by Meghan March
“Where are you fr—”
Oh shit. Not wanting him to ask me something I’d have to lie about, I stood on my tiptoes and pressed my lips against his, cutting off the question. One of his arms wrapped around me, pulling me against his body, and his other hand delved into my loose waves. I could feel him harden against me, and my body heated. Damn. The man could kiss.
He pulled away but didn’t let go.
“Hi,” I said. It was the only word I could latch on to. After a few breaths, Simon released me.
“Hello to you too.”
Knowing that I was standing next to the car looking like a slack-jawed idiot, I climbed inside and shut the door. A grin tugged at the corners of my mouth when I realized Simon was still standing next to the passenger door, staring at me through the window. Apparently the kiss had made idiots of us both.
I was still trying to rein my body’s reaction in when Simon finally pulled the SUV away from the curb in the direction of Harriet’s home. The silence between us was comfortable, but I needed music to distract me from where my thoughts were headed. I reached out to turn up the radio, and Simon slowed to let a group of pedestrians cross the road. He looked at me, brows drawn, and grabbed my right wrist.
“What the hell happened?”
I looked at him, confused. “I was just turning up…”
“No—your arm. Did you hurt yourself?”
I followed his gaze to where it rested on the gauze on the inside of my right bicep.
“Oh. Just adding to my collection.”
His brows shot up. “Another tat?”
My smile died as I studied his expression. Do not tell me he disapproves. Because I’d tell him where to get off. No one told me how to dress, how to wear my hair, or anything else any more. No one.
“Yeah, what’s it to you?” My tone took on a don’t fuck with me edge that I’d acquired shortly after I stepped onto the Greyhound in Atlanta just over a year ago and some asshole had decided I looked like easy prey. I’d kneed his balls up into his lungs when he’d tried to feel me up after I fell asleep on the bus. The memory fueled my temper.
“Nothing … I was just surprised.”
“One more tat put me too far over the bad girl edge for you, councilman?” The words felt like ground glass in my throat.
“Hey—that’s not fair. It’s not like that. I saw the bandage and … anyway, I think the ink is hot, so don’t get your back up.”
My quick rush of anger dissipated at his words. I relaxed into the seat as we started moving again. I felt like a bitch for overreacting and being so defensive. Especially after he’d just kissed the hell out of me. Just the thought of the kiss had heat starting to gather low in my belly.
“So what is it?” he asked.
He turned down my road and pulled into a rare empty parking spot across the street.
My answer came easily. “Why don’t you come up and I’ll show you?”
His hands flexed on the steering wheel, and he stared directly out the windshield. He nodded, as if deciding something. “I’ll get your door.”
Simon pushed my bike into the garden oasis and followed me up the spiral staircase to my apartment. I unlocked the door and held it open. When I flipped on the light, I tried to see my place through his eyes. It was tiny. Not much bigger than the bedroom I’d stayed in at his house. The living room was furnished with a love seat angled toward a small fireplace, a side table, and a lamp. The door to my bedroom was ajar, and my double bed looked like it barely fit inside. Calling one corner a “kitchen” was a bit of a stretch. There was a sink, a foot of counter space, a dorm-size fridge, and a microwave. A small table and two chairs were tucked into what I grandly referred to as the “breakfast nook.” In actuality, it was a corner behind the door.
“It’s not much, but I don’t need much. And I kind of love it.” Simon finished his visual tour, and focused on me, his hazel eyes burning with heat. He seemed even bigger in the small space, and the moment became undeniably intimate.
“This is probably too forward,” he started. “But I’m going to come right out and say it. I want you under me in that bed.” He nodded toward my room, as if the statement needed any clarification.
Whoa. That was forward. I swallowed, feeling heat rise to my cheeks. Well, hell. I wanted the same thing. I wasn’t denying it. I toed off my Chucks. “I guess if you play your cards right—”
He reached for one of my hands and cut me off. “But that’s not happening tonight.”
What the hell? Although this rejection didn’t sting as much as him leaving me floating naked in the pool, it still felt like rejection.
