by Elle Kennedy
Had he been born with the knowledge of how to drive a woman wild, or had his expertise been honed during years of practice? She was afraid to ask, but she couldn’t deny that Luke Dubois was spectacular in bed. Or, in shower.
As steam filled the bathroom, he teased her into oblivion, squeezing her breasts, playing with her nipples, and when he spun her around and sank to his knees in front of her, the teasing became torture.
Olivia gasped as his mouth found her core. He licked the insides of her thighs, then dragged his tongue over her damp folds. Her knees buckled, but he steadied her by gripping her hip with one hand and backing her into the tiled wall. Luke tugged on her left ankle and brought her leg up to his shoulder. He proceeded to ravish her with his tongue, knowing exactly how much pressure to exert, when to back off and lick her slowly, when to wrap his lips around her clit and suck hard. When she cried out in delight, he lifted his head, his features displaying the smug look of a man who was pleasing his woman and knew it. Then he resumed his ministrations, until she was gasping for air and shamelessly thrusting her hips into his face.
Seconds away from exploding, she squeezed her eyes shut and welcomed the rush of pleasure, but suddenly he wrenched his mouth away and stumbled to his feet. The water from the spray poured over him, droplets gathering on his glistening chest, working their way over the line of hair tapering down to his navel.
His gorgeous face was strained as he stood there, keeping a good foot of distance between them. “No condom,” he said in a tortured voice.
“I’m on the pill.” Her voice sounded breathy to her own ears. She couldn’t even believe she was considering forgoing protection. She was normally far more sensible, but the pressure between her legs was so intense she feared she might die if he didn’t get inside her. Now.
“And no diseases,” she added awkwardly.
“I’m clean too,” he said.
They eyed each other for a moment. The stall had filled with steam, and Olivia felt like she was watching him through a haze. She got the feeling he didn’t like going unprotected either, which was confirmed when he murmured, “I’ll pull out. The pill’s not a hundred percent effective.”
The matter-of-fact statistic brought a tug of irritation, especially when she realized he probably hadn’t picked up the knowledge by Googling birth control pills. Oh no. This was a man who had sex often. Unlike her. She only got it on every other year or so.
At the thought of Luke with another woman, her irritation was transformed into a crazy rush of possessiveness. She yanked on the back of his head to bring him down for a kiss. As their tongues tangled, Luke groaned, then whirled her around like a man possessed. She purred at the feel of his erection nudging her bottom. Bracing her hands on the wall, she closed her eyes and waited, anticipation coiling in her belly. His fingers circled her waist. His lips brushed over the nape of her neck. That tempting erection slid over the crease of her ass. God, she needed him inside her. She needed—
A mind-shattering orgasm seized her body as he drove in deep.
Biting her lip, Olivia closed her eyes and let the pleasure consume her, trying to stay silent even though she wanted to announce the climax to the world. Luke plunged into her with long, smooth strokes, groaning quietly, the husky sounds getting lost in the rush of the shower spray. When she felt him pulsating inside her, she pushed her ass into his groin, taking him in deeper. His pace quickened, his fingers dug into her hips, and then he mumbled an anguished curse and withdrew. Trembling from his release, he rested his chin on her shoulder, his breath coming out in hot puffs against her bare skin.
When they both grew still, Olivia turned to wrap her arms around his neck. She stood on her tiptoes and brushed a kiss over his mouth, then reached for the bottle of body wash on the shelf. After she’d squirted the liquid soap into a bright pink pouf, she slowly met his eyes, which were no longer glazed with passion but heavy with resignation.
“You’re still planning on seeing Vince tonight.”
She nodded. “I have to. Please don’t try to stop me.”
He inched closer, resting his forehead against hers, his broad chest heaving as he released a ragged breath. “What am I going to do with you?”
“You’re going to let me be a part of this,” she said firmly. “I have to be a part of this. For Cora. And for myself.”
