Obsession (A Bad Boy's Secret Baby) (21 page)

A chill slid through my veins. I gaped at Ronin with growing paranoia. “Excuse me?”

Shrugging, he lowered his face until our foreheads nearly touched. He spoke quietly, each shape his lips formed making me ache to kiss him. “Was it my gun or my keys you were looking for?”

Everything around me shattered. Stumbling backwards, my jaw fell open.
He saw right through me.
If I'd had any doubt, his smug smirk said it all. Ronin had known it was all a ruse. Fuck, I was such an idiot.

Wrenching my robe shut tightly, I turned partially away. If I could have folded into a ball and vanished, I would have. “You knew what I was doing?”

His laugh was gritty, but brief. “Turns out you're not the first girl I've been with that had less than innocent motives. To be honest though, I didn't think you had it in you.”

“Fuck you,” I mumbled, hunching more. I didn't want him to see how red I was, my shame running into my gut and turning into hard marbles.

“Don't feel too bad, darlin'. It was a hell of a show.” He stepped around me, grabbing a pillow off of the bed. As I watched curiously, Ronin dropped it on the floor, sitting beside it to take off his shoes.

“What are you doing?”

He spared me a glance, smoothing his long hair back. “Getting comfortable. You've certainly earned the bed. At least for tonight.”

My hands slid to my hips. “You're sleeping in here?”

Pausing, Ronin gave me a pointed look. “I believe the reservation was under my name. Besides I'm not leaving you alone.”

“Because you don't trust me,” I said flatly.

“Shockingly, no.” Turning back to his shoes, he placed them in a neat pile with his vest. “However, that robe is a fantastic look on you.”

His blatant reminder had my cheeks aflame all over again. “Why won't you just let me leave? Just... god, just let me out of here!”

Scratching the back of his neck, he stretched out on the floor. Somehow, even without a blanket, he managed to look comfortable. “You'll leave when I say so.”

Hesitating by the door, I glared at him. Like he was reading my mind, he closed his eyes and mumbled, “Even if you manage to slip past me, Roach has all the doors locked, and breaking a window or something else will just trigger his alarm system. It's been a long day, I'll be in no mood to drag you back into this room.”

In defiance, I considered my options. I could attack the man on the floor, but that seemed insane. I could slip out, but if he wasn't lying—and why would he have to—then the whole building was my prison, now.

Ronin was right about one important thing—I
did
need sleep. Exhaustion was settling in, brought on by the rampant rush of my earlier excitement and my abrupt, crushing defeat.

For a long while, I stood by the door. The shiny knob called to me, but the promises it made were shallow. Without another word, I flicked the lights off.

Climbing onto the bed, I buried myself deep in the covers, inching to the side furthest from my captor. If I had any choice, I wanted to be as far away from him as possible.

I didn't even want to
think
about him.

Unfortunately, my mind was roiling with my confused emotions, and Ronin was at the forefront. The things I'd done had left me cold and small. In contradiction, in the heat of the moment, my insides had burned with a light-headed desire for the biker. How did I explain any of that?

It was naive of me to try and trick him. Somehow, during my facade, I'd opened the door to a piece of myself that had been eager to experience his body's promises. There was a fierce pull that drew me to Ronin, an impulse crafted purely from lust.

His scent, his stare, his soft looking lips and even his wicked smiles...

I'd wanted so badly to taste him. To
feel
him. And when I'd seen the proof of his own desire, the full, hard thickness of his erection, I'd pulsed with arousal. If Ronin hadn't spoken up, calling me out, what would I have done next?

The idea had me tingling, ankles crossing under the blanket.
No! Stop it!
I wasn't going to go down this road. The man was keeping me hostage, he didn't have my best interests in mind. It was reckless to desire—or even just fantasize—about someone like him.

He toyed with me,
I reminded myself.
But then... I toyed with him, too.
My embarrassment was awful, but it did lead me to consider something. I knew how much Ronin had gotten to me, he'd made my thighs weak, my core tense.

But I'd seen his damn erection.

