Sneak Attack

by Cari Quinn

  His ridiculously rock hard stomach that suddenly made me very grateful we’d booked a hotel for the night.

  Either the sex toy was giving me ideas or else I was just riding a hormonal wave, because I couldn’t wait to get him alone. Just him and me and skin. No million dollar settlements, no anonymous callers, no overlords trying to intimidate us with private details about our pasts.

  Just us.

  “Wow, why do you have this? Is it Christmas and no one told me?”

  I couldn’t help laughing. “Blame my sister.”

  “Blame? I want to thank her. Profusely.” He flipped on the lever and rubbed his hand over the scoop. “Oh yeah, maybe I should loan her my car.”

  “You’re such a comedian.” I tugged it out of his hand and would’ve dropped it on the coffee table if not for the huge puppy dog eyes he gave me. “I’m surrounded by perverts,” I muttered, shoving it into my bag. “Complete and total pervs.”

  “You booked a hotel for us just so we can fuck and I’m a perv?” He nudged my shoulder to push me aside and squeezed beside me on the sofa. “Which I’m in total agreement with, by the way.” He rubbed his stubbled jaw over my neck.

  “No, not to fuck.”

  “No?” More puppy dog eyes.

  I laughed. “You’re incorrigible.” I patted his cheek. “Besides, you said you wanted more than that, remember? So I thought maybe we could try for more…at least for a night. But then last night happened, and everything went to shit.” I sighed. “Stupid reservations.”

  “Hey. Look at me.”

  I looked, because I couldn’t not. My eyes felt like magnets drawn to his.

  “Nothing went to shit. I’m glad you made reservations for us. If we ever needed to get away, tonight is it.” He brushed a hand over my hair and tipped his head against mine. “We don’t have to have sex. Don’t have to do anything except just be. That’s the one and only task we have for the next few hours, okay?”

  He made it sound so easy. Today, and every day. I could listen to his voice and follow it out of the darkness, like my own personal north star. “Okay,” I whispered.

  Lightly, he grasped my braid. “I wouldn’t say no to holding you, though.”

  Smiling, I turned to kiss him. “I think that can be arranged.”

  Under an hour later, we were on our way to the Starlight Hotel. He navigated the car through traffic like a pro, never once swearing or jamming on the gas like I did when people pissed me off. He just slung one wrist over the wheel and laced the fingers of his other hand with mine and sang along softly—and off-key—to the radio.

  Every moment I loved him more. Not long ago, that realization would’ve scared me. Now it gave me a soft, warm glow.

  We checked in and found our way to our room without trouble. The wide pair of windows overlooked Times Square, and I pressed my hand against the glass, seeing the gaudy neon and blinking lights as if they were brand new. As if I were brand new to the city, just a tourist on a day pass. My real life was elsewhere, but tonight I was on vacation. My companion just happened to be a stupidly sexy male-model-wannabe with a body made for sin.

  He pressed his groin against my ass and traced the web of scars on the back of my hand as we gazed down on the city together. Seeing it as one. His breaths heated my ear, the side of my neck. His other hand lingered low on my belly. Stirring things inside me that refused to be banked when he was in the vicinity.

  “So romance, huh?” he murmured.

  “Yeah. I’ve heard it’s a thing.” Nerves buzzed to life as he spun me around into his arms in an aborted dance move. Plus we didn’t have music. Not that he seemed to care. He swayed against me, rolling his hips in a way that should’ve been illegal. And I rolled mine right back, because every part of me was compelled to respond in kind.

  He reached up and undid my braid as was customary, but he took his time. Normally he tore into it like a kid ripped apart wrapping paper. Not tonight. He separated each individual chunk and let them fall around my face, fingercombing the wavy strands until they bounced over my shoulders. Then he tipped up my chin and kissed me as sweetly as we continued to dance, bare feet climbing over each other, bumping and nudging into a rhythm that was all our own.

  “Room service?” he asked breathlessly between kisses, and I had to grin.

  “Self-denial is part of romance, hmm?”

