Bad Enemy (Bad Girls Club Book 4)

by Carmen Falcone

  By hitting me, he won’t hit your brother. His words echoed in her ear. He’d almost sounded… selfless? She removed her shoes and tossed them to the side. Her upper body deflated a bit, and sadness stabbed at her. She hadn’t meant for Troy to get physically hurt. Though he was acting like he was mostly okay except for the piece of steak on his eye and the bruises on his body. “Thank you for taking care of it.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  She surged to her feet, restless. “Well then.”

  He waved at her, giving her silent permission for her to leave.

  She walked a couple of feet, then turned around. Her body worked faster than her brain. Heart thumping in her ears, blood rushing through her. “I didn’t want you to get hurt.”

  He grabbed the piece of meat and put it on the table. “I’m fine.”

  Something inside her twisted. He’d looked away. He was lying to her. She swallowed the lump of frustration in her throat. “I appreciate your perpetual economy of words, but now is the time to talk, Troy.”

  “Talk about what? Conor is a weasel. He had his bodyguard take a swing at me to make a point, and I should have just taken it, but after a while, I roughed him up too.”

  “Roughed him up how?” Shit. She erased the distance between them, her fingers curling into a ball. “You were supposed to fix things, not to make the situation worse.”

  He touched his chin. “I handled it.” He stood. “Anyway don’t worry. Tell your brother to wait until the dust settles then he can come back.”

  “My brother,” she said in a low voice.

  Warmth fluttered in her chest. He downplayed the altercation with Conor, her gut told her. He’d been beaten and didn’t make a big deal. Troy could have made her feel like shit, guilty, by saying he’d done it all because of her and her brother’s mess. But no, he acted all tough and even made a point to tell her Miguel would be fine in the end.

  She inched closer to him until she could push in his scent. He wasn’t the heartless jerk he painted himself to be. He was… She touched his chest, making an effort to not caress his bruises. His skin was probably tender in those areas, and she didn’t want to inflict more pain.

  He tipped up her chin, his eyes finding hers and holding her captive. The depths of his blue irises spoke of confusion. “If you’re going to kiss me and run like the other times, don’t bother,” he said, undercurrents of resentment traveling in his rich deep voice.

  A sense of empowerment coursed through her. She could say no. She could say yes. He would be fine either way, but his expression was serious. Skeptical. Concerned. Another wave of arousal washed through her, rippling all the way to her sex.

  He talked like her rejection would break him. What he didn’t know was that stopping right now would break her.

  She cleared her throat and felt the maddening pulse at the base. She had dozens of reasons not to sleep with him, but the one reason to sleep with him surpassed all others. Desire whispered beneath her skin and pounded in her bloodstream.

  “Do I look like I’m running?”

  She pulled his head to her, and the moment her lips caressed his, a current of lust sent her hormones into a non-stopping overdrive. He claimed her mouth, thrusting his tongue and lowering his hand down to her ass, which he cupped. She gasped, so soon yet already overwhelmed.

  He kneaded her ass, massaging it, while he teased her mouth with small kisses then when she thought he’d disengage from her, big ones. Passion drenched in her blood like red wine. Never in her life had she felt this aroused… never.

  He lifted her to the table, pushing the objects atop, which fell to the ground. She sat on it, and his hands perused over her body, up and down, until he held both sides of her buttoned blouse and ripped it apart. The whooshing sound of the fabric shredding raised the little hairs on her neck. He reached behind her back and unclasped her bra, and soon her breasts spilled into view, fuller and more tingly than ever.

  He removed her pants and underwear, leaving her naked and exposed. Then, he coaxed her to fall back on the table, leaning on her, his mouth still hungry for hers. She ran her fingers into his textured hair, bucking her body into his, restless. While he ravished her mouth, he slid his hand down her body until he found her pussy.

  Swiftly, he thrust three fingers inside her wet heat, and a ripple of pleasure shot from her clit to the rest of her body. He continued the torture, driving his fingers in and out of her, then disengaged his mouth from hers and planted open mouthed kisses from her neck to her breasts.

