An Unlikely Deal

by Nadia Lee

  “Can’t see what we’re doing unless you move.”

  That’s true enough. My skirt covers his hand from view, but oh my god…

  “You’re so wet for me, Ava. I can’t wait to have you.”

  I lean back against him and pant. “I can’t wait. I want you inside me. Now.” I punctuate that by grinding myself against him. The feel of his erection twitching against my ass is gratifying, but nowhere near enough.

  The elevator finally opens on our floor with a sharp ding. We both stagger out. I’m drunk with need, and from the dark glittering look in Lucas’s eye, so is he. He spins me around so he can kiss me deeply as we slowly edge toward the suite. I pull him into my mouth, stroking and sucking his tongue, my fingers digging into his hair and my nipples rubbing painfully hard against his chest.

  It takes three tries before he gets the door unlocked. He sticks the card into the slot and the suite lights up. Our mouths still fused, we kick off our shoes. His jacket falls on the floor. He finds the zipper in the back of my dress and pulls it down, while I fumble with the buttons on his shirt.

  The second he drags the dress over my hips, I shimmy out of it. His hot gaze sears me, taking in my black lace demi-bra and tiny panties. He rips his shirt off, buttons flying, and tosses it over a shoulder like a worthless rag.

  Before I can gasp at the violent reaction, he grabs me and kisses me again. I make quick work of his belt and the rest of his clothes. His cock springs out and presses against my belly. I wrap my hand around it and squeeze, watch the precum bead at the tip, and lick my mouth.

  “Jesus,” he mutters.

  “You. Inside me. Now,” I pant.

  “Wrap your legs around me.”

  I do so instantly. He adjusts so his thick, pulsing shaft is nestled between my folds. I rock against him, unable to stop myself. He grits his teeth.

  “You might want to wait until I get a condom.”

  “Hurry,” I demand, my fingers digging into his hot flesh.

  He carries me to the bed and deposits me in the center. His cockhead is glistening and I lick my lips. He curses under his breath. “You’re trying to kill me.”

  “Is that an objection?”

  He grins. “Nope.”

  He supports himself on his elbows, resting one on each side of my head and kisses me again. I breathe in his scent—soap and male and a hint of musk—and I wrap myself around him, totally primed.

  His greedy mouth traces my jawline, my neck and my collarbones. He moves lower, kissing the soft swell of my breasts, and tugs at the bra cup until he can wrap his mouth around one of my bared nipples.

  He sucks hard, trapping the pointed tip between the roof of his mouth and the flat of his tongue. His cheeks hollow, his hot eyes on mine. Bliss spreads through me, leaving my body heavy and languid with sensual delight. My fingernails rake across his back and dig into the thick muscles. His chest rumbles as he chuckles like the sexy devil he is. He switches his attention to the other nipple, and I writhe underneath him as blistering pleasure streaks along my veins. I feel like I’m burning from inside out, and if he doesn’t drive into me, I’m going to die in the next two seconds.

  He licks the smooth skin along my belly, going lower and lower and lower until his breath fans my clit. Shamelessly, I spread my legs as wide as I can.

  “Please, Lucas!” I beg, uncaring what comes out of my mouth so long as he takes me. “I want you inside me, thick and hard, fast and strong. I’ve been dreaming about this for two years. We couldn’t do it last time, and as satisfying as it is to have you down there, I want you pounding into me more. Don’t deny me. And don’t make me wait any longer.”

  The muscles in his jaw flex. I know from the way he grinds his teeth that his control is slipping dangerously.

  He pushes himself off the mattress and reaches into the drawer by the bed. He pulls out a foil packet and rips it open with his teeth. With an elegant deftness that I can’t help but adore, he sheathes himself in the rubber and links his fingers with mine, pushing my hands up until they’re above my head.

  “Ava, you’re the only woman who can shatter me like this.”

  He drives into me in one smooth stroke. Although I’m slick and ready, I feel his invasion with a tinge of mild discomfort. He is so big and so damn hard. But it doesn’t last long. He keeps himself still to give me the time to adjust, but the ache that his immobility starts in my belly is too much to bear.