“I don’t want you to get hurt.”
The water was running cold, but that wasn’t the cause for the goose bumps rising on her flesh. Luke sounded so tormented, and his arms had tightened around her as if he couldn’t bear to let her go. The pouf dropped from her hands and fell onto the floor of the shower. She didn’t bother picking it up—she simply let Luke hold her because she knew it was what he needed. What she needed too.
“I already got hurt,” she whispered. “Now it’s my turn to hurt him. Please, let me do this.”
“You’re not going alone,” he said sternly.
“We’ll be in a restaurant. You can’t come in with me.”
“Then I’ll wait outside.” His eyes were fierce. “And if that bastard so much as looks at you the wrong way, I’m going to storm that fucking restaurant and rip his heart out.”
And she got the feeling he meant it.
* * *
An hour later, Olivia parked the Beemer in front of the Bistro Alessio. As she hopped out to feed the meter, it suddenly occurred to her that Vince might not even be there. Truth was, she’d lied to Luke. She and Vince didn’t have a dinner date per se, but after six months of “dating,” she knew his schedule fairly well. On weeknights he had his dinners delivered to the club, but on Sundays he preferred Italian. He always left the club and went to Bistro Alessio, a low-key but expensive restaurant in Little Italy. He’d never once asked Olivia to join him, claiming he preferred to dine solo on Sundays, but she didn’t think he’d mind if she showed up and surprised him. His ego would probably appreciate the gesture.
Unless . . . what if he’d lied about his solitary dining habits and was actually meeting his mobster friends every Sunday? The thought gave her pause, but she forced her legs to carry her to the door. If he did have company tonight then she’d just play it cool. Give him a kiss on the cheek, and tell him she’d see him when she came back to work in a couple of days.
Outside the restaurant, she smoothed her hair and gave her appearance a quick once-over. She’d worn a black scoop-neck dress paired with a brown suede jacket, nothing too fancy but nice enough for a cozy dinner. As she stood there, she resisted glancing over her shoulder to see if she could spot Luke. He’d been following her in a black SUV, but she didn’t see it parked on the street. He had to be nearby, though.
She knew he wasn’t happy about her coming here tonight, but she’d meant what she’d said back at the apartment. She wanted to pull her weight, and she refused to be shut out. Luke could still dig around for information about the shipment, but if she could get that same info out of Vince, and get it tonight? Why let that opportunity slip away?
When she strode into the bistro a moment later, the olive-skinned brunette at the hostess stand greeted her with a smile. “Reservation?” the young woman asked.
“Actually, I’m meeting someone,” Olivia lied. “Vince Angelo?”
“Of course. You’ll find him at his usual table in the back. Would you like me to escort you?”
“No thanks, I can find it myself.”
She brushed past the hostess and entered the main room, letting her eyes adjust to the dim lighting. The space was cozy and attractive, boasting red velvet wall drapes, small tables with crisp white tablecloths, and servers in black-and-white uniforms. Soft piano music floated through the room, and most of the patrons were either couples or men dining alone. It was a classy place, giving off a romantic air that made her wonder why Vince chose to come here by himself every week.
Olivia finally spotted Vince at a table nestled behind a tall marble planter filled with red flowers. He was sipping a glass of white wine, a troubled expr
ession on his face.
He looked up in surprise at her approach.
“Olivia?” His eyebrows knitted together in a frown. “What are you doing here?”
She pasted on a smile. “Surprising you. I know you come here on Sundays, and I thought we could have dinner together.”
His dark eyes slitted with suspicion. “What about your mother?”
“She’s sleeping. The medication makes her drowsy.” She gestured to the empty chair opposite his. “May I join you?”
As he nodded, she slipped out of her jacket and draped it on the back of the chair, then sat down and met his gaze across the table. “You don’t look very happy to see me.” She pouted a little.
His cloudy expression dissolved. “I am. Of course I am, babe. You just caught me off guard.”