  When she felt his breath blowing over her already painfully tight nipple, she moaned. This—

  “Delicious,” he said, lapping at her taut bud, his tongue savoring her. She rocked her hips into his hand as he kept licking her breast, then switched to the other, alternating between licking and nipping and sending shivers down her body.

  When little dots took over her field of vision and she thought she was close to coming, he withdrew his fingers from her, pulled her to the very edge of the table. She was about to prop herself on her elbows and wonder what his plan was when she heard the zipper of his pants and the sound of them hitting the tiled floor.

  Growling, he rubbed the thick head of his cock at her entrance. Her gaze collided with his, and a shudder went through her. “Troy,” she hissed.

  In response, he brushed her folds with his cock, each time a surge of pure electricity arrowing to her core. At last, he thrust himself inside her, and she let out a long-winded moan. Her walls clung to him, her sex adjusting to his generous size and thick girth. She felt him pulsate between her legs, which he swung over his shoulder.

  He stared at her, the sinful intensity in his eyes sending her head on a spin.

  She wished she could look away, but she couldn’t. He slid out a bit then returned with full force, just when she’d barely gotten used to him. She parted her lips, but no words came out—only sounds. Hushed moans. Shallow breaths.

  The position he’d chosen, with her legs stretched on his shoulders, made each thrust even deeper. Harder. He kissed her ankle, still looking at her, with a predatory half-smile on his face.

  He knew what he was doing to her. This was payback for the other times when they didn’t go all the way. Now, she knew he’d take her to a place she had no idea if she’d ever return from.

  “God. Troy…”

  She inhaled, trying to focus, trying to keep it together, but as he pummeled into her, her body turned into one throbbing knot of tension. Then, it released, and a wave of pleasure washed over her, her limbs quivering, her throat dry.

  She was still recovering from the overwhelming sensations in her body and her head, when he lowered her legs until her feet touched the edge of the table. Her sex was in full exposure to him, in a way that brought warmth to her cheeks.

  Groaning, he kneeled in front of her, pulled her to his mouth, then kissed her pussy. A frisson energized her body again, igniting the same desire she’d experienced earlier. Same? Maybe greedier this time, she thought, as he lapped his tongue lazily between her folds, the tip of his tongue causing short circuits in her body.

  Again, she found herself restless, and she motioned to move, but he placed a hand on her stomach, keeping her still and at his full command. God.

  Sweat slicked her forehead. She reached behind her head, fumbling until she found the edge of the table and gripped it for her dear life. “Oh, Troy. Yes.”

  He shifted from teasingly licking her to complete tongue domination, eating her cream, then instigating more to slick her folds. He rolled his fingers over her clit, already about to explode. Her heart hammered against her rib cage, and she wrapped her legs around his shoulders, desperate to clench her thighs and have some sort of release.

  Her silent plea only fueled him to provoke her further. He flicked her clit, his thumb working it ruthlessly. Then, he sucked her pussy, his nose pressing into her intimate flesh, and the moment he lightly squeezed her clit, she lost it.

  Another orgasm ex
ploded inside her, this one more powerful than the other. She cried out his name, her voice wavering, her body convulsing as he never let up and fucked her with his tongue, his thumb flicking her clit. She rode his head, grinding.

  “Oh, I’m coming again,” she said, as a baby orgasm rode the tail end of her previous one and drilled through her, sizzling all her nerve endings, ravishing her. “God. So good. Aaah,” she mewled.

  She relaxed her shoulders and closed her eyes, the thoughts in her head foggy and her vision dotted. Then, he scooted her down on the table, and before she had a chance to register what he was doing, he flipped her until she bent over the table.

  Her legs were wobbly, her head bobbed forward. The back-to-back orgasms left her disoriented and sticky, but oh so satisfied. Even if she could barely stand upright, she didn’t have to worry for long.

