Page 50 of Diamond in the Rough (The Diamond Trilogy 1)
A low laugh. “Fuck awkward.”
He lifts me suddenly, pushing me forward until I’m on all fours, my knees on the warm cushion where he’d been lounging, my hands on the broad back of the chair. From this position I can see through the half window, through the breezy white curtains to the Eiffel Tower. It’s lit up for the night, glowing like a beacon in the center of the city.
That’s the position I’m in when he licks me from behind, when he bites my butt cheek. There’s nothing awkward about the way he makes me moan. And that’s the position I’m in when he fucks me, his cock in my pussy, his thumb in my asshole, riding me hard enough to make me grunt like an animal, fucking me until I scream his name to the starless night sky.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Elijah
She comes hard enough that she almost passes out, and I carry her limp body to the bed. She curls around the pillow and falls asleep right away.
I stand at the edge of the bed, watching her, waiting. For what?
The urge to lie with her in my arms pulls at me. My hands flex as I imagine tangling them in her hair or holding her breasts. I don’t only want her when we’re having sex. I want to consume her every second of the day.
It’s dangerous, this wanting.
Those iron bars in the church—they’re still here, lined up around me like soldiers, keeping me from true freedom. Walking out of that basement did nothing to release me. I’ll never be good enough for Holly—never soft enough, never kind enough.
So I turn around and leave the suite, where my brother waits downstairs, sitting in an armchair like the one where I fucked Holly. I wonder if I looked the way he does now—so very alone.
At the bar I pour us both some Jameson, practically contraband in the land of wine and absinthe. It was our father’s drink of choice, though he’d settle for beer when the liquor store cut him off and he had to go to the gas station. I sit across from him, setting down the glass. He glances at it a moment before taking a drink.
“First time I’ve had that in years,” he says.
“Figured a family reunion should have some memories. Even if they’re dark.”
“I am sorry for—”
“Don’t.”
He runs a hand over his face. I recognize it because I do that, too, sometimes. I wonder if Holly and London share the same mannerisms like that. “I am.”
“You don’t even know what you’re apologizing for.”
“I know he was a sick fuck. And he was getting sicker. I left you to that.”
“You protected me when you could.” I remember my brothers taking beatings that were meant for me. I remember them giving me food at night when our father had passed out. I remember the way they protected me before they left.
“Since we’re talking about it, did our mother—did she ever come back?”
“Hell.”
“I looked for her. Later. When I had the resources. I’m not hoping for some big reconciliation, but if she needed money right now, if she needed—”
“She doesn’t.”
“Then it’s true.” He looks at me, his dark green eyes unfathomable. “She’s dead.”
I have to swallow hard against the memories. They’re fleeting but all the more powerful because of being rare. Her singing a song. Her warmth when she held me. Feeding me. She must have lived in fear with that fucker as her husband, but she found love in her heart for us. “Yes.”
He looks away, toward the window where the Eiffel Tower looks like a gaudy fucking party trick. I’ll never be able to see it again without tasting Holly’s sweet pussy.
The irony is, this was my first time in France since the diamond heist. And it’s connected. Her being here isn’t a coincidence. I involved her in my mission once before.
Now she’s inextricably linked to this, too.
How will she feel when she finds out I used her—again?
“Having second thoughts?” Liam asks. “About keeping her here?”
Second thoughts? “Fuck no.”
I knew when I walked out of that prison cell that she was mine. I probably knew even before that, when I first sensed an angel in there with me.
It’s something deeper than affection. Darker than love. She’s mine.
“Does she know that she’s not allowed to leave?”
I shake my head once. “Not yet.”
My brother cocks his head to the side. “If we had come from a different family, I might try to convince you not to do it this way. You could try talking to her, explain how you feel, explain what you’re worried about.”
It’s like he’s speaking a foreign language. “I’m keeping her alive.”
“I have a feeling if I tried to take her from you, one of us would end up dead.”
My whole body tenses. “You’re not taking her.”
“God, Elijah. He really did a number on us, didn’t he?”
