Filthy (A Bad Boy Romance)(30)

“Fuck you, Romano. Fuck. You.” I hit him again. I feel his nose break, shatter, under my fist, and he falls backward. There’s a dead-sounding thump as his head hits the stairs, and then everything around me falls silent.

I take a step forward, ready to grab him again if he gets up, but he doesn’t get up. He just lies there, a pool of blood spreading across the concrete under his head. His eyes are open. Blood starts to run from his nose, the corner of his mouth.

“Cain.” It’s Jess, behind me, and her hands slide around my arm. Her voice is so quiet, but it’s steady, careful. “It’s over.”

I turn to her, hardly able to believe she’s okay. My brain spins around what just happened, how close I came to losing her forever. I grab her and pull her to me, cradling her against my chest. “Jess, are you okay?”

“I’m fine. Really, I’m fine.” I clutch her closer and then ease back, afraid I might be hurting her. My hand curls over the curve of her stomach. She laughs softly. “She’s fine, too. We’re both fine.”

“She?” I ask, and she just shrugs, a little sheepish.

“You…” She stops, gathers herself, and I realize she’s on the verge of tears, too. “You saved me, Cain.” She strokes my stomach, my chest, as if reassuring herself that I’m all in one piece. “I thought he shot you.”

“He damn near did. And he could have shot you.”

“But he didn’t.” To my surprise, Spada has come up to join us. His face is ashen; I’ve never seen him look like that. He draws Jess out of my embrace but not harshly. His hands are shaking. “Are you sure you’re all right, baby girl?”

“I’m fine. Really.” She takes his hand and lays it on her belly. “And so is your grandbaby.”

I fight my urge to grab her and drag her back to me. This is between the two of them. And while I’m standing there watching, I see something I never thought I’d see.

There are tears in Phil Spada’s eyes.

He chokes back a sob, and I take a step back, letting him have the moment with Jess. I can’t hear what they’re saying, but by the time they’re done, Jess has let her father press his forehead against hers, and they’re both crying.

After a few minutes, Spada turns to me. “I’ll take care of…this mess.” He tips his head toward Romano’s body, sprawled on the stairs. “And I’ll take care of the cops. Don’t you worry about it. You just take my little girl home and keep her safe.”

For once he’s given me an order I’m more than happy to follow.

#

I can’t get Jess home fast enough. In spite of the evidence, I’m still not convinced she’s all right. I won’t be convinced until I can examine every inch of her, make sure there aren’t any bullet wounds, no scratches, no cuts. Nothing.

She seems to be thinking the same thing, because the minute we get in the door, she’s pulling my jacket off, jerking at my buttons—a couple of them fly off—and spreading her hands over my chest, my ribs.

I wince, and she freezes. “Cain…”

“No, no,” I reassure her. “That’s from the fight. There was a fight, remember? Before the bullets started flying?”

She laughs, but it’s more a sob, and suddenly she has both hands over her mouth and her eyes are brimming over. I grab her wrists.

“Hush, Jess. It’s okay. It’s okay. Really, it is. I’m not hurt. You’re not hurt…right? You’re not hurt?”

She nods and then moves her hands so she can clarify. “No, I’m not hurt. Maybe I skinned my elbow when you pushed me out of the way. That’s all.”

“Then get that shirt off. I need to kiss it better.” I say it sternly, firmly, because I know she won’t question me. As ordered, she starts to unbutton her blouse.

And no, she’s not hurt, not really. But when I see the long scrape on the outside of her elbow, I draw a quick breath. “Fuck, I’m sorry.”

She looks at her arm. “For this? God, Cain, you probably saved my life. I’m okay with a few scrapes and bruises.” Moving a little closer, she puts her arms around my waist. “I’m just glad he didn’t hit you.” Pressing up onto her tiptoes, she kisses me gently. “I don’t know what I would have done if he’d…” She stops.

“He didn’t.” I stroke her eyebrows, kiss her forehead. “What even made you come?”

She shakes her head a little. She’s stopped crying, and there’s a kind of peace on her face now. “I didn’t want to live the rest of my life wondering what would have happened if I had.”