  Upright wasn’t an option.

  He pressed a hand over the small of her back, motioning her to bend down over the table until her breasts touched the wood. He nudged her thighs apart, and scissored her folds as if making sure she was still wet after all that action. Wet? She was fucking soaked.

  He slammed into her, and a jolt went through her. This time, he didn’t prep her like he had previously, always making sure she was pleasured. With powerful strokes, he used her, driving himself in and out of her to his benefit.

  He fisted his hand into her hair and tugged it, pulling it back. Her entire scalp tingled, the sensation quickly flitting to the rest of her. Could there be no end to his hot moves?

  His groans filled the space, the sound erotic, raw, deep. He pulled her hair again, and she moaned, then rocked her hips into his. He fucked her, plunging and withdrawing, each thrust more powerful than the last. She sank her teeth on her lower lip. Sweat trickled down her face, and her body had already been sensitized after so much that when he pulled her hair one more time then bit her neck, that did it. It flared the building volcano, and she came.

  Warmth flowed through her, this time the pleasure taking her to another dimension.

  Soon, he slipped out of her then returned—and his growl reverberated through her. He came, and she felt him quivering behind her, his labored breath.

  She let her head fall on the table. She was literally flattened and couldn’t move a muscle. She closed her eyes and heard him move, slip out of her, then step out of the kitchen. Had he just left her there, naked and sated?

  She sighed. Maybe this was his move after sex—to leave right away so the woman wouldn’t get any ideas. She let her arm droop to the side of the table. A pang of disappointment twinged in her chest, but she willed it away. She’d almost brushed over the most important fact—with him, she’d felt cherished, desired. She’d wanted to have sex and not do it just for doing it.

  The sound of footfalls yanked her from her musings, and she cleared her throat, not moving. Then, something soft and warm hugged her. She opened her eyes, and he wrapped her with a blanket and scooped her off the table and into his arms. She wasn’t sure which was worse—if he had left her there or him coming back and carrying her to her room in the sweetest way. Apprehension fluttered in her chest. She definitely knew which option was most dangerous to her heart.

  8

  Troy closed the door of his en-suite bathroom, returning to the interior of his bedroom.

  He finished drying his body, then slipped into pants and a crisp long-sleeved shirt. As he shifted his body, his muscles ached a bit from the previous night’s events. First, how he had to fight Conor’s security guard. Then, having sex with his wife for the first time.

  His body went rigid.

  Memories from the sultry look in her eyes, how wonderful she felt and tasted…

  He reached for his Patek Philippe watch on his nightstand and slid it on.

  A gentle knock on his door yanked him from his musings. He opened it, to find a fully clothed Lara staring at him. “Good morning.”

  “Morning,” she said, lifting her cup. “I made you some too. Join me?”

  “Sure, I’ll be right down,” he said. He glanced at her, his throat suddenly dry and thick. A casual expression softened her features, and her hair fell down her shoulders in loose waves. She wore a cherry-colored lipstick, but no other makeup. She looked… relaxed like someone who had been thoroughly fucked.

  Male pride stirred inside him. Would they do it again? They hadn’t talked about the rules of their night together, before or after. Was she acting nonchalant because she wanted to sleep with him again or because she’d rather pretend their kitchen hookup never happened?

  She tilted her head to the side. “Actually, we don’t have a lot of time. Remember we’re supposed to meet with the wedding planner? You know, the one who’s helping us with the reception we’re throwing.”

  He rubbed his forehead. When his father had insisted on a reception, he’d made a couple of phone calls to professionals in Tulip to help them out. Lara was a busy woman and didn’t need to be saddled with responsibilities of planning a wedding reception. So hopefully after meeting the planner, both of them wouldn’t have to do much. “Oh, right, that’s today.”

  “Yeah. I mean, if I have to take time off work to do this, you have to as well,” she said in an amused voice.

