I could never tell her.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Cara
I barely glanced Growl’s way as we headed back to his house. He shot me a questioning look. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” I said harshly, then bit my lip. I didn’t know what to do. I needed Growl to be on my side, and my body wanted him, but I was going against everything my mother had taught me by sleeping with him.
Growl’s hands on the steering wheel tightened, the tendons in his forearms flexing, but he didn’t push the matter. Our conversations were mostly initiated by me, so it didn’t came a surprise that he accepted the tense silence between us.
I focused on the window, on the flashy neon signs advertising Casinos and hotels. My mind was whirring with what I’d learned today about my mother’s family, about my family. I needed Growl if I wanted any chance to help my mother and sister, if I wanted any chance to escape from Las Vegas and find shelter in New York, but I wasn’t sure how to do it. Growl would never help me if it meant losing me, or his position as Enforcer of the Camorra. He was proud of his job. The only way to get his support at all was if I promised to stay with him, and ask him only to help my sister and mother, but even that seemed unlikely.
* * *
I lay awake that night, staring up at the ceiling, when the door to my room creaked open. I knew why Growl was here, what he wanted, but I was so conflicted.
He prowled toward the bed, his tall frame backlit by the light from the corridor. He scanned my face and I only stared up at him, at his hard angles. He wasn’t wearing a shirt, and my eyes traced the lines of his muscles, the way the light accentuated his six-pack. I wanted this man. Seeing him always made my body tingle, no matter how conflicted I was. My gaze lowered to the bulge in Growl’s pants. God, why did I have to want him?
Something on my face must have showed my thoughts; Growl put one knee on the bed, which groaned under his weight. His breathing was low, controlled, but faster than usual. Aroused. He’d always been the more active part in our sexual life, but usually I always reacted in some way. I could see frustration and confusion in his eyes, then he crawled toward me and hovered over my body. His warm smell enveloped me. I put my hands against his chest, torn between pushing him away and pulling him closer. My fingertips brushed over scars and his soft chest hair, over hard muscle. Growl made the decision for me. He grabbed my hands in one of his and pressed them into the mattress above my head. Then he lowered his head to my breasts and sucked one nipple into his mouth through the silky fabric of my nightgown. I pressed my lips together, trying to keep a moan in, but that seemed to spur Growl on. He sucked harder as his free hand ran down my body between my legs. He shoved them apart, released my nipple and crawled down until his head hovered toward my panties. I knew I’d be in his hands if I let him pleasure me with his mouth. I struggled against his grip but his other hand came down on my hip, holding me fast. When his face was mere inches from my center, he drew in a deep breath. Heat rose into my cheeks like it always did when he did something like that. But despite my embarrassment my body flooded with need for his touch, for his mouth.
Growl licked over my panties and I stilled as my core tightened and my body began to tingle. I struggled even harder but Growl ignored me completely. He nudged my panties to the side with his nose and licked over my bare flesh.
He slid his tongue up and down, firm licks, over and over again. Wetness pooled between my legs. I hated my body for it, for always surrendering to him.
He dipped his tongue into my opening and let out a deep rumble. I squeezed my eyes shut, fighting my body’s reaction, trying to hold in a moan. I wouldn’t give him that satisfaction. But he didn’t stop. He seemed to enjoy every moment of it. Every time he hummed, a stupid part of me was turned on. I still couldn’t believe he liked how I tasted down there, but he obviously did. He moved his tongue higher and licked over my clit. My hips bucked, but this time it wasn’t in an attempt to get away. Growl kept a steady rhythm. I had no chance to resist him. My body was always eager for his touch. He must have felt my surrender because he let go of my hip and brought his hand down between my legs. He used his thumb and forefinger to part me, allowing his tongue even better access. I couldn’t help a loud moan from escaping.
Wrong, my head screamed. But I gave up resistance.
Again my hands found Growl’s head but then he curled his tongue in a way that made me cry out in sensation.
Growl knew he had won. I could practically feel his smugness. His mouth closed over my center, plunging his tongue even deeper into me, and my fingers dug into his scalp as I pushed his head to where I needed him. My body started shaking, and Growl’s tongue pressed even harder against my clit. My last resistance crumbled as a shockwave rolled over me, rendering me helpless and stunned as I gasped.
I wasn’t sure how long I was like that. Growl dipped his tongue lower and my muscles clenched around him. I couldn’t move, could hardly breathe, my heart pounding in my chest as I stared into the darkness. Shadows danced in the distant streetlights streaming through the window. Growl pressed another lingering kiss between my legs, then got to his knees.
He leaned over me and kissed my lips. I could taste myself on him, could smell myself. I sucked in a breath. “This is wrong,” I said quietly. Was this betrayal? Being intimate like that with the enemy, with someone like Growl, with a monster, that was wrong on every level I could imagine. He had helped take my father down. He was part of why he was dead now. And yet, here I was, sharing a bed with him and enjoying it.
“Stop overthinking every fucking thing,” he murmured.
“You can’t understand,” I said harshly. For him, sin and guilt and shame weren’t words that mattered.
“Perhaps,” he admitted. “But I understand your body.” He pressed two fingers against my wet center, swirled them around and brought them to his lips, licking them. “And your body likes it.”
“You’re disgusting,” I said. I tried to turn away, to get away, but it was close to impossible with his body hovering above me. “Maybe my body reacts to you but I will never feel anything but hatred for you, you monster.” I closed my lips with a snap, unable to believe what I’d said. How could I tell him something like that if I wanted his help?
“I’m a monster, you got that right. Have always been, will always be. I’m good at being a monster. Few people ever find something they’re good at, something they were meant to be,” he said simply. He didn’t sound angry, only resigned.
“That’s crazy. Nobody’s meant to be a killer. Nobody’s meant to be like you. You want to be like that. You said you like blood and pain and death, and you pretending to be born a monster is your excuse to justify the horrors you’ve committed.”
“You’re right. There’s nothing better than the rush of the kill. It’s exhilarating. It’s you against them. It’s all or nothing. Nothing in this world makes one feel more alive than that. I like it. And I don’t give a fuck about justifying anything to anyone. I’d do everything again. I regret nothing.”
I swallowed. “I don’t get it. How does anyone become like that. It can’t all be because of that scar on your throat.”