by Skye Warren
“Something I wouldn’t have done before. Couldn’t.”
That surprised me. And appealed to me in a dark way. Was there anything Philip couldn’t do? “What’s that?”
“Ask permission.”
A breath shuddered out of me. “For what?”
“To touch you. To keep you.” His hand reached for me and then clenched. “To love you.”
All the loneliness, all the fear that kept me isolated. All of it had led me to him. “God, Philip. You never needed my permission to love me.”
“Didn’t I?” He looked almost haunted. “What has my love done for you?”
That question was why he had pushed away every person he cared about. It was why he had left me. “Love isn’t a means to an end. It isn’t money or a gun. Love is the goal, the beginning and the end. And I love you, Philip Murphy.”
He didn’t look pleased or even proud. Instead he looked devastated by my admission. Maybe I had ruined him, but I didn’t think so. He was a glittering diamond, a flash on the surface and startling depth. I could look at him forever and never see every part of him.
“And to keep you,” he breathed.
“I was always yours,” I said, tears stinging my eyes. “I thought you knew that.”
Then he didn’t hold back anymore. His hand reached for me, clenched in my hair. Held me, kept me. I could give him my body, my heart, but I would demand his in return. And he needed it as much as I did.
His eyes were bottomless, deep. And I could see all the way inside him.
He was dark and beautiful and mine.
“To touch you?” he said, voice hoarse.
I couldn’t hold back anymore. The tears burned tracks down my cheek, blurred my vision. I couldn’t see anymore, but that didn’t matter. I could feel him, his hand in my hair, his breath on my cheek. I could almost taste him.
“Never stop touching me,” I whispered.
And then his mouth was on mine, his hands on my body, my clothes falling away. A cat twined between our ankles until he pulled me into the bedroom and shut the door. He mapped my body with his mouth; he conquered my heart with the look in his eyes. A promise.
My reward.
Epilogue
MOISTURE QUIVERED IN the hot afternoon air, like breathing in steam. From outside the window I heard the shouts of vendors selling fruit and baskets and other things along the street. There was the occasional laugh of a child playing soccer in the square.
I had also been able to study the criminal justice systems of the places we stayed in. I planned to use that research to drive my thesis when I returned home and started graduate school. Their criminal justice systems were sometimes terrifying, other times more merciful than ours. I spoke to government officials and landed one heartbreaking tour through Klong Prem Central Prison. I took notes, while Philip possibly made international criminal contacts—that man couldn’t hide his nature any more than I could.
We had taken a circuitous tour of Asia, hoping to find some affinity to my heritage, the essence of my missing family tree from second grade. We’d landed in Beijing, then traveled to Tokyo, then Seoul. Now we were in a historic hotel in Bangkok, a place that Ronald Reagan and Charlie Chaplin had stayed on their travels. I had found beautiful art and amazing food—for someone interested in culture, in society, these weeks had been a gold mine.
This is where you come from. This is who you are.
Mrs. Fitzpatrick had been wrong about that. I hadn’t found anyone who resembled me, even the half of me that came from here. But she had been right as well—the search had brought me closer to who I was. I had found a family in Philip, had found a home in his arms—a heritage in every new place traveled together.
All the while my cat Misty stayed with Colin and his family, waiting for us to return home. Because I couldn’t deny that Chicago was home. It was where Philip had put down roots, where his family lived. And my country, my city… was Philip.
He shifted beneath me, coming awake in slow, satisfied increments.
I stroked his chest, tracing the black ink along his tattoo. And then I kissed him—right there on the hard-packed muscle and inked skin. I had used my mouth on Philip before, of course, licked and sucked him until he roared with the loss of control. But I had never kissed him here, in this almost innocent place, a few inches above his flat nipple.
He stiffened and shifted to give me better access, so I took the invitation and kissed him again, this time directly on his nipple, letting my tongue flick across him. Did women do that to men? He groaned and put his hand behind my head, keeping me close. He liked it.
I kissed again, this time lower—closer to the ridge of his abs. I was rewarded with the ripple of taut flesh, the clench of hard muscle.
“Why did you come back for me?” I asked softly.
He had left to protect me, the way he hadn’t been able to protect his mother or his lover. I knew that, but I needed to know what had changed.
“That’s how selfish I am,” he said roughly. “I’m taking you anyway.”
Except that wasn’t it, not really. Philip was selfish and arrogant—but he loved me. And that love would keep me safe, whatever that meant to him. “No,” I said.
“No?”
“Tell me the real reason.”
His eyes narrowed. “Because I realized no matter where I went, no matter what I did, no one would ever see me like you did. No one would ever see that deep inside of me—and still want to stay.”
My breath caught. “Is that what you thought? That I would see the heart and soul of you and then—”
“And be terrified? Yes, kitten. Of course. Barnes was right about that much. My soul is black. I travelled the whole fucking globe and saw my likeness everywhere. I saw that pain was everywhere. Violence, suffering. I wasn’t causing it, not really. And the only way I could protect you was to stand by your side, shielding you, guarding you.”
