Sweet Retribution (Ruthless Games Book 2)
Chapter 22

My pulse races as I take the stairs to the second floor two at a time. Every scar on my body seems to itch and burn, even the ones that weren’t caused by Jordan. It’s like he re-opened every single old cut and poured gasoline in the wounds.

Phantom sensation rushes through my ruined arm, making fingers I no longer have prickle painfully.

The hallway is dark as I practically run toward my room, and when I get inside, I don’t bother turning on the light in this room either. I shut the door and lean against the wall beside it, breathing heavily as my knees finally give out. I slide down the wall until my ass hits the floor, and then I wrap my arm around my legs, shrinking into a tight ball. My fingers dig into my calf, and I bare my teeth in a silent snarl as tears burn the backs of my eyes.

Motherfucker.

I want to kill him.

I wish I fucking had.

I wish I’d grabbed someone’s beer bottle and smashed it on a table, then shoved it through Jordan’s throat.

But all I did was stare at him. I didn’t even say anything.

The door opens silently, and I hate the way my body tenses with fear as it does.

“Rose?” Theo’s voice is quiet. “What the hell is going on?”

He closes the door behind him, and I realize he must’ve come alone. I keep my eyes pinched shut, but I’m still aware of his movement as he sinks into a crouch in front of me.

“What happened?”

His fingertips brush my face, and I let out a strangled noise, shoving myself harder against the wall as I cringe away from his touch. He pulls his hand away immediately, and I can hear a change in his voice when he speaks again. A hardness, as if he’s already guessed the answer to his question.

“Did someone hurt you?”

Gritting my teeth so hard my jaw aches, I nod slowly. My eyes blink open, and even though it’s still dark, I can see the outline of Theo’s face and the soft gleam of his eyes.

“Fuck.”

There’s so much fury and pain carried in that single word that it makes my chest ache. I’ve carried the fury and pain of my abuse in my heart for years, but I’ve never had someone feel those emotions on my behalf before.

It lightens the burden a little, somehow, giving my lungs space to draw in a little more air.

As they do, a sharp sob escapes me, and Theo reaches for me again before stopping himself. His hand hovers in the air between us, and I know he’s remembering the way I reacted to his touch a moment ago.

I stare at his outstretched fingertips through the tears that cloud my vision. I want him to touch me, and at the same time, I don’t. My body still tingles everywhere, an unpleasant sensation—like there are ants crawling just below the surface of my skin.

For years, I avoided touch. I avoided sex. It wasn’t until I met Marcus, Theo, and Ryland that something opened up inside me. The way I feel about them, the way my body seems to crave them, is something I never thought I would experience.

But now it feels like it’s slipping away.

I’m sinking under a heavy blanket of numbness, and my body can’t seem to distinguish between threat and safety anymore.

“What can I do?” Theo’s hand is still poised between us, and his shadowed face looks tortured as he gazes at me in the darkness. “Tell me how I can help you, Rose. Please.”

Tears track down my face, gathering on my chin before dripping onto my shirt. I feel like I’m falling, like I’m drifting away from myself, losing the person I’ve built myself into. And I don’t want that.

I don’t want to lose what I’ve found.

I don’t want to let Jordan take this from me too.

So I drag in a deep breath and unclench my fingers from where they dig into my calf. My hand shakes, and I feel like I’m forcing my limb to move through drying cement as I reach out for Theo’s hand. When my fingers close around it, I feel him react, but he lets me guide our movements as I slowly drag it toward me.

Straightening slightly, I press his palm against my upper chest, just above the neckline of my shirt. The prickling feeling in my skin intensifies, and I hiss out a breath. Theo tries to pull his hand away, but I cling to it harder, keeping it smashed against my chest even as my heart slams against it.

Nausea flips my stomach over, and I clench my jaw, trying to breathe through the conflicting messages bouncing back and forth between my mind and my body.

“Did he hurt you here?” Theo’s voice is rough but tender, his gaze steady on the place where his fingers splay over my skin.

I nod.

