Tempted & Taken (Men of Haven #4)(44)

He didn’t blame her. Sometimes his incessant need to watch over the people he loved didn’t even make sense to him. Not that he loved Darya. She was just a good person he felt compelled to look out for. No different than any of his other employees—except for his obsessive need to be inside her.

“You and Beckett seem very close,” she said.

Knox shrugged and refocused on soothing the tight muscles along her delts. “He’s my brother.”

“But you’ve known him longer than the others.”

He froze, the unexpected observation jolting him out of the languid place they’d settled into. No one at the office knew about his history. No one period, save his family. “What makes you say that?”

She let her head fall back against his shoulder and lifted her beautiful blue gaze to his. “I don’t know. Maybe because you act like you’ve always known him.”

There it was. The astuteness that always amazed him. That grabbed him by the nuts as sure as her own hand. “Since I was ten.”

Her lips curved in a small smile, sweet as if he’d just given her a thoughtful gift. Before he could fully enjoy it, she rolled her head forward again and closed her eyes. “Were your families close?”

The chuckle that slipped free sounded bitter even to his own ears. “We didn’t have families. Not really.”

“Then where did you live?” Completely conversational. As if they were doing a code review instead of dredging up the worst stretch of his life.

But this was good. Maybe if she understood where he came from, she’d understand his lines a little better. Would excuse some of the harsh boundaries he needed to survive. Surely he could give her that much.

He swallowed hard, eyes on the beer his throat desperately needed, but in absolutely no hurry to lose the weight of her torso against him. “Hung out at Beckett’s house a lot. His mom bailed before I met him. His dad was a nasty drunk, but so long as we stayed out of his way he left us alone.”

“So, you lived with him?”

“Not officially, no.”

“Then where?”

He ran his palms along her shoulders, her uber-soft cotton top tickling his hands. It wasn’t a big deal. Or at least it wouldn’t be if he didn’t make it one. He forced his voice to stay even. “Foster homes.”

With the back of her head resting easy against his shoulder and her eyes closed, he watched her. Waited for some kind of response. A flinch or a scowl.

Her serenity never slipped. Not so much as a blip. “What happened to your family?”

“Don’t know who my dad was. Mom died when I was three. Drug overdose.”

Her eyes snapped open, locking on to his almost as fast. “Is that why you don’t take anything to help you sleep?”

Oh, yeah. Very astute. Dangerously so. As in time to get her on a different topic altogether.

He pulled in a slow breath, dipped his hands along her sides and splayed one against her belly. “You want to talk, tell me about your family.”

She drew in a shaky breath. “My life was very simple growing up. Poor, but simple. I was an only child, but I knew much love when my parents were alive.”

“They’re both gone?” Back and forth, he skated his thumb just inches below her breasts.

Her shoulders pressed gently against his chest. She wanted more. Badly. But she was fighting it just as hard as he was. “My father worked as a machinist. He died when I was thirteen. My mother secured me schooling in St. Petersburg shortly after.”

“Secured how?”

She squeezed her eyes shut and a shudder worked through her, this one having nothing to do with pleasure.

He froze. “Darya?”

She rolled her lips together, swallowed and opened her eyes. She met his stare head on. “My mother was very beautiful. With my father gone and no money, she felt it was better to use her assets in a way that would benefit her daughter than keep her pride. She traded herself in exchange for my education and my keeping.”

Jesus Christ.

He’d never had a family. No one but Beckett until Axel and Jace found them. But at least he’d never lost one. He pressed his palm against her belly, doing his best to let her know he was there and that he understood without crossing more lines than he already had. “Sounds like she loved you very much.”

“It was a tremendous gift.” A ferocity lit behind her eyes, the power of it billowing up like some determined goddess. “One I will never let go to waste.”

His hand moved without conscious direction from his head, sliding up between her breasts until he clasped her throat. Beneath his fingers and thumb, her pulse pounded through her carotid. But all he could focus on were her lips. Could only remember what they felt like against his. Soft and yet firm.

He never kissed. Not without sex and this was most definitely not sex. This was intimacy. Landmine-ridden, terrifying intimacy.

And he still wanted to claim her mouth. Devour and get lost in her taste.

The kitchen timer buzzed, an angry zing that barely penetrated despite the dangerous terrain. His gaze slipped to his possessive grip at her neck. Amazing how dark his skin was compared to hers, how rough against her soft flesh.

“I should get that,” she whispered.

She should. Because after that all bets were off. “Oh, yeah. It’s time to eat.”