(Caid)
The moment the first sob hitched in her chest, something in Caid's world fucking broke.
He was a man of grit and grease, not soft sheets and softer feelings.
He'd built his empire with his own two hands, not from some fancy office, but on the deck of a rig, with the smell of crude oil and sweat as his perfume. He commanded respect because he'd done every shit job he ever asked another man to do.
He knew how to control a drill that could tear through a mile of ocean floor. He knew how to control a deal that could break a rival's spirit.
But this? This sound coming from her? He couldn't control this.
It wasn't a show. It was a quiet, gut-wrenching break. The kind of cry that comes from a place so deep it steals the air from the room.
It was the most terrifying sound he'd ever heard-worse than the shriek of metal giving way under pressure.
His first instinct was panic. Women didn't cry in his bed. They came. They left. It was simple.
But his body moved without permission.
He pulled out of her, the action uncharacteristically careful.
He yanked her against his chest, her tears already soaking through his shirt. She didn't fight; she just fell into him, small and shattered. Something he'd broken.
"Fuck," he growled, the word rough in the quiet room. "Did I hurt you?" His voice was low, gravelly with an unfamiliar edge. "Talk to me. Was I too rough? I fucking lost it. I forgot you weren't some seasoned fuck. I plowed into you like you could take it."
She just shook her head against him, her silence worse than any answer.
Shit. He was losing his goddamn mind.
"Hey.Stop it," he said, his tone closer to an order than comfort. But his hands... his hands betrayed him.
One arm locked around her, holding her tight against him. The other hand - a hand that could fix a broken valve on a rig under a hundred feet of water-came up and cupped the back of her head.
His thumb, rough and calloused, stroked her hair. The gentleness of it felt like a betrayal of his entire being.
He hated it. This weakness. This feeling like his chest was cracking open.
"Don't fucking cry," he muttered, his voice dropping into a rough whisper against her hair. "Just... stop. I'll fix it."
Fix what, you idiot? You are the disaster.
But the words were out. And he meant them. He'd buy her a new company. He'd break her fucking father. He'd burn his own family's world to the ground if it meant she'd stop crying.
He found himself rocking her, a slow, steady rhythm he didn't recognize.
"Whatever it is," he promised,his voice a low, crude vow. "I'll make it right."
The thought horrified him. This wasn't just about wanting her. This was a dangerous, terrifying need to protect what was his. To shelter her.
He was being soft. And it made him want to punch a wall.
But he didn't let go. He held her, this girl who'd turned him inside out, and let her cry. He used a voice he didn't know he had to make promises he fully intended to keep.
For the first time in his ruthless,get-your-hands-dirty life, Caid was completely out of his depth.
****
Noah's POV.
Who the hell cries after mind blowing sex?
And I'm not talking the cute type of cry but the ugly ass real deal that came with snort and twisted up face...Jeez, Noah, get it together!
The sound of my own sob snapped me back to reality. Oh my God. I was crying. In front of him.
I expected to feel embarrassed, to be worried about what he thought of this messy, weak version of me. But I didn't.
I was just… pissed. Pissed and, to my complete horror, still stupidly turned on. I am now more than ever convinced that in my past life I was a hooker or something.
A girl shouldn't like sex this much, right?!
And his soft, rumbly voice and his gentle hands weren't helping one bit.
I shoved myself away from his chest, scrambling off the bed like it was on fire.
I couldn't stand the feel of him, the smell of him, for one more second. He had this odd power of making every other problem disappear and he becomes the center of the universe with one look.
I started pacing, my bare feet slapping against the cold floor.
He just sat up on the bed, watching me. And he was still hard. He didn't even try to hide it, just sat there all confident and sexy and… infuriating. Like he owned the air in the room.
"Do you h-have any idea w-what you've done?" My voice was shaky, but it wasn't from tears anymore. It was from rage. "M-my mother's murder… the one thing I care about… it's over now. Because of you. Because your stupid, rock-hard abs and your stupid hazelnut eyes and your… your whole stupid, sexy body!"
"Sorry?" He looked amused. Insanely hot...pleased with himself.
I stopped pacing and pointed a shaking finger at him. "You stole my v-virginity! You ruined my life!"
His face, which had been all soft and concerned a second ago, went hard in a flash. The gentle man was gone, replaced by the arrogant prick I'd met last night.
"I ruined you?" he shot back, his voice a low growl. "You came to me. You knocked on my door in the middle of the night. You begged me to marry you. You asked me to fuck you. Don't you dare say I stole anything from you. I don't take what is not given willingly!"
"Because I thought you were Kincade Essex!" I yelled, the words tearing out of my throat. "Why didn't you tell me you weren't him?!"
He stood up now, a mountain of anger. "I am Kincaid Essex! If you wanted my dimwit half brother, then you should have gone to his room instead of mine!"
The way he said it… with such force… it hung in the air between us. I saw the exact moment the realization hit him. His eyes widened just a fraction. The anger didn't leave, but it was joined by something else. Something like shock. And hurt.
He finally understood. I hadn't come looking for him. All that talk about being born for him, wanting him… it was for his brother. He was the wrong Kincaid.
"You…" he started, but I cut him off.
"You knew! You knew who I was that I belonged to your brother and you still went ahead to...!"
"You belong to me!" He screamed so loud that the walls shook.
We were screaming at each other, our faces inches apart. My heart was pounding, my skin was hot, and a traitorous part of me was still buzzing from his touch. I could see the same conflict in him—the anger, the blame, and the pure, raw want that hadn't faded at all.
It was too much. The anger, the attraction, the sheer frustration of it all.
I don't know who moved first.
One second we were screaming, and the next, his mouth was on mine. It wasn't a kiss. It was a fight. It was hot and brutal and over way too soon.
I pushed him away, gasping for air. My hand swung out before I could think, connecting with his cheek with a sharp crack.
The sound echoed in the sudden silence.
I didn't wait. I turned, grabbed my dress from the floor, and marched to the door, yanking it open.
"You're a crazy bitch, you know that, right?!" he yelled after me.
"And you are an ass!. I never want to see you again!" I screamed back, not turning around.
"Me either!" his voice roared from the room. "Good luck with your Kincade! Let's see if he can live up to me!"
"Fuck you!" I shouted, slamming the door so hard the frame shook.
His final words followed me out, clear as day.
"You already did!"