“Go. I need a minute.” He inclined his head toward the giant tent in his pants. Somehow, it was oddly comforting that he looked as flustered as she felt, as though he’d been just as lost in the moment as she had.
She nodded, her blush deepening as she stared at his engorged cock in his pants. If she was being honest with herself, she wanted nothing more than to reach over, unzip his pants, release the monster, and see how easily—or not so easily—he could fill her up. For one terrifying second, she thought she might actually do it. Her entire life had been built around being responsible and playing it safe. Now she was seriously considering sleeping with a man who ate women like her for breakfast. She didn’t know who she was becoming with him.
Blinking herself back to reality, she turned away from the temptation of Leandro Oliveira and escaped from the limo. If only she could escape her obsession with him so easily.
10
LEANDRO SWIRLED THE golden liquid in his tumbler, staring at the tequila as it sloshed up the sides of his glass. But instead of taking a sip, he set the glass on the bar in front of him, dropping his elbows onto the polished cherrywood. He shook his head, trying to relax even though nothing was as it should be.
He should’ve been fighting someone worth his time, not Murphy.
He should’ve been answering questions about his fighting ability and training strategies, not sex tapes and hospital donations he’d wished to keep quiet. He had a feeling Ashlynn had somehow found out about it and leaked the scoop to the morning show producer. She’d just been doing her job, but he hated that the focus was on his image and not his skills in the cage.
He should’ve been out clubbing with Thiago and his crew, but instead he was sitting alone in the hotel bar, trying to get his head straight.
He should’ve either fucked Ashlynn out of his system or stopped chasing her by now, but she’d made damn sure neither of those were even remotely possible.
A whole handful of should’ves, and fuck if he knew what to do about any of them.
He picked up the tequila and took a small sip, savoring the warmth as it spread through his chest. Out of all the should’ves, Ashlynn was, hands down, the one that ate at him the most. He couldn’t figure out why he was so tangled up over her. He’d originally thought he wanted to get her under him to somehow gain control of the situation—a situation entirely of his own making, he knew now and accepted in a way he hadn’t before—but maybe that hadn’t ever been true at all. The simple truth was that from the moment he’d laid eyes on her, something about her had intrigued him. She was doing something to him, and he didn’t understand what the hell it was. In the past, sex—and the buildup to it—had always been casual, a fun distraction, and never something he’d had to work for. But this situation with Ashlynn was different, and he realized it was because his feelings for her were pretty fucking far from casual. And fuck if that didn’t confuse him even more. Confuse him, intrigue him, maybe even frighten him.
A beautiful woman with long, jet-black hair sat down beside him, her heavy perfume hitting him in a sickening wave. She wore a skintight silver dress with cutouts along the sides that exposed more skin than the dress covered. She smiled coyly at him and pointed at his drink.
“Drinking alone?”
Leandro had never felt the word no like a physical reaction before, but that was exactly what he felt, as though everything in him had just closed up and recoiled.
He sent her a puzzled half smile and shrugged. “I no speak English,” he said, deliberately thickening his accent, making the words sound clumsy as he spoke just a little too loudly.
Her eyebrows rose. “Oh. Um, okay,” she mumbled, sliding off the barstool and looking for her next mark.
In the past, he wouldn’t have sent a woman like that walking. But after this morning in the limo, the idea of being with another woman held zero appeal. Ashlynn had been so sweet and hot, so responsive, and had gotten just as caught up in the moment as he had. They had a wildfire chemistry that Leandro had a feeling couldn’t be faked. He hadn’t meant for things to go as far as they had, but as soon as she’d kissed him, he’d been lost, letting what he—what they both—wanted and needed take over.
His cock twitched as he replayed it all again: the sweetness of her mouth as he’d claimed it with his, the softness of her breast against his palm, the wet heat between her legs, his for the taking. He’d made the mistake of licking the taste of her from his fingers after she’d practically stumbled out of the limo, and he’d needed several moments before he’d gotten the situation in his pants under control.
It was a situation he was achingly familiar with when it came to Ashlynn.
