Chapter 4

4

KACIE

I 've slept more in the last three days than I have in the last eight years. I can't remember a time before this that I got eight hours a night, despite knowing the scientific and medical reasons I should be.

Studying medicine and juggling placements and exams meant there simply wasn't time to waste eight hours being unconscious. I've learned how to live off four or five, but I have to admit to myself, however begrudgingly, that I feel much more refreshed and alive after a full night's sleep. The bed here is comfy as sin, too, with plush pillows and the snuggliest blankets. Kellan called this place a safe house, so I expected the bare minimum. Compared to my tiny studio apartment, though, I feel like I'm living in luxury.

The thought of my kidnapper turned patient turned whatever the hell you call someone you had the best sex of your life with and have been hiding from ever since has me burying my head in my pillow with a groan. I'm wearing his clothes since I have none of my own here, and that dark, slightly spicy scent of him clings to my skin. I'm not one to avoid confrontation, but in the last few days, I've made every effort to speak to him in a strictly professional manner.

Because … fuck, there's something between us and I don't know if I can fight it. I don't want to fight it, which is insane. We can't work out, can we?

My heart beats the answer loud and clear.

Yes, you can.

Resolved to be a big girl and speaking to Kellan properly, I roll out of bed. I tug a plastic comb through my hair—not ideal but better than nothing—brush my teeth and braid my hair back out of my face before leaving the bedroom and heading in search of the Don.

"Mornin', Blondie," Kellan greets from the kitchen, his gaze landing on me like a physical touch. I step towards him, grateful when he slides me a warm mug of tea and gestures to the plate of toast and fruit waiting for me.

"Morning," I say back, my blood heating just being close to him. There's no denying it even if I want to. Whatever's between us … it's special. It's more than just physical attraction, though God knows there's tons of that too.

"Sleep well?" he asks, eyes roving over my body as I nod. He must see something written on my face because he adds, "What's going on in that pretty head, Doc?"

I huff a laugh and shrug, popping a strawberry in my mouth to avoid answering while I consider my words. He watches my lips as I chew, looking like he's starving for more than fruit.

I swallow and say, "I just … I'm not used to doing nothing, I guess. I miss my work, you know? I've been working towards being a doctor and surgeon my whole life and now…"

Kellan nods, not looking apologetic at all, but there's a flash of understanding in his eyes. "You don't have to give that up."

I frown. "I heard you say you weren't gonna let me go," I point out, weirdly not scared by that fact. Out of all the people who could have kidnapped me, a Mafia man who feeds me delicious food and makes me tea and fucks me so good I can't stop thinking about it for days is hardly something I can be mad about—all things considered. Shit, now I'm thinking about fucking him.

Get control of yourself! I try to tell my body, but my pussy is not listening. My body wants him and bad.

"True," Kellan admits with a one-shoulder shrug. "But this is the Mafia, gorgeous. We need a talented doc, and a surgeon's even better."

I consider that, nodding. I hate the idea of anyone getting hurt like Kellan had been, but if I'm not around to stitch them up and treat them … the thought makes me shudder. "I'll need more than that tiny first aid box."

Kellan smirks, and it damn near takes my breath away. If he keeps this up, I'm going to need to treat myself for an oxygen deficiency.

"Make a list," he tells me, sipping his coffee. "Whatever you need."

I raise a brow at him, sliding a blueberry between my lips purposefully slowly. His eyes track the movement, his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallows hard. Knowing he's as affected by my presence as I am by his makes sparks skitter along my skin.

"Whatever I need?" I repeat back to him.

"You'll need clothes, too. When it's safe enough to leave here and go back to my place, I'll send a team to get all your stuff from your apartment," he says casually, as if it's no big deal.

I blink at him as he pulls a silver card out of his wallet and slides it across the countertop to me. He slips out of the kitchen, returning seconds later with a laptop.

"It's locked up tighter than a maximum security prison," he says with a laugh, gesturing to the device. "Order whatever you need with that and use the name on that card for delivery."

I can't help but challenge him. I look him in the eyes, listing off a huge list of supplies I need, expecting him to balk and give me a budget or tell me to calm down. Instead, he just raises a brow and looks entirely unfazed.

He taps the card on the counter with a tattooed finger before leaning across so my next breath is filled with the delicious scent of his cologne.

"Go wild, Blondie," he murmurs darkly.

Game on , I think as he stands, telling me he needs to go make a "work" call and winking before he leaves.

I bring up multiple websites, grinning as the carts fill up.

An hour or so later, Kellan appears behind me, his breath warm on my neck as he leans down to look at the screen over my shoulder. I glance back at him, making sure he sees the five-figure price tag on my basket as I hit the check-out button. The payment processes for no more than a few seconds before a message pops up promising to have the delivery here within two days since I paid for expedited shipping.

Kellan groans, leaning closer so his lips brush my neck. I shudder, unable to stop the goosebumps that prickle over my skin, my whole body hyper-aware of his closeness.

"Fuck, Blondie, it turns me on seeing you spend my money," he says, his voice low and gravelly.

My breath hitches. Is he serious? He can't be serious, right? Except when I risk flicking my gaze to him, there's a dark desire in his eyes that I can't explain away.

When was the last time someone looked at me like this? When was the last time someone took care of me like this? There's a warm, fluttery feeling in my belly as Kellan stares me down, making me forget how to breathe.

