Alistair had never been a quiet man when it came to sex. He owned his sexuality in a raw, dark way. However, he had yet to unleash it completely with Sophia. But the thought of another man having her after she had been his, snapped his control.
He drove into her in one hard thrust and she closed her eyes tightly, moaning.
“You’re so tight, so hot, you make me harder than I’ve ever been. I can’t wait to come.”
Caught up in the frenzy of his desire, a fire burned hot in Sophia’s veins, her very being a bubbling volcano and she lowered her mouth to his neck, biting him to avoid screaming. Her fingers threaded in his silky soft hair and her nails dug into his scalp. “Make me come.”
He shifted his hold on her butt to free one arm. He shoved a hand between their bodies and pressed his thumb on her clitoris.
“That’s it,” he said through clenched teeth as he slammed deeply into her, over and over, their desire spiking. “Come with me. I’m so close.”
He groaned and his erection jerked within her in agreement.
A flash traveled through her spine and her body sizzled with it. She lifted her head and yanked his down to a scorching, primal kiss. Her muscles contracted around him as he pushed deeper and then stopped, pressing her into the wall. With a low scream, she exploded with passion, convulsing in his arms, trembling so hard she was sure she was being torn apart. Her limbs weakened and she tumbled against him as her inner muscles narrowed one last time around his length.
Alistair grunted loudly as lightning speared through his spine and exploded behind his eyes, making him dizzy with the force of his incoming orgasm.
He heaved and gasped out loud.
“Sophia.” His low whisper became a plea of devotion. He repeated her name over and over as he came violently.
“Christ, Sophia.” He kissed her mussed up hair and embraced her tightly against his chest, anxiety burrowing deep in his soul. “You’re mine. Mine, do you understand?”
“Yes.” Sublimely Alistair. She breathed in his scent, a scent unlike anyone else’s in the entire world. “Yours.”
He walked them to the bedroom with careful strides, his trousers still on his hips and laid her down on the bed. He went to the bathroom and flung the condom in the wastepaper basket and shed his clothes quickly, leaving them on the chair there.
When he returned to the room, she was already under the sheets, resting against a mound of white pillows, her raven hair framing her face and upper body.
He walked to a chest of drawers, grabbed a T-shirt and pajama shorts and dressed, when he turned the troubled look in her eyes caught his attention.
Alistair paused in the middle of the room, uncertain of what to do.
Sophia held out a hand to him, motioning to the empty space next to her. “I deserve your trust.”
He winced when she spoke, her voice raspy, which confirmed his previous brutality. He sat on the edge of the bed, scowling.
She had no idea what had brought about the outburst or what he would say next. His erratic behavior unnerved her.
“Did I hurt you?”
What do you think? Thousands of thoughts went through her mind in a rush. You’re a lawyer, Sophia. You’ve defended women who have been assaulted, battered, and raped. She shoved a hand in her hair, still studying him. For the first time in her whole life, she began to understand the dilemma of many women in denouncing their companions. It wasn’t that easy to distinguish and decide what was right when so many emotions were involved. What are you going to say to a man who just assaulted you before having wild, absolutely amazing sex?
“Sophia?” he coaxed, gently.
“It’s okay.” She cleared her throat, trying to get her voice back to normal.
His hand stretched to caress her hair but stopped midair.
Her hand met his halfway and she entwined her fingers with his, putting their hands on her lap. She looked down from his face to their interlaced hands and up again, staring deeply into his green eyes.
She hooded her eyes when she noticed him studying them. But he had already seen that they were tinged with brown and it made a strange emotion unfurl in his chest.
A knock sounded on the door, startling them and breaking the awkward silence that had descended in the room.
“I’ll answer it,” he whispered, and rose from the bed.
Sophia could hear another male voice. The waiter, probably. She had completely forgotten about the Armagnac and cigars she had wanted.