In spite of knowing my deceptive plan, had he desired me, too?

Was he lying there beside me, right now, just as worked up?

Gritting my teeth, I buried my face in my pillow. I was miserable here, sick with too many worries. I had to think about my sister, my escape—
her
escape. It didn't matter an inch if this guy had been turned on by me, or if he'd felt the same exciting static.

I had a mission... I had someone who needed me. That was all that mattered.

I would never let that change.

But still, as I drifted off to sleep, my last thoughts were haunted by the sensation of Ronin's hands on my body. That sharp smile, those perfect arms...

And the way he'd stolen me off into the cool night.

Ronin

––––––––

T
he cool white light of an overcast dawn filtered through the blinds and paled my closed eyelids. I laid on the floor and dreamed of sleep.

I've never been a very conflicted man, at least not since I came home. I gave up on concern, caution and consequences a ways back. It was all just so unnecessarily cumbersome. Every once in a while, despite my best efforts, I'd slip up and need a reminder. Fortunately there was always a Tash, or in this case, a Flora, to show me the futility of sympathy.

With closed eyes, my hands lightly stroked the polished hardwood of my makeshift bed. I counted the grooves, stubbornly trying to fill my head with something other than the girl gently sleeping two feet away.

I was doing the right thing. I was giving her what she wanted, really. In the end, Flora just wanted to go back to where I'd found her. Who was I to interrupt a death wish?

I worked my fingertips over the wood grain and into the gaped seams that commonly accompanied the rustic barn look, idly scratching at the minute nub of one tiny jutting nail. I was trying to forget the way Flora's smooth flesh had drunk in the yellow light just a few hours before.

The night was dark and busy with justifications and mental distractions as I laid awake listening to the slight, sweet pull of air from my rescued prize-turned-prisoner.

When the morning finally broke, it swept all the shadows into my heart. In an odd, real way, this was the first time I'd spent the whole night with a girl in as long as I could remember. I told myself the reason I couldn't sleep was because she might escape, and if she did, I'd have nothing to offer the Knights when they showed up later.

I sighed. The truth was annoyingly more complicated. I knew what Flora was up to the moment I'd walked in and saw her in that robe. Under any other circumstances, I'd have egged her on, taken the charade as far as it could go and gotten off.

Why didn't I? What had changed?

It wasn't just the news about my club. I did my best fucking after funerals. Sex consoled me.

Flora's sister...

The notion of throwing yourself into certain death for the love of someone else—it was fucking ridiculous. Admirable, sure.

Or it would've been—if her story was even remotely true.

No, from the way Flora tried to play me, I knew she was just looking to get back on the free heroin train like all the other girls at that brothel. I'd never met a more convincing actor than a junkie looking to get high.

Hell, in my darker days, I could've been on Broadway. But now that I was clean, how many times did I have to learn that fucking lesson the hard way?

Besides,
I thought back to a dusty hotel in Afghanistan,
Selflessness is strictly for the foolish and the dead.
Back then, I had been both.

It wasn't a mistake I'd ever make again.

I blinked open my eyes and stared into the swirled plaster pattern on the ceiling. I had better luck sprouting wings than getting any sleep, so what was I still doing lying on the floor?

The soothing sound of Flora's breathing was a calm tide that ate up my every ambition to move. She was out cold, and would be for a while, now that she was detoxing.

Everything about this girl and the situation with her and my club was all so foreign and fucked up to me. I'd screwed up pretty seriously this time, and if I stayed on the floor and fantasized that Flora was something other than what I knew she was, I was going to lose my goddamn mind.

I rolled over and pushed myself up off the floor, heading into the bathroom to take a leak and brush my teeth. When I was done, I saw and smelled the funky pile of her clothes that were sitting on the top of the toilet tank. I hoped the Knights brought her something to change into, because that outfit was fit only for burning. How long had they had her?

Fuck it, it doesn't matter.

Twenty-four hours ago Flora wasn't my problem, and twenty-four hours from now, this girl and all my troubles would be just a distant memory.

