‘Justice,’ I moan, thrumming my fingers against my clit. My entire body aches, begging for release, but I can’t seem to get there. He touched me today and ruined me…just like I always knew he would.
I imagine him holding me like he did today, his hand inside my panties this time. His erection digs into my back as he kisses my neck and whispers dirty things to me. His fingers are rough against my skin, but they feel so damn good.
‘Daddy, please,’ I whimper, writhing on the bed. ‘Please.’
Not even that once forbidden name does the trick. Nothing is working. I’ve been trying for the last hour to no avail. Every time I get right there, I lose it again. He called himself my daddy and completely annihilated any chance I have of resisting him or the connection between us.
Do I even want to resist?
Yes. No. I don’t know.
Ugh!
I slip my hand out of my panties and yank the covers up over my head, only to immediately kick them right back off. I’m overheated, my skin overly sensitive. That’s his fault too. He cornered me in the kitchen and worked voodoo on my body. He left my head spinning too.
‘Beautiful, bossy, sexy, sweet, wickedly hot jerk!’ I growl, staring up at the ceiling. I wish Ainsley were here. Actually, for the first time ever, I don’t think that’s true. I think I’m glad she isn’t here to see what her uncle is doing to me. She’s my best friend. I don’t want her to hate me for being in love with Justice.
What am I going to do?
‘What am I going to do?’
First, he makes me feel like loving me is wrong. And then he tells me that he could never be ashamed of me. I want so badly to believe he means that. But I’m terrified of being wrong. My own father can’t stand to look at me. He avoids me just like Justice has been doing for the last year. It’s hard not to worry that Justice does it because he’s ashamed of me too, that he’s only here now because of Ainsley.
The door to my room flies open as I’m trying to untangle my thoughts.
Justice appears in the doorway like an avenging angel, all holy fire and hellbent. Even in the dim light filtering in from the hall, he looks pissed. His hair is a mess and he’s breathing hard. His tie hangs loose around his neck, the top buttons of his shirt undone.
After dinner, he disappeared to talk to Travis. I came upstairs.
Did something happen?
‘Justice?’ I sit up, fear twisting through me. I’m not afraid of him though. There’s never been a single day where I was afraid of him.
He doesn’t say anything as he stomps toward me hard enough to rattle the picture frame on my nightstand. Before I can say anything else, he’s scooping me up into his arms. They close around me, feeling an awful lot like what I always thought home should feel like.
‘What’s wrong?’ I whisper, reaching out to touch the muscle ticking in his cheek.
He grunts wordlessly and stalks toward the door again, taking me and the sheet with him.
‘Justice?’ I wiggle in his arms, trying to grab the sheet to cover myself. I’m not dressed and who knows how many security guards are still in the house. Travis practically lives here, and Van, Willis, and Everett share the guesthouse on the property.
Before I can ask Justice where he’s going or what the heck he’s doing, he turns toward his bedroom. Which is big enough to qualify as a house, honestly. I’ve only ever been inside once. He was in Tennessee. I borrowed his clippers to shave the back of Ainsley’s neck.
His suite is gorgeous. The walls and floor are slate gray with black furniture and white accents. He has a sitting area separate from the sleeping area, with a plush couch and giant television that I doubt he even watches. The massive four-poster bed dominates the sleeping space, with a fireplace across from it. Large windows overlook the estate gardens. The entire suite smells like him.
‘This is where you sleep,’ he growls, laying me out in the middle of his bed. He grabs the sheet that’s still partially wrapped around me and yanks it off before tossing it on the floor. He’s still breathing like he just ran a race.
‘Have you lost your mind?’ I ask him, partially because I think he’s officially gone insane and partially because there’s no way his staff won’t notice that I’m in his bed instead of the guest suite.
‘You sleep in here,’ he says, ignoring my question. He whips his tie off, tossing it toward the bathroom.
I squeeze my legs together when he starts undoing buttons on his dress shirt. My body still hasn’t recovered from my attempts to make myself orgasm. And now he’s getting undressed in front of me. Lord. Why is it so hot in here?