“I know you prefer to be alone on Sunday evenings,” she told him. “But I really needed to get out of the house.”
“Is your mother feeling any better?”
“She is. Actually, I think she’s well enough for me to come in to work tomorrow.”
A waiter approached the table. He placed an empty glass in front of Olivia, picked up the wine bottle from the center of the table, and poured for her. When he finished, he turned to Vince. “Would you like the usual, Mr. Angelo?”
Vince nodded. “Yes, Dante. Thank you.”
“And you, madam? Are you ready to order?”
Since she’d already eaten an early dinner with her mom, she had zero appetite. But she didn’t want to make Vince suspicious, so she quickly picked up the menu, scanned it, and ordered a Caesar salad.
“Everyone knows you here,” she remarked as the waiter disappeared.
Vince nodded absently. There was something off about him tonight. Something incredibly disconcerting.
“Why do you come here so often?” she asked softly.
He fingered the stem of his wineglass, and a faraway expression settled on his face. “Did I ever tell you about my parents?”
She shook her head.
“No, I don’t imagine I did. They were garbage, both of them.” He gestured to the swinging doors leading to the kitchen off to their left. “My mother worked here when I was growing up. She washed dishes in the back.”
“Oh” was all Olivia said, because she couldn’t think of anything else.
“My father went to the track every Sunday and since they couldn’t afford a babysitter, my mother would bring me to work with her.” He frowned. “I’d sit in the kitchen, watching her scrape the crap off the dishes, her hands getting all red and cracked from the hot water and that industrial soap she used.”
“She must have worked very hard,” Olivia said quietly.
“Not hard enough.”
“Did your parents ever . . . mistreat you?” she had to ask.
“Nah. They loved me.” He snorted. “Raised me in squalor—that’s love, huh?” His brown eyes blazed. “We never had enough money, and whatever we did have, my son of a bitch father blew on the ponies. Meanwhile, my mother worked herself to the bone in this restaurant.” He swept a hand over the room. “Cleaning the dirty plates of the assholes who could afford to eat here.”
His bitterness polluted the air, and despite herself, she felt a flicker of sympathy. For his mother, that is. She knew all about working yourself to the bone.
“That’s why I come here,” Vince said. “To remind myself of where I came from, who I came from.” His expression became surly. “I eat here and then my dishes are taken away and someone else washes them just like my mother used to do. I come here for the reminder, Olivia.”
“To prove to yourself that you’re better than your parents,” she murmured.
“I am better than them,” he snapped. “I don’t need to prove that. It’s a fucking fact.”
“I know that,” she said quickly. “Of course you’re better than them.”
Their food arrived and Olivia stuck her fork in her salad, forcing herself to take a bite. “Your parents didn’t have what it takes to be successful,” she went on. “But you do. You own one of the most profitable clubs in the city.”
The ego stroking must have worked because he brightened. “I do.”
“And you’ve got all these new investments,” she added, feigning pride.
“I am doing very well for myself,” he said without a trace of modesty. “And this latest investment I’m involved in—it’s a big one, babe. Really big.”
She pretended to be impressed. “Is that what your big meeting is about on Tuesday? Are you—what’s the phrase for it? Closing a big deal?”
He offered an enthusiastic nod.
“Then we should celebrate that night,” she declared as she reached for her wineglass. “That way we’ll have two things to toast.”
“I’m afraid I can’t. Closing the deal might take all night.”
She pouted again. “How late can it really go? Business hours end at six.”
“This is a foreign deal, babe. The meeting won’t even start until ten.”
“At night?” She gasped.
He smiled indulgently. “That’s how it works with foreign partners. They go by their own clocks.”
“Oh.” She put on a disappointed face. “Okay. We’ll just stick to Wednesday night then.” She cast her eyes downward. “I bought a new outfit.”
Vince chuckled. “Did you?”
“Yeah.” She smiled. “I want to look nice for you.”