“Way to let a girl down easy, Simon.” I rubbed my hand over my face and tugged at the one in his grip. “Why did you come up then?”
He wouldn’t release my hand, instead using it to pull me closer. “You were going to show me your new tat. And you know why I can’t stay. It’s not because I don’t want to. Not because I don’t want you.”
The pieces clicked together in my brain. Damn. Sometimes I really was dense. My face heated again, this time with shame. “Oh, shit. I didn’t even think … I mean … Jesus, I’m such a bitch.”
“No, you’re not.” He twined his fingers with mine. “I’m glad you forgot.”
“I just … wasn’t thinking.”
“Then I’m glad I can make you stop thinking.” He rubbed his thumb over the back of my hand. “I’m seeing someone—a shrink. So believe me when I say, I will be spending the night with you in that bed, but not quite yet.”
My gaze shot up to his. “Seriously? That’s good, right? I mean, I thought you didn’t want to talk to anyone about it.”
He brought our joined hands to his lips and pressed a kiss to my knuckles. “I didn’t, but then I found something I wanted even more.”
“Oh.” It was the best I could do. I didn’t know how to respond to that. It was sort of huge. He wanted me enough to bare his soul to a perfect stranger in hopes of sorting out his issues? It was good to know I wasn’t the only one who was feeling something. Even if that feeling was dangerous to my very existence.
He nodded down at my arm. “Can I see the new tat?”
I untangled my hand from his and peeled away the gauze to uncover a black and gray Lady Justice, blindfolded, holding out her sword and balanced scales.
Simon studied it and then met my anxious gaze. “Why that?”
I gently skimmed the outline of the ink with a fingertip. It was a physical manifestation of the idea that had been percolating within me for days, and his confession about the shrink made me even more determined to go after it. He was facing his demons. It was time I did something to face mine.
One of his long, blunt-tipped fingers followed mine, tracing the lines, and I could tell he was waiting for my answer. I could only give him a vague one, as usual. “Truth. Justice. Balancing what’s owed. All good things to remember.”
His next question caught me off guard. “Where are you from? Because I know you’re not from here.”
I pulled away and headed toward the fridge. Not going there. “You want a beer?”
“Not so fast. You’re going to have to tell me eventually, Ms. Stone.” He cornered me against my sliver of counter space and cupped my jaw. “But I’ll wait until you’re ready. Right now, I’ll settle for a taste of you.” He pressed against me, and my nipples hardened. I met him halfway, twining my arms around his neck and pulling his head down. I was throwing myself wholeheartedly into this change of subject.
“You’re so damn tall.” I pushed up on my tiptoes again, trying to reach his lips. But Simon crouched, wrapped one arm around my back and one under my ass, and swept me up into his arms. I couldn’t hold in my girly squeak of surprise. He crossed my miniscule living room and sat on the love seat. I resituated myself so I was straddling him. The position rubbed the center seam of my jeans directly over the growing bulge in his pants. The pressure against my clit had me rocking slightly against him. He didn’
t know it, but my hood piercing ratcheted up the ‘holy shit that feels amazing’ feeling several notches. My head dipped backward, and he took advantage, his full lips kissing along the line of my jaw and down to my neck. His fingers dug into my hips and all I could think was that I wanted him naked, inside me. I reached for the hem of my tank, pulling away so I could get it over my head.
“Goddamn, you’re beautiful,” he breathed.
I reached around my back to unhook my bra, but he stopped me with his words. “Let me.” He deftly unhooked it, and I drew it forward, off my arms. His hands were cupping my breasts as soon as they were unbound.
“I stand corrected. You’re fucking gorgeous.” His eyes were riveted on my gold hoops. “Are they … can I?” I smiled, glad that he was as turned on by them as I was.
“It’s okay. They’re a couple months old. You can … play. You’re the first person besides Delilah who’s seen them.”
“I’m fucking honored.” He bent his head and circled one ring with his tongue before tugging on it gently with his teeth.
Bursts of pleasure streaked through me, straight from my nipples to my clit. I groaned and rocked against his erection.
