Richer Than Sin

by March, Meghan

  As I faced the door, I realized I didn’t have a fucking key. But I do know where the spare is hidden.

  “Hold on one sec.” I took a few steps to the side and lifted the moss-covered rock directly below the middle window.

  “Lost your key?”

  “It’s somewhere, and I’m not taking the time to hunt for it.” It wasn’t exactly a lie. I knew exactly where the keys were, but I wasn’t going back to the estate to get one.

  “Fair enough.”

  When the unlocked door swung open, I lifted her into my arms again, carrying her over the threshold before kicking it shut behind us. Instead of flipping on the living room lights, I took her to the bedroom and shut the door before lowering her carefully to her feet.

  She stood before me.

  “You changing your mind?”

  She shook her head as she pressed her palms to my chest. “Didn’t expect a city boy to be so hard.”

  “Honey, you have no idea.” I stepped forward, sliding one knee between her slightly spread legs. I pressed my palm to the small of her back and pulled her against me so she could feel exactly how hard I was.

  Her gaze heated, even as indecision warred on her face.

  “Nothing happens that you don’t want.”

  “But what if I want it all?”

  “Then that’s what you’ll get.”

  I cupped her ass and spun her around so her back was to the bed. I flexed, lifting her onto the bed before following her down and letting some of my weight rest against her.

  Her body cradled mine, and all I could think was I want more.

  More contact. More skin. More of those burning blue eyes studying my face.

  She reached up and her fingers skated along my cheekbone. “You got hurt.”

  “I only feel you.” My dick hardened as it rocked against her center.

  “I wasn’t kidding when I said I’ve never done this before,” she blurted, and I jerked my head back.

  “You’re a virgin?” My body stilled.

  “No. No. I mean . . . I’ve never had a one-night stand.” She turned her head to the side like she didn’t want to look at me. “God, that sounds cliché.”

  I used two fingers to gently guide her gaze back to mine. “Remember what I said? No judgment. I mean it. I want you more than I remember wanting another woman ever.”

  Heat flared in those blue eyes again. “Then maybe we should stop with all the talking.”

  This girl, whoever the hell she might be, was fire and innocence mixed together in the most dangerous way possible.

  My protective instincts warred with my need to strip her and sink my cock inside her. Every feeling she drew from me was so new and different. I didn’t know what the hell was happening tonight, but I believed she and I were both in that bar, at the same time, in the same place, for a reason.

  And whatever that reason was, it brought us here. I wasn’t going to waste that chance.

  I cradled her head and took her lips again. They were soft and smooth, and she kissed like she was struggling to hold back her hunger. I couldn’t wait to build it until she had no choice but to explode.

  I was going to make this the best night of her life. She might forget what took her into that bar, but she would never forget me. And if we were remotely as explosive together as I thought we were going to be, then this wouldn’t be a one-time thing. That would give me one real reason to smile about being back in this town.

  Her hands tugged at my shirt, and we broke apart so she could strip it over my head.

  “You’re beautiful,” she said, her voice catching when she stared at my chest.

  “No, that’s you.”

  Her blue eyes pierced through me. All the things weighing on me—the expectations, the pressure—disappeared like they’d never existed. There was nothing but her and me and this night.

  We tore each other’s clothes off like we were half-crazy, and when I slipped off her shirt to uncover her gorgeous tits and perfect nipples, my dick pulsed against my jeans, straining to be inside her.

  As much as I wanted to take her hard and fast, I wanted to take care with her. She’d been fucked over by some guy, and I wasn’t about to do the same thing to her.

  I pulled off her skirt and breathed in the scent of her. “You’re soaked, aren’t you, Blue?”

  “It’s your fault. You did it. I—”

  “What?”

  “I’ve never . . . not like this. So fast. So . . . everything.”

  Her disjointed words sent a charge of possession and triumph through me. Whatever my goal was when I brought her through the door, it changed. I wanted her addicted to me. Dying for me. I wanted to be the only person who could make her feel this way.

  And she doesn’t even know my name.

  It was a headier feeling than anyone else would ever understand, and to me it was the ultimate aphrodisiac. I didn’t need her name to know that I wanted her more than I’d ever wanted anyone. Maybe it was the adrenaline. Maybe it was the need for me to claim something in this town as my own. Whatever it was, it didn’t matter.

  I moved down her body and peeled off her panties. She arched against me, and I breathed in her scent.

  She hadn’t lied. She was soaked, and from the way she was lifting her hips, she was dying for this as badly as I was.

  How long has it been since someone took care of her?

  Immediately, I blocked out the question before my brain could think about the answer. However long it had been, she wouldn’t remember anyone before me.

  Her nails dug into my shoulders as my thumb skated over the prettiest pussy lips I’d ever seen. Shivers rippled through her body.

  “So responsive. So wet. So fucking hot.”

  She opened her mouth to reply, but all she managed was a mewl. At least until I lowered my head and swiped my tongue through her sweet wetness.

  “Oh God. Do that again.”

  A sneaking suspicion formed in my brain that while this girl might not be a virgin, and while she did come home with me after knowing me for all of a half hour, she wasn’t lying when she said she didn’t do things like this.

