Paradise Found: Cain (Paradise #2)(27)

I woke early, assured that Sofie was still asleep. She was a sound sleeper it seemed, and I realized we’d spent the night together, literally sleeping, less than five times in our marriage. I wanted to see the damage to her apartment, but I didn’t want to alarm her by allowing her to return. It was as bad as I suspected. It wasn’t hard to infer who could have made such a mess; who could have been sending a message. I wanted my suspicions to be wrong. I wanted to be so mistaken that I’d be cursed for thinking it, but there was only person who could have singled Sofie out from the rest of the tenants in her apartment complex. A person who was searching for her. A person who wanted to know who she was and how she was connected to me. My father.

Believing the safest place for her was closest to me, I was confident she was protected in my home. Our home. It was purchased in my name, outside of funds directly linking the business of fighting and me. It was getting trickier to swindle my own money from my father. Although he didn’t keep the books directly, he did check them. It’s how he found out about Abel and his stunt with Elma, where he covered her tuition. It was only a matter of time before he tried to connect dots, like the heavenly stars, to figure out my actions.

Thoughts of firing my father as my manager had crossed my mind constantly the older I got, but it wasn’t that simple in my mind. The feelings of responsibility to take care of everyone in my family, including dear old dad, weighed me down even if he didn’t deserve the consideration. Our relationship was difficult to explain. His intentions had been to make me a warrior, in his image, and I didn’t wish to fail him, regardless of his means of education. Maybe it was in spite of how he taught me that I wanted to prove I was the one in control. I was the true fighter of the family, fighting for something that might not exist.

I returned home and immediately changed for a workout. I needed to punch something. The punching ball was only a start. My concentration was fixated on the rhythm of the vibration, while visions flashed through my mind. The scattered books. The smashed computer. The slashed bed. Increasing my momentum, my heart raced and bile rose when I thought of what could have happened to Sofie, if she’d been home. If she had walked in on whomever did this. If she’d been sleeping when the person broke in. I was nauseous at the thought, but I continued with my systematic pummeling of the hanging ball.

I didn’t hear her approach. My anger had completely consumed me, so when she touched my shoulder, my reflex was to strike. There was some grace from above that stopped my rounded twist and raised hand from lashing forward like I intended. The damage I could have done to her would have been unforgivable and I embraced her in relief and irritation. She had no idea how I could have hurt her, unwillingly. I never, ever would have laid a hand on her in anger. I promised her. I begged her not to fear me.

When the soft tip of her tongue touched my moist skin, the reaction was instantaneously intense. It took all my strength to prevent us from tumbling to the hard cement and taking her immediately. I promised her this as well: I would never take advantage of her. I wanted it to be sweet, like she was, when we finally consummated our marriage again. I wanted her to recall the pleasure of our one night, and turn it into a multitude of nights together.

My mouth sought hers and we melded together as if we were one. I couldn’t take her deep enough. I needed inside her. I needed to join us together as we’d been. I needed to remind her how good we were one time before.

In a fluster of lifting her then carrying her to the workbench, I fumbled with my damn gloves. I couldn’t get my hands on her and I needed to touch her. Skin to skin contact, I craved. When she gently pushed back and began to unlace my gloves, I swore she was teasing me, drawing it out to make untying boxing gloves look sexy. Everything she did was sensual to me. The way she looked at me, like she wanted me, but was holding back. That slow-flame smile of hers lit me up. My body was jacked, ready to strike in another manner. Then something happened. I watched the change in her expression. Her mind caught up to what we were doing and she shut down.

I couldn’t lose her. I was so close. My hands began to rub against her thighs, digging into her warm skin, hoping for friction, striving for connection. She stilled my hands. My body hummed with desire. No! I screamed inside me. She leaned forward slightly and I met her half way. My forehead came to hers and my brain sent telepathy to hers. What happened? How did I lose you?

“Where’d you go, Sofie?”

She pulled back and blinked once then avoided my eyes.

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“Yes you do. We were ... you were … and then you just stopped.” My mind took a turn. “Don’t you want me?” The question sounded weak. Hearing my own voice, I cringed. It was whining and desperate. Of course she didn’t want me. She’d told me as much: I don’t want anything from you. Yet she kissed me.

My only explanation was the fight. It turned women on. It was some primeval instinct that brought them forward to sniff out a mate, especially one whose effervescence screamed protector. Security. I wanted to be those things for Sofie, but her reaction hadn’t been a desire for safety. It had been animal attraction. She licked me for f*ck’s sake. I’d had this happen before. Not the licking, but women throwing themselves at me. They’d beg me to take them. Being the selfish bastard I could be, I did take. There was only one time I wanted to give. She sat in front of me, unwilling to receive.