Pakhan's Rose (Pakhan #1)(48)

A young couple in their early twenties rode on a motorcycle in the middle of the empty street with deserts and canyons surrounding them. A guy wearing a black Queen T-shirt and blue jeans along with boots held the handlebars and gazed ahead, while the girl behind him wrapped her arms around his waist and laughed happily with her head tilted back. Her hair was blown away by the wind, and the band around her forehead kept it from getting in her eyes. Her clothes were yellow and orange. She wore lots of jewelry on her neck, ears, and hands.

The shot must have been taken from the car riding in front of them, because it captured the moment perfectly without them having to pose for it. There was something oddly familiar about the couple to me, but I couldn't name it. Damian appeared just as clueless. He just kept running his fingers over their faces as his brows furrowed. 

The next picture was the same couple during their wedding day. They seemed older. Gone were the hippie attributes, replaced with a black tux for the man and a long, white chiffon dress with small pearls on it for the woman. Her hand rested protectively on the small bump, clearly indicating pregnancy. The couple radiated happiness, which even the old-ass picture couldn't hide it.

Another one was with them holding two babies in the hospital as the woman lay exhausted but happy on the bed. The man held his family protectively in the crook of his arm, creating a shield from the outside world.

The man looked so much like my brother and me. The resemblance was impossible to ignore.

Then it hit me, all at fucking once.

"Are those our parents?" Damian asked with a hoarse voice, as the flat of his palm landed on the last photograph.

"Yes," Don replied. "They used to be my friends. Mine and my wife's, Sorcha." A ghost of a smile appeared on his face while remembering his wife. "Sorcha and Kristina liked to get into trouble, and we'd have to rescue them."

"Is that why you allowed me to keep Rosa and watched me carefully?" Damian asked, his eyes still glued to the picture in the hospital.

"Yes, it's hard to mistake those eyes. Plus, you do share some of his traits."

"Why now?" The question came from me. I couldn't wrap my head around this information. Why couldn't he share all this before? Don shrugged, took out his cigar, and lit it.

"Seemed like a good wedding present, and besides, it wouldn't have changed anything."

"So Dad was part of the mafia?"

"No, we were childhood friends. He was a lawyer and heir to an empire. He liked to protect the weak, though, so he was kind of a Robin Hood. Did similar stuff like you guys, and one of the reasons those men did what they did. I couldn't come help in time, even though I warned him not to mess with those men without backup." His hand fisted, but the pitch of his voice stayed even.

"That's neither here nor there, though. The point is, the life you lead can destroy things you love the most." His narrowed stare burned into mine. "And I don't want my little girl to be collateral damage." Then he shifted his gaze to Damian. "Or your sweet woman. So on your wedding day, I'll give you two pieces of advice. You forget about being Sociopath, and you"-he pointed his index finger at me-"learn to provide as much protection as you possibly can to my daughter." With those words, he left to join Mary on the dance floor while she blushed from his invitation, leaving us dumbstruck.

Silence fell over us for several seconds, with Damian breaking it with a low voice. "Do you want the pictures?" I nodded, because who wouldn't want them? Remembering our parents was one thing, but having proof that they were happy and wanted us? Yeah, no one could say no to that.

He split them evenly between us and then patted my shoulder. "I need to find Sapphire." He searched for her and finally spotted her near the bar, chatting with Luke. He darted toward her, leaving me sitting there alone with uncomfortable emotions I couldn't name playing inside me.

Who would have thought our parents used to be that fun-loving couple who fought for justice? Or that they had an Italian Mafia Don for a friend.

A friend who was the father of the woman I desperately wanted to claim as mine.

If it weren't for S, John, Richard, and the whole human trafficking, I would have had a chance with her. She'd always have been close. No one would ever have harmed her or me, and she'd probably have been my wife the minute she became legal.



       
         
       
        

Everything closed off in me. A red haze played in front of my eyes, and I barely restrained myself from standing up and running the fuck away. Building rage, which didn't go away no matter how much I tried, demanded me to fight someone and see blood.