“God, Philip.” He did so much more than protect me. He loved me, and that was what I needed more than anything. I placed my hand over his chest. “What you have on the outside—it’s hard and cold and sharp. But what’s underneath, you’re burning hot. You’re real and passionate and…loving, Philip. So loving, to your family.”
His hand went to my belly, still flat. Soon it would be rounded.
Already a small life was growing inside.
Then he lifted my chin with his forefinger. “You’re my family,” he whispered.
He kissed me on the mouth, the chin, the hollow between my breasts. He kissed the curve of my belly with reverence. “Family,” he whispered again, his dark eyes meeting mine.
Then he quested lower, to where my flesh pulsed and slickened.
A single kiss at the core of my body, and then he was gone.
No longer between my legs.
No longer caressing my body.
I moaned in protest.
“Shh,” he murmured, pulling something up from the side of the bed. A small box, unmarked, a deep red. He held it out to me.
I opened it to reveal a necklace, a delicate chain of gold, the pendant some kind of shimmery stone. I touched the uneven surface, feeling a million tiny facets that reflected the afternoon light. There was a spare elegance, an effortless strength.
“It’s beautiful,” I breathed.
“A diamond,” he said gruffly.
My eyes widened. “Wow. Philip. I can’t…”
I looked back at the rough, opaque surface of the heavy rock. It wasn’t anything like the straight-edged, translucent stones I had seen in jewelry store commercials. This was hard and fierce and a little bit wild, carved out of nature and left in its natural state—a dirty little secret. No one would know what was inside here, unless they knew to look. Unless they dug deep.
It honored me, this gift—the curiosity that had brought us together.
And it reflected him as well, this man with so many facets, encased in a dark, glittering exterior. No one would know what was inside him. That wou
ld never change.
I knew what was inside him, and that was enough.
*
Thank you for reading Deep. I hope you loved Philip and Ella’s story!
If you’re new to the Chicago Underground series, meet Colin and Allie for free in the first book Rough or read their long, complete story in the boxed set Rough Hard Fierce.
Shelly and Luke’s forbidden, star-crossed love story is next, and you can read that full story in Wild Dirty Secret. This is where Shelly saves Ella and goes to Philip for help.
Rose and Drew find love and desire in Sweet, which is where Philip goes off the rails.
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If you love the Chicago Underground series, you’ll love the dark and dangerous Stripped series. New York Times bestselling author Pepper Winters calls it “captivating.”
Click here to download Tough Love for free!
Excerpt from Tough Love
THE MOON SITS high above the tree line. Somewhere beyond those woods is an electric fence. And beyond that is an entire city of people living and working and loving each other. I may as well be on the moon for how close I am to them.
A guard walks by my window at 10:05 p.m. Right on time.
I wait a few minutes until he’s out of earshot; then I flip the latch. From there it’s quick work to push up the pane with its bulletproof glass. I broke the lock a year ago. And almost every night since then I’ve sneaked down the ornate metal trellis—like a thief, stealing a moment to myself.
The grass is still damp from the rain, the ground beneath like a sponge, sucking me in. I cross the lawn, heart beating against my chest. I know exactly where the guards are on their rounds. I know exactly where the trip wires are that will set off the alarms. My father is too busy in his office to even glance outside.
The office I broke into this morning.
I breathe a sigh of relief when I reach the pool. I’m still out in the open, but the bright underwater lights make it hard to see anything on the patio. They make it hard to see me as I curve around the edge and reach the pool house.
The door opens before I touch the handle. “Clara,” comes the whisper.
I can’t help but smile as I slip into the dark. Giovanni always opens the door for me. It’s like some old-world chivalry thing, even though we’re just two kids sneaking around. At least, that’s how everyone treats me. Like a kid. But when I’m with him, I feel less like a girl, more like a woman.
He looks out the door for a beat before shutting and locking it. “Are you sure no one saw you?”
“You’re such a worrywart, Gio.” I let myself fall onto the couch, facing up.
“If your father ever found out…”
We’d be in so much trouble. My father is a member of the mob. Giovanni’s father is a foot soldier who works security on the grounds. Both our dads are seriously dangerous, not to mention a little unhinged. I can’t even think about how bad it would be if they caught us sneaking around after dark.
I push those thoughts away. “Did you bring it?”
Reluctantly, Giovanni nods. He gestures to the side table, where a half-full bottle of Jack Daniels gleams in the faint light. “Did you?”
I reach into the pockets of my jeans and pull out two cigars. I hold them up and grin. “Didn’t even break a sweat.”
He rolls his eyes, but I think he’s relieved. “This was a bad idea.”
“It was my idea,” I remind him, and his cheeks turn dark.
Of course the little homework assignment was my idea. I’m the one ridiculously sheltered up in my room with the tutors and the gilded locks. Fifteen years old and I’ve never even been out to the movies. Giovanni gets to go to regular school. He’s too young to get inducted, but I know he gets to be at some of the sit-ins.
“I just want to try them,” I say. “I’m not going to get addicted or anything.”
