He faces me again, and my phone is in his hand, and suddenly the song is playing louder, blasting through the air, and I am reminded that this isn’t an escape. This is him planning to mute the pieces of the past that incited me to dread. When he steps away the music is in my mind, stirring dark emotions, and I shiver, sitting up straight and hugging myself against the ice sliding down my spine. Suddenly I’m on my knees in another place and time, again. He is standing over me. He is planning what he will do to me next. He grabs my hair. He drops his pants. He makes me—
“Ella.”
Kayden’s voice once again brings me back to the present, and he’s squatting in front of me again, beautifully naked, his cock thick at my hip, his hands on my shoulders. And damn it, I’ve missed him undressing, because the past has controlled the present again.
“Please turn off the song,” I say, grabbing his wrists. “I need to cope with the past, but the night we went public should not be about that part of my life, no matter what pushed us to do it.”
“We are not turning it off,” he says firmly, his hand closing around mine. “We’re turning him off. Understand?”
“Clearly it’s not that easy.”
“I never said it was easy.” His arm wraps my waist, his palm on my lower back. “I haven’t even begun to show you how to make sex that dirty, dark escape I promised once before. But now is when you learn how to create a rush of adrenaline that wipes out everything, yet somehow forces you to deal with it at the same time.” He cups my backside. “I’m going to spank you, Ella.”
“What?” I gasp, and my hand flattens on his chest, panic rising inside me. “Kayden, I—”
“This isn’t the first time I’ve brought this up.”
“I know, but—”
“I would never do anything to lose you or hurt you, Ella.” He cups my face. “Trust me, and then let’s tear down every wall we can between us, and put one up in front of him.”
My fingers curl on his chest, and I wait for rejection of his idea to come to me—but it doesn’t. “I’m scared,” I admit freely, and I know it means something that I can voice this to him, and know that he will listen.
“Because it’s new, and because of what he did to you. But I am not him, and we are not controlled by him.”
He’s right. “What if I don’t like it?”
“Then we won’t do it again.” He lowers us to the carpeted floor, facing each other on our sides, his thick erection pressed in the V of my body, his leg tangling with mine. His hand possessively splays on my backside. “You are what I want and need. Pleasing you. Experience what we are together, Ella— and that’s better than apart.”
It is then that I step outside the circle of my demons and into his, realizing that this isn’t just about me. It’s about him. About those dark and dirty parts of him. “This means you have to have faith in me, when you’re the one coming unglued. I hate that you dressed somewhere else tonight.”
“I’ll face my demons with you, like you are with me now, and we’ll figure out what that means then.”
Considering the torment I’d seen in him earlier tonight, I know what this promise means. My fingers curl on his jaw, my decision made. It being my choice, rather than something forced on me, changes everything. It’s sexy and intimate and still scary as hell. “What happens next?”
“We let it happen,” he says, his mouth closing over mine, and in the depths of that kiss is trust, and I don’t need my memory to know that it is something I have never felt, any more than I’ve felt the kind of bond I have with this man. And this isn’t about the spanking. It’s not here, between us, but so much more is. He takes his time getting us there, touching me, letting me touch him, and I can feel his need growing, expanding, and with it, my own. We become feverish, our touches, our kisses, and he turns me, placing my back to his front. Adrenaline spikes through me with the certainty that he will roll me to my hands and knees, but he keeps touching me, stroking my breasts, between my legs, and my backside. And then he curls my legs in front of me, keeping me on my side, stroking my bottom, back and forth, up and down, until I’m going crazy, wanting his hand between my legs. Wanting him between my legs. “Kayden,” I plead.
He stills his hand, flattening on my cheeks. “I’m going to spank right here, just above your sex, so that you feel it everywhere. Five times, Ella. I’ll do more another time, but for now, just five times. And then I’m going to fuck you hard and fast and ride that adrenaline with you. Are you ready?”
“Oh God. Now?”
“Now.” He starts caressing my backside again, back and forth. “Are you ready?”
“Kayden—”
“Ella, say it. Are you—”
“Yes,” I pant out. “I’m ready.”
And then he does it.
One. Oh God. It stings, and sends spikes of pleasure through my sex and up my spine.
Two. Blood rushes in my ears.
Three. Four. Five.
It’s done and he presses inside me, his thick cock stretching me, entering me. His hand flattens on my belly, and he thrusts hard, burying himself in the deepest part of me, an explosion of sensations erupting in my body, consuming me. He is consuming me. I arch into him and his fingers slide to my clit, his cock pumping and pumping, and every nerve ending in my body is on fire. And the world fades, leaving only him inside me, his cock stroking me, his hand stroking me, the sensations . . . so many sensations, that sweet spot building and building until it’s just there. I stiffen and suck in air, my sex clenching around Kayden, spasms erupting so fiercely that they make my body quake.
One of Kayden’s hands closes around my breast while the other anchors my hip. He pulls me into a deep, pulsing thrust, the wet, warm heat of his release filling me in so many ways. Seconds tick by or minutes, I do not know, and slowly we both sink into the rug and each other. Kayden envelops me with his body, his cheek finding mine. “How are you?” he asks.
“I’m good.”
