bed beside her. “What are you doing?”

“Sleeping beside you. Tell me it’s okay to hold you.”

“You never ask, do you?”

A corner of his mouth climbed up in a crooked smile. “Not if I can help it.”

Bailey wanted to be angry with him, but it wasn’t his fault if he made love like a god. Afterward, he’d tried to pry from her whatever had obviously upset her, so that didn’t exactly make him a bad guy, either. If he scared her emotionally, that was more her fault than his. His relationship with his family, while head-scratching to her, was none of her business.

“You can hold me.” She gave in with a sigh.

Joaquin scooted over to her side of the bed and wrapped his arm around her. He nuzzled her neck. His erection prodded her back. He felt so good—sexy, comforting, dominating, protective. Kind of perfect to her.

“You’re . . .” She wriggled her butt against his cock.

“Hard?” he murmured in her ear. “You do that to me. I’m a grown man who can control it. Usually. But I won’t touch you unless you ask me to.”

That seemed to be a theme with him. A part of her was tempted to turn in his arms, throw her leg over his hip, and invite him inside her body again. Another part of her knew she still needed time to process tonight—and any future implications it might bring.

“Good night.”

“I’ve never seen the benefit of spending the night next to anyone. You’re making it pretty obvious.” He kissed her neck, the lobe of her ear. “Night.”

*   *   *

COLD seeped into her. Bailey shivered as she looked out over the little farm she called home. Fresh snow had fallen the night before, and everything seemed quiet. She hunched down in her pink pajamas, wondering how long Daddy wanted her to stay outside in her brother’s fort. Where was Mommy? She’d had her bath. Wasn’t it time for dinner?

She’d wanted to go back into the warmth of the house long ago, but her father had sent her outside and told her to stay here, no matter what. But screams from inside the house had sounded full of terror and pain. More loud noises had jarred her. The air around paralyzed her with fear, especially after the bald man kicked in the back door and ran inside. Since then, a man had been crying out in agony.

Bailey didn’t know what to do.

“Please, don’t,” the voice she’d been hearing shook and pleaded. Her father. He sounded weak. In pain.

She started to climb out of the fort and run to him, then remembered her father’s stern words.

Hide outside and be very quiet. Sing your song in your head. Stay there, no matter what.

She hesitated. A shiver wracked her. Inside her fuzzy socks, her toes had gone numb.

Finally, she heard the squeaking of the back door. The stranger who had entered the house earlier stepped outside, holding Daddy by the arm and dragging him along. Her father wasn’t fighting, but tripping over his feet. In fact, he looked back at the fort. Blood stained his cheek. Their eyes met, and he pinned her in place with a grim stare.

When the stranger jerked on his arm again, he dragged Daddy to the car. She saw a trail of blood in the snow. Her father was hurt. Was that man taking him to a doctor? Where was Mommy? Her brother? Her sister?

The man shoved Daddy in a black car she’d never seen, then scanned the yard. Bailey ducked and peeked at him from the cracks between two pieces of corrugated metal. The stranger had mean, pale eyes. He looked angry.

Bailey bit her lip. What if he’d hurt Daddy?

Before she could decide what to do, the stranger flung himself in his car and drove off. She watched the black car get smaller and smaller as it bumped down the dirt road. Finally, it disappeared. She didn’t understand what had happened.

Time seemed to last forever, and the cold finally forced her from her hiding spot. Unwinding from her crouched position, she inched out of the fort and tiptoed to the back door.