Splintered vows, p.12
Splintered Vows, page 12
Dom shadows me from across the street, his position mirroring my own. Not that I checked recently, but it’s how he was standing when I arrived, and the man makes a meal of transforming into the perfect statue that outlasts most.
“What the fuck do they do in there for six hours?”
I shrug, knowing he’ll see the movement. “God knows, but I’m worried.”
“You’re not the only one.”
I grin when Dom snorts softly. Regina busted out of the family mold—or maybe into it—around the time boys at school started taking a personal interest in her. Which was when my father shipped her off to an all-girls boarding school in the Swiss Alps to educate her on the finer things in life. All he did was turn her into a female intelligence agent who can wring hidden truths out of anyone.
“Come on, Willow,” I mutter to myself, checking my watch for the umpteenth time.
The doors finally open to expose the innards of the day spa who charged my credit card five grand just for the privilege of having the girls walk inside. The gilt, black-glass facade finally expels my wife and my sister, both glowing and giggling as they parade down the steps arm in arm.
But then, Willow always glows. She doesn’t need a face full of makeup for that to happen. I hold out a hand as she walks slowly toward me, detaching from Regina and glancing over her shoulder. My sister nods encouragingly.
Bonus points in her favor.
“Thank you,” she says softly. “You didn’t have to pay for that.”
I raise both eyebrows. Personal financial freedom or independence never crossed my mind. I silently curse myself as twice the asshole instantly, leaning down to press my lips softly to hers in a tender kiss that leaves her eyes wide and her breath short.
“What was that for?”
I hold out my arm and lift the passenger door of the Lotus up. “We have a lot to talk about.”
“We do?” Her eyebrows draw tight, and I berate myself as an arrogant ass a thousand times over.
“We do.” I nod over her head at my sister. “Armand is waiting for you.”
My sister tosses her head and rolls her eyes dramatically. “Of course he is.”
I shake my head knowing my reaction, albeit internalized, would be similar to those words if they were addressed to me with the demand I put into them.
I trace Willow’s arm as she steps down into the car. My fingers stroke along her silky-smooth skin. Whatever lotion they poured all over her shimmers. I fist my hand, willing my desire to abate. I can’t wait to have her naked and sweating beneath me. But that need goes on hold. At least for a little while.
“You look beautiful.” I walk around the front of the Lotus. Climbing into the driver’s seat, I let the steady purr of the English engine reverberate through me, leaning back into the soft buttery leather seats. In light of my revelations, I rephrase the conversation I am about to have, practicing the words over in my head.
First time for everything.
“Would you like to go shopping?”
Willow blinks at me. “Are you being serious?”
I don’t bother to disguise my grin, pulling away from the curb and flooring the accelerator. The soft hum of efficiently working parts provides me with a freedom of sorts. Between the guilt I heap on myself at Willow’s situation, only just now recognizing it, and the weight of expectations I feel I can never fulfill. My father’s puppet strings tighten around me from not so afar, damning me to a slow, constricted death.
Is this how she feels every day?
I still don’t know what she wants, and I’m trying to work out what I can do to beg her forgiveness for the way I treated her clutching at that grain of control, one of the few I have left. Utilizing it, I leave Dom stuck on the curbside as we disappear down the street, weaving between traffic.
A glance at Willow shows my girl reclining in the leather bucket seat like a royal when I expect to see her clinging to the door at my speed and cussing me to hell and back with that sumptuous fucking mouth.
She rests her head back, her shoulders relaxed and eyes fluttering shut. “That feels nice. I didn’t really like this car, because … last time.”
Last time when I drove her away from her uncle’s house, and we both know what a clusterfuck of epic proportions that experience was.
Her wedding day.
I swallow past a stone lodged in my throat, releasing the steering wheel with one hand to press my fingers over the back of hers.
“I owe you a thousand apologies. More.” I release my touch on her and murder the steering column instead.
“I never expected those words from you.” The surprise in her tone adds to the shit pile steaming over my ego.
“I know. I want to try to make it up to you.”
“By … spoiling me?” Her head tilted to one side as she peers at me through her lashes, barely moving. Her short black dress slips along her thigh exposing more skin than I can deal with right now.
“That’s one of the ways. You’ve been in my blood since the day we met in Cyprus,” I start.
“Night,” she corrects me.
I grin back. “Fighting has always been our love language.”
“We have one of those?”
“We have several,” I murmur back as she sasses me, shifting sinuously in her seat. A wave of need slams into me. I close my hand around her leg, stealing her movements. A soft, “Oh,” whispers from her lips. “Stop teasing me, and let me apologize.”
Willow wiggles her shoulders, turning to face me and leaving me with a tantalizing glimpse of forbidden flesh straight down the front of her dress. “I like it when you apologize in other ways.”
“Like my handprint on your ass?”
“Something like that.” A flush etches over her cheeks, highlighting her need that matches mine.
I drag my attention back to the road with force. “I want to know more about you. What you need, what you’re not getting. All the freedoms that were stripped away.”
“All the freedoms I never had, you mean,” she murmurs in a low, trembling voice.
