“Why did you two walk away from your family if he was dead?”
I took another deep breath. “In the week between my attack and his suicide, our families covered it all up. I tried to go to the police to have him charged for what he did to Annie but my parents wouldn’t let me and her mother made her stay silent too. They were more concerned with their social standing and good reputation in business than with looking after Annie. After he killed himself, the reporters came sniffing around, wanting to know why. I’ll never forget the day my father threatened to disown me and cut me out of his will if I breathed a word of it.” My chest ached with hurt and sadness, and I looked up into Donovan’s eyes to find softness there. I’d never seen it in him before, not like that.
He understands.
“You cut yourself out of it anyway,” he murmured.
“Yes, and I took Annie with me. She was so broken and fucked-up, and her mother was useless. The worst mother I’ve ever met. She grieved a husband who didn’t deserve any grief and ignored a child who needed her unconditional love.” I blinked back the tears that threatened to fall every time I thought about how they’d screwed Annie up. Staring at him, I asked, “Who the fuck does that?”
He poured the rest of his scotch down his throat and then surprised me by sharing something personal. “My father beat my mother and ignored me for most of my life. Some people should not have the privilege of being parents.” His voice was tight and controlled, but there was a vulnerability to it that I caught. He still battled with this.
I moved my hand across the table and clasped his. Instinctively, I knew the physical contact would be soothing, and I was right. Donovan’s touch calmed me. When he intertwined our fingers a moment later, I knew he felt it, too.
“Do you have anything to do with your father these days?” I asked.
His face hardened and his shoulders tensed. I waited for him to pull his hand away from mine, but he didn’t. “He’s in my life but not by my choice. My mother is weak where he’s concerned. He stopped seeing her about a year ago but he’s back, sniffing around at the moment.” He tried to hide his brokenness with his tough exterior, but the survivor in me knew that, on the inside, he fought his demons. By the exhaustion on his face, I figured it was a fight he wasn’t currently winning.
“I’m guessing you’re close to your mother.” I loosened my grip on his hand and let my finger trace lazy patterns over his.
His gaze dropped to our hands and he stared at them for a few moments. He seemed unsure, almost like he wanted to push me away, but he didn’t. Looking back up at me, he answered, gruffly, “Yeah.”
“Any brothers or sisters?”
“Half brother and half sister. I knew about them while growing up but we never had any contact. They didn’t know about my mother and me. It all came out a little over a year ago and I’ve since grown close to my sister, Madison.”
I watched as lightness crossed his face while he talked about Madison. It looked good on him. “And your brother?”
He sighed. “That’s a hard relationship. We’re not close, but we are in contact.”
I stopped tracing patterns on his hand and squeezed it instead. “Madison sounds wonderful,” I said softly.
He allowed himself a smile. “She’s the kind of woman who loves to drive you crazy with her demands, but I wouldn’t have her any other way.”
I returned his smile. “You deserve that.”
He stilled at my words and I wasn’t sure what I’d said wrong. Letting go of my hand, he stood. He grabbed the bottle of scotch and his glass from the table and stalked to the bar with them. After he gave them to Jess, he stalked back to me. The feral look in his eyes shot straight to my core. God, I want him.
I stood and waited for him. When he moved into my space, he slid a hand around my waist and pulled me to him. His hand snaked all the way around to my ass and he dipped it to curve around one of my cheeks. His other hand landed on my stomach and slowly made its way up to cup my breast, a finger pulling the top of my t-shirt down so he could run his finger along my skin.
My body burned with desire, and when he moved his hand to slide it up under my tee to cup my breast, I wondered if I might explode from the desire. His strong fingers kneaded me and I imagined how good they would feel all over my body.
“I want you,” he growled. Then his hand glided down my body to my pussy where it stilled. “Now,” he commanded in that voice of his that said he’d take what he wanted and to hell with what anyone said.