He notices me watching him. His expression turns feral as he rakes his gaze down my body, taking in my tousled hair, the t-shirt that barely covers me, and my panties. He licks his lips, his eyes meeting mine again. ‘Did you get yourself off, pretty baby?’
‘What? No.’
‘You tried.’
‘We’re not talking about this,’ I mutter, my cheeks heating.
‘You couldn’t do it without me, could you?’
Does he have to sound so pleased about it?
Jerk.
I swallow hard, fighting back a whimper as his dress shirt parts, revealing his body. I saw him shirtless once right after I met Ainsley. He was getting out of the pool. I got myself off to the memory of him dripping wet for months. Justice isn’t ripped. His body is hard without being overly defined. People call it a dad bod, but there is something so damn sexy about it. It’s almost as if he was designed specifically to drive me crazy. His chest hair does things to me that should be illegal.
‘What…’ I sit upright, shocked as I catch sight of a tattoo over his heart. ‘Justice, what is that?’ I ask, my voice strangled. I lose the ability to speak at all when I see another one across his ribcage, and then another on his lower abdomen.
He flashes me a wicked grin and then tugs his shirt off, draping it over the end of the bed. ‘There are more of them,’ he murmurs, turning to present his back to me.
I stare at him, shocked silent.
My name is tattooed all over his body. My face stares back at me from his back in vivid detail. Even the unevenness of my lips—how the top one is so much thinner than the bottom, which has always made me a little self-conscious—is just right. Somehow, I look more beautiful inked into his skin than I do when I look in the mirror.
I’ve never been ashamed of my curves or felt like I was somehow less because of them. They don’t make me self-conscious. I don’t care what anyone thinks about my body except Justice, and I know he likes it. I’ve seen the way he looks at me.
He stays where he’s at for a long moment, letting me see what he hides behind those suits. I never imagined…I never knew…. New tangles join the old ones in my mind, leaving me trembling as a thousand questions crash together like cymbals somewhere between my brain and my throat.
‘You have tattoos of me,’ I manage to say when he turns back around.
‘Mmhmm.’ He resumes undressing as if he didn’t just completely knock my world off its axis.
‘Don’t your…partners get jealous when they see all of that?’ I wave a hand in his general direction, fighting not to cry. He’s the one who is half naked, yet I’m the one who feels exposed. No one has ever done anything like that for me before. He did. And I’m not even sure if he ever planned on me seeing them or if they were supposed to be just for him.
He cocks his head to the side, his hands falling still on his fly. ‘You think I’d have another woman when you’re mine, Milan?’
‘I’m not…yours.’ I swallow hard, not sure which terrifies me more: the fact that I’m pretty sure I’ve always been his, or the fact that he knows it too. My only defense against him was always my attitude. Fighting him was the only thing that ever kept me from throwing myself at him. That’s gone now, in tatters at my feet.
‘No?’ He quirks a brow. ‘You sure about that, baby girl?’
‘Justice…dammit.’ Every time he calls me his baby girl, my resolve weakens. I don’t even know what I’m fighting for anymore.
‘There are no other women, Milan,’ he says, sobering. ‘There hasn’t been a woman since Ainsley was a kid, certainly not since you. You think I’d hurt you like that? I’m your daddy, baby girl. Even before you were…well, even then, I was faithful to you.’
I hear what he doesn’t say. Even before I was legal. Even before we were possible. He never touched me until today, never even looked at me before last year, really. But even then, he was loyal.
How am I ever supposed to deserve him? He’s a literal billionaire, one of the world’s most eligible bachelors. And I’m just a messed-up girl with more issues than Cosmo magazine. But still, he wants me. I think…I think he may even love me.
I tip my head forward, hiding my face from him as I fight tears. I don’t cry in front of people. Not even Ainsley has ever seen me cry.
Justice makes a pained sound in the back of his throat. Within moments, he’s at my side and I’m in his arms, my face tucked into his throat as he holds me.