He drained the rest of his tequila, ignoring the text from Thiago that had just popped up on his phone’s screen. After the long morning he’d had, followed by a photo shoot for Vital Athletic Wear, one of his sponsors, making up the interview he’d accidentally missed the night before, and then four grueling hours in the gym, he hadn’t felt like going out. He’d planned to order room service and have a quiet night in, but he’d soon grown restless in the too-quiet hotel room and headed down to the bar.
He leaned back on the stool and glanced around, and fuck, was he glad he’d come down from his room. Because not even a hundred feet away, Ashlynn sat at a table with that desgraçado she’d been talking to in the lobby that morning. He’d felt an unfamiliar and unwelcome sense of possessive jealousy when he’d seen her talking to him, hugging him, smiling at him. He snorted out a breath as he realized that maybe that was the reason he’d let things go so far in the limo that morning. He’d wanted to prove to himself that she was his, wanted to reclaim her after seeing her with another man.
The truth was, Ashlynn made him feel like a caveman, and she was the first and only woman to ever make him feel that way.
He pushed up off his stool and crossed the distance from the bar into the attached restaurant, the words hell no pounding through him with each step. She wore a sleeveless burgundy-colored dress, tight and sparkly and revealing just enough cleavage. She shifted, crossing her legs, and he noticed how short the dress was, her long legs bare, her feet in strappy black heels. Her hair was pulled back in a loose ponytail, leaving her graceful neck exposed. Every muscle in his body tightened as he remembered how her skin tasted, the way she’d moaned for him, gripped him, writhed against him.
Ashlynn was his, and yet here she sat, clearly on a date with another man. Looking beautiful for another man.
Yeah, well. He’d fucking see about that.
Her eyes widened as she saw him approaching, her fingers tightening almost imperceptibly around her glass. He held her eyes as he pulled out an empty chair and sat down without waiting for an invitation.
“What are you doing?” she asked, frozen as she watched him.
He adjusted his chair, moving a bit closer to her. She and the desgraçado sat across from each other at a round table meant for four, so there was plenty of room for him. He shrugged. “Joining you. I haven’t eaten.” He let his eyes dip down her body, a wave of possessive satisfaction crashing through him when her cheeks went pink as she realized the double meaning.
“Wait, aren’t you Leandro Oliveira?” asked her date, forcing Leandro to look at him. He was greeted with a look of eager curiosity, and Leandro managed to smile and extend his hand.
“Yes. And you are?” He squeezed a little harder than was necessary, and the man winced.
“Jake McCormick.”
Leandro nodded and released his hand. “Nice to meet you, Jack.”
“It’s Jake.”
Leandro frowned and shook his head. “That’s what I said.”
“No,” said Ashlynn, her eyes flashing, “you said Jack.”
“Yeah, that’s his name,” said Leandro, unable to stop himself from pushing her buttons.
“No, it’s not. It’s Jake.” She let out an impatient breath.
“Be gentle with me, minha linda. English is my third language.”
/> “Your third?” she asked. He smiled at her, but then she pushed away whatever tenderness she’d been feeling. “That explains a lot.”
He held a hand over his heart. “You hurt me. That’s not very nice, especially in front of our friend Jack.”
Her nostrils flared, but just as she opened her mouth to speak, the waiter approached. Leandro picked up Ashlynn’s closed menu, his eyes scanning down first the wine list and then the specials.
Ashlynn kicked him under the table as Jake ordered. “What the fuck are you doing? What is wrong with you?” she whispered, her gorgeous green eyes bright.
He leaned closer, letting his lips brush her ear as he answered. “What’s wrong with me? I’m not the one on a date with someone else. Twelve hours ago, my fingers were—”
She jerked back, her cheeks red, her chest rising and falling a bit faster than before. After the limo ride, they hadn’t had another moment alone together for the rest of the day, and she’d successfully avoided him as much as possible. In fact, she’d barely even looked at him. He’d gotten more and more morose as the day had gone on, wondering how she could get halfway to orgasm with him and then act like she didn’t even see him. But none of that mattered, because with her eyes blazing at him, he knew she saw him now.