  That just made it more imperative that I make tonight unforgettable.

  Her body responded, muscles clenching and head rocking, as I ate her like she was my last meal. She writhed against my mouth, moaning until her screams filled the cabin and a burst of tart wetness hit my tongue.

  Fucking incredible.

  I lifted up, dragging a finger through her slick folds, loving the way her body trembled when I touched her. “I want you. Right now.”

  Her gaze locked with mine, and she spread her legs the barest inch. “What are you waiting for?”

  Her innocence mixed with her bold words was the most intoxicating combination. I didn’t have a chance in hell at being able to resist, even if I wanted to.

  I pushed off the bed and undid the button of my jeans. Her eyes widened when my cock sprang free.

  “Holy shit.”

  Her hushed voice sounded like a prayer, and it made me feel like the luckiest man alive. I wrapped my palm around my dick and gave it a rough tug. Her blue eyes locked on the tip, and as badly as I wanted those red lips wrapped around it, I wanted to be inside her more.

  I pulled out my wallet and found a condom. I tore it open with my teeth, thanking God that it was intact. She watched my every movement as I rolled it on, and part of me wanted to tell her she could help. Instead, I reveled in the heat blazing from her eyes that was evenly matched by her body.

  “You ready?”

  With a nod, she whispered, “Hurry.”

  Thank God.

  Once the condom was secure, I lowered myself over her, loving the feel of her soft curves under me. Nothing like those stick figures dressed in solid black that filled the clubs in New York. She gripped my shoulders, and her hips bucked against my dick like they were trying to force it inside.

  My jaw clenched, and my control felt like it was about to snap as I n
otched the head against her opening. “No going back from this, Blue.”

  “I don’t want to go back. I want this.”

  As soon as the last syllable left her mouth, I plunged inside.

  My brain went completely blank. The feel of her tight, wet heat robbed me of every memory of sex before and replaced it with her. Her body clamped down on mine before releasing and letting me slide in to the hilt.

  She was no virgin, but she might as well be one. A growl rumbled from my throat at the possessive instincts she spawned in me.

  Her fingernails dug into my shoulders. “I didn’t know it could feel this good.”

  I didn’t know what kind of piece of shit was fucking her before, but she wouldn’t remember him come morning. Neither of us would remember what it was like to be with anyone else, if I fucked her the way I planned.

  I pulled back and pushed forward, and her hips rose to meet me as I thrust inside. Over and over, I pushed into her until she thrashed and screamed. It took everything I had not to stop. Not to lose my rhythm. I kept fucking her as her inner muscles clamped down, and she came so hard that I almost did too.

  “Oh my God!”

  She went limp, and I finally let myself go. My release was ripped straight from my balls, and with my cock still pumping inside her, I stared down at her.

  What the fuck just happened? What kind of spell did this girl weave over me?

  And more importantly . . . Who is she?

  I had to know.

  Because if someone told me she was planted in that bar tonight to entrap me into doing whatever I could to have another taste of her, I’d believe him.

  I’d had plenty of good sex. Great sex. But Jesus fucking Christ, nothing like this. Everything else paled in comparison.

  Her body was limp when I pulled out, and I couldn’t help but smile. Made a man feel fucking good when the orgasm he gave a girl knocked her out.

  My body and brain, both worn down from the past few days of running the gauntlet, wanted one thing before I could have her again—sleep.

  I took care of the condom before tucking her under the covers and curling my body around her.

  She wasn’t leaving tomorrow until I knew her name and how soon I was going to see her again.

  Maybe I was crazy, but this felt a whole fucking lot like fate.

  I reached for her twice in the night, expecting the sex to be nothing like the first time, but I was wrong.

  It was even better.

  Her body was attuned to mine. She rode me until I came, and it was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen. The next time, I took her from behind, one hand buried in her hair, my possessive instincts out of control when it came to this girl.

  I didn’t need to know her name to know she was meant to be mine.

  I drifted off to sleep one more time, my fingers tangled in her hair.

  * * *

  When I opened my eyes a few hours later, the bed was empty. I shot straight up and looked around.

  She was gone.

  I did not fucking imagine last night.

  Then I heard boards creak out in the living room.

  Fuck, she’s sneaking out.

  Not only was I not letting her leave without getting her name, but she had no way to get home.

  I bolted out of bed, not bothering with my jeans, and reached the living room. “Hey—”

  She whipped around from where she was standing, fully dressed, by the front door. But she wasn’t looking at the door. No, she was staring at a picture below a trophy mount and an antique rifle.

  A picture of me, my father, and my grandfather.

  Instead of a sated smile, her face was the picture of horror.

  “Are you okay?”

  She backed away, edging toward the door, and tripped over one of her boots as she reached for the handle.

  “You . . . you’re . . . Lincoln Riscoff. Aren’t you?” Her expression was echoed by the horrified tone of her voice.

  No woman had ever looked at me like that before. Normally when they found out my name, they were on me faster than I could fend off.

  My chin went up. “Yeah. So?”

  “Shit.” She reached down and grabbed her boots before ripping the door open.

  She was already partway down the drive before I hit the front porch.

  “Wait!”

