Envy

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Envy Page 24

by Amarie Avant


  “Why thank you, Liam.” She winked and added, “Cosmo.”

  He rubbed his hand over his face, lost in Raven’s voice. An image of her dolled up in the kitchen preparing dinner or ready to please in bed made him momentarily forget his plight. She, his all and all, was constantly willing to please. His ego ruined it. A soft hand on his arm pulled him away from the pain—which he determined would be the last—he’d brought Raven that night.

  “Feels wonderful,” Kiki said, as her slender hand glided over his shoulder.

  “It’s South American vicuna. Maybe you’ve had a firsthand chance to know just how good it feels,” he replied, knowing a gold digger when he saw one. Kiki frequented The Loft on most evenings he visited with one wealthy man after another.

  She giggled in response. “No, not as fine as this … As you. Stop playing games with me, Liam. It’s been my lucky day all day.” Kiki spoke confidently, “My fortune amplified the moment you arrived. You’re never riding solo. How about we take this party upstairs? Your room, my room?”

  You’d probably cringe at my basic room. “Neither.”

  “Hmmm, I’m alone. You’re alone.” Her warm breath against his ears wasn’t as teasing as the way she rubbed her chest against his shoulder. Every move she made was like a smooth tide. “C’mon.” She placed her room card on the lump of his lap, brushing a red polished nail against his leg and traced her hand around his belt buckle. “The first taste is always free …”

  She likened herself to a drug. He turned to watch the sea sway out of the room.

  After putting uneaten veal in Tupperware, Raven donned a shimmery gray bikini. Her toes gripped the marble edge of the indoor pool. Light reflected off the glass walls, obstructing her view of the night. She’d turned on every lamp in the house, inside she only felt darkness. Why didn’t Liam come home? Replaying the short conversation they’d had earlier, she detected a hint of … He’s keeping something from me.

  Raven glanced at her distorted reflection in the rippled turquoise water. Eyes closed, she stepped a foot out in midair then dropped into the pool. Sinking down, her toes touched the top part of the “J” in the solid gold initials. Her ears popped from the depth. Unfortunately, she came right back up. Resolve emptied, she floated on her back and remembered the day she’d slit her arm months before—the same day she’d gone to Liam, needing him … The worst day ever. I’d never hated myself the most until that day.

  “Raven, are you sure about this mission?” Stork’s, the private investigator, steely voice whispered in her ear as she floated. The look in his dark eyes was vivid and still on her mind as she met with him before going with Charlene to a super-maximum security prison in Alabama.

  “As sure as I’ll ever be,” she’d replied.

  Raven opened her eyes, gulping on chlorine water. It burned her nose as she flapped. She swam to the submerged staircase and pulled herself into a seated position. Panting, her hands went to her muscular abdomen as she thought about the seed growing. “I have to keep my baby safe on Monday. That’s my first priority. Second …”

  She plunged into the water and made her way to ten feet. Hands behind her on the edge of the pool, feet adjusted on the marble behind her, Raven pushed off and soared through the water.

  “Miss Shaw, There’s no going back …”

  “Stork, I don’t give a damn about that man. You’ve confirmed that Royland Alder’s my father while he’s recovering in the infirmary.” Her voice cracked as the breath of life forced itself out of her mouth. Saying Royland Alder, that sick bastard that raped her mother, was indeed her father, made her bones quake. “All I want to know is that Roy has begged for mercy before it’s all over! Sneak into the hospital and finish him off!”

  She reached the opposite side of the pool. Second, she began again and kick-started off the marble, heading to the deep end, I have a blackmailer to catch.

  Back and forth she went, tormenting herself with thoughts of Royland’s beating. Muscles warm, lungs hollow, she felt light as a feather, stepping onto the stairs at the shallow end. Slowly, her lids dimmed, eyes narrowed. A pique in senses alerted her to the sound of a camera flash. She turned to the glass chairs in the back corner next to the submerged pool bar.

  With his suit jacket draped over the chair next to him, Liam sat comfy-like, leaning back. He’d undone the top button of his vest, tie askew, peering through her camera.

  At the snap of a photo, Raven’s lips bunched together. “Stop taking my photo.”