‘Shh, baby girl,’ he croons, rubbing my back. His voice is gritty, rusty, as if soothing someone is foreign to him. It probably is. He hasn’t had much reason to do it since Ainsley grew up and stopped needing him to slay her demons for her.
‘Please don’t break me,’ I plead, clinging to him. ‘Don’t…don’t make me need you if you’re just going to run again.’
‘Pretty baby,’ he croons, shifting around until we’re lying on the bed, face to face. He crooks a finger under my chin, tipping my face up to his. ‘Don’t you know? You already need me.’
I think he’s right.
‘Justice,’ I whisper, staring at him…trying to figure out exactly when he figured me out. All this time, I thought I had the upper hand, that I was doing a good job keeping him from discovering too many of my secrets. Turns out, he just let me think I was winning because he knew I needed to think that. I’m not sure how I feel about that.
Part of me loves him a little more for it. Part of me wants to flee into the night. And another part, the part that’s always wanted to be his baby girl, that part wants to deny him. That part wants to needle him like always, piss him off just because I know I can. Just to see what he does about it.
Maybe I am a brat. The thing is though…I’ve only ever been his brat. No one else makes me want to defy them like he does. No one else makes me want to be bad like he does. It’s always, always him. Because, God help me, I need this man to please me and punish me. I need him to fight me and let me push his buttons. I need him to be my daddy.
‘I’m going to kiss you now, Milan,’ he murmurs, tracing my bottom lip with his thumb. ‘Been dreaming about it for so goddamn long.’
I give him the only answer I can give him.
‘Yes.’
His lips meet mine in the barest of touches, so much softer than I expected. Justice is forged-in-fire, tempered steel. There’s nothing sweet about him, nothing soft. People respect and fear him in equal measure because he commands respect and fear. That’s just who he is. But he kisses me like I’m priceless, breakable. I taste the brandy on his breath as his tongue touches my bottom lip, demanding entry.
My breath trembles on my lips and then on his. His tongue touches mine, and I lose part of myself to him. No, I don’t lose it. I hand it over willingly, eagerly giving him the key to parts of my soul no one else has ever touched. Our tongues slide together in a sinuous dance that’s part instinct, part long-denied need.
‘Milan,’ he groans rolling until he’s on top of me, his powerful thighs wedged between my softer ones. He holds his weight off me on one forearm. He slides his free hand into my hair, gripping it tight to angle my head where he wants me.
He doesn’t kiss me then. He devours me. This is the man I know, the bossy bastard who takes what he wants and dares anyone to tell him no. He kisses me like I’m his, plundering my mouth and leaving me wrecked beneath him. The way he growls and bites my lip, the sting where he grips my hair, the feel of his body over mine, pinning me to the bed…there isn’t a single part of this that isn’t somehow a million times better than I always dreamed it would be.
‘My god, little girl,’ he growls, biting my lip hard enough to make me cry out as my clit pulses again. ‘I knew I was going to hell, but that mouth alone is worth the trip.’
‘Justice,’ I moan, wrapping my arms around his neck when he tries to pull away. I’m not ready for him to stop kissing me yet. I want more, more, more. Until I burst apart at the seams. I’m already addicted to him. If he’s going to hell, I think I am too. Isn’t gluttony a cardinal sin?
‘You want more?’ he asks.
I cry out when we roll all of a sudden. I barely have time to register that we’re moving, and then he’s beneath me on the bed, with me straddling his lap.
‘Bounce on daddy’s lap, baby girl,’ he demands, his onyx eyes at half-mast. His hands dig into my hips. ‘Use me to get yourself off.’
I whine his name and then give in to the urgent need lashing me like a whip. I rock my hips, trying to find friction and pressure. His erection presses against my center, seeming huge and so hard. I grind against it, sobbing his name.
‘Good girl,’ he croons, arching beneath me. He sets me on fire with those eyes, watching me like he can’t look away. Like I’m a meal and he’s starving for me. He pants, his chest rising and falling as I writhe on his lap, mindlessly chasing the release I desperately need.
