He leaned back, his dark, assessing eyes holding mine. They didn’t give anything away, just like the first time I’d seen him.
Dakota had put up some guards since last night. Maybe he’d disappeared to this gym so he wouldn’t wake up next to me in his bed.
“What time do we have to be at the bar?” I ran my fingertips through the sweaty strands of his hair by his ear.
“We’re closed today.” His voice was rough and hoarse.
I hummed. “So are you in?”
“In for what?”
“A week of me.”
His eyes flashed, the wariness turning to heat. “Think that’s smart?”
“I can walk away from this as friends. Can you?”
He nodded. “Not a problem.”
“Then it’s brilliant.” I dropped my mouth onto his, playing at it with my tongue. The sweat on his top lip was salty.
Dakota’s hands dug into my hips, kneading my soft curves before slipping under the hem of his shirt. When he found nothing but bare skin, his tongue dove into my mouth.
I ran my hands down his shoulders and over his back. I towered over him on the bench, forcing him to rise up to meet me.
The skin on his fingers was coarse against the soft flesh of my ass as he palmed it, urging me closer. His spicy scent surrounded us, stronger now that it was mixed with sweat.
My hands slid down the damp plains of his back, fitting to the muscles that were just as chiseled as his abs. Then I picked my knee up and straddled him before dropping my center to his.
The mesh fabric of his shorts didn’t conceal the iron rod between us. I slipped a hand down his front, diving under the elastic waistband and gripping his silky shaft, stroking as he moaned into my mouth.
“Condom.” Dakota started to rise but I gave him all my weight, squeezing his cock harder.
“Shirt pocket,” I panted into his mouth.
The corners of his lips turned up against mine as he went for the pocket. The sound of ripping foil, racing hearts and shuddered breaths echoed through the room.
Dakota lifted up slightly, using one arm to keep me pressed against him as the other moved around in hurried motions to strip down his shorts.
I let go of his shaft, took the condom from his fingers and rolled it onto his hardness. When it was in place, he gripped my hips, steadying me, before lifting me up and planting me right on his throbbing cock.
“Fuck,” he groaned as I gasped.
“You feel so good.” My head lolled to the side as I stretched around him. “So, so good.”
His luscious mouth latched on to my collarbone, pushing the flannel out of the way. He sucked hard as he picked me up and brought me back down onto his cock again. Hard.
That move earned him a hiss.
He did it again five times before his arms dropped to his sides and he let out a huff. “My arms are dead. Let’s shift.”
“Okay,” I breathed.
He picked me up, spun us both around and laid me down on the bench, hovering over me with his thick, long cock still rooted deep. Then he tilted up my hips, testing the angle with one long pull and deep plunge.
“Yessss.” My entire body nearly came off the bench. How he’d figured out so quickly to keep my hips up I had no idea. But it was the only way he’d fit that deep.
Last night’s escapades had made me sensitive this morning, but the little bit of pain mixed with the intense pleasure had me coiled and ready to explode.
If Dakota lived in New York, I’d be tempted to have this every single day. So it was a good thing we had a limit on this. It was a good thing that a relationship was out of the question.
It’s a good thing.
His strokes got faster, his arms holding my legs just underneath my knees. With every thrust forward, he pulled me onto him. The sound of slapping skin, his grunts and my gasps chased away the silence from the gym.
The collar of my flannel dipped over a shoulder as Dakota rocked us back and forth on the bench. With every bounce, the material fell sideways until one of my nipples worked free.
Dakota spotted it and planted himself deep. Then he bent over me, taking my nipple in between his lips and sucking it hard.
“Oh god.” My hands went right into his hair, tugging at the silky strands.
He nipped at the side of my breast, then licked my skin before standing tall again. As he withdrew from me, a wicked gleam settled into his black eyes right before he slammed home, shaking the bench and the bar behind it.
“Touch yourself,” Dakota commanded. “Come around me.”
I nodded, letting one hand drift to my exposed nipple. Then the other slipped down my stomach to my clit. I put the pad of my middle finger on the hard nub, circling just twice before the shaking in my legs set in.
“That’s it, babe. Again.”
I circled again, this time moaning through shallow breaths. My eyes squeezed closed as I rubbed my clit again, feeling the build.
“Come.”
I did on command, letting go as white spots consumed my vision. My back arched off the bench, the hand on my nipple flying to the bar behind my head to hold on so I wouldn’t fall over.
Dakota shuttered as I clenched around him, the pleasure washing over me in body-racking waves. The grip he had on my calves tightened as he thrust one more time and roared his own release into the condom.