It’s all I need to know. She came because she wasn’t ready to let go. Neither was I. And I’m sure not going to let her go now, not after everything.

“You’re staying here,” I tell her. “You’re my wife—you belong here in my house.”

“No, I don’t.”

I lift an eyebrow at the response. That’s not what I wanted to hear. But then she grins. “I belong in your bed, big guy. Hurry up and get me there.”

There’s an invitation I can’t refuse. I lean down to swing her into my arms. She’s small and light in my arms, and I’m reminded again of how close I came to losing her.

I get a firmer grip on her and head for the bedroom. Once we’re there I spread her out on top of the quilt and start easing her clothes off her, one piece at a time. “I need to check,” I tell her as I examine each exposed stretch of skin. “Be sure you really aren’t hurt anywhere.”

“You can’t just take my word?”

I slide my hand up her bare belly. “Would that be anywhere near as fun?”

“Point taken,” she says, and spreads her thighs so I can pull her pants off her.

It’s more than just the scrapes on her elbow. She’s got scrapes on her knees, too, and blood on her shin. I stare down at her. The sight of the injuries makes my stomach clench up. Instead of continuing my quest to undress her, I go to the bathroom to get a washcloth and some antibiotic ointment. It takes me a minute to find bandages.

She’s curled her legs up closer to her when I come back, as if she was afraid I was planning to abandon her. As I sit back down on the bed next to her, I stroke a hand up her inner thigh. She’s still got her panties on; I’ll take care of that in a minute.

“I guess it’s my turn to patch you up,” I say softly.

She reaches toward me, brushing her fingers against my arm. “You don’t have to. I’m all right, really.”

“Shhh. Just let me do this.” I use the washcloth to gently clean her scraped knees and then daub ointment on them. “Better,” I tell her, and as I tape on a big, square Band-Aid, I lean over and kiss her thigh, right where the skin is softest, so close I can smell her musky sex.

She makes a soft noise and reaches for me, but I duck back. “Not yet. You have another knee, you know.”

I tend to that knee, kiss her other thigh—a little higher this time, because why not?—then move on to her banged-up elbows. It’s really not bad, but I still feel awful. Granted, my pushing her out of the way might have put her out of harm’s way as far as Romano was concerned, but I hate it that I hurt her.

I sort out her elbows, then I lie on top of her, supporting my weight so I don’t squash her. “Jess.” I kiss her. “Jess.”

“Yes?”

“Jess… I love you. Don’t leave me. Not ever.”

She smiles up at me and draws my face down for a kiss. “You can count on that, McAllister.”

We just kiss for a while then, and I reacquaint myself with her flavor. It’s been…what? I can’t even remember. A few days? A week? I can’t believe I let her disappear on me like that. It sure as hell won’t ever happen again. I stroke her tongue, explore the inside of her mouth. It’s lazy and slow, nothing like the urgent sex we’ve indulged in in the past. I’m going to make love to her, I decide. No more fucking.

Well, maybe some fucking. There’s something to be said, after all, for that hot, dirty, up-against-the-wall thing.

My hand starts to drift down her body, my rough fingertips tracing over her smooth skin. My dick’s gone rock hard—it’s in favor of the fucking, but I overrule it—and everything is starting to smell like sex. Jess lifts her knees, pressing her thighs on either side of my hips while she pulses softly under me.

I brush down her belly, headed for her pussy, and then—

I jerk back. “Jess?”

“What?” She sounds taken by surprise, but also a little irritated.

“Is it okay if we fuck? With the baby and all?”

She grabs my face and holds it steady so she can look directly into my eyes. “Yes. It’s okay. Don’t be silly.”

“Well, I don’t know this shit. I’m a guy.”

She reaches down and curls her fingers around my dick. “Oh really? I had no idea.” Then she tugs on me, and I close my eyes, the better to get myself back under control.

Lunging up again, she bites at my lip, and then we’re kissing again, harder now, and her mouth deep into mine while her hand starts to work my cock. God, it feels good. I’ve missed this so much. Not only the sex, but just being with her.