  “Please,” I whisper.

  He starts to thrust, creating that delicious friction that only he can. Hot liquid pleasure unfurls inside me, spreading in sweet ripples.

  I grow even wetter, more desperate for him. We breathe in the same air, staring into each other’s eyes. Even through the lust relentlessly driving both of us, I feel a deep connection forming. It is as though my soul is entwining with his every time he sinks into me, finding his bliss and giving me mine.

  An orgasm erupts within me. I arch my back, screaming his name.

  A harsh groan tears from his throat. Sweat forms along his hairline and spine, but he doesn’t stop. He’s a man possessed, determined. He keeps going, each drive somehow different—somehow better—than the one before.

  “I’m so close. Oh my god, I think I’m going to—” My fingers tighten around his.

  He breathes harshly against my neck, placing a hot kiss against my jawline. “That’s the point. I want you to come again with my dick in your pussy, and I want you to feel me come, feel me inside you long after.”

  I meet his gaze with mine. “I’m never going to forget anything. You’re the only one.” He’s always been the only one.

  He drives more powerfully into me. I climax again. “Lucas!”

  Tendons stand out starkly on his neck as he thrusts into me one final time. “Ava.”

  He shudders within me as a powerful orgasm finds him. And I hold his hands as tightly as I can.

  Because this moment? This is so damn sweet, so damn powerful. He said I shatter him, but he’s the one who shatters me.

  When he can breathe normally again, he lifts his head and looks at me, presses his lips to my forehead. “Stay.”

  I close my eyes and nod. “Okay.”

  Chapter Twenty

  Ava

  “Good morning, sleepy head.”

  “Ugh. Too early, you sex fiend.” I start to turn away from Lucas’s cheerful greeting, but then smell coffee. “Is that…?”

  “Yes.”

  I open my eyes. The first thing I see is him—freshly showered and in a casual white cotton shirt and old faded blue jeans. His dark gaze is soft and bright, and the morning light hits the beautiful, straight blade of his nose and the sharp angles of the cheekbone I can see. My breath catches. I’ve never experienced waking up with him. And I like it. Too much so.

  Suddenly shy and discomfited by the thought, I sit up and extend a hand for the coffee. I inhale the deep aroma and take a sip. It flows over my tongue like an elixir. “This is really good.”

  “Only the best for my girl.” Lucas sits next to me. “As much as I’d like to have you sleep as long as you want, it’s already ten. And you have a spa appointment at eleven.”

  “Ten? I never sleep that late.”

  He grins at me, entirely too happy. “Well, I kept you up.”

  I take another sip. “And I kept you up. Insatiable beast.” As I shift, my body protests, making every little ache and soreness known. Still I can’t complain. It was for a good cause, and I feel like I just conquered Mount Everest.

  I get out of bed carefully, holding the mug. “I’m going to finish this coffee and take a shower.”

  Lucas checks out my naked body, scraping his lower lip with his teeth. Even though the heat in his look sends a pang of lust through me, I wag my finger.

  “Remember the appointment at eleven?”

  He sighs. “You might want to shower first. I ordered room service about ten minutes ago.”

  I nod and chug down the coffee as quickly as I can whi
le starting the water. Steam fills the bathroom. Placing the empty mug by the sink, I hop into the shower and wash efficiently. The moist heat helps loosen my muscles, and I feel much better.

  By the time I’m out and finish applying some lotion to my skin, I hear dishware rattling around outside. Gotta admire Japanese efficiency.

  “Food’s here,” Lucas announces from the living room.

  I go out, tying the sash around my robe. “What did you get?”

  “A couple of egg omelets and ham and sausage.”

  “A man after my own heart. And croissants too?”

  “Of course. And apricot jam.” He pulls out a chair for me.

  Taking my seat, I give him a small smile. “How did you know?”

  “When we were flying, you didn’t touch anything except the apricot jam with your bread and croissants.” He sits across from me and twists the jar open.

  “I won’t have much time to linger over our meal.”

  “If you’re calculating travel time, don’t. The spa’s inside the hotel.”

