Page 32

DENVER

“I’m not!” Sinclair sits up and grabs my T-shirt off the mat, using it to cover herself.

I take it from her so I have an unobstructed view of what I’ve done to her.

“The blood on my dick says otherwise.”

She turns her face away and I hook my fingers under her chin, bringing her eyes back to mine. “You should have told me. Why didn’t you?”

She snorts. “Your dick needs its own area code. It was going to hurt the first time no matter what. Besides, I told you, I’m not a virgin.”

My gaze drops to the pink-colored cum running out of her.

My cum.

“Jesus.” I scrub a hand around my jaw. She follows my gaze, wincing as she sees the mess.

“I’ve done it before, okay? Kind of.”

“Kind of?”

“Yeah, I’ve done lots of stuff.” She grabs my T-shirt from me and yanks it on over her head, covering up her beautiful body.

“Lots of stuff? With who?” I growl.

“Doesn’t matter.” Her eyes hold mine, full of her usual fire.

“It matters to me,” I grit, failing to rein in the overwhelming urge to pull her to me and demand she never so much as look in another man’s direction ever again.

“Just… I’m not a virgin, okay?” She looks away as if she’s embarrassed. “The tip went in, so…” She shrugs.

“Just the tip?” My jaw clenches. Who the fuck is this other guy who’s been near enough to her to get ‘just the tip’ in?

The need to tear someone’s head off makes my pulse pound in my ears.

“Yeah, it went in you know… a bit. So I’m not a virgin.” She meets my eyes and then snaps hers away again.

“Doesn’t count,” I hiss.

“It does.” She glares at me.

“Did he come inside you?”

“What? I told you?—”

“Was his cum dripping out of you like mine is right now.” My eyes drop to the apex of her thighs where she’s covered herself with my T-shirt. I frown, wishing I could still see her, to assess how much I’ve hurt her. “Was it?”

“Denver!” she gasps.

“Fuck, Sinclair!” I snap my eyes up to her face. “Tell me who he is right now.”

“It’s none of your business. And no, he didn’t. I told you no one ever has.”

The inferno inside me is doused, but merely a fraction.

“Tell me,” I urge again, more quietly.

“Why?”

I shake my head, my teeth grinding.

“So you can what? Add him to your hitlist? No way.”

I run through the possibilities in my head.

“Someone you know?”

She clamps her lips together.

“Someone you see regularly?” I press.

She’s silent and dread coils itself around my windpipe.

Fuck no.

“Brad Garrett-Charles?” I spit.

“Why do you always use his full name like that?”

“Sinclair,” I warn.

She huffs, rolling her eyes. “So what if it was him. He’s my friend.”

“He’s a sleazebag.”

“He’s not!” She stares daggers at me. “That’s just your opinion.”

It’s fact. But telling her that will only delay me getting the information I want.

“When?” I grit.

“It’s not important.” She frowns, unable to meet my eyes once more.

“When?” I repeat, leaning to the side until I capture her gaze with mine.

She presses her lips together, her face pinching like she knows I’m not going to like what she’s about to say.

“Two weeks after the funeral.”

Rage erupts like molten lava, racing its way around my body, enough to make Brad Garrett-Charles spontaneously combust with just one look from me if he were here now.

“The funeral,” I echo, dropping my head into my hand and rubbing at the intense throbbing in my temples.

“Over two years ago, okay? So you can stop acting all pissed about it. And we didn’t go all the way. I got upset and we stopped.”

“You got upset?”

She shrugs. “It’s fine.”

“It’s not fine. He took advantage of you when you were grieving.”

“It wasn’t like that.”

I drag in a deep breath before I explode. I want to kill the guy. Right this second. I want to get in my car, drive back to the city, and mow the fucker down in the street. Then I want to disembowel him with my bare hands and let the rats eat what’s left.

“You may not be able to see it, Sinclair. But it was like that,” I snap, regretting it as her eyes immediately turn glassy and her bottom lip trembles.

“Are you going to fight with me now? Is that how this goes?” She sniffs, wrapping her arms around herself. It pulls my T-shirt tight, but it still swamps her, making her look vulnerable and anxious.

Jesus Christ, I’m an asshole. I just took her virginity on the floor and made her bleed. And now I’m more concerned about some other guy than taking care of her.

I blow out a slow breath, shaking my head. “No, Princess. No, of course not.”

She watches me with shining eyes as I stand. Then I sweep her into my arms, bridal style.

“What are you doing?” she asks, looping her arms around my neck to hold on.

“What I should have done first,” I answer, striding from the room with her.

I take us to my bedroom, then straight through into the ensuite before grabbing a towel and placing it onto the counter by the sink.