I tried like fuck not to let him, but he did. I never cared about Jordan McCabe in a way that should’ve allowed him to break my heart, but somehow, he managed to do it anyway. He broke my faith in people, and that cracked my heart open.

“I’m sorry, Rose. I’m so fucking sorry.”

Theo shifts a little closer to me, his hand softening against my skin. Every part of his palm molds to my chest, and his thumb drags back and forth slowly, making little bursts of sparks erupt inside me. It still hurts, but I keep my grip on him, breathing in time to the strokes of his thumb.

When I finally let my hand fall away, he keeps his pressed right where it is for a while, the single point of connection between us as we gaze into each other’s eyes.

Then Theo removes his hand too.

My body jerks forward a little, unconsciously chasing his touch, and my skin seems to chill in his absence.

Watching me carefully, he drops his head a little, and an exhale of warm breath over my skin makes me shiver.

“We will never hurt you, Ayla,” he murmurs. “I will never hurt you. Do you believe that?”

The broken part of my heart wants to scream that I don’t. That I can’t. That every bit of trust I give these men will be turned into a knife to hurt me with later.

But I don’t want to be fucking broken anymore.

My pulse thrums hard and fast as I tug my bottom lip between my teeth. I can’t form answers with words, so I reach out for Theo again, dragging him closer until his lips brush against the spot where his hand just was. A new wave of sensation bursts through me, pinpricks that could be either pleasure or pain, and I tilt my head, staring up blankly at the ceiling.

Theo doesn’t move.

He just keeps his lips pressed gently against me, inhaling my skin and warming me a little more with each exhaled breath.

Giving, not taking.

Healing, not hurting.

I’m pretty sure the tears dripping off my face are landing in his hair now, but he doesn’t seem to mind at all. I get the feeling he’d stay here forever if I let him, and it’s that thought that finally begins to slow my racing heart.

The feverish prickling of my nerve-endings subsides a little, and as it does, I become more and more aware of the firm warmth of Theo’s lips, of the heat radiating from his body. He’s big, broad-shouldered and muscular, but his strength doesn’t scare me.

Because he won’t hurt me.

Slowly, tentatively, my hand replaces its way to the back of his head, fingers sliding through his hair. In response to my touch, his lips begin to move too, tracing an exploratory path over my skin.

When he reaches my collarbone, my head lolls to one side, my eyes drifting closed as I give him access to my neck, a silent invitation to continue. He does, slowly and patiently, covering every inch of my skin with gentle kisses as a new kind of spark lights up inside me. I lose track of time as my head tilts to the other side, and when his hands slide over my legs, I let out a soft sigh.

I’m suddenly glad that Theo was the one who came upstairs after me. I know Marcus and Ryland would never hurt me either, but the violence of our craving for each other would’ve terrified me right now. Theo wants me just as much as they do, I’m sure of it, but there’s a sweetness and gentleness that tempers everything he does.

And in this moment, that’s exactly what I need.

I’m not even sure when I move or how it happens, but as Theo continues to pepper kisses across every inch of my neck and face, I rise up onto my knees before him. He matches my movement, hooking an arm around my waist as his lips finally meet mine.

Heat gathers in my core, but Theo doesn’t let our kiss rage out of control. He kisses my lips the same way he kissed every other part of me—with slow deliberation and tenderness, each one a promise.

A vow.

This man will never hurt me.

My arm tightens around his shoulders as I arch my back a little, and when I feel the press of his cock against my lower belly, a sharp zing of panic shoots through me, old memories trying to intrude again.

He tries to draw away, but I slide my hand down to his ass, pulling him closer, grinding against him until pleasure replaces the fear.

This man will never hurt me.

My breath is coming a little faster, and even though I can tell he’s fighting it, his is too. I slide my hand under his shirt, skimming my fingers over the skin of his stomach and muscular back, and he groans quietly into my mouth.

When I reach for the button of his jeans, he hesitates, pulling back a little. “Rose, I don’t want to—”

“I do.”

My voice is scratchy and raw, and I gaze at him in the darkness, replaceing the bright spots of his irises even in the dim light. He needs to hear me say it, or maybe I need to hear me say it. To prove that good things still exist, that love is still worth the fucking risk.