  I give him a stern look. “Do you have any idea how much it costs to go to a hotel spa?”

  “Do I look like the type to care?” His smile is completely unrepentant. “Now, say thank you and enjoy your meal.”

  “Thank you. But you really didn’t have to.” I lower my eyelashes. “I could cancel it and spend the rest of the morning in bed with you…”

  “Much as I appreciate the gesture, I’m not letting you cheap out on me.” He reaches over and takes my hand. “I want to spoil you, Ava. I haven’t been able to do anything for your birthday or holidays in the last two years. So let me.”

  Gifts. Things. I can’t help but feel sort of blah about them. “Okay.”

  I can sense him withdrawing at my rather tepid response. Oh come on. He’s trying. And isn’t this what you wanted? Give him a chance. He isn’t like your father.

  I muster a high-wattage smile. “A spa does sound like fun.” I take a bite of the egg omelet, which is excellent—fluffy and light, almost like a soufflé. “But now I have to think about what I’m going to get you.”

  Relaxing a bit, he says, “You don’t have to give me anything.”

  “But I haven’t gotten you anything for your birthday for two years either.”

  He gives me an odd look. “It’s enough that you’re with me.”

  Surprised, I study him. It’s obvious he means what he said. It’s sweet, but it won’t be enough for me personally. If we apply this logic, then being together should be enough for both of us. I’m not sure why I’m so reluctant to just accept all his extravagant gifts, but somehow I am.

  “Be gracious and say thank you, Ava,” he says with mock sternness.

  “Fine. Thank you,” I say as ungraciously as possible, which elicits a laugh.

  I manage a smile. But I can’t shake off the unease.

  * * *

  Ava

  Despite my worries, I end up with an extra five minutes before the appointment. Lucas has thought of everything. He had the concierge bring up my favorite face lotions and took my wrinkled dress and hung it in the bathroom while he showered so it was presentable again. That was considerate, since I don’t have anything else to wear, and I didn’t think beyond being with him last night.

  The spa reception area isn’t huge, but it’s airy with bright cream colors, soft leather couches and oval glass-top tables. High-quality herbs and spices scent the air, and numerous vases with fresh roses and lilies occupy various nooks and crannies. A young, slim receptionist in a dark blue and cream dress informs me in excellent English to wait a bit and serves me my drink of choice—hot lemon tea with milk—in an elegant bone china cup with a saucer.

  I take a quick sip of the tea. It’s great, made with real lemon, not the cheap imitation goop you often find in Osaka supermarkets. I pull out my phone and text Ray and Darcy.

  I’m coming back home soon, probably this week. Don’t know exactly when yet. Will let you know. Miss you. Give Mia my love.

  A couple minutes later, I get a call. “Ray! I didn’t know you were still up.”

  “Mia’s been a little fussy today. Darcy was with her, and I told her to get some sleep.”

  I wince. “Sorry she’s such a difficult child.” The apology slips out before I can stop myself. Every time she gets sick or acts in a manner that makes her less than perfect, I feel responsible.

  “Ah, she’s an angel. Even princesses have bad days.” He chuckles. “Listen, I just wanted to make sure you’re all right. Darcy said something about asking you to come home for Thanksgiving. But your vacation probably isn’t gonna be long enough to make it worth your while to fly all the way out here, right? So what’s going on?”

  “Kind of a long story, but I think I’m moving back home. Permanently.”

  He’s quiet for a moment. “You are? Did you resign?”

  “Something like that.”

  “Okay. Well… Do you have a place to stay?”

  Probably Lucas’s place in Charlottesville, but… “Yes, I think so.”

  “It’s a man, isn’t it?”

  “What?”

  “You hesitated, and there’s no way you just quit your job like that. The Japanese are bad about quitting.”

  It was Ray’s expertise in Japanese history and culture that got me interested in working in the country in the first place. “Yes.”

  “He must be something special.”

  “He is.” I turn away from the receptionist checking the computer and lower my voice. “It’s Lucas.”

  “The Lucas from two years ago?” Ray asks sharply.

  “Yes.”

  “Well… I suppose I should say I’m glad you’re getting back together.”

