11
Creed
Her mouth molds to mine as if it was made to be kissed by me. Her tongue dances with mine, tangling, fighting me, but she doesn’t push me away. Her hand on my dick is taunting, and I want nothing more than to bend her over this kitchen table and fuck her senseless. I want to show her just how much I fucking own her.
But I wait.
The kiss deepens. I tangle both my hands in her long, flowing waves, and I pull her closer, impossibly so, just to feel every part of her against me. Micaela finally releases my dick, and both her palms land on my shoulders. She holds herself up as I trail my one hand down to her ass and grip the firm globe in my hand.
A whimper falls free when I finally break the kiss. Her lips are swollen from the intimate gesture, and her eyes are glazed over, pupils dilated. I expect her to slap me, but she doesn’t. Instead, she shocks the shit out of me by lifting her knee.
I act fast, and she misses my steel-hard dick by inches. Her knee making contact with my thigh. And I watch her stumble backward, holding onto her knee.
“Fuck!” I want to laugh, but I don’t. Biting my tongue, I reach for her, but she rejects my assistance with a huff. “Leave me alone.” Frustration is painted on her pretty face, her eyes still dark with desire as she settles on the chair, rubbing her knee.
“I think that hurt you more than it did me.”
“Because you moved,” she retorts hotly. And this time, I can’t stop grinning. “You’re such an asshole.”
“And you’re a bitch, but I like it. Only, next time, don’t try and break my dick, unless it’s while you’re bouncing on it.” This earns me an eye-roll, but I don’t care. The satisfaction of making her crazy has taken hold of me, and I know I’m going to enjoy these next few months.
Silence fills the kitchen, but I don’t tear my gaze away from Micaela. Even in her anger, I can tell she’s special. The fact that my father agreed to me changing the agreement he had originally made, allowing me to unite our families has me excited at the prospect. But for her, I think it’s come as more of a shock.
I never once saw myself married or even having my own family. I was born to parents who didn’t want me, and even after Octavius adopted me, I didn’t think I would ever be in a situation where I would want kids.
But now, looking at Micaela, I realize her father will want sons. He has a legacy to hand down, and she’s the only child. There’s nobody else who can step up and give him grandchildren.
With the Havens, I have two brothers who can give my dad children who will be able to carry on the name. Even though we’re not blood, we are strong, loyal, and consider ourselves family. Albeit unconventional.
“I don’t know if I can do it. My father expects everything of me, yet I just don’t know if I can step up and be the daughter he needs.”
“Because you hate me that much?” I use a teasing tone, which causes her to look up. There is so much guilt, pain, and sadness in her eyes I suddenly feel like I want to comfort her. But it’s not me. I’m not the sweet, affectionate type. “Listen,” I say, pulling out a chair and sitting opposite her. “I know why we have to do this. To me, I’m winning. But my father took me in when I was young, really young. I don’t know who my real family is, but Octavius gave me something I was missing, even when I didn’t think I needed it. If I can repay him in any way, I will.”
Admitting my feelings or even just how much I want to do for the man who’s been my father is jarring. Micaela looks at me for a long time. Her eyes shining with something I can’t quite put my finger on. I don’t reach for her, I don’t touch her, even though my fingertips tingle with the need to feel her smooth, porcelain skin.
“I didn’t think you had a heart.”
I smile. “I never said I did.”
“Only someone with a heart would feel like that toward another person,” she tells me confidently. There’s a shift in her expression, it’s slight, as if I’ve made her see me in another light perhaps, but it’s not as obvious as her anger or her rage.
“Like I said earlier, being loyal is very different from love. And it’s most definitely different from feeling affection.”
A hint of a smile brightens her face. Even just that tiny movement changes her expression. As if a light has been flicked on somewhere deep inside her.
The door suddenly bursts open, and my brothers saunter in. They’re a mess from the mud caked on their shoes, which they leave just inside the kitchen door. Their clothes are filthy, but with it being a Halloween-themed party, it could pass off as fake blood.
“The job is done,” Brody tells me.
Keirin looks at Micaela, then me. “Mr. McCray said to call him tomorrow. He wants to talk to you about the arrangements.” The man must’ve taken the body with him. I knew he wanted to collect, but I didn’t think he would come here tonight and take Devon’s corpse to New York.
“He happy with the job?”
“Yeah,” Keirin says. “He’s a scary fucker,” my brother adds. “Nothing like your girl over there.”
“I’m right here. You don’t have to talk about me as if I’m not even in the room,” Micaela bites out through clenched teeth.
“Easy tiger,” Keirin says with a chuckle. “I was just saying.”
“I need to go,” Micaela says, pushing to her feet, but her knees give out, and my arms wrap around her