“I want you, Theo,” I murmur, my fingertips still hooked in the waistband of his dark jeans. “You asked what you could do. This is it. Please.”

He gazes at me for a second, like he’s searching for any hint of uncertainty or fear on my face. Then he gathers me in his arms and lifts me up, carrying me over to the bed.

When he sets me down, he lays his body over mine, hovering over me as he kisses me again and again.

He lets the heat between us build slowly, reading my body like an open book and only taking things further when he can see me begin to writhe hungrily beneath him. Even then, he takes his time peeling off every article of clothing we’re each wearing, worshipping every new inch of me he can reach.

His cock brushes the inside of my thigh as I let my legs fall open for him, and he slides a finger through my folds, testing my readiness. Then he grips my jaw lightly between his fingers and thumb, gazing down into my eyes.

“I’ll never want anyone but you, Rose,” he whispers. “I’ll worship you. I’ll protect you. And I’ll kill anyone who tries to hurt you.”

I swallow against the almost painful lump in my throat, wrapping my legs around his waist to urge him closer. The head of his cock slips inside me, stretching me a little as the metal of his piercing slides against my walls.

I’m wet. He’s taken every bit of pain in me and turned it back into pleasure, and I can feel how desperate my body is to take him in, to feel him buried inside me.

But he doesn’t rush this part either. He takes me inch by inch, reframing my world with every small press of his hips.

Rebuilding my heart.

When he’s fully rooted inside me, he stills, dropping his head to my shoulder as small sounds of contentment escape us both. He tastes my skin as we begin to rock together, our bodies moving in sync to chase the pleasure that surrounds us like a cocoon.

I feel utterly safe in his arms.

Utterly loved.

And every time harsh memories of the past try to resurface in my mind, Theo draws them out of me with gentle kisses, as if he’s sucking the poison out of a wound.

Even now, even as he fucks me with strong, even strokes, he’s protecting me.

“Theo…”

My fingernails rake softly against his back as I arch against him, and I feel him groan in response. His whole body shudders, and he slows his thrusts, grinding his hips against mine every time he buries himself inside me. He brings me right to the edge twice, backing off just before my pleasure peaks, until every nerve-ending in my body is flooded with nothing but euphoria.

It’s like he’s erasing Jordan from my cells, from my atoms, forcing him out to make room for something perfect and new.

“Theo!” I clench around him, clinging to him as my head tips back on the pillow. My hips are swirling desperately, rolling against his as I squeeze his cock, and he lets out a choked groan.

“I know, baby. I’m right there with you. Look at me, Rose.” He fists my hair loosely, his thrusts growing harder and deeper as he braces himself on one arm, his face hovering above mine. “You’re so fucking beautiful. Let me see you come.”

I bite my lip, tears burning my eyes again as I let myself fly over the edge. My inner walls convulse, pleasure expanding outward as a naked cry falls from my lips.

As the last waves of my orgasm make me flutter around him, he shifts our position suddenly, sitting back on his heels as he pulls me up with him. Our chests smash together, and he thrusts up into me one more time as he comes with a deep grunt.

I watch him too, my eyes tracking hungrily over his face as his lips go taut for a second, his nostrils flaring.

Then he rests his forehead against mine, breathing heavily as he holds me close. He lowers me back onto the mattress and withdraws from me before rolling us onto our sides.

I’m sweaty. I didn’t realize I worked up a sweat, but my skin is a little damp. My body feels lax and exhausted, and I don’t think it’s just from the sex. It’s from the overload of emotions, the animalistic flight response that rose up in me when I saw Jordan earlier.

The thought of my onetime foster father makes my stomach clench again, but it doesn’t send the same debilitating rush of fear through me that it did earlier.

I’ve lived with the trauma of what happened to me long enough to know that nothing Theo does could erase it entirely.

But I don’t need it erased.

I don’t need to pretend it never happened.

I need to remember that Jordan didn’t take my strength. He didn’t destroy my capacity to feel pleasure or love.

And whether he knows it or not, that’s what Theo just showed me.