  My hand clenches and unclenches around the phone. “Ray.”

  “Does he know?”

  “No.”

  In the silence, I can see Ray pinching his steel-gray eyebrows together. “So. You aren’t one hundred percent certain about him, but somehow you quit your job to be with him.”

  Put that way, it does sound pretty crazy.

  “Darcy’s going to worry,” he says.

  “I know.”

  Ray sighs. “Can you send me your flight information as soon as you know? I’ll pick you up from the airport.”

  “You don’t need to—”

  “I insist. So will Darcy. We’ve missed you, and Darcy’s going to want to keep you under our roof and spoil you for a while.”

  And when Darcy wants to spoil you, you get spoiled. “Thank you.” We’ll discuss where I’m going to be living later—that’s not a battle I want to fight at the moment.

  “No need for thanks. That’s what family’s for.”

  My eyes prickle with tears. Ray and his wife, Darcy, are the ones who treated me like their own. Without them for foster parents, who knows how I might’ve ended up?

  The receptionist smiles to signal that they’re ready for me. I turn my attention back to the call. “I have to go, Ray. I’ll text you the flight info as soon as I can.”

  “Great. Love you, Ava.”

  “I love you, too, Ray.”

  * * *

  Lucas

  Since I know Ava is going to cheap out on me—I don’t trust that she’ll get more than a foot massage—I call the spa and instruct them to give her the works. I want her happy, relaxed and glowing when she comes back.

  I lean against the headboard and smile to myself. I wish I were there to see it when she realizes she’s going to be pampered whether she likes it or not. Mostly so I could kiss away her annoyed scowl and taste that adorable pouty mouth.

  My phone buzzes with a text. Ava, writing about my high-handedness? I should probably send her something inappropriate. Maybe a pec shot…or something more risqué. I snort with a suppressed laugh, but my humor vanishes when I see who it is from—Blake.

  When are you available? Found the perfect woman for you.

  The message is so bizarre, it takes me a m
oment to process. It isn’t like him to give a damn about my love life.

  Not interested, I text back.

  Already find a bride? Is it the woman you wanted to talk about earlier?

  I scowl. Ava is none of his business. I’m not marrying her for the painting, I write, referring to the fucked-up proposal from our father.

  Then what?

  I hesitate. I want Ava for reasons other than the damned paintings. And I want her to crave me the way I crave her…the way I love her.

  Another text comes in. You are marrying, right?

  I already told you guys no. As I hit send, I feel a pit growing in my belly.

  Dad is a borderline sociopath, but he’s no dummy. He knows the only way to make us all jump is to make sure everyone gets punished if even one of us disobeys.

  I can live without the painting. My siblings believe Grandpa saw our greatest potential and put that into the portraits he did of us when we turned eighteen. It might be true for them, but it isn’t for me. He saw something in me that didn’t exist. He only saw what he wanted to see, and when there wasn’t anything there, he imagined it.

  People think that Elliot and I are geniuses and that we founded and nurtured the company that made us rich together. But it was really Elliot who protected it from the embezzler—I didn’t know the money was missing since stuff like that isn’t my forte—and he’s the one who courted our investors. I was always a bit too shy and awkward. Or, as Elliot would put it, “Hard to get to know.”

  The more precise verdict would be “wears his heart on his sleeve unless he’s careful” delivered in a female voice dripping with contempt.

  You know this is going to devastate Elizabeth.

  I glare at the phone screen. Blake knows my weak point. Other than Ava, my half-sister, Elizabeth Pryce-Reed, is the only woman I’d take a bullet for. She isn’t Catholic, but she should be canonized anyway for all the good work she does for the destitute and disadvantaged in the world. I’ve seen the difference she’s made in people’s lives. If I died today, it wouldn’t make the world any sadder, any less bright. But Elizabeth? The world would be a poorer place.

  That’s a cheap shot. She’ll get over it if I donate a few million bucks to her foundation to make up for it, I respond even though I know that isn’t true. Even though Grandpa’s portrait couldn’t capture all that’s good about her, she adores the work since she loved that man. She’d grieve if she lost it.