“Your face is all flushed,” he says, leaning down to kiss my dry lips.

“Do we have to go back now?” I ask, dreading the answer.

“Yeah, we better. Come on."

I get off the swing, and busy myself, brushing off my ass in case there's anything on there from the swing. In reality, I don't want him to see my eyes tearing up, but I could blame it on the wind.

“We’ll come out again, all right?” he says when I finally face him, playing with a lock of my hair. “Besides, I think you have something to take care of as soon as we get back inside,” he adds, taking a step forward, a devilish glint in his eye.

I take a step back and he frowns. Before he has the time to think it over, I take his hand in mine and squeeze it, averting his attention. “Is that right?" I ask as we retrace our steps toward the house.

My prison. But not for much longer.

“Why did you push me on the swing?” I ask, shaking that thought off.

“I remember as a kid, it used to make me feel free.” That's all he says, and he doesn’t need to explain anymore. He wanted me to feel free, even for a moment. Even if it was an illusion.

What he doesn’t know is I intend to be free once again.

On our way back to the house, we spot a figure by the parked car in front. I can tell by their build it's a man, gesturing wildly with his hands as he yells into the phone, pacing back and forth next to the vehicle. Devon and I look at each other, the same question on his face that I'm sure mine shows. My hand flies into the jacket's inner pocket and grips the gun I found in Devon's room, its coldness shocking my fingers. I relax them, mentally scolding myself for almost giving it away, and pull my hand out, careful not to catch his attention. Devon crouches behind the low stone wall near the backyard entrance gate and gestures for me to do the same. I follow him down and press my back against the wall.

“Who is it?” I whisper-yell, looking at him.

He doesn't reply, but shushes me with his hand. His eyebrows scrunch in concentration: I actually see him straining to hear the conversation. All I can hear is a voice occasionally rising, but the only word I make out is “soon,” yelled so loudly I jump a little. Devon places a hand on my shoulder, probably to reassure me.

A car door slams, and then I hear the sound of an engine starting. I peek up from the wall to see it driving off, the tires screeching against the wet pavement.

I turn to look at Devon, and ask him about it again. He ignores me, his eyes on the spot where the car disappeared. He shakes his head as if to clear it, and then finally looks at me, a blank expression on his face.

“Who was it?” I ask for the third time.

“No one,” he says shortly. His tone of voice tells me it was definitely someone, but I don't ask again. What does it matter to me? If I play my cards right I'll be out of here soon enough, and then it will all be over.

We make it back to the house without seeing anyone else. I panic for a moment, thinking we'd go into the room we were in earlier for some reason, but he leads me straight to my—his—room.

After locking the door, Devon undresses himself and slides between the sheets, beckoning to me. I go into the bathroom instead, and carefully hang the jacket on the door, then I strip and walk out of the bathroom in his boxers only, holding them at my hips with my hands. His hungry eyes roam my body, and when they reach my waist, I let the boxers fall down as well and step out of them. I smile when I realize he's already stroking himself under the sheet.

I point at him with my finger as I walk in his direction. “If I remember correctly, you have a promise to keep.”

I get into bed and straddle him, leaning down and taking his mouth in a hungry kiss, pressing myself against him to feel his body warmth. He pushes my shoulders and we pull apart, my breathing already heavy and my stomach fluttering in anticipation as I feel his hard cock pressing between my thighs.

“Leighton?”

“Yeah,” I reply, my eyes on his lips.

“Whatever you were thinking out there, just don’t do anything stupid, okay?” he whispers, running his large hands down my back and stopping on my ass, squeezing. Instead of replying, I capture his lips in another demanding, needy kiss, making us both forget everything but each other.

thirteen

DEVON

My hand falls to the space next to me, only to find it cold and empty. It's not exactly a case of déjà-vu, but I get a familiar sense of dread.

I let down my guard, again. I keep doing it around her, like she's not here against her will.

I prop myself up against the headboard and look around the room. Nothing looks out of place. But it was the same the first time she escaped. If I'd known she'd get another one of her ideas again when I took her out, I'd never have done it.