  She gave me a backward glance and stumbled, dropping one of her boots. She didn’t even stop to pick it up. She just bolted.

  Fuck.

  3

  Whitney

  Present day

  Ten years. That’s how long it’s been since I last saw the Welcome to Gable sign as I drove away as a newlywed in the back of a limo filled with regrets.

  Since then, I can’t say how many times I’ve thought about making my return. A hundred? A thousand? Somewhere in between, most likely. I’ve pictured myself in a fancy sports car with my hair tucked into a scarf like I was Grace Kelly, or maybe in a chauffeur-driven SUV.

  Not once in those ten years did I think I’d be coming back to town on a Greyhound bus.

  The woman next to me snores so loudly, she wakes herself up. Her head jerks from side to side as she wipes drool from the corner of her mustache.

  “What’d I miss?” She leans over me to look out the window as we approach the bus station.

  “Nothing,” I reply as I pull my baseball cap over my eyes and readjust my sunglasses to hopefully cover my black eye where the makeup is wearing off. Thankfully, she hasn’t recognized me. I’m hoping my iffy luck will hold until I’m off this bus, and she won’t have a clue who she sat next to on this long ride from LA.

  When I left in the back of that limo, only one of us was famous then—Ricky Rango, rising rock star who was destined to become a rock god. Now he’s six feet under, and I’m the famous one because I’m the Black Widow who killed him. Or so they say.

  I know the truth, but no one else cares about anything so mundane as that. The fall from wife of a rock god to the most hated woman in America has been a rocky one, and to be honest, I’m lucky I made it out of LA alive.

  The Greyhound’s brakes squeal as it slows to a stop, changing the direction of my thoughts. It’s time to stop thinking about what I’m running from and put it behind me, if that’s even possible. I’m ready to think about what I’m running toward.

  I just never thought I’d be running toward Gable, the place I spent so many years desperate to leave. But now everything has changed. All I want is a simple, quiet life. Something normal. Away from the paparazzi and accusations. Away from the guilt and fear. I’m hoping Gable can be my safe haven, but I’m also not holding my breath.

  I glance out the window, expecting the old wooden train depot, but we’re on the wrong side of town for that. Ahead is a glass structure that looks much too new to be part of Gable’s historic charm, but sure enough, it has Riscoff Memorial Bus Terminal in large letters on the side.

  Riscoff. That’s one major reason I don’t know if I’ll ever find peace here.

  As soon as we hit the city limits a few minutes ago, my heart jacked up to aerobic rates and my skin started feeling too tight for my body. It was like every part of me knew we were in close proximity to him.

  I force my breathing to slow and try to look at the name without feeling anything.

  Fail.

  So instead, I glare at it, like that’s going to help me find some inner strength that I haven’t already used up defending myself against the press and angry fans. Of course the bus terminal is named after their family. It would match everything else in this town emblazoned with the Riscoff name.

  The hospital that’s probably only a mile from here. The courthouse that takes up one side of the town square. Then there’s Riscoff Bank and Trust two blocks over, near the Riscoff Art Gallery. And of course, there’s the granddaddy of them all on the other side of the river from downtown, Riscoff Timber.

  The only thing that doesn’t have their name is the town itself. I’m pretty su
re my ancestors are still smiling in their graves about snaring that honor—right before they jumped the Riscoffs’ gold claim and started a feud that’s lasted over 170 years. During that time, both families have proven over and over how capable they are of sustaining such hate and bitterness.

  I did my part too, and I’m not proud of it.

  I wait my turn, specifically for the woman beside me to move, so I can haul my ass off the bus. The driver unearths my luggage from underneath and leaves it on the sidewalk near the glass-fronted bus station. The bus rumbles to life again, and I watch as it rolls away. I’m left surrounded by the sum total remains of my former life, in the form of ridiculously overpriced Louis Vuitton luggage, while I wait for my chronically-late-from-birth cousin to come get me.

  If it hadn’t been for Cricket begging me to come back to Gable, I probably would have stayed on the bus all the way to Canada. I hear they’re friendly up there . . . unless they’re Ricky Rango fans. At least in Gable, there’s no love lost for the hometown boy who made good. He managed to burn that bridge when he went off during a concert, ripping this whole town a new one.

  “Ohhh, baby! Look at that sexy thing just waiting on a ride. You wanna come on up with me, girl?”

  If the catcall had come from a man, I would have tensed and prepared to bolt, but no. That’s a voice I’d recognize even if it had been eighty years since I’d been home instead of ten.

  For the first time in months, a genuine smile stretches my lips. “You know I don’t get into a stranger’s van unless someone offers me candy first.”

  “Well, get up here, little girl. I’ve got sugar for you.” Cricket puts the van in park and hops out, running around the front of the giant Econoline. “Jesus Christ, you look just like a real celebrity—who forgot to tell her chauffeur where to pick her up.”

  I rush to meet her. We collide in a hug. “I thought you were my chauffeur. And early too. I was prepared to wait an hour for Cricket Time.”

  My cousin smells exactly the same as the last time I saw her—like pot smoke, coconut, and sunshine.

  “God, I missed you, girl. It’s been way too fucking long.”