I wince. “I know how bad it is. I’m sorry.”
“You’re sorry for being a heavy-handed ass when you ripped me away from my family, the parts I both love and hate and … and mourn? You cursed my existence when I didn’t give you enough information that I could so easily have shared with you earlier, and when you saw what he did, you looked after me?” She shakes her head. Dark locks fling around her collarbone, settling where my hands should be on her skin. “Rafe, of all people, I’m least angry with you. Sure, you could’ve been nicer about stuff, but I’m starting to understand why.” She shrugs. “Besides, I’m no stranger to this life.”
“No,” I answered slowly. “You’re not.”
I watch the road turn into a paved, clean street, full of exclusive shops, and pull up in front of one particular boutique.
“It says, NO PARKING,” Willow points out.
“I own the damn street, Willow. These are my shops and my signs.”
“What, you own the city council?” she scoffs.
“Damn right I do. One of the cheapest bribes I pay all year.”
“You are the limit.” Her laughter bounces around the car as I switch off the engine.
“I’m glad you enjoy time with my sister. I don’t see her often. Maybe you can help me fix that bridge.”
She eyes me suspiciously. “I’m not your Band-Aid fix for your family, Rafe.”
“No. You’re not. But I’ve grown up too harshly, and I’ve grown too hard. I need help somewhere. I would like to ask for your help in that.”
“Granted.” Her answer whips back at me, delight filling her voice. She surprises me a second time, leaning forward to press her mouth to mine, nipping my bottom lip, and draws back. “What are we shopping for?”
My only answer is a grin as I unclip her seat belt and get out of the driver’s door.
Moments later, a uniformed and carrying doorman holds open the door to the middle boutique for my wife. The pristine glass door is etched with gold branding, which matches the madam who runs the place on my behalf perfectly. I met Christina in my early twenties, working for my father when she used to run a dockside whorehouse.
Now, she owns one of the most exclusive lingerie lines in the US, taking street girls and turning them into stunning models with a sustainable income. The girls she helps still show too much skin, but at least now they are paid well and earn the privilege of only spreading their legs for those they choose.
Christina’s blonde head rises from the ledger she studies, preferring to keep her dealings offline most of the time. A hang-up from her dock days, perhaps. I don’t argue with her business acumen since she pays me ample rent a year in advance.
“Raphael. It’s a pleasure. I have my selection for you.”
A grin and wave is all I get as she disappears into the back room, ostensibly to collect the things I picked out online while Willow and Regina were occupied during their spa day.
I lean down and press my lips to Willow’s temple. “Pick out anything you like. I’ve had a few suggestions.” This isn’t how I imagined this conversation going either, but in light of my current revelations, the wording was worth changing.
I can deal with a trampled ego in order to beg my wife’s trust.
And maybe her love.
“Anything?” Willow’s lips purse thoughtfully.
“Anything at all. I don’t care if it’s a flannel shirt that reaches your toes and has a zip straight up the middle.”
She grimaces. “Are you partial to that sort of thing?”
My selection of lacy and strapped black getups arrives draped over Christina’s arm as she lays them on the counter.
“No. I prefer straps I can play with. Snap them against your skin, lick the places in between.” I trail my fingers along her spine purely for the perverse pleasure of seeing her shiver. “But if you can manage sexy and comfortable at the same time, do whatever.”
Her face lights up for a second before it falls. “Rafe, I have money, but—”
I nod, seeing precisely where she’s heading with this comment. “Let me guess. Sebastian took it all from you?”
“Yes.” She can barely breathe at the whispered admission.
I catch her chin and tip her head back. “Everything that is mine is also yours. You will never want, but I understand your need to be independent. I’d be fucking terrified if somebody ripped away what I have. Not for the materialistic aspect, but for the security of the people I protect and the businesses I run. I understand,” I finish softly. “And everything you’ve lost, I’ll reclaim for you tenfold.”
“I’m not allowed to fall in love with the man who purchased me, am I?” She seems to be speaking to herself, but my heart still constricts within my chest cavity.
“It’s permissible.”
She giggles and wanders around the store, while I head to Christina. Moments later, Willow’s back at my side, holding three hangers each with different sorts of gold or green silk confections. “Can I try these?”
“Anything.” I press a kiss to the top of her head.
Christina sizes her up, talking softly to her while I wander around the shop to give them some privacy. I slide my hands into my pockets, catching a flash through the glass window. In light of the car backfiring earlier and believing it was gunshots, my paranoia is at an all-time high.
I freeze, taking a step back to place myself between the two women and the window, searching streetscape under buildings beyond. There’s nothing there, except for Dom parked across the street as usual. His arms are folded over his chest with his middle finger extended across one biceps as he watches me.
I grin and shake my head, relaxing.
“Rafe?” Christina calls softly. “I’m going to close the shop.”
I nod, having been through many of her shows before. It’s amazing the short period it takes her to coach a girl into walking seductively wearing next to nothing. Her skills are legendary. Plus, Willow came with plenty of her own gifts. Most notably those stunning curves.
“Ma’am.” I dip my head in respect, stepping away from the windows.
