Chapter 8

With the sun already high in the sky, my aching body reclined in the balcony hot tub’s whirling jets. Wispy steam, tinged with chemicals from the sudsy water, merged with that of the coffee in my mug. Another sigh left me, the millionth of the morning, as my mind continued wobbling.

What had I done? Ruined my life? Really? Dad’s visage tried to make an appearance, but the quiet screeching of a pair of birds high in the blue sky put paid to it. Yeah, at that point, with Daniella still asleep in my bed, he held no more power over me.

Ruining her life? Also, no. Her husband had beaten her ... again. She’d come to me, and I’d accepted her. Done deal; okay, so some of dad’s better ideas remained.

At a quiet yawn and soft footfalls, I looked up to find her in the open balcony doorway. One hand holding disheveled hair, she squinted towards the nearby towers, gleaming in the sunshine.

Hell, she also gleamed in the sunshine. That was the first time I’d seen her in broad daylight, and my throat tightened. A dark purple cami draped her tits, both sporting thick, sharp nipples. The gap left by the hanging material, lined with frilly lace, revealed the curvy muscles of a toned stomach. Between firm thighs, a high-cut triangle of delicate flowers, gauzy enough to hide little, hugged her. Below the shrouded diamond, glittering amid the tiny blooms, my fingertips’ playground clung to her seam.

“Morning, baby,” I said.

That got her smiling, and teeth sank deep into her lower lip. When she found my gaze, a single shiny fingernail of her other hand slid into her panties, pulling the tacky lace from her slit. As the tiniest whimper escaped her, those eyes twinkled with playfulness and, leaving the finger beneath the taut flowers, ran it along the tight leg hole.

Alright, she definitely wasn’t ruined. Well, the shiner she sported, and the slim cuts said at least part of her life had been shattered. But that had led her to me, and with a smile, I lifted my mug.

“Coffee’s in the kitchen.”

“Gracias, mi amor.” A curt gasp left her. “Oh, can I call you that?”

“Yeah.”

At my smile widening, so did her grin, and she gave me a slow spin on her toes before disappearing inside. Yes, playful Daniella had arrived. That was a damn good sign. Calling me her lover? Well, that’d been the cherry on top.

A few minutes later, after stepping back out into the sun, she leaned in the doorframe, sipping from a steaming cup. Her gaze wandered between downtown and me. At the quiet smacking of her lips, I focused on her.

“Didn’t bring a swimsuit, Tigh,” she muttered, scanning the sudsy whirls.

“Not wearing one.” I chortled.

“Oh.”

No giggle, no sound after that, she placed the mug on the thin wooden tub rim and pranced—yep, pranced—out onto the balcony. In full view of the sun and anyone who cared to watch, her hands found the shiny top’s swaying hem. Eyes twinkling, flooded with the same impishness as when she’d teased Parker the doorman, she lifted it, revealing her torso. As the twisting purple drew a cloud of dark wavy hair upward, she giggled. Massive, her globes, their darker circles and stiff stems winking in the sun’s soft glow, juddered.