  “No. I intend to satisfy all of your appetites tonight.” His thumb trailed down my throat, a subtle pressure, and my eyes slid closed. “Promise,” he breathed into my ear.

  As if I had any doubt.

  He moved away to the table beside the bed to pick up the binder that contained the room service menu. Sitting on the mattress, he patted the spot beside him. “C’mon. Help me pick stuff.”

  Before I’d even moved, he held up a hand. “And no complaining about the cost. I’ve got it. We’re covered.”

  I bit my lip to try to hold back everything that nearly tumbled forth. Not yet. I would tell him what I’d found tonight. That, at least, I could share. I had to, because I couldn’t make sense of what I’d read. Maybe he’d have an idea for my next step.

  Our next step. I sure as hell didn’t know how I’d make any without him.

  Nodding, I sat beside him and grabbed the menu. Before I knew what had happened, he’d talked me into steaks and baked potatoes and mango ice cream for dessert.

  And for later, chocolate covered strawberries. Apparently those were standard “night of romance” fare. I had a lot to learn.

  In the meantime, at least he was sticking with the lessons I already had semi under control. Like the ones where we spread out length-wise on the mattress, kissing like maniacs while we waited for our food to be delivered.

  His hand slipped into the back of my jeans to cup my ass. He gave it a brisk rub before sliding away to offer the same treatment to the other cheek. Then he slipped between them, but not to my pussy. His pinky circled there, almost daring me to question him, to do anything but gasp into his mouth as he slowly, God, so slowly pressed inward.

  “First I’ll put my mouth here,” he said, and I could only nod, because in my current state that sounded like a fine plan. “Fingers next. More than just this one little pinky. I bet you can take two.”

  Somehow I found myself nodding. This man could lead me to the penthouse balcony ledge and convince me it was only a small jump.

  “Three?”

  Doubt was beginning to creep in the farther his finger traveled, though I couldn’t deny it felt good. Something was happening inside me. The drag of his skin over those sensitive muscles seemed to ignite my clit until it pounded furiously. Just when I was sure he’d pushed me as far as I wanted to go, he went a little farther. And I let him, with my damp forehead pressed to his and his warm breaths caressing my lips like a kiss.

  “Three,” I replied. No part of me was off-limits to him. It couldn’t be.

  “After fingers, then my cock. You’ll take that too.” His mouth brushed mine, a quick tease. “Maybe we’ll slide that toy in your pussy, so you know what it’s like to be completely full.”

  “I feel pretty full right now,” I mumbled, and he laughed, cupping my cheek with his free hand.

  “It’ll be more. So much more,” he murmured, and I fell into the promise in his eyes. There was no fear there, only rightness. Only us.

  The knock on the door jarred us both. I jerked back and he chuckled at what had to be flags of color burning in my cheeks. I tugged at my clothes while he calmly responded that we’d be right there, then went to wash his hands. He came out drying them on a towel that he hooked in his waistband before letting the guy in to set up on the circular table tucked beside the window.

  I wandered over to check out the spread, mentally tallying the cost of our fancy meal. Whether or not that millions story was true, I’d never be someone who spent frivolously.

  But then again, I also couldn’t say no to Caribbean blue eyes that met mine while he offered me a bite of baked potato
dripping with butter.

  So…conundrum.

  “Good?”

  I nodded, mouth full. Cheeks heating again at the memory of the last part of me that had been full, though I knew that was just the beginning on that score.

  He rubbed his thumb over the corner of my mouth, collecting a drop of butter that he then sucked off. He fed me a second bite, watching me all the while.

  “I’d rather we do this naked,” he began, laughing as I choked.

  “Is that standard romance protocol too?”

  “No. That’s so it’s easier for me to fuck you the second we’re finished. Then we’ll worry about romance.”

  “Oh.” Yet again, I couldn’t argue with his thought processes. They seemed sound.

  Before I could figure out how to get my clumsy fingers to undo my jeans, he’d lifted the silver domed lid on another dish. Green beans. Did I even like green beans?