He snorts. “More likely you’ll get a hangover. How are you going to explain puking to your padre?”
“Honor will cover for me.” My sister always covers for me. She takes the brunt of my father’s anger. Ninety-nine percent of the time, I love the way she protects me. But one percent of the time, it feels like a straitjacket. That’s why I started coming to the pool house. And I’m glad I did. This is where I met Giovanni.
He examines the cigar, eyes narrowed.
“How do you even light it?” I ask. I’ve seen my father do it a hundred times, but I’m still not clear on how the whole thing doesn’t just catch fire. Isn’t it made from dried plants?
He puts the cigar to his lips experimentally. It looks strange seeing his full lips around something I’ve mostly seen my father use. Then he blows out a breath, miming how it would be. I imagine white smoke curling in front of his tanned skin.
“They don’t let you use them when they do?” I ask.
He gives me a dark look. I’m not supposed to talk about the side jobs he does for his father. “I mostly sit in a corner and hope no one notices me. It’s boring.”
“If it’s boring, then why won’t you talk about it?” I know it’s not a good thing to be noticed by men like our father, to be groomed by them, but sometimes that seems better than being ignored. I’m the younger one. And a girl. And there are rumors that I’m not even my father’s legitimate child. In other words, I’m lucky my sister remembers to feed me.
He swears in Italian. “That’s no life for you, Clara.”
“And it’s a life for you?”
“I would leave if I could,” he says. “You know that.”
“You turn eighteen in a year. Will you leave then?” My stomach clenches at the thought of him gone. I’m two years younger than him. And even when I turn eighteen, I won’t be leaving. By then I’ll be engaged to whoever my father picks for me.
Just like my sister. I shudder at the thought of her fiancé.
He shrugs. “We’ll see.”
I roll my eyes. I suspect he’s making plans, but he isn’t sharing them with me. That’s how the men around here operate, keeping girls in the dark. Honor only found out she was engaged when Byron was invited over for dinner. He has the money and the power. She doesn’t get a choice. Neither will I.
“If you go, you should take me with you,” I say.
“I don’t think Honor would appreciate me taking you away.”
No, she wouldn’t. And the thought of being without my sister makes my heart ache. Sometimes I give her a hard time, but I love her. I’d never leave her behind. “She can come with us. It will be like an adventure.”
“Don’t talk stupid, Clara.” His eyes flash with anger and something else I can’t define.
I jerk back, hurt. “It was just an idea.”
“Well, it’s a bad idea. Your father is never gonna let you leave.”
Deep inside, I turn cold. I know that’s true. Of course it is. Giovanni doesn’t have the money or the resources to take us away from here. And even if he did, why would he want to?
I hate myself for even suggesting it. How desperate can I look?
Shaking inside, I stand up and grab the bottle of Jack Daniels. It’s heavier than I would have expected, but I carry it over to a wet bar still stocked with decanters and wine glasses. No liquor though. There used to be huge parties here. When my mother died, they stopped.
We’re supposed to have a party in a few days, though, to celebrate my sister’s engagement. I’m not even allowed to go. I’ll just be able to see the fireworks from the window.
Without a word Giovanni joins me, his heat both comforting and stark. He takes the glass from my shaking hand. He opens the bottle and pours the deep amber liquid inside.
Then takes another cup for himself, twice as full.
“Why do you get more?” I protest, mostly because I like teasing him.
His expression is amused. “I’m bigger than you.”
He is bigger. Taller and broader, though still skinny. His hands are bigger than mine too. They hold the glass with confidence, whereas I almost drop mine.
I take a sip before I can second-guess myself. “Oh my God.”
It burns my throat, battery acid scalding me all the way down.
His lips firm, like he’s trying not to laugh. “Good stuff?”
“Oh, shut up.” Then it doesn’t matter because I’m laughing too. That stuff is awful.
He grins and takes a drink—more like a gulp. And he doesn’t cough or wince after. “You get used to it.”
“How much do I have to drink to get used to it?”
“More than you should.”
I take another sip. It burns again, but I have to say, not as bad. It still doesn’t taste good, but I’m determined to drink it anyway. This pool house is the only place where I can break the rules, where I can experience things. The pool house is the only place I even feel alive.
“Let’s try mine,” I say. My voice already sounds rougher from the alcohol.
He holds up the cigar. “Did you bring a lighter?”
“Oh, crap.”
His eyes crinkle in that way I love. It makes my chest feel full, like there’s no room for air. “It doesn’t matter,” he says.
“But I didn’t hold up my end of the bargain.”
He takes another drink. It looks so natural when he does it. “What bargain?”
“To do bad things,” I say seriously. When your life is as controlled as mine, you need to plan these things. Tonight is supposed to be the night.
He looks down, a strange smile on his face. “Let’s start with the whiskey. If that’s not enough, we can knock over a bank or something.”
I smack his arm. “You’re making fun of me.”
“Never.” His eyes meet mine, and I see that he’s not laughing at all. “I’d rob a bank if you wanted me to.”