He lifted his head momentarily. “Could you come from just this?”
“I don’t know … maybe?” My words were breathy and didn’t sound like they’d come from my mouth.
He chuckled, and the low rumbling sound made me rock harder against him. I felt shameless, but it was too damn good to stop. I was so freaking glad I’d taken the leap on the piercings. Best. Idea. Ever.
“Then let’s see what we can do.”
Simon cupped my breasts, lifting them to his mouth again. Between his fingers and his mouth, I was bucking against him and coming apart in under a minute. I dropped my head forward, muffling my unintelligible sounds against his shirt.
I shuddered, letting the waves wash over me. Holy hell. I didn’t know that was possible.
When the shivers finally subsided, I realized that in my quest to stay quiet, I might have accidentally used my teeth against his shoulder.
“Omigod. I’m so sorry.”
I started to pull away, intent on climbing off him, but Simon’s hands cupped my ass and held me in place.
“That might be the hottest thing I’ve ever seen. Jesus, Charlie.”
He pulled me back down against his cock, and the spirals of pleasure started to twine around me once more. If he didn’t stop, I was going to come again.
“It’s … the … piercing,” I breathed.
His eyes dropped to my nipples, so I elaborated, “My hood. It’s pierced too.” I couldn’t slow my rocking hips. “So when … you … do that…” I dropped my head back and let the second orgasm roll over me.
Holy. Fuck.
Watching Charlie rock against me to get herself off was one of the sexiest things I’d ever seen. So damn sexy that I thought my dick might bust right through the zipper of my jeans. I had to try to think of something else. Anything else. Anything but the fact that she had another piercing that I was dying to see. When she slumped against me for the second time, I stood, wrapped her legs around me, and headed to her bedroom. Just because I wasn’t planning to stay tonight didn’t mean that I couldn’t make her come a few more times before I tucked her into bed and went home and jacked off to the memory of how fucking amazing she was.
As I laid her on the bed, she reached out and flipped a switch. The lamp on the bedside table illuminated the room with a soft glow. She unwrapped her legs from around my waist, and her smile turned sultry. I knew she could read my mind.
The thought was confirmed when she said, “You want to see it, don’t you?”
“Fuck yeah. Are you joking?”
She bit her lip, whether out of shyness or because she was trying to keep herself from laughing at me, I didn’t know. I didn’t care. I was barely restraining myself from ripping her pants off.
“I’ve never quite had this experience before.”
“Oh … well then.” She looked down meaningfully and reached for the button of her pants. I brushed her hands away and unbuttoned and unzipped them myself. When she lifted her hips, I peeled them down her legs.
Laid out on the bed, she looked like a goddamn fantasy come to life. Her legs pale and unmarked, her arms covered in works of art, the glinting gold tipping the pink nipples of her fantastic rack, her wild red, purple, and black waves spilling across the quilt. I paused to appreciate the sight. I was even more dumbstruck than I had been the night she’d stripped by the pool, because tonight I had enough light to see everything I’d missed then. She was more than a fucking goddess. “You’re so goddamn beautiful … there aren’t words…”
“I don’t need words. Just you.”
I knelt and hooked my fingers in her panties and slid them down, unveiling the rest of her, inch by inch. Once I’d dropped the black lace to the floor, I bent to drag my tongue along her slit until I bumped her hood piercing. It was gold, matching her nipple rings, and it was the hottest fucking thing I’d ever seen. I tongued it, flicking it against her clit, and she writhed on the bed, her fingers gripping my hair and tugging.
“Holy … Simon … don’t stop.” Her words were breathy, and my dick pulsed in my jeans. I ignored my hard-on and continued devouring the sweetest pussy I’d ever tasted. Jesus Christ. This woman would own me.
She bucked against my mouth, and I flicked her piercing again. When she screamed my name, I’m pretty sure everyone in a four-block radius heard it. I fucking loved it. Her hips jerked and she sank deeper into the mattress, pulling away from my mouth. She pushed my head away, and I looked up at her. Her features were languid, sated. I wanted to make her look like that every day for the rest of my life.