  He clicked another one.

  “Where have you been, to a club?” Heated, she reached over and tried to grab it.

  “Uh-uh, Re,” he said, and she got a faint scent of alcohol from his breath.

  She leaned back, looking at him through a different light. “Are you drunk?”

  “Sexy,” he said, peering through the lens, and took another shot.

  “Shut up! You went off to work at the beginning of the week. Came back and left again. Then you had the nerve to leave a sappy message about coming home tonight while apologizing for not being able to attend the breakfast at Royael’s school this morning. Then called to say you wouldn’t. Now you’re here! That’s bull.” Hands balled into fists, she itched to claw the half smile off his face. “Uh-huh, you had plans to come home then some slut called, and you decided to stay out. What happened, your little slut had to cancel? Your hoe couldn't make up her mind?”

  He chuckled, and she reached over to slap him. It stung her hand, but he didn’t flinch.

  Liam took another picture. “Give me more ‘hood girl’; I like that.”

  “You bastard!” She tried to pummel his face. This time he grabbed her wrists and pulled her in his lap, tucking her hands behind her back. Liam dominated her with hard kisses, making her delirious. Rage momentarily forgotten.

  “C’mon, Raven, no hitting, not just yet.” He leaned his head over, away from her untamed hand. Dominating her once more, he said, “Whoa, I haven’t had this much action since that one night when you were cold in Switzerland. If I knew you’d be so stingy, I would’ve had you then and there—”

  “Cheating bastard!” I’m working things out for us! Trying to make sure your image stays clean and you … Biting his shoulder, she contemplated her pending self-sacrifice.

  “Do you honestly think I’ve been cheating on you?” Gone was the grin. “Look me in the eyes and tell me if you actually believe I was out with another woman.”

  “No,” she whispered. I want to believe the best in you. I want to believe that you aren’t as selfish as all those fucking Delacroixs.

  Hand to her chin, Liam pressed it back toward him until they were less than an inch away, and she clawed her fingers into his biceps still in limbo between adoration and anger.

  “As I said, it’s been a while,” he said softly, licking his lips. “Months. I thought pregnancy was supposed to—”

  “So what? I’m still mad.” She let her fingernails deepen. Part of her was concerned, but most of her didn’t care—she just wanted to hurt him the way she hurt while he was away. “I cooked veal. I waited for you.”

  “Is there any way you’d ever forgive me?”

  She hated the drunk Liam. So cocky. Slowly, he pulled her closer, kissing her feverishly as he pulled at the strings of the bikini behind her neck. She dragged his bottom lip through her teeth again and let her legs wrap around him in the chair. She wished her thighs were stronger, wanted to hold him hostage. Planting kisses on the side of his mouth and down his chin, she bit him as her hands dug into the back of his neck. The bastard, versed in six different languages, whispered Italian notes that made her blood boil. Like an animal, Liam pawed her behind, wanting and needing every last inch, said he was angry too.

  His hand gripped her neck, his thumb caressing her slender pulse. “Stop frowning, you’re pregnant with my child.”

  She nipped at his lip, “Oh, so I’m supposed to be fucking happy-go-lucky since you knocked me up? And what about your funky ass
attitude?”

  “Damn right, and it’s far too late to worry about my feelings; you haven’t so far,” Liam replied. This time she attempted to take a chunk out of his bottom lip, but he kissed her so hard that her lips were bruised by his whiskers. The sting, the pain, the desire made her tightly-compressed, plush lips open. A hollow moan escaped, and Liam’s tongue darted into her mouth.

  She became drunk from the sweet taste of alcohol on his lips as he feasted on hers.

  While he delicately pulled at the string of her bottoms, like he was slowly prepared to delight in his gift, Raven decided to even out the score. Her hands went to either sides of the collar of his linen shirt. She pulled until the buttons snapped.

  The left side of Liam’s mouth curved upward. He understood. She needed a hard fuck.

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  Amarie is the author of stories from dark to light, erotic to semi-sweet, heck, she will even attempt to tickle your funny bone on occasion.

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  Also by Amarie Avant

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  Covet: Deceptive Desires #1

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