She jumped off the bed and took a wrap from the closet. When she heard the door closing, she quietly entered the sitting room and saw Alistair standing in the middle of it, head lowered, running a hand over his nape. His posture echoed his utter dejection.
When her soft footsteps reached him, he raised his head slowly to examine her, a concerned look on his face. He motioned to a bottle of Armagnac and a cigar box on the table. “Do you still want?”
She shook her head.
He stepped slowly in her direction as if afraid of scaring her. “Did I hurt you?”
She tilted her head back to face him, and careful not to hurt her throat anymore, whispered, “Do you want the truth?”
“Aye,” he nodded, halting only when he almost touched her.
“You did,” she answered him ruthlessly. “I’ll probably have your fingers printed all over my throat tomorrow morning, not to mention your hands on my thighs and my ass.”
“I’m sorry, sweetheart.” He flinched at her bluntness. His forehead rested on hers and he caressed her back with slow, circular movements. “I really am. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”
“You were…jealous.”
“You’re right. I was jealous.” More than jealous, Sophia. I felt insecure and afraid, and rejected and betrayed. And I don’t like those feelings. “Not only jealous. Possessive, too. I have issues with trust, Sophia.”
“Ackerman is just a fellow lecturer at Cambridge. And he’s married. He was waiting for his wife to join him.”
“Marriage never stopped anyone from betraying.”
“Well, it’s a determinant for me.” She stared at his green eyes. “I believe in principles and morals. I’m faithful.”
“And I’m an idiot,” he said, his low, deep voice filled with sadness.
Sophia raised an eyebrow. “Can I agree with you? Or you are going to asphyxiate me again?”
He winced and she stood on her tiptoes, kissing his lips in forgiveness, saying, “However strange this may be, even after everything, I liked the sex.”
She astonished him. He put his arms around her and she leaned onto his chest.
“Is your throat hurting?” he asked, his voice concerned.
Sleep on it, Sophia. Don’t think about it. She nodded and said, “It will get better.”
“Sophia—”
“I don’t want to talk about that right now. Tomorrow.” She rested her forehead on his chest and stifled a yawn on his T-shirt.
“Come.” He picked her up in his arms and she nestled her face in the hollow of his neck. “Let’s sleep.”
“Why are you always carrying me in your arms?”
“You’re light as a feather and I’m strong and,” he squeezed her in his arms and felt her smile against his neck, “I like you where you are.”
“I just missed the stomping,” she teased.
His lips turned up in a small smile as she used his own words against him. And although he felt too downcast to be amused, he tried to keep up with her mood. “Tomorrow morning, I will show you the child sleeping beside you.” If you still want me.
Chapter 20
Sunday, March 14, 2010
6:57 a.m.
Sophia woke to the gentle sunlight streaming into their room by the opened curtains.
Her back was snuggled flush to Alistair’s front, his arms wrapped around her like bands, and her head rested on his shoulder. He held her as if he feared she would run away.
She didn’t know if she should smile or grima
ce at the possessiveness of the position, and very cautiously, she turned in his arms.
In his sleep, his face looked relaxed and young, with several strands of raven hair fallen over his forehead.
So handsome. So distrustful. What am I going to do with you, Alistair Connor?
She tried to disengage herself from his embrace without waking him, but he mumbled something in his sleep and tightened his hold on her. His eyelids fluttered and he blinked, focusing sleepy green eyes on her.
“’Morning,” he whispered, and kissed her forehead, grinning. “I like waking up to the sight of you.”
“’Morning,” she croaked, and tried clearing her throat, but ended up emitting a small pained sound.
Immediately, he sat on the bed, pulling her with him. “Let me see your neck.”
His hand pulled hers away and he paled, closing his eyes at the sight of his fingers imprinted in black-and-blue on her skin.
“I am a monster,” he muttered under his breath, disgusted with himself. He inhaled a deep breath and his beautiful green eyes filled with sorrow. “Forgive me.”