The thought slammed into me with the subtly of a two-by-four to the face. I knew I wanted to see where this could go between us, but I hadn’t stopped to consider exactly what that could mean.
As she reclined against the bed, I considered what I knew about her: she had attitude and ink in spades and constantly kept me guessing. I knew her name, where she worked, where she lived, that she had only a few friends, and she loved her dog. That was the sum total of my factual knowledge of Charlie Stone. Before I let myself get any deeper into whatever this was becoming, I needed to know more.
She propped herself upon her elbows, eyes raking over me. “Are you going to let me return the favor?”
All coherent thought fled my brain except for hell yes.
I locked the door behind Simon and sagged against the wood. Sweet baby Jesus. The man had rocked my world. Both in bed and out. Because of him, I was going to potentially put my safe and anonymous existence at risk. I crossed into my bedroom and punched in the code to the small, hotel-type safe bolted into my closet. Harriet’s last tenant had left it behind, and I used it to hoard my cash and the reminders of my past. My license, passport, and old credit cards were stacked inside. It was strange to see my real name again. Only Harriet knew it, and I was confident she’d never reveal my secret. I’d stopped thinking of myself as Charlotte Agoston about three months after I’d left Manhattan. By that time I’d embraced my new identity. All it took was 1,300 miles and a fake name to finally discover the real me.
Under the false bottom built into the safe, there was a nondescript composition book. It was deceiving in its simplicity, but the pages were filled with a gibberish mess of letters and numbers. It was the one thing of my father’s I had taken from the penthouse, although I probably shouldn’t have. But I’d run across it by chance and taken it as a sign. I didn’t know what it contained, but I did know that my father wouldn’t go to the trouble to encode something unless it was pretty damn important. It was my insurance policy. Although, it could just as easily be my ticket to facing an obstruction of justice charge. Either way, I’d known that my disappearance wouldn’t go over well, and there was a chance the Department of Justice might still decide I belonged in prison with my father. If that happened, information would be
my only bargaining chip. I just didn’t know what kind of information I had. I hadn’t touched the book since the day I’d stashed it in the safe. And I didn’t want to be touching it now. It was an irrational fear—that my father’s evil would somehow seep under my skin if I handled his dirty secrets. Honestly, I’d planned to do nothing with it unless and until I needed to use it as a defensive weapon. But Simon had unknowingly convinced me to be proactive. The only way I’d ever be able to stop looking over my shoulder was to find the money.
The FBI had all of the computers, servers, files, and records from Agoston Investments, and with all that information and the resources at their disposal, I assumed they would have found something by now. Tens of thousands of people were counting on them. But nothing in the news mentioned even a dollar being located. If I could decipher the notebook, and it actually contained information that would prove useful in the search, I could feed the feds anonymous tips while retaining my ace in the hole. Once all of the money had been recovered, I could emerge from hiding on my own terms. It was an idealistic plan, but it might be my only shot at exploring something real with Simon.
That was, if Simon could stand to be near me after he knew the truth. My hopes deflated at the thought, but I wouldn’t let it deter me. It was a long shot on both fronts, but it was the only shot I had. So I’d take it.
I thought about tonight. Simon was unlike anyone I’d ever met before. He seemed to just want me … for me. That was a novel experience. As the daughter of a billionaire, I’d always questioned people’s motives for befriending me. As a child, parents had encouraged their kids to get close to me in order to be invited into my parents’ social circle. Imagine being fourteen years old and being grilled for investment advice by a friend’s dad. Seriously.
I know, poor little rich girl syndrome. But you could never know what someone else’s life was like until you’d walked that metaphorical mile in her designer pumps. Pre-scandal Charlotte Agoston would have been the perfect match for someone like Simon. Well-bred, poised, not to mention wealthy and well-connected. But he seemed to like the simple, rough-around-the-edges, poor, loner version of me just fine. His political ambitions and upcoming campaign were the biggest wildcards right now. He’d never discussed them with me.