Owned by Fate (Serve #1)(51)

Obviously sensing his conflict, Caroline came to the edge of the bed. “What is it?”

I’m a depraved individual, exactly as you believe me to be. You look at me with such trust and all I want to do is f*ck you until I know you’ll never forget me. Sick. “I shouldn’t get in that bed with you, sweetheart.”

He watched her lips part, her pupils dilate at the clear arousal apparent in his voice. “But you want to?”

“What kind of a question is that?” Determinedly, he softened his abrupt tone. “You need rest. If I lay down with you, we both know it’ll never happen.”

Green eyes trained on him, she slowly began unbuttoning her shirt. “I can rest afterward.” When she drew off her shirt to bare black lace–encased breasts, then reached for his belt buckle, Jonah could only watch in reckless anticipation. The sight of her topless, hair tumbling around her shoulders, kneeling submissively on the bed before him was heady. A fantasy come to life.

Yet his conscience was railing at him to stop her. Taking Caroline would be ten kinds of wrong when he only meant to walk away afterward. It would only set her back in getting on with her life. The life she’d been living before he entered it, a dark blip on the radar screen. He might not be able to maintain his resolve if he tasted her now. On top of everything, it hurt knowing her interest in him ended at physical attraction. Being inside her would result in the most extreme pleasure/pain possible. Physical pleasure, mental torture.

“Caroline, we can’t.”

A bleak look crossed her face before she hid it. “One last time, Jonah.”

“We’ve had too many last times. It never seems to stick.” He cupped her cheek in his palm, closing his eyes when she leaned into his touch. Goddammit, this f*cking hurt. His heart twisted in his chest when he felt her tears fall onto his hand. “We have to make it stick this time, sweetheart. I’m doing this for you.”

Caroline dragged in a shaky breath, then collapsed back on the bed, curled up on her side. She looked like an angel lying there with her hands tucked underneath her chin. At the same time, she embodied temptation for a man like him. His instincts told him to wrap his body around her and protect her from the world, growling at anyone who dared come too close. Only, who would protect her from him?

He pushed the dark thought aside and contemplated lying beside her. Just for a moment. Surely he wouldn’t be condemned for that? He’d told her he would stay until she fell asleep. As long as he didn’t touch her the way he longed to, he would grant himself this single indulgence.

She started a little as Jonah lay down beside her but slowly relaxed back onto the pillows. He wrapped an arm around her waist and drew her back against his chest. A sigh of ultimate contentment threatened to escape him, but he held it back. He savored the feeling of her pliant body aligned with his, even as the sense of rightness tormented him. How can this be a mistake? She was made for me.

“I’m so sorry, Jonah,” she murmured drowsily. “For everything.”

He shushed her. “You have nothing to be sorry for.”

“I figured it out too late… Damage already done.”

Jonah’s brow knit. “What did you figure out, baby?”

Deep, even breathing greeted his question. She’d fallen asleep.

He allowed himself five blissful minutes of holding her sleeping form close, imagining they were just a couple who’d blown off work to spend the day in bed. When he opened his eyes and looked around at the sunshine-filled room, though, he felt like an imposter. He didn’t belong here with her. He never had. She’d tried to tell him, but he hadn’t listened.

His gaze landed on the garter circling her thigh. No part of him belonged here. It felt like something inside him was being wrenched free as he slid it down her leg and pocketed the silk.

Ignoring the dull roar in his ears, Jonah leaned over her sleeping form and lingered in kissing her forehead. “Good-bye, Caroline.”





Chapter Eighteen


Caroline woke up with a muffled scream into her pillow, curling into the softness to relieve the fierce ache in her middle. It felt as if someone had scooped out her insides with a rusted spoon. Breathing through the pain, she rolled over in bed, making a frantic grab for her bedside clock. Three o’clock in the morning. Dammit, what day?

She jerked around in bed, knowing Jonah wouldn’t be there. He’d been there, hadn’t he? Or had she dreamed it? She dove forward, burying her face into the pillow beside her own and inhaling. No, not a dream—she could smell him.

I lost him. He’s gone. He let me go.

No. I forced him to let me go.

Their brief time together flashed through her mind in a series of snapshots until the pit in her stomach yawned so wide, she thought it might envelop her. Thanks to how exhausted she’d been, she could barely remember what had transpired between them in her apartment Wednesday afternoon. Could only recall the sting of him turning her down, explaining that their separation had to be permanent this time. The memory threatened to crush her.

Now that she could think straight, horrible thoughts and realizations poured in like a bath tap that couldn’t be turned off. She’d been dead wrong. About everything. Jonah, the club, what it represented. She hadn’t for one second questioned whether or not he should be allowed visitation with his daughter. Of course he should. When had her opinion about him changed? Or had it been the same all along, but she’d just been too stubborn to admit it?