“Ashlynn, would you like—” started Jake, but Leandro cut him off.
“You like white or red?” he asked, still pretending to study the menu in front of him.
Silence hung in the air. “Wh-white,” she finally answered.
Leandro nodded. “We’ll take a bottle of the 2011 Napa Valley Chardonnay, and an order of the crab cake appetizer special.”
Ashlynn’s eyes widened as she no doubt noticed the price of the wine—it was over $500—but she didn’t say anything.
Leandro closed the menu and handed it to the waiter, then leaned back in his chair. “So,” he said, leveling his gaze at Jake, “how do you two know each other?”
Jake paled slightly and brushed at an invisible crumb on the tablecloth, visibly wilting under Leandro’s stare.
“We, um, we used to date. A while ago. For a couple of months.” Ashlynn shifted in her seat, not looking at him.
Leandro’s eyes widened. “I see.” It was all he could manage around the jealousy threatening to strangle him. The fact that this guy, this nothing, boring, might-as-well-be-wallpaper guy had had her made his heart kick against his ribs, made his blood feel like fire in his veins. She’d been with this guy, but ran from Leandro?
Fuck.
An awkward silence fell over the table as he fantasized sweeping the dishes to the floor, picking Ashlynn up, and fucking her right there on the table just to prove that she belonged with him.
“So, Ashlynn, tell me about working with the WFC. It must be . . . interesting,” said Jake, glancing between her and Leandro.
She took a sip of her water. “It is. It keeps me busy, but I love the challenge. It’s a great organization.”
“And tell me, do you kiss all the fighters, or just me?” asked Leandro, smiling playfully at her.
Ashlynn sputtered and coughed, and then hit him in the shoulder, hard. “That’s not funny.”
Jake laughed nervously. “What’s not funny?”
Ashlynn shook her head, and moved to kick Leandro under the table again, but this time he caught her leg, sliding his hand up over her knee and letting it rest on her bare thigh, his thumb tracing a circle just under the hem of her dress.
She stilled, but didn’t push his hand away or move to close her legs. So he left his hand right where it was, wanting to brand her with his touch.
“Nothing, just a bad joke,” said Leandro, letting his hand inch higher. She opened a fraction more for him. “Again, apologies for my English.”
“I don’t think it’s your English that’s the problem,” said Ashlynn, her voice slightly breathier than before. He took another inch, her skin warm and soft against his hand.
He smiled at her and shrugged like he didn’t understand.
“Well, I think it must just be a heck of a thrill to fight like that,” said Jake, completely oblivious to the fact that Leandro’s hand was now only a few inches from Ashlynn’s pussy. And even if he knew, Leandro had a feeling Jake wouldn’t do anything about it. He then launched into a “thrilling” story about some accounting problem he’d solved, and only the feel of Ashlynn’s skin beneath his kept Leandro from falling asleep. As Jake droned on, the waiter arrived with their wine and appetizers, and Leandro pulled his hand away to pour everyone a glass. He smiled when he caught Ashlynn’s quiet huff of disappointment.
Wine poured, he raised his glass. “Here’s to . . . new adventures,” he said, clinking his glass against Ashlynn’s and then taking a sip before he’d clinked with Jake. Leandro broke off a piece of crab cake with his fork, holding it up and catching Ashlynn’s eye.
“Try?” he asked. He could see the struggle playing out in her green eyes. She wanted to be angry with him, but the truth was, she liked that he was there. Maybe she wasn’t happy she liked it, but she did all the same. There was an odd kind of comfort in that, as though maybe she was just as confused about their connection as he was.
She licked her lips and then opened her mouth, letting him bring the fork to her lips. Her eyes held his as she closed her lips around the fork, and a surge of arousal so powerful it nearly took his breath away rolled through him. Fuck, he wanted to see her like that, naked and on her knees, closing her lips around him, taking him deep into her mouth. Heat flared in her eyes, and he knew she was thinking the same thing.