I headed toward the door that would lead to freedom from all this emotional confusion. I just needed to stay focused and keep my distance from her, everything else would work itself out.

Just like it always had.

The click of the knob turning drew a pained moan from sleeping beauty.
Not my fucking problem,
the words repeated in my head. I slowly pulled the door open. She moaned again. Two steps and I was gone.

Or I would've been, if I hadn't taken a moment to look back at her.

Distance. It was such a sound idea, such a solid, bullet-proof plan. Amazing how quickly it all crashed and burned.

Clean and disheveled, she had a delicateness to her that was incredibly disarming. Despite the diagonal slits from the blinds that contoured her skin like zebra stripes, I couldn't help but trace her features with my eyes. Flashes of the way her skin felt against mine from the night before were tattooed into my brain.

She first came off like an awkward, but hot, stepsister. By the end of our little dance, I surprised myself by calling her out on what she was trying to do. My cock swelled at the memory of her on the bed, waiting for me. What I wouldn't give to wrap myself in her curved, silky body...

But that was too dangerous.

Getting my club back was more important.

For once, I kicked the fucking dust off my brain and let it actually think for me. What it told me was simple.
Walk out of the room
.

Instead I headed into the bathroom again. I grabbed her pile of clothes almost violently. The least I could do was get them washed. Maybe if she looked more profitable when the Knights picked her up, they'd go a little easier on her.

This is just a transaction
, I reminded myself,
Nothing more.

That's when the photograph spilled to the floor. My curiosity had me bending down, retrieving her only possession. The faded, dog-eared picture slid between my fingers. I held it up, and even in the dim lighting, I could make it out clearly.

“Dammit.” The word slipped out louder than I'd have liked. I stole a glance at her to see if she'd woken. Flora's brows bunched together in unconscious disapproval, then she rolled over, still very much asleep.

Lies, deceit, ulterior motives, that was fine—part of the lifestyle—but this photo was something else entirely. Something I didn't like at all.

Flora was telling the truth.

Shit.

Cold reality sifted through me, piecing things together until they made a new quilt of shame.
She's probably not even a junkie, then, just got shot up against her will.
Nagging doubts about my deal with Roach began to weigh down on me.

Pacing closer to her side, I quickly placed the photo face down on the bed beside Flora, no longer wanting to look at it.

A pesky line from Paradise Lost drunkenly stumbled into my head.
Abashed the Devil stood and felt how awful goodness is.

I needed a minute to think, to focus. In the bathroom, I splashed cold water on my face. When I looked in the mirror, I saw that the diffused glow of natural sunlight through the blinds had cast me in a stark contrast.

Half dark. Half light.

I slicked my hair back and picked up my vest. “This doesn't change anything. She was telling the truth, so what? Remember what's important,” I whispered to my reflection, watching him shrug on the thick leather and tug at the patches, specifically one that read 'Nomad.' “Remember who you are.”

I didn't give her a second look as I fled into the hall and locked the door behind me.

****

“L
eave me alone.” Flora's drowsy voice greeted me from beneath the covers as I pushed open the door to our room.

“So I take it an encore is out of the question?”

“Go away,” she mumbled.

“So you want me to donate these clean clothes to the local Salvation Army, then?”

Flora pulled the blanket down enough to look at me skeptically. I put the folded stack on the bureau across the room. “You washed them?”

“Turns out the maids only work weekends,” I said. “That's probably why we didn't get any mints on the pillows.” Not wanting her to read into the gesture, I quickly changed the subject. “Found your photo. You weren't lying about your sister, were you?”

Her face fell, eyes darting around in a mad search. When she found the photo on the table, she snatched it up protectively. “Why would I lie about something like that? Why would I lie about
any
of this?”

“Junkies have been known to stretch the truth from time to time,” I said flippantly.

“Stop calling me that. I'm not a junkie!”

“I know. I looked you over last night during that—” The recent vivid memory cascaded over me. Her silky form laying across the bed, the robe carefully left open, showing just enough milky skin for me not to care how clumsily blatant her attempt at seduction was. “—whatever that was.”