Liar, I think to myself. Of course I would have, I wouldn't even think about it.

My gaze lands on the bathroom door, then follow the slither of light filtering under it.

“Fuck.” I reach for the door before I even know it. I burst inside, startling Leighton in a tub full of water. It sloshes all over the rim when she jumps up.

I raise my hands in a calming gesture. “Sorry, didn't mean to scare you.”

Settling down, she looks me over from head to toe. Then she lets her head fall back and covers her eyes with her arm. “Can you go put on some clothes?”

“Sure,” I say, walking out and looking for my boxers. I pull them on, then go back into the bathroom and sit down and lean my chest against the tub, my fingers playing with the hot water. I raise my head in her direction. “Are you okay?”

She snorts, splashing me with water. “Yeah, just sore.” She laughs, a melodious sound that makes my heart skip a beat. “I'll be fine.”

Well, that explains it. If it wasn't me, it was her waking me up for more. We fucked, we made love, then fucked again.

I'm not a possessive man by nature. I don't put claim on things or assume they belong to me, people included. Growing up, after my whole family disappeared, I never felt like anything belonged to me, or like I belonged to someone. I was Devon Andre, the son of Rebecca and Joe Andre, and then I was nobody. The title of the son, the heir to this mobster empire, it didn't belong to me. They were gone, and so was I.

And the only thing I had left was revenge.

Until Leighton. I knew, the second I touched her in that dark alley, that I had finally found someone to belong to. Too bad it was the one woman I wasn't allowed. Even if things weren't the way they were, even if I didn't want to wipe out every one of her family members from this planet, I wouldn't be allowed near her. Because I am an Andre, and she is a Moore, and we don't mix. Her father would castrate me if I came anywhere near his only daughter. My father, if he were alive, would probably send me far away, just to keep us apart.

In a different world, a different story, in any universe, we aren't meant for each other.

And I belong to her wholly. Completely.

“So, random question.” Thankfully she breaks my thoughts, leaning over the edge of the tub. Droplets of water cascade down her body. I wet my lips, but really I want to lick each and every one of those drops of water off her skin. She quickly sits back down, giving me a reprimanding look. “Don't even think about it, I'm not kidding.”

I shrug. It's not my fault she's sexy as hell, and I can finally touch her after all this time. “I missed you,” I tell her, looking straight ahead. There's a moment of silence. “What's your question?” I finally ask after she doesn't say anything to my admission.

It stings, but I ignore it. What did I expect?

“What's with the iron bars on the windows in this room? Were your parents worried about your safety, or something?” She whispers the words parents, like I'll break down crying if she says it any louder.

“Not really. After . . . after it happened, my uncle came to take over. He had them installed.”

She ponders this for a second. “But only in your room?”

“Yeah, maybe he was afraid whoever took them would come back for me?” I make it sound like a question because I really have no idea why he did that. When he had them installed in my room, I thought it was just that my room goes first, and then all the others would get the bars, too. Then I just forgot about the whole thing.

“I guess. That man gives me the creeps.”

“Yeah, he can be intimidating,” I say, laughing. I remember a time or two when he had come over to see us, and he was definitely not the man he is now. He never said much, but there was a lightness, a warmness in his eyes. Something he doesn't have now, not even when it comes to me, his only remaining family.

Or maybe that's just the thing. Maybe he thinks I'm not supposed to be here, either.

Water sloshes as she stands up. I get up from the cold travertine and she extends her hand to me to help her out. I take the towel she left on the vanity then dry her off carefully, inspecting the two hickeys on her neck and then frowning at the red and purple finger-shaped bruises on her collarbone. She tilts my chin up with her finger, then leans in and kisses me lightly on the lips, forgiving me. It doesn't make me feel any better, but I let her kiss me, enjoying the way her soft lips mold to mine.

She pulls away and smiles, putting her hands around my neck and burying her face into my shoulder. I press myself against her warm body, skimming my hands down her waist but going no further.