“You’re sure?”
“Yes. Positive.”
“I’m going to get you a towel.”
“Thank you.”
He kisses my temple, the way he did at the party. Tender. Loving. Then he pulls out of me and stands. I breathe in on the tight ball forming in my chest. The song is still playing, but I don’t think of the other man when I hear it. I think of Kayden holding me, spanking me, fucking me, and I know the gift he has given me is freedom. I will never hear this song again and think of anything else.
Kayden returns, sliding a towel between my legs, and then something cold rests on my hip. I look down and find my bracelet lying against my naked skin. My hand closes around it, and I face Kayden, finding him in sweatpants and holding a black silk robe.
“I hated taking this off.” Tears prickle my eyes and I turn away. “I’m going to cry, and I don’t know why. But it’s not about what we did, or you.”
He moves in front of me, wrapping my robe around me. “It’s the adrenaline from the spanking. You’re trembling. Put your arms in.” I do as he says, and he reaches down and ties it for me before repeating what he said earlier. “Adrenaline seems to wipe out everything, yet it somehow forces you to deal with it at the same time.”
“How is crying ‘dealing with it’?” I swipe at a tear that escapes. “I still don’t know who he is.”
“This wasn’t about you remembering him. It was about not giving him the control.” His lips curve. “And giving me an excuse to spank you when I want to.”
“That’s not going to happen.” I laugh.
“Never?” he asks, turning somber. “Did you not like it?”
“It was . . . I . . .” Blood rushes to my cheeks.
“You can say anything to me, Ella.”
“That’s the point. I believe I can, and it seems I can do anything with you, and it’s good. And it was kind of sexy.”
“Trust is what’s sexy.” He takes the bracelet from me and wraps it around my wrist. “I want that in every way f
or us.” He closes his hand around the bracelet. “This was my mother’s.”
I look up at him. I’m stunned and honored.
“I didn’t give it to Elizabeth, Ella. Kevin left it in my inheritance with a note. But he didn’t give it to me, even when he knew I was going to marry her.”
“He was The Hawk. You weren’t.”
“But I was the successor and she was supposed to be my wife.”
“What are you saying?”
“He called her a delicate flower and said delicate flowers don’t survive. She didn’t survive.”
“That wasn’t your fault.”
“You didn’t cry from the adrenaline rush,” he says, giving me whiplash with the apparent change of topic. “Most people would have, especially with the baggage you’re carrying.”
“Most people didn’t have a father who made a habit of screaming in their faces to shoot straighter, run harder, and suck it up.”
“I don’t want you to have to shoot straighter, run harder, or suck it up—but the truth is, I need you to do those things.”
“I am those things. Kayden.”
“I know you are.” He holds out his right arm, displaying the tattoo of a box with the king’s chess piece inside, reading the script tracking a line up his powerful forearm. “ ‘Once the game is over,’ ” he says, “ ‘the king and the pawn go back in the same box.’ ”
“In life and death we are equal,” I say, and realize I said once before.
He catches my arm at the elbow, resting my bare skin on top of the saying on his arm. “How did you know that?”
“My father,” I say, once again knowing something for no definable reason.
“How?”
“I don’t know.” My brows furrow. “Wait. Do you think he had a connection to The Underground?”
“It’s a long shot, and I don’t have enough to go on. Just the year that he died, and that he had a wife, and a daughter he left behind, with red hair.”
“Would that make me a Hunter?” My eyes go wide, and I dismiss the fleeting memories of being a teacher that just didn’t feel right. “Could David and I have been on a hunt for another division of The Underground, and I was never really engaged to him?”
“I’ve made absolutely certain that you, or any incarnation of you, have no connection to The Underground prior to meeting me. Could you have been working for someone else? I’ve considered it, but turned up nothing.”
He stands and takes me with him. “I need to throw on some clothes and be ready to debrief with Matteo before we go to bed. I’ll have him cautiously do some digging around about your father. But grab some slippers. There’s something I want to show you.”
sixteen
“What is it?” I ask, concerned that the bombshell of Niccolo showing up tonight isn’t the one I face.
“Relax,” he says, brushing my hair behind my ear. “It’s just something special to me.”
“Now I’m really curious,” I say, letting him lead me to the closet. “Where is it? What is it?”
“I left it in my jacket in the other room,” he says, grabbing a long-sleeved gray T-shirt from a hanger and pulling it over his head. “And you have to wait to see.”
Eager to find out what his version of “special” is, I ditch my robe for black leggings and a black sweater, while he pulls on sweats, and it’s not long before we’re stepping into the chilly, creepy hallway.
“I swear I hate this hallway,” I murmur, snuggling close to his side, his arm wrapping my shoulders. “It always gives me a haunted feeling.”
“Ghost and goblins are part of the charm of the place,” he teases. “As is a great kitchen stocked with food, where we are headed. I haven’t had anything I’d call a meal since lunch.” He glances at his watch. “And it’s midnight. No wonder.”
“My stomach is actually growling,” I reluctantly admit, letting him turn me toward our kitchen, but hating that our “special” something is delayed by food. We make it all of two steps through when it hits that I would have noticed the kitchen light being on as it is now, earlier. “Wait,” I say, stopping us, and turning to face him. “You said the kitchen light was on when you got here?”
