So naturally they assumed we were dead.
Because when you work for the Mafia? Yeah, that’s just a normal assumption. I mean if Nixon was missing I wouldn’t call the cops. I’d call the family to order and start torturing people to find his whereabouts. We always assume death before life.
Sucks, but it’s the truth.
“Hey!” Tex knocked on the bedroom door. “You ready for breakfast in a bit? The plane landed a few minutes ago so we should probably—”
“—get ready.” I forced a smile. “Sure thing. Just give me a minute.”
Tex didn’t move from his spot in the doorway. His eyes drank me in; he always stared at me like that. Like a man who could never get his fill. I used to love it. Now it just made me feel guilty and sick to my stomach.
I wished it were possible to emotionally survive off memories. Because if it was, I’d survive off all of ours together.
“Hey Mo, you ready to go or… well damn me.” Tex walked into the room, his face went completely hard. “Mo you look…”
“Sorry. “I blushed tucking my hair behind my ears. “New swimsuit for the summer. You like?” I pressed my hands against my hips then did a little twirl. I’d always wanted a white bikini but my dad had forbidden it—until now. He was dead and I could wear whatever the hell I wanted. Within reason, which is exactly what Nixon had said when he saw me ordering things off the Victoria’s Secret website.
“Like? Freaking love. “Tex shut the door behind him and walked slowly towards me, his eyes focusing in on my hips, then my stomach, and finally settling on my br**sts. When he reached out, it wasn’t to gently touch my skin, or caress me lovingly. No, that wasn’t Tex. He didn’t do gentle; he did hard, demanding, possessive—all Alpha, no apologies.
So when he grabbed my body and pulled me against him, I expected his fingers to move to the strings holding my top up, instead he cupped my face and whispered across my lips. “I’ve never seen anything so beautiful in my entire life.”
Heat invaded my cheeks. “It’s just a suit.”
His eyes hardened. “Mo, listen to what I’m about to say. Nothing is just a suit on you. You don’t just wear jeans, you don’t just wear a damn t-shirt. Everything you put on your body is so mother effing beautiful that I don’t know whether I should hide you somewhere so no one else can enjoy the pleasure of looking at you, or just take you so you know exactly who you belong to.”
I shivered in his arms.
“And just in case there was ever a question.” His hands moved from my face down to the strings holding my bottoms together. With a slight tug, they fell to the ground. “You. Are. Mine.” I blinked in surprise as his fingers gently worked the strings of the top until it joined the bottoms on the floor. “Now look at yourself, and tell me you don’t see perfection. Tell me you don’t see…” He walked me to the mirror and moved my hair, kissing my neck and moving to my shoulder. “…how freaking beautiful you are.”
Insecure, I averted my eyes.
Tex reached around my body and gripped my chin, forcing me to look at myself. “Fine, if you can’t see it for yourself, look into my eyes. Look at my face. This is the face of a man totally undone. You don’t just do this to me. “He slid his body against mine so I could feel the evidence of his desire. “You make me want to never leave this room. Ever. You’re beauty is something to be cherished. Never deny it, not to me, not after seeing you like this.” Slowly, he turned my body so that I was facing him. Every hard plane of his body screamed as it pressed against mine, waiting for release. Instead of doing what I imagined Tex would do, he kissed me softly on the mouth and stepped back, even though I knew it was painful for him to do so. “Now, put on some clothes we’re going to be late for dinner.”
I was naked, I wanted him, and he was leaving? “But—”
“Our time will come, Mo.” He winked. “You’re still a freshman this year and Nixon would freaking murder me if he even knew I was in here with you, let alone with you naked and giving me those demanding eyes. Believe me, I’m so aroused I can’t see straight, but right now, you’re under Nixon’s protection. I want you—but only if he doesn’t shoot me before I get to have you.” With another wink he walked out of the room softly shutting the door behind him. And so began the first of many times where Tex chose not to sleep with me. Instead, he seduced me with his words, his looks, his touches—I was damned before I even had a choice.
Tex motioned for the bathroom, the movement jolting me out of the sensual memory. “Can you manage on your own or… ?” He scratched his head and crossed his chest with his arms.
I laughed. “I’m only four weeks, Tex. I think I can walk to the bathroom without face planting.”
“Sure.” His eyes narrowed. “If you’re sure.”
“Tex,” I snapped. “Look, I appreciate the help but just… stop.” Stop making me feel guilty. Stop looking at me like I’m damaged! Just stop! Look at me like you used to. Like you promised you always would! I suddenly wanted to shatter every mirror in the room. I was stuck at the lowest of the low, and I couldn’t even tell him the truth.
A muscle twitched in his jaw as he took two large steps towards me. “No. I won’t just stop because you say you’re fine. I’ve never done this before. I don’t know what the hell I’m doing okay? I may be an ass but I’m worried about you, so excuse me for asking you every damn second of the day if you can handle things. I’m having problems handling things, and it’s not my body going through this, alright? So if I ask you every half second how you’re doing, don’t be a bitch, Mo. Alright? Besides…” He stepped back and exhaled another curse. “Right now I’m your best bet, after all the kid isn’t even mine and I’m taking credit for it.”
Tears stung behind my eyes, and emotion thickened in the back of my throat as I tried to find my voice. “Tex, I’m sorry. I just—”
“Whatever. Yell if you need me. I’ll go start the coffee.” He slammed the door behind him, leaving me in silence.
Maybe that was the reason for my nightmares. In all my life, the Tex I knew would never slam a door in my face. He wouldn’t raise his voice, he would never—and I do mean never—approach me with as much as a raised octave to his tone.