He releases my hips long enough to grab my t-shirt in both hands. The muscle in his upper arms and chest flex and bulge. My shirt rips right down the middle, baring me to his greedy gaze. He fixates on my chest, cursing under his breath.
‘Goddamn, those little nipples,’ he growls, baring his teeth at me. ‘Were you thinking about daddy sucking on them when you were touching your pussy, princess?’
‘Yes.’
‘Fuck.’ He sits up suddenly, latching onto my right breast.
‘Justice!’ I shout, clawing down his back as he bites me. It hurts and doesn’t hurt enough at the same time. My entire body clenches, arousal flooding between my legs. I cling to him, grinding against his erection and sobbing his name.
He moves from breast to breast, biting and sucking and snarling curses against my skin. He’s wild in a way he never has been before, as if seeing me like this ripped away all that self-control he prides himself on. He’s not controlled now. Oh, no he’s not. He’s ravenous, his mouth and hands all over me as I sob his name, louder and louder.
It echoes off the ceiling.
My sharp scream splinters those echoes in two as my body locks up and I come. It hits me like a truck plowing into me so hard it knocks me breathless. For a long, heavenly, torturous moment, I hang suspended in some state that’s not quite life and not quite death. And then the dam breaks and waves of pleasure crash over me. The world grows dim. Blood rushes in my ears in a torrent of sound. I lose touch of everything except Justice as he croons praises to me.
Somehow, he’s more real than ever. More there than ever.
And I know I am completely, totally, irrevocably…fucked.
‘Please,’ he mumbles in his sleep, thrashing around. ‘Please no.’
‘Justice,’ I murmur, fumbling in the dark to reach him. I fell asleep on top of him. Actually, fell asleep is putting it mildly. I passed out cold. We’re still tangled up together, though he’s lying halfway on top of me instead of the other way around. His skin is cool and clammy.
‘Ah, God, no,’ he groans, his voice broken. ‘What did I do? What did I do? I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry.’
My heart cracks, tears pooling in my eyes. He’s having another nightmare about his family. He still has them often, which is probably why he rarely sleeps. He never says anything about them though. Never lets on that the past still torments his sleeping mind.
‘Justice,’ I say again, gently shaking him. ‘Shh, Justice. It’s okay. You’re okay.’
His body goes rigid above mine.
‘I’m right here,’ I murmur, rubbing his back.
‘Milan?’
‘Yeah, it’s me.’
‘Fuck,’ he whispers. And then I’m flat on my back and he’s on top of me again, his weight pressing me down into the mattress. His hands run all over me as if checking for injuries. His body trembles, his hands shaking. His breath shakes too, rattling as if he can’t quite control it. ‘You’re okay. Thank God, you’re okay.’
‘You were having a nightmare.’
‘I was… Yeah,’ he mutters, clearing his throat. ‘Yeah.’
‘About your family?’ I ask, rubbing his back again.
‘Started that way.’ He rolls over onto his back, and then pulls me over until I’m snuggled up against his chest. I guess he took my ruined shirt off when I fell asleep because I’m wearing only my panties.
‘Do you want to talk about it?’
He’s silent for a long moment before he sighs. ‘Julian didn’t show up for work and wasn’t answering his phone. I knew something was wrong, but I didn’t know….’ He inhales a shaking breath. ‘I found Marissa in the front yard. And then Julian in the living room,’ he says, his voice a rough rasp of sound. ‘There was blood everywhere. I tore through the house, looking for Ainsley. Praying to God. She was just a little girl.’
Tears leak from my eyes. I wrap my arms around him as best I can, holding him tight, as if that’ll help stitch back together the pieces of him that broke that day all those years ago. The thing about people though…once they’re broken, you can’t stitch them back together again. No matter how hard you try, there will always be cracks, always be jagged edges and missing splinters. All you can do is be there while they make something new out of those broken pieces.
I think Justice has been trying for a long time to make something new, to become something better. But he’s still so wracked with guilt, still so haunted. Part of him still holds onto the past, terrified to let it go. Terrified, I think, to become another version of the person he was back then.