  He lifted one to my mouth with his bare fingers, and I bit down and moaned as the crisp blend of vegetable with a hint of something spicy exploded over my tongue. Apparently I liked beans. Hell, I might even love them.

  “Christ,” he muttered, shaking his head. “You’re going to kill me tonight.”

  “I hope so. I mean…” Catching his smile, I smiled too and ducked my head. It was a miracle that he still affected me this way after all these months. As if every moment together was new, and I was that same girl who’d been so thrown to have snagged the attention of this sexy, incredible guy.

  “You did this for me,” he said, swallowing hard as he gestured to the hotel room. “For us.”

  I nodded. “I know everything between us is usually fast and frantic. You asked for…more.”

  “And then I practically mauled you the instant the door shut.” He held out my chair and waited until I sat before taking the one opposite me. “I’m sorry.”

  “It works for me. I liked it. The romance stuff…I don’t know how that’s supposed to go,” I said, staring down at my empty plate.

  He picked up my plate and began to put together my meal for me. A baked potato, a scoop of green beans, a juicy steak. My stomach growled and his smile grew as he placed my food in front of me. “Yeah, well, I’m not an expert either yet, but we’ll see if we can figure it out together.”

  Nodding, I unwrapped my silverware and poised my fork and knife over the steak. I bit my lip. “Tray, I made an appointment with Dr. Phelps. She’s fitting me in first thing Monday.”

  He continued slicing into his steak, but there was no missing the way his jaw tensed. “Do you need me to go with you?”

  My prickly, sarcastic side wanted to snap some kind of response like, oh, now you’ll come with me? Because you think I’m a step away from batshit crazy? But I didn’t. Because after last night, whatever he thought about me might very well be justified. “Carly is coming.”

  His fork clattered to his plate. “You asked Carly and not me?”

  “I didn’t ask anyone. She offered.” I stopped there, but the implication was clear. You didn’t.

  He stared across the table. “You know that was a kneejerk response the other day. I didn’t mean to say—”

  “You didn’t mean to say it, but you meant it,” I interrupted quietly. “Let’s at least be honest with each other.”

  Like you’re honest with him? What about the phone calls, hmm?

  “I never said I was perfect.”

  “Yeah, well, me either.” I laughed humorlessly. “I’d say that’s obvious.”

  Even without looking up, I could feel him staring at me. “You’re seeing her to tell her what happened yesterday?”

  “Yes. And I’m going to ask her to put me on medication. Hopefully I’ll be able to start on Monday.”

  “No.”

  Frowning, I raised my head. “What do you mean, no?”

  “Dammit, I didn’t want to start off with this.” He pinched the bridge of his nose between his fingers. “We’re going to have our fucking night of romance, do you understand me? I’m not leaving this goddamn hotel room without it.”

  My lips twitched. “Why, that’s the sweetest offer I’ve ever gotten.”

  But he didn’t smile. He sliced into his steak and took a bite, then another. He poured wine for both of us and took a long sip. And another. Soon his glass was almost empty while mine sat untouched.

  I waited him out.

  “They want you to fight,” he said finally.

  12

  Tray

  This was the last conversation I wanted to have tonight. But lately, my wants weren’t ranking real high.

  Mia curled her fingers around the stem of her wine glass. “Who wants me to fight?” she asked carefully, her tone probably not dissimilar to that of her therapist’s. It was the tone used while talking to someone who was precariously balanced.

  She wasn’t wrong. The idea of her getting back into the ring again, especially under these circumstances, was enough to make me jump out of my skin. And she’d wanted to start a regime of medication? Absolutely fucking not. I wouldn’t risk the side effects when she had to fight.

  Couldn’t risk her, not again.

  I didn’t look at her. I was afraid if I did, I’d launch myself across the table and wrap her in my arms and never let her go.

  And I’d accused her of needing a shrink? Right now, we were running neck-and-neck.

  “What do you remember about last night?” I asked, cutting into my meat just to give myself something to do. The food was delicious, but my appetite had fled the moment she’d mentioned the emergency appointment with her therapist.