“You’re forgiven. I’ll be fine in a few hours.” She gave him a small smile and her palm touched his cheek. “Some honey and hot pomegranate tea will cure this.”
Despite her light words, Alistair felt miserable.
She squirmed from his embrace and jumped off the bed, smiling. “I’ll be right back.”
Alistair looked at his large hands and brooded over the absurdity of his actions, but a low whimper followed by a heartbroken sob and the sound of a key being hastily turned made his head come up sharply.
Fucking Christ! He knocked on the bathroom door. All he could hear were her sobs.
“Sophia. Open the door. Please,” Alistair begged, to no avail. What have I done? He rested his back and head on the wall, eyes squeezed shut, and slid down to the floor. Sophia’s muffled sobs cut through his despair.
Enraged with himself, he pushed up from the floor and grabbed the phone to ask reception for a spare key to the bathroom.
Sophia huddled in the corner of the bathroom, hugging her legs.
Never, in her whole life, did she think she would see so many black-and-blue marks on her own body. And she didn’t know what to make of it. I haven’t been beaten, I haven’t been—I bruise easily, that’s all. She sobbed again and more tears rolled down her face, dripping on her bathrobe.
She didn’t want to think. She didn’t want to face it.
She liked him. And she didn’t know what to do with this situation.
You provoked him. You shouldn’t have— She dropped her head onto her knees and cried, confused and lost. Oh, please, it was not my fault.
Her mixed feelings and sorrow tormented her so much that she didn’t hear when the inside key dropped, the lock turned, and Alistair quietly entered the bathroom.
He dropped to his haunches beside her and lightly stroked her hair. “Sophia, please.”
She threw herself in his arms.
She was not supposed to trust him, but she didn’t know any better. Over the past few weeks, he had unlocked the door to her heart and had raided her soul.
Now she didn’t want to believe him capable of turning into an abusive man. It was…what, Sophia? An accident, like what happened with Ethan?
Without a word, his whole body tense, he rose with her cradled in his arms.
He had been doing foul things in his life to fill the void that Heather had created with her sick pleasures. But since he met Sophia, he couldn’t discern the emptiness anymore.
Alistair sat in the armchair in the bedroom and rocked her in his arms, patiently waiting for the tears to subside. He had been unfulfilled, yes, but now he had Sophia. And Gabriela. He couldn’t afford to lose them. He couldn’t.
“Please, Sophia, forgive me.”
She nestled herself in his arms and hid her face in the hollow of his neck. She knew they had to talk about what happened but she didn’t want to, her denial reaction shocking her more than his actions. She sniffled and wiped her face with the sleeve of the bathrobe.
“I’m sorry—”
Her hand clamped over his mouth.
“When I looked in the mirror—” She hiccupped, woefully, and the tears started to fall again. She wiped them before they fell on Alistair’s sweater.
“Oh, Christ,” he murmured, and he leaned his cheek against hers, cradling her face between his face and his shoulder.
They remained quiet for a long time, Sophia’s occasional sniffs punctuating the silence.
He buried his head in her hair and whispered, “I don’t know what got into me.”
I know. You, Alistair Connor, were psychotically jealous and went berserk. And I’ve gone completely insane. She caressed his hair and nape and murmured, “Make love to me.”
He lifted his head, disbelief shimmering in his eyes for a second. “You don’t mean it. We have to talk about—”
“Later,” she whispered. She cupped his head to bring his lips close to hers, running her tongue over them. “I want you to make love to me. Gently. And slowly.”
“I’ll be gentle, Beauty.” His eyes were so dark they seemed black. He kissed her tenderly and raised his head a bit, to look into her eyes. He whispered again on her mouth, his voice strained and sorrowful, “I’m so sorry, Sophia. I promise it won’t happen again.”
“We’re going to work this out,” she rasped. And she kissed him with all the faith inside her heart. “You have to start believing. In you. In me. In us.”
He returned the kiss, completely bewildered by her. “Are you sore?”