I was so disconnected from everything around me that the gentle touch on my cheek came out of nowhere and snapped me out of my stupor. My eyes traveled back up to the gorgeous vision in pink. I drank in her beauty and aura of serenity only she could provide for me. "Dominic?" Rosa asked softly, and without further words, I grabbed her elbow and sat her on my lap as she gasped in surprise.

The bullshit of three months was over.

I was fucking done waiting around on her. It made me a bastard, maybe.

Made me an unforgivable human being.

Maybe.

But I was fucking done.

"No, I'm not all right. I need you," I whispered harshly, probably scaring her, which would cement her views on not giving me a chance-not that I was going to wait for one.

Rosa studied me then laced her hands through my hair, brought her mouth close to mine, and whispered in it, her lips touching mine in the lightest of caresses, "Okay."

"Наконец то." (Nakonecto) Finally.

After months of wanting, yearning, rejections, and heavy petting sessions, my woman was ready to be claimed and conquered.



Rosa

My arms and legs wrapped around Dominic, while he ground his hips against me, creating a friction I just couldn't get enough of, so I pressed my pelvis as close as freaking possible. With each step he took toward our room in this cozy, Victorian-style decorated inn, it was a mini slice of heaven. His fingers dug painfully into my thighs as we continued kissing deeply, his tongue seeking mine. Nothing existed for me but this man, his smell, just him.

Nipping on his jaw, I murmured, "How do you even know where to go?" He licked along my bottom lip, tugging on it while my nails scratched his back under his white shirt. Why did he have to have on so many clothes? We'd already gotten rid of the jacket, throwing it on the floor somewhere on the way.

"Trust me," he whispered, and all the questions flew from my mind.

I did. So irrevocably. So truthfully. Romance books just didn't do justice to the intensity one could have for another human who could become so vital to you, to the point you couldn't imagine your life without him.

He finally reached our room, carried me inside, and closed the door with his foot. The moonlight shone through the balcony French doors, bright enough to see every detail, but not enough to make me feel self-conscious about the moment. His hand fisted my hair while another possessively held my back. "I want nothing more than to push you against the wall and take what belongs to me," he groaned into my hair. "But I can't." 

"I'm not stopping you." Gasping, I shifted my hips firmer against his. God, why had we never done it before?

"Shh, krasavica. I'm in charge tonight." He walked us to the bedroom and placed me gently on the bed. "Take off your dress. Slowly."

Gulping, I rose on my knees and removed my dress over my head, leaving me completely naked, since a bra didn't fit the design and panties showed panty lines, which drove me crazy.

His amber eyes ignited, as he growled, "Bare? While countless men danced with you?" Technically only four: Michael, Vitya, my dad, and Connor, but I didn't think clarifying was the best choice at the moment. My sexy caveman just didn't care who. If the person had a penis, he would get jealous.

To reassure him, I whispered, "Nobody matters but you."

His gaze softened as he ripped open his shirt and removed his belt; his pants came off with one swift movement, and we were both naked. "Lie on your back."

Frowning, I did what he said, although I wondered why he couldn't have chosen something more adventurous. We had been in this position countless times before. He slid one knee onto the bed, pushing himself up, closing around me like a dome. Placing his hands on either side of my head, he bent down and kissed my neck, brushing his lips over the sensitive spot right under my ear.

Gasping, my body hummed as if lightning struck it. I dug my nails into his shoulders while he trailed lower, murmuring, "Your skin is like silk, soft to the touch, and so delicate." To prove his words, he bit me lightly and then immediately soothed the sting with his tongue, bathing the place with saliva. "One touch, and everyone knows you've been in my bed," he said smugly.

Shifting lower, he nipped around the cross on my collarbone. "Anytime my eyes land on your neck, it pleases me to know you belong to me. That no one had the privilege of this body before me." He straddled me, gripping my hips and parting them to allow closer contact with his erection. To his satisfaction, a moan slipped from my lips.

He thumbed my hardened nipples, blowing on them gently. Goose bumps ran through me as he captured one nipple with his mouth, suckling on it as though he were starving. His hands trailed lower to my waist, pressing on it as if he wanted to imprint himself completely into me. He repeated the same action with the other breast, making me arch further into his hold, right before he let go and flipped me over him. A squeal of surprise left me.