“Yes. It was.”
“It wasn’t on when I got here,” I say. My brow furrows. “And our bedroom door was open and the light was off when I got here, too, and that didn’t feel right.”
“It had to be Marabella.”
“She doesn’t leave things out of order. And why would she enter after I did and not check on me?”
“I’m sure she was afraid you’d be asleep. As for why she might leave things out of order, Giada and Gallo have her pretty rattled. But we can use the iPad in the kitchen to check the security footage, after you feed me.”
I laugh. “If you think I’m cooking, we had better call Marabella, because if I know how to cook, it’s traumatic and I’ve blocked it out.”
He laughs. “Traumatic. Yes, well. For a feminist, I can imagine it would be.”
“Don’t even go there,” I say as we enter the kitchen and he leads me around the island. “Because the whole point of being a feminist is that I can choose to cook or not cook.”
“You sure know a lot about this stuff,” he says, stopping us in front of the fridge and opening the door.
He’s right. I do, and I have no idea why. But before I can really analyze why, he’s already offering our dinner choices. “We have a new batch of spaghetti,” he says, glancing from the fridge to me. “I’m guessing that’s why Marabella came in earlier.”
“Which reminds me. She wants to set up days to cook and clean for us.”
“You two work it out,” he says. “And how do you feel about skipping the spaghetti and eating Kellogg’s Coco Pops?”
“Coco Pops? Are they like American Cocoa Puffs?”
“Basically the same thing, different name. And much to Marabella’s distress, I love the damn things, which means I have to sneak them in when she’s not watching.”
“Coco Pops it is, then,” I say, laughing, and together we gather bowls, the cereal, and a jug of milk before settling at the table.
“So when did this Coco Pops obsession start?” I ask, filling my bowl with cereal and eager for a further glimpse into the man behind The Hawk.
“College,” he says. “The whole ‘get drunk and eat an entire box of cereal’ routine.”
“Drunks are not in control,” I say. “You are, therefore I can’t imagine you drunk.”
“Neither could Kevin, which is why that phase lasted about three months.”
“So you went to college here?”
“Right here in this neighborhood,” he says, pouring milk into my bowl and then his. My gaze catches on the watch, and just that easily, I’m in the past. There’s another hand. Another watch. He touches my arm. He says my name, Ella, and I hear his voice, really hear his voice, for the first time since my amnesia. It’s deep, accented. Dominant.
“Ella?”
At the sound of Kayden’s voice, I blink and shake myself, only to realize that I’m holding his arm, right above the watch. “Please tell me I didn’t black out.”
“I think you did,” he says. “Is this happening a lot?”
“A few times since Enzo got shot. Nathan says it’s trauma, but I want to talk to him again.” I release his arm, and he catches my hand.
“What does the watch mean to you?”
“Him,” I say without hesitation. “And I just heard his voice for the first time ever in my mind. He’s not American. His English is good, but he has an accent.”
“What else?”
“Nothing else—other than you just happen to wear the same watch.”
He stares at me a moment and then faces forward, seconds ticking by before he stands. I twist around to follow his progress as he makes his way to the island, and then, oddly, presses his palms on the counter, seeming to contemplate the wall before him.
“Kayden? What are you doing?”
r /> He seems to shake himself back to the moment. “Just thinking,” he says, removing his watch and sticking it in a drawer. He then returns to sit with me, an iPad in his hand, scooting his chair closer to me. “Let’s look at the security footage.”
“Why did you take the watch off?”
“Because we’re done with that man tonight.”
“What happened to facing things?”
“It’s a watch,” he says. “I can replace it.”
“But—”
He leans down and kisses me, his lips lingering over mine. “One step at a time, sweetheart. The song tonight. The watch another. Okay?”
There is something stark in him, something suddenly shut off, like I’ve somehow put a wall between us he doesn’t like. Or maybe that he has. “What just happened?”
“Nothing happened.”
“It did, and I don’t like it.” I curl my fingers on his jaw. “I need you to know.” Nerves flutter in my belly with the confession I’m about to dare, but think he might need to hear. “Kayden, I want to say that—”
His cell phone rings before I can say I love you, and my lashes lower in frustration. Kayden kisses me, and murmurs, “Me, too, sweetheart. Me, too.” And then he is standing, digging his phone from his pocket, and leaving me wondering if we . . . Did we . . . just say we love each other?
He sits back down, talking in fast, irritated Italian, and I use my nervous energy to stuff my face with Coco Pops. Kayden powers up the iPad while he talks, and finally ends the call. “That was Donati,” he says, officially leaving love confessions behind.
“What did he want?”
“To negotiate Gallo’s extended vacation. I told him to go fuck himself after hearing his terms.”
“That’s not good, is it? Did I do something wrong?”
“You killed it tonight, sweetheart. This is how Donati operates. We’re a good three more phone calls away from him being reasonable.”
“Sasha says she doesn’t like him.”
“Sasha doesn’t like men who won’t sleep with her.”
“She likes you.”
“If that’s your way of asking if I’ve slept with her—”