“Uh…” What do you think? You took me like a savage. She lowered her eyelids, warring with the mixed feelings inside her. And I liked it.
Sophia was totally baffled by her lack of self-preservation. Or at least, she told herself that. She wasn’t ready to face the deep feelings she had for Alistair and how they made her vulnerable to his whims.
“I know I was a brute, last night.” His hand cupped her face, making her look at him. “The truth, Sophia.”
“A bit,” she whispered.
“I’ll be so gentle,” he murmured on her lips and lowered his head to hers and took her mouth in a long, slow kiss, his tongue leisurely exploring her soft lips.
“Sophia, I—” he started to whisper against the skin of her jaw only to stop short, jerking his head up to look at her. I…love you? The thought and the feeling made his chest expand painfully and it scared him. Christ. Is this for real?
“What?” she breathed on his mouth. His eyes flashed and a soft expression appeared on his face. One Sophia had never seen before.
Alistair lovingly stroked her cheekbones and her jaw with his thumbs as if seeing her for the first time.
“I think I’m falling in love with you,” he murmured, and bent his head to kiss her softly on the lips. His heart beat so fiercely it made him dizzy. He shook his head, raising it a bit to look deep into her eyes. He picked up her hand, putting it over his heart and rephrased, “That’s not right. I…I love you, Sophia.”
She blinked. Oh. She put her other hand in his silky raven hair and a beautiful, huge smile spread over her face. “And it scares the hell out of you, doesn’t it?
“Aye. It does.” He nodded, studying her face and bright clear eyes. “But it does not scare you, does it?”
If possible, her smile broadened even more. “No. Not a bit.”
And she tugged his head down for a kiss that transmitted all her belief in him.
Alistair watched Sophia as she dozed snuggled close to his body. If you give me another chance, I’ll fight all my inner demons and rebuild my life with you. I’m never going to hurt you again, mo chridhe. I swear it.
He brushed away her hair to look closely at the marks on her neck and brushed his fingers over them, flinching when she, even in her sleep, moved away from his touch.
His mouth pressed into a hard line. His violent gesture puzzled and shocked him. He had nev
er been that aggressive before with any woman. Not even with Heather when he discovered her betrayal.
Aye, I like to dominate women, but it is just for fun and pleasure. He scowled at himself. Fun? Pleasure? Really, Alistair Connor?
With Heather it had been role-play, but after her he’d been doing it as vengeance. I’ve drowned myself in an unbelievably dark and evil pool of mud and sewage for years.
He thinned his lips, aggravated as he recalled all his black deeds with a new perspective. When he was the same age she is now, he had behaved rakishly and recklessly, not caring about the consequences.
In the exact opposite direction as her, instead of fortifying his character, he had debauched himself even more as the years went by. Not even the death of an unborn baby and of his dear daughter had made him stop.
Sophia shifted in his arms and moaned. He looked again at her neck and closed his eyes, sighing. There was no reason to react that strongly. He narrowed his arms around her. It was a simple conversation between friends. Nothing more.
Then a dark memory insinuated itself in his mind. The photos of his late wife with so many different men and women popped into his mind. A ferocious wrath surged through his body. In an attempt to control himself, he bit his inner cheek and tasted blood.
You’re too biased, Alistair Connor. He shook his head and shooed the memories of Heather away. Sophia has never given me cause to doubt her.
And he remembered how she defended her late husband from Ethan’s cruel words and how love and admiration still showed in her voice when she spoke of him.
He looked down at her again as she shifted away from his body, leaving him cold.
Her eyelids tightened, her whole face contracted and she started to pant.
“Sophia?” he murmured her name but she was too caught up in the throes of the nightmare to wake up from it gently. Her right hand shot up to her left upper arm, startling him as she moaned in pain and arched violently on the bed, gasping.
Christ. “Sophia,” he called, louder, “wake up.”
She kicked the sheets and they tangled around her legs, making her more agitated. A broken and rough scream escaped from her hurt throat.