‘The nightmare changed. It’s not what happened.’
‘What changed?’
‘I went looking for Ainsley, praying that she wasn’t…that she was okay,’ he says, running his fingers through my hair. ‘I found you instead. You were…’ He trails off again, shuddering. ‘Fuck.’
He thought he lost me?
‘I’m right here,’ I murmur, pressing a kiss over his heart.
‘Thank God,’ he whispers.
My heart aches at his fervent prayer. He’s already lost so much. I don’t know if God is real. I like to believe he is, and that he knows our hearts. If he is out there, I hope he sees the same man I do when I look at Justice. Not the ruthless billionaire or the former criminal but the broken man fighting to do better, to be better. He fights so damn hard.
‘I’d destroy this entire fucking city if anything happened to you,’ he says, his voice soft.
‘You wouldn’t.’
‘I would.’
‘Well, then we’ll just have to ensure nothing happens to me,’ I mutter, not arguing with him about it. Maybe he would. He may not be the same man he was back then, but only an idiot would think he’s tame. He’s not. He’s a caged lion, one who knows his own strength and simply chooses not to use it. But pushed far enough, hurt deeply enough…well, even tamed lions have fangs and razor-sharp claws.
‘Yeah,’ he whispers.
‘Someday, you’re going to have to forgive yourself, you know.’
He grunts.
‘I’m serious, Justice. My dad…my dad is the way he is because he can’t forgive himself,’ I say, swallowing hard. ‘He was supposed to be home that day, but he extended his business trip. My mom decided to go out to lunch with her girlfriends since he wouldn’t be home. And then she got hit by a drunk driver. He says if he would have just come home, she’d still be here.’
‘It’s not the same thing.’
‘You’re right, it’s not. But it leads to the same place, doesn’t it?’ I ask. ‘He deals with it by drinking. You deal with it by locking up everyone you love so nothing can get close. In the end, the people you love pay for it, and you both end up alone. Seems one is just as bad as the other if you ask me.’
He processes that for a long time. I doze in his arms, letting him work through it for himself. Justice is smart. Actually, he’s scary smart. Underneath all of that bossiness and the autocratic businessman, he’s also a man who cares deeply. One who is terrified of losing someone else he loves because of his decisions.
‘Ainsley was really that unhappy here?’ he finally asks.
‘She wasn’t made to live in a cage,’ I murmur. ‘Not even one made of gold. She loves you but her entire life, she’s had to watch the world pass her by. She doesn’t know what it’s like to be normal or to do normal people things. She felt like a prisoner in her own life.’
‘She could have told me.’
‘Would you have listened?’
He sighs heavily, which is answer enough.
‘She loves you,’ I remind him.
‘My men follow you too,’ he says, almost as if he expects me to be shocked or pissed about it. ‘They have for the last year. It’s the only reason I haven’t lost my mind worrying about you.’
‘I know.’
‘You know?’
‘Mmhmm.’
‘You’re not pissed?’
‘I was,’ I admit. ‘When I first figured it out, I was furious. But it felt…good to know someone cared enough to want me to be safe. No one else did.’
‘Your staff loves you, baby girl.’
‘Maybe, but they’re paid to care,’ I murmur. It’s not cynical when it’s true. My dad pays Betsy and Jude, our cook and the groundskeeper, to care about me because he can’t be bothered to do it himself. If something were to happen to me, they might be sad for a little while, but they’d move on like nothing ever happened. ‘I’m replaceable. For my dad, all it takes is a little tequila and a nice pair of tits, and I’m forgotten.’
‘Your father is a fucking idiot,’ Justice growls.
‘Yeah, he is,’ I agree with a sigh. ‘But honestly? I’d rather not have him at all than to have him drinking his life away right in front of me. At least this way, I don’t have to watch it happen.’
Justice runs his hand down my back as if to soothe me. I settle in against him, letting his smoky amber scent lull me toward sleep again. Right when I’m on the edge, I hear him whisper, ‘No one could ever replace you for me, pretty baby. Not ever.’
I believe him.