The fiercely independent, driven part of me balks slightly at the bigger, louder part of me that's screaming about how good it feels to be taken care of for once. I reason with myself that I can absolutely be spoiled rotten and independent as hell at the same time.

Kellan makes me feel like I deserve to be taken care of, and I want more of that. I want more of him.

"What's that look on your face for?" Kellan asks, breaking me out of my thoughts.

I blink, realizing I've been staring at him this whole time.

"It just…" I trail off, not knowing how to describe it, before deciding to blurt out my thoughts. "It feels nice to be taken care of the way you've been taking care of me the last few days. The shopping spree, but also the meals and the comfy ass bed?—"

Fast as lightning, Kellan grabs the bar stool I'm perching on and drags it away from the counter. I squeal as his arms wrap around my waist, lifting me clean off my feet into the air. Automatically, I cling to him, thighs around his hips and fingers clinging to his shoulders.

"I can make you feel even better than that, Blondie," he groans in my ear, and I shiver from head to toe in his arms.

He walks us a few steps over to the sofa, cradling me as he lowers me down, kneeling over my body.

I don't hesitate to kiss him. It's a need—something I couldn't fight even if I wanted to. He kisses me back fervently before his lips travel down my throat to my shoulder. Kellan's hands slide under my t-shirt, pushing the fabric up to expose my stomach and chest. My breaths come in short pants as he kisses down my breasts, sucking and nipping at the sensitive flesh, then down my stomach, leaving fiery warmth in his wake.

When his tongue traces under the waistband of my borrowed sweatpants, I can't help the whimper that leaves my mouth. I've never felt a raw need like this. It's as though if he doesn't touch me now, I'll sob.

Thankfully, he doesn't make me wait.

"God, I can't wait to taste you," Kellan groans as he drags my sweatpants and underwear down, discarding the clothes on the floor. Immediately, I part my thighs, giving him access to all of me to do whatever the hell he wants with me. I'm his—every part of me.

"Fuck, so wet for me," Kellan growls, primal lust in his voice as he hooks my knees over his shoulders and buries his face between my thighs.

Kellan swipes his tongue through the center of me, and I gasp, pleasure spiking through me so fast it makes my vision flash. He circles my clit with tight, soft strokes, and my nails dig into the sofa cushion beneath me as bliss unspools low in my stomach.

"Oh, God. Kellan!" I moan, lost in the pleasure he's giving me.

"Fuck, I need to hear you scream my name like that when I'm inside you again," he grunts, turning his face to nip at my thigh.

He looks up at me, his lips wet with my juices, eyes dark and gleaming.

"My filthy little doctor," he teases as he rises over me. I scramble to shove his pants down, needing him to fuck me, needing him to fill me. "My eager little slut, aren't you?"

The degradation makes me gasp, an unexpected jolt of desire flooding me. I bite my lip, nodding up at him, completely under his spell. I never have thought I'd enjoy a man calling me that, but those words on Kellan's tongue are so deliciously dark and sinful that I just want more.

I raise my hips, trying to get him to give us what we both want.

He looks down at me, reaching out to cup my throat with his palm. My pulse thrums hard against his touch as I arch into him. I know these same hands have fought and done more damage than I even know, but I don't feel scared when he touches me like this. His thumb strokes up the side of my neck, and it's the perfect combination of dominating and sweet.

"You want my cock, Blondie?" he asks, voice ragged.

"Yes!" I answer immediately, far beyond being embarrassed by it.

"Say it, then," he urges, squeezing my throat slightly, just enough to add to the combination of desire and desperation flowing through me. "Say you're my little slut. Say you need my cock. Beg for me to fuck you."

My breath stutters, but I only hesitate a second before rushing to say, "I'm yours, Kellan. Your slut." I breathe, staring up at his bright blue eyes, feeling the connection between us grow even stronger. "And I need you so bad. I need your cock inside me, fucking me, making me scream your name. Please give it to me. Please, Kellan."

"Fuck, you beg so pretty for me," he groans, the praise making me light up just as much as his degradation did. Without letting go of my throat, he presses my thighs wider apart with his own and lines himself up. With one deep thrust, he fills me completely. The relief and pleasure are overwhelming, and for a second I forget how to breathe. "God, this cunt is so perfect. Made for me."

I nod as much as I can in his hold, already so close to the edge from his teasing. His patience seems as ragged as mine now, though, because he pulls out and thrusts into me even harder, making the sofa creak beneath us. I arch up off the cushions, alive with pleasure, clinging to him and moaning so loudly I'm sure whoever's undoubtedly outside keeping guard can hear every single sound. I don't care. I can't care about anything else but us, Kellan, and the way he's making me feel.

"You gonna come for me like the pretty little slut you are?" Kellan asks.

My mouth parts in a silent cry as he adjusts his angle so his pelvis grinds against my clit with every movement.

I'm so close. Writhing beneath him, his hand on my throat, with him playing my body like a damn violin, I'm out of my mind with pleasure.

"Mine , " he growls, and I shatter.

"KELLAN!" I scream as my orgasm washes over me, making me shake and gasp beneath him.

Kellan swears, groaning my name, and I feel heat fill me as he comes, falling over the edge with me.

As I regain control of my breaths, wrapped tight against Kellan on the sofa, all I can think is that he may have committed a literal crime to get me here, but there's nowhere else I'd rather be.