“Oh, I love crab cakes. I’d love a taste,” said Jake, nodding enthusiastically. He was either being deliberately obtuse, or was the most clueless man Leandro had ever met. He was willing to bet on the latter, and to prove it to himself, he pushed the plate toward Jake and then dropped his hand back down under the tablecloth, this time sliding his hand completely under the hem of Ashlynn’s dress. His fingers brushed against her panties, and she took a shaky breath, her chest flushing.
Gently, he slid a finger up and down her slit, reveling in how wet she was, even through her panties. He felt something settle deep inside him. She might’ve agreed to a date with another man, but he knew that the wetness he felt against his fingertips was his, and his alone. He’d been angry and jealous when he saw her sitting with another man, but now with his fingers working slowly against her pussy, he knew the date didn’t matter. She was his, even if she hadn’t fully accepted that herself yet.
“So, Ashlynn, do you still like living in Las Vegas?” asked Jake.
Leandro circled his fingers over her swollen clit, the fabric of her panties soaked through and slippery. She shifted her hips, greedy for more, and then he gave her a light pinch. She jerked, spilling her wine all over the table.
“Shit,” she said, sounding much more anguished than was called for. She started mopping up the wine, and as Leandro helped her, he turned his attention to Jake.
“Jack, you remind me of someone, but I can’t quite . . . put my fingers on it,” he said, drawing out the words for Ashlynn’s benefit. He snapped his fingers and pointed at him. “Yes! You ever hear of Pedrinho Matador?”
Jake shook his head. “No, can’t say I have. Who is that?”
“A famous criminal from Brazil. He killed over seventy people, and—”
Ashlynn hit him in the arm. “Did you just tell Jake he looks like a serial killer?” She tried to look angry, but he could see the laugh she was suppressing, just beneath the surface.
“A famous one, yes.” He knew he was being an asshole, but he couldn’t help it. He couldn’t seem to help anything when it came to Ashlynn.
“I think you should go,” she said, but there was no anger in her voice or her eyes. It almost seemed more like . . . resignation. He’d come over to prove a point, and he’d won. He’d tormented her enough for one night, and if she was asking him to leave, then he would. But he wasn’t quite satisfied. Not yet.
He t
ipped his head and stood from the table. “Fine. Charge the wine to my room.” She nodded, and then he bent, lowering himself into her space. He closed his mouth over hers in a slow, gentle kiss. She moaned softly, her tongue sliding over his bottom lip and caressing his. Seeking him out, just as she’d done in the limo. He pulled away, and she leaned forward a little, her mouth chasing his, and a powerful surge of possessive satisfaction rolled through him. “Goodnight, minha linda.” He turned to go. “Nice meeting you, Jack,” he called over his shoulder.
As he walked out of the restaurant, he could feel Ashlynn’s eyes on him the entire time.
Exactly where he wanted them.
ASHLYNN SAT BACK in her chair as she watched Leandro walk away. He took with him all the energy and excitement in the air. It fluttered around him, popping and crackling like tiny, invisible fireworks only she could see. She’d been perfectly happy and enjoying her evening without them, but now their absence left a void. She missed them. She missed him. And the night wouldn’t be the same.
When he disappeared out the door, she had to physically put her hands on her thighs to remind herself that she couldn’t chase after him. Sleeping with Leandro would be bad. She’d lose her job, and she’d get hurt. That’s all there was to it. Yet, as she took a deep breath to calm her racing heart, she was aware that a pulse still beat between her thighs and that he’d had his fingers there just a minute earlier . . . for the second time that day.
“Sooo . . . you and Leandro Oliveira?”
Ashlynn was so far gone that the voice across the table shocked her. Somehow in the space of a few seconds she’d completely forgotten that she was having dinner with another man. She turned her attention back to him and blinked to try to clear her head. Crap. Leandro had just kissed her in front of him and, like an idiot, she’d let him. Not only had she let him, but she’d practically asked for more. Her cheeks warmed in embarrassment that someone had witnessed her weakness. Her tongue darted out to lick her lips, and a very irritating part of her thrilled at the fact that they were still wet from Leandro’s mouth. God, she was hopeless.
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