He reached across the table and clasped her hand. “You always look nice for me, babe.” Then he wiped the corners of his mouth with his napkin and picked up the menu. “How about some dessert?”
* * *
Vince waited until Olivia’s BMW disappeared around the corner before slipping his phone out of his pocket. He couldn’t put his finger on it, but something about this entire evening had felt off. Maybe it was the walk down memory lane—he hated talking about his childhood. Or maybe it was the way Olivia had showed up and surprised him. She was a great girl, but spontaneity wasn’t her style, which was something he’d always appreciated about her. Spontaneity wasn’t his style either; he preferred careful planning, meticulous assessment. Consider every complication and think ten moves ahead.
Olivia showing up here tonight wasn’t sitting right with him.
Unfortunately, he didn’t have time to worry about that now. This was an important week, and he had to stay focused, keep his mind off pussy and solely on this new deal. Another thing he liked about Olivia—she wasn’t one of those overbearing bitches who demanded that he spend every second with her. He didn’t particularly approve of her decision to attend school—what did she need an education for when she had a man perfectly willing to take care of her? But he allowed her the independence because he knew women didn’t like feeling like they were on a leash.
He wouldn’t put up with it forever, though. This had been a busy year for him—becoming increasingly involved in the distribution operation, enhancing his contact network, hooking up with Moreno—but once this new partnership really got off the ground, he would focus his attention on his personal life. He had to buy his girl a ring, make this thing between them official, and the wedding would take some planning—Italians didn’t do anything halfway, especially not celebrations. But all that would come in time. Business came first, as always.
Nevertheless, it wouldn’t hurt to pay closer attention to his future wife’s activities.
“Mikey,” he said when his bodyguard answered. “I need you to place two more guards on my girl.”
“Is Rocko not doing his job? Because I can arrange for someone else—”
“No, Rocko’s solid. I want two men in addition to him. Get them to cover the front and rear of her building, and stay on her whenever she leaves the apartment.”
“Sure thing, boss.”
Vince headed for the Town Car that appeared at the curb. As usual, his driver, Paul, was efficient, but this Sunday ritual had been going on for years, so he knew the drill. Vince slid
into the backseat and ordered Paul to take him to the club, then leaned his head against the leather seat. A part of him wondered if increasing Olivia’s watch detail was excessive, but he still couldn’t shake the feeling that she was up to something.
Probably paranoia, but Vince knew better than to second-guess his instincts. If Olivia was up to something . . . well, he’d find out soon enough.
Chapter 17
“I could get used to this,” Luke murmured as he rolled off Olivia’s flushed body.
He was still coming down from the orgasmic high, stunned by the enthusiasm Olivia had exhibited during their early-morning romp. A lot of women weren’t into morning sex, so waking up to the feel of Olivia kissing his neck had been a pleasant surprise. This was the first time he’d spent the entire night with a woman, which was another surprise, but Olivia had reminded him yesterday that he’d be outside watching the building anyway, so why not spend the night warm indoors? She’d raised a good point, though they both knew he wasn’t there to protect her. He couldn’t even count the number of times they’d made love during the night.
Made love?
Aw, shit. He was actually thinking of it as lovemaking.
“That was very nice,” she agreed, shifting closer.
He stroked her hair, marveling at its softness, its thickness. And he loved the way she cuddled beside him after sex, all warm and boneless, purring every few seconds like a contented cat.
It was official—he had it bad.
“So what do you do on your days off?” he asked, deciding that small talk was the only way to squash the strange emotions fluttering through him.
“I usually do homework. Or study. Or clean.”
“Uh-oh, someone call the fun police—you’re having so much fun it ought to be illegal.”
She laughed. “I know, I’m a huge dork. But it’s hard to make time for fun when you’ve got so many responsibilities.”
Smiling, Luke twined a strand of her silky hair around his finger. “Okay, well, if you had the time and opportunity, what would you do?”