  Her behavior quietly surprised him. She didn’t treat him differently after they slept together. She didn’t seem upset or regretful. If anything, she had an extra pep in her step, he noticed walking behind her. The sway of her hips could hypnotize him.

  He entered the kitchen and grabbed the cup of coffee she’d prepared for him. Should he bring it up? Or pretend it never happened? How could he pretend though? An uproar formed in his body. He’d seen her naked and wanted to see her naked again.

  “So. About last night…” she started. She flashed him a glance over the rim of the coffee cup before she took to her mouth for a quick sip. “It doesn’t have to get weird, right?”

  “Not if we can help it.”

  She smiled. “Okay, good. Because maybe we should try it again sometime.”

  A frisson surged through him. She wanted to have sex again and he wouldn’t have to convince her? Pure male satisfaction filled his chest and he stretched to his full height. “Yeah. Though may I ask what made you change your mind? You’ve said you didn’t want things to get complicated?” he asked, needing to hear himself out loud.

  After all, as much as he wanted to get her naked again, he needed both of them to know sleeping together would be temporary. As soon as he regained power of the company, he’d leave Tulip and move back to Los Angeles. Not only that, but long-term relationships were also not for him. Lara was too good a person for him to hurt or disappoint.

  “I guess it got complicated the moment you took a beating for my brother.”

  He frowned. “So that was charity sex?”

  “Not from my part. If it had been, I would have done other things to you to show my… appreciation.” She put her cup on the table and smoothed her hand over her blouse.

  A knock on the door made him glance at his watch. The housekeeper had the key, so who could it be at this time? He strode to the door, and opened it, to find his father on the other side, regarding him with interest. “Dad?” He took a step back, granting his father entry. “What are you doing here?”

  His father glanced around, and he realized this was the first time Giorgio Gallucci visited him in Tulip. Without fanfare, his father walked into the living room, as if this was the most natural thing in the world, and sat in one of the sectional leather sofas. “I came to visit you.”

  Lara sashayed from the kitchen. “Mr. Gallucci, hi,” she said, doing a much better at concealing her surprise than he had. She smiled, seemingly even at ease with his father—a sentiment many didn’t share. He could be overbearing and intimidating. “What brings you to our neck of the woods? Would you like some coffee?”

  “Coffee would be great,” he said. “And please, call me Giorgio,” his father said.

  Lara asked him a couple
of details about how his father preferred his coffee and left to the kitchen to make it.

  Troy sat across from his father. “We were on the way to meet a wedding planner.”

  “You were, weren’t you?” His father glanced at the décor, contemplating the fireplace. “I received an interesting call from Tom O’Donnell last night.”

  Pillars of ice formed in his blood, expanding the veins uncomfortably. He should have guessed Conor would raise some hell about a little brawl. The man couldn’t handle his own problems and had to run to his father. “What did he say?”

  His father clenched his jaw. “He said that you visited his son and knocked him out.”

  Troy didn’t move a muscle. “Did he say why?”

  “He said you aren’t taking care of our properties in the area the way you were supposed to. Hiring sleazeballs to work for us, then visiting Conor and hit him in a poor attempt to show dominance.”

  Troy drummed his fingers on the sofa. Sleazeballs? Seemed like Conor hadn’t told his father about what Miguel had done or his connection to Lara, unless his father hadn’t told Troy. No, his father would have questioned him.

  Why were the O’Donnells hanging on to that piece of information that could potentially jeopardize Troy’s entire plan? A lump of frustration lodged in his throat. What if his father knew about it, and was testing him? Should he just tell him the truth? “We hired a couple of guys who weren’t reliable, and they’re off our list now. I went to pay Conor a friendly visit to build more rapport. I don’t want any trouble with him. But he made an inappropriate comment about my wife, and I couldn’t let him think I’d stand for that,” he said in an even tone, carefully choosing his words. “No one disrespects my woman.” He could count on his father’s old-fashioned views on relationship to agree.

  His father rubbed his chin. “He kept that detail from me.”