“Sit,” I say, placing her on top of it so it’s not too cold for her.

“What are you doing?”

She watches me as I grab a pair of sweatpants and pull them on, then start to fill the giant freestanding bathtub.

“Running you a bath,” I murmur, reaching for the Epsom salts I put in after I’ve had a hard workout, and throwing a generous handful into the water along with some bubble bath.

“There’s a bath in my room.”

She clamps her mouth shut when I turn to her with a raised brow.

“This is your room now.”

I turn back to the bath, checking the temperature once the water is high enough.

“Time to get in, Princess.”

I walk over to her, and she stares at me as I inch my fingertips beneath the hem of my T-shirt, gliding it up over her hips.

“Denver,” she whispers huskily, making my dick throb.

“Come on,” I coax gently, encouraging her to lift her arms above her head so I can undress her.

I keep my eyes on her face as I drop my T-shirt on the floor. We stare at each other for a few seconds before I take her face in my hands. Her soft intake of breath as I press a gentle kiss to her lips has my chest clenching painfully.

No one’s ever taken care of her like this. Not the way she deserves.

“Time to get in.”

I lift her from the counter and take her over to the water, lowering her in slowly until the bubbles come up over her shoulders.

She leans back with a relaxed sigh as I draw my arms back.

“Are you okay? Sore?”

“I’m fine.” She gives me a small smile, narrowing her eyes like she’s trying to work my angle out.

“I was rough,” I mutter, cursing internally as I reach for a washcloth and put it under the water.

“What are you doing?” Her eyes widen as I press the cloth between her legs beneath the water.

“There was blood,” I say.

She watches me as I wipe her gently, her eyelids hooding as she starts to relax and sinks back against the side of the tub.

“I’m fine. You don’t need to worry.”

“I’ll always worry.”

“Because it’s your job?” she asks.

“Because it’s you.”

My jaw clenches as I clean her some more, pretending not to notice the small moan that slips from her lips when my fingers brush her skin. Her cheeks are flushed pink when I take my arm from the water.

“Stay here. I’ll be back.”

“Where are you going?” she asks as I walk to the doorway.

“I’m going to check on Monty. Stay there,” I instruct, before slipping from the room and closing the door.

Thirty minutes later, I’m back with a warm towel in my arms, holding it open for Sinclair to step into as she climbs from the bath.

I look to one side to give her privacy, even though thirty minutes ago, I was exploring every inch of her body…

kissing her, tasting her… making her come for me, before coming so damn hard inside her that I lost all coherent thought, leaving her vulnerable.

I re-checked all the security measures around the cabin while she was in the bath.

Everything is fine. But I still lost my head without making sure first. If anything had happened to her, it would have been my fault.

Only it did happen to her. I hurt her. I made her bleed.

“Thanks,” she says, securing the towel around her chest.

She looks at me shyly, studying my tense expression.

“Come on.” I rest my hand on her lower back and open the door that leads into my bedroom, steering her through it.

She whips her head around, looking at me, then turns back to take in the room. Every available surface is covered in candles. I’m so fucking grateful I had a load here in case of a blackout.

“You did this?” she breathes.

“No, Monty did.”

She looks at me. “You made a joke.”

I gaze at her as she shuffles closer to me. “Did I?”

“You know you did,” she teases.

“You’re not laughing, so it can’t have been.”

Her eyes light up. “You get a smile. Keep working on them, Brute.” She pats my chest. “Was Monty okay?”

“He’s fine. I took him out to the bathroom, gave him his dinner and a treat. He’s probably back asleep now.”

Worn out from the way I made him march around the property’s perimeter with me, checking everything over.

Her lower lip snags between her teeth. “Thank you… So what’s this all for?”

I follow her gaze to the candles. Maybe I went overboard. I might pass out when I have to blow them all out.

I clear my throat. “This is how it should have been. And I’m sorry it wasn’t.”

She chews on her lower lip, a deep line down the center of her forehead. But then it’s gone, and her lips tilt into a soft smile.

“No one’s ever done anything like this before. Thank you.”

“I’m sorry about the way we?—”

“Do you regret it?” She struggles to meet my eyes and my chest grows heavy at the wavering in her voice.

“No.”

Her shoulders relax and she looks around the room at the candles some more, her face glowing in their light.

“Do you?” I frown, steeling myself for her answer.

“No.” She shakes her head, her attention still dancing around the room.

Relief softens every muscle in my body as I lead her over to the bed and pull back the covers.

“Get in.”

“What?” Her eyes widen as she looks up at me.

“You’re sleeping in here with me. I need to know you’re okay.”

“I have my own room.”