  I knew she needed to talk to someone, and she was so brave for taking that step. But it made me face all the steps I wasn’t taking myself. All the ways I was letting her down…and myself.

  “I remember everything, Tray,” she snapped. “I didn’t lose my memory. Just checked out for a while.”

  “Tell me. Just run through what happened, briefly. For my sake.”

  She blew out a breath and did as I asked. She recounted the night’s events from our phone call to when she’d arrived at the club, and after, when she’d decked Lorenzo and Giovanni had shepherded us out of the place as if we were a pair of lambs set for slaughter.

  Neither of us were innocents, and we definitely weren’t defenseless. Giovanni knew that. So the men we’d inadvertently come up against must be more dangerous than I’d begun to guess.

  I would find out. One way or another. But first I had to get Mia ready to fight. And to win.

  “I wasn’t asleep, and I wasn’t unaware. I knew what was happening. If I’d wanted to speak, I could have. I don’t fully know how to explain it.” She gripped her fork and studied her plate. “All I know is that it happened then, and that way, because you were there and I knew I was safe,” she said, lifting her gaze. “You wouldn’t let anything happen. For once, I didn’t have to control the outcome of everything. You were there,” she repeated softly.

  I reached across the table to cup my hand around hers. “I’ll always be there. Understand me?”

  She nodded, lowering her head. “I don’t want to end up in that situation again,” she whispered, turning her hand up to grip mine. “Just because I can lean on you doesn’t mean I can ignore what happened. I got lucky I was in a safe situation. But next time, I might not be. Maybe I’ll put someone I care about in danger.” She exhaled a shaky breath. “The medication should help. I know you don’t want me to go that route, and I didn’t either for a long time, but—”

  “It’s not about that. There’s no shame in needing medication or in taking it. But now isn’t the right time to start.” I rubbed my thumb over her knuckles. “He followed your fights.”

  A wrinkle formed between her brows. “He who? The guy I nailed in the face? Lorenzo?” She rolled her eyes. “Yeah, I got that last night. Must be one of those who gets a hard-on from watching chicks fight.”

  The idea of any man—least of all the fucker who’d dared to throw her past in
her face—getting a hard-on over watching her in the ring killed the rest of my appetite. I dropped my fork and rubbed my forehead where a headache was brewing. “It’s more than that. They gamble on the fights, among other things, and they take their money very seriously. They’re dangerous men, Mia. I don’t know what all they’re into, but Gio said it’s some nasty shit.”

  She didn’t blink. “So?”

  “So they didn’t react kindly to you punching Lorenzo.”

  “And I’m supposed to care, I presume?” She leaned in the chair and kicked out a long, jean-clad leg. The insolent curl to her lips warmed my heart more than I could verbalize.

  There was my Mia, not this quiet, accepting version she’d been since last night. I wasn’t against change, or progress, or growth. I knew she would have to go through many different levels to process her grief from what had occurred before I’d ever met her. Lorenzo’s callous words had ripped open the wound last night and sent her right back into that hell. She’d dig her way out however she could, and I would support her.

  But the woman I’d fallen in love with, the one full of bravado and fiercer than any man I’d ever met in the ring, was now staring at me across the table. Finally.

  Thank God.

  “There you are,” I said, unable to disguise the emotion in my voice. My fingers tightened on hers. “Don’t leave me again.”

  Her chin trembled and her eyes grew bright. “I don’t know if I can promise that, Tray. I don’t know if I have the right to make any promises at all.”

  “You listen to me.” I pushed aside my plate and moved around the table to crouch at her feet. I touched her cheek, my throat working at the warm wetness that dripped on my fingertips. “You don’t have to promise me anything. You and me, we don’t need words. We’re beyond all that.”

  “It’s not fair,” she whispered. “None of this is fair to you.”

  “Says fucking who? I made my choice. You’re what I choose, always.”

  She shut her eyes, tears brimming over.

  “I can see how you feel when I look in your eyes. You look in mine, and you know the same.” I kissed her softly, tasting the salt on her lips. “We don’t need anything else. It’s you and me, baby. Back to back. Always.”