The security man at her door nods, his back turned as she flicks the lock on the glass doors and presses a button on the wall. Soft lights glow, dimming the area further as blackout blinds dressed with a satin sheen and muted highlights lowers from the ceiling to cover the glass windows and doors, blocking out the street and leaving me shrouded in semidarkness.
Willow walks out in a pair of sky-high heels that make her already slim legs look both longer and curvier. Her hips sway, highlighting a sea of crisscrossed straps around her thighs that wind to her waist and in between her legs. A matching halter bra with straps across her breasts matches the bottom, completing the look.
When she pivots on one heel, a glint of muted metal catches my eye where a small, silver pistol is tucked into one of the garters.
“A pretty touch.” I raise a finger and swirl it in the air. “Turn around.”
Willow twists flawlessly, giving me the show I desire.
“Beautiful,” I murmur as she poses near me, tossing her hair over her back.
Her scars are on full display, but to me they only prove how strong she is, how stunning. The gentle curve of her bottom is split between her ass cheeks in a way that leaves my blood evacuating my brain.
I suck in a long breath as she sashays along the makeshift catwalk. The gold lines bordering the black carpet are not as obvious in the daylight, Christina’s shop arranged in such a way as to hide its true intentions. But once the shop is dimmed, with spotlights highlighting the golden strips, the effect is stunning. Because Christina is an absolute genius. The lingerie isn’t what’s on show here.
It’s the woman wearing it.
“Yes, or no?” Christina asks softly from her side of the register. She leans on her elbows, watching Willow walk, her face alight with joy. Bonus points for the madam. “She’s beautiful. Both inside and out. “
I swallow past a lump in my throat. “I know.” I pause for a second. “Yes.”
She might like to look like Lara Croft, but Willow levels me with her grace and acceptance of who she is. I don’t care if I have to buy the whole shop out for her.
Four more black pieces later that only add to the beautiful highlights on her body, Willow steps back into the light wearing one of the green pieces she chose herself. An all-in-one teddy, its green velvet straps fall across her cleavage, the half-cups highlighting her dark hair and bronzed body.
A thin piece of scalloped lace slips between her legs, and when she turns, a crotchless seam curves around the plump dome of her ass cheeks, joining at her hips and again at her shoulder blades. Her platinum collar that she’s never argued about once glints as she turns back to me, smiling coyly at me through her lashes.
I don’t bother to swallow this time, I can’t. I don’t give a shit if I drool all over the luxury carpet. “Christina. A moment.”
“The shop is yours.” Christina disappears behind a curtain at the back. Seconds later, the back door clicks with finality, and I know she won’t be back today.
I push myself away from the rack I’ve been leaning on, circling Willow, and committing her form to memory. Every sweep, every curve, every shadow. I trail my fingertips along the sweet slope of her ass, dipping my finger to trace her tailbone.
“You look beautiful.”
“You can’t fuck me in the shop, Rafe,” she admonishes me, although the flush rising across the tops of her breasts and into her cheeks lets me know that Christina had told her exactly what I like.
“It’s my shop. I’ll do whatever the fuck I like. And right now, I want you.”
“Is this the part where we fight?”
She watches me as I circle her again, tracing my fingertips across her stomach this time. Willow reaches up to take her hair down, but I stay her hand.
“Leave it up.”
“Why?”
“Because I want to see you. All of you.”
Her breath comes short as she lowers her hand.
I raise an eyebrow. “What, no sass?”
She looks up at me, imploringly.
My control frays on the spot. I dip my head to catch my mouth with hers, kissing her hard and long and deep.
When I draw back, she sways in those heels. I press a hand to her lower back and spin her around until her back presses to my front, tracing my fingertips along the curves of her body and over thin lace scallops. Her skin turns to gooseflesh beneath my touch and I growl out my lust into the hollow of her throat.
“I need you,” she blurts as I make my way back to her mouth.
“I know, baby. I won’t make you wait. Much.”
Chapter Eighteen
An Unyielding Promise
Rafe
My words are designed to tease her but I only succeed in engulfing myself in a headspace with no time to consider anything else.
“Can’t you get through a whole date without fucking me, Rafe?” Willow glances over her shoulder, mischief and determination lighting her eyes, reminding me forcibly of our first night together.
Not the one at home, the one where we fucked like rabbits in the club. Where she left me straining against my own hand for a second round. More.
And now I have her, I stand like a fucking mannequin, unable to do more than hold her and drool on carpet worth more than most wages.
“I’d never leave your bed if I had a choice,” I murmur, breaking free of my stasis and continuing my walk around her. I trace her scars and she shivers. “You’re more beautiful than you could ever believe.”
Willow offers me a sad smile that rips at my heart.
Growling, I catch the back of her neck, pulling her into me, and crash our mouths together. She gives back everything I take from her, our tongues dueling together in a clash of wills and a heady game of who wants who more.
I palm her stomach and thrust two fingers between her legs, adding a third to earn louder whimpers from her sinful lips.
“Gentle?” she whispered, searching my face. “I thought you’d gone all sweet on me.” Her lips part, letting me glimpse the tip of her pink tongue in her warm depths.