We were both boneless and weak when he set my legs down. I watched through the mirror as he kicked off his shoes and shorts, then walked naked to a trash can in the corner to dispose of the condom.
He came back, still semihard. My eyes widened at his big cock hanging thick down his thigh.
“Had enough?” He held out a hand and helped me from the bench.
I grinned and shook my head.
That wicked gleam turned into a smirk as he reached for the collar of my flannel shirt. One rip and the few buttons I’d done up went popping. He yanked hard enough for the seams to split. The flannel was stripped from my shoulders and went floating to the floor.
The corner of his sexy mouth lifted. “I never liked that shirt.”
“This is much better.” I giggled. “Now we match.”
He chuckled, circling me with his arms and bringing his mouth to mine. Then he picked me up and carried me back inside and to his bed.
Where we did not do laundry with his sheets.
“You want to go home?”
I shook my head against his chest. “Can I stay here?”
“Sure.” He drew another circle on the small of my back.
I traced an invisible star around one of his brown nipples.
After we’d spent the rest of the morning in bed, we’d gotten up to shower and eat. I’d never had macaroni and cheese from the blue box before, something Dakota had told me was important. So he’d made me lunch and we’d eaten it in his lounge chairs.
I hated to admit they were comfortable and the drink holders convenient.
Dakota and I had done the dishes, then he’d taken me back into the living room. He’d flipped on the TV and pulled me on top of him on the couch as an action movie played in the background.
After our shower, I’d paired one of his T-shirts with a pair of sweats that were rolled three times at the waist. He’d donned nearly the same. But even clothed, we’d found a way to touch one another’s skin.
I had my hand up the front of his T-shirt while he had his under the back hem of mine.
Neither of us paid much attention to the movie. I expected in another thirty minutes I’d be fast asleep.
“How’d your family make their money?”
My hand froze on Dakota’s chest.
Money? He wanted to know about my money? Had I really read him that wrong?
I’d been so confident that he was different than the others. I’d been sure he hadn’t cared at all about my money. But he hadn’t waited long at all to bring it up.
I guess in that regard, he was different. My exes had all waited at least a month
before asking about my money. They’d pretended to be interested in me.
But Dakota just cut right to the chase.
I pulled my hand from his shirt and moved to leave the couch, but the moment he sensed me about to stand, his arms pinned me tight to his chest.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.” I tried to get away again but he had me trapped.
“Sofia,” he warned.
“Dakota,” I mimicked.
“Talk to me, babe. I just asked a simple question. Why are you trying to bolt?”
“Was it a simple question?”
“What are you talking about?”
“Money,” I huffed. “It always comes down to money.”
Dakota relaxed his arms, but only so he could twist us around, pinning me beneath him on the couch. “You think I want your money?”
“Why else would you ask about my family’s money?”
He frowned. “Before me, have you ever been fucked by a real man?”
“What are you talking about?”
“A real man. Have you ever fucked one?”
“I’m confused.”
“Then the answer is no, you haven’t. By the end of this week, I’m going to be inside you enough so you can start to tell the difference.”
I blinked up at him, completely baffled. “What?”
“A real man doesn’t fuck you for your money. He fucks you because you’re gorgeous. Because you come like a rocket. Because you have eyes that show him everything you’re feeling. He fucks you because nothing has ever felt better.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah, oh. I don’t give a shit about your money.” With that, he let me go and stood, his fists clenched at his sides. “I was just curious. But I’ll just ask your brother someday.”
Damn it. He was different. I wouldn’t make the mistake of misjudging Dakota again.
Before he could walk away, I reached out and took his wrist. Then I looked up to him, hoping what he’d said was true—that he could read the apology in my eyes.
He sighed, shaking his head and relaxing his fists. Then he lay back down on the couch, positioning us both back in the place we’d been before.
I curled back into his side, slipped my hand under his shirt and placed my palm on his heart.
“My great-great-grandfather bought a small bakery in the city at the turn of the century. When that business made a profit, he bought another. And another. Until he’d built up his wealth.”
He’d started small with that bakery and then a flower shop. After some restaurants, he’d expanded into real estate developments. That had bloomed into investments in steel factories and shipping companies. Now, Kendrick Enterprises had billons of dollars under its umbrella and businesses of all shapes and sizes.
“I like that.” Dakota slipped his hand back under the hem of my shirt, redrawing circles. “One guy building that legacy for his family. Starting small. Earning it all himself.”
“I like that too.” It was something I’d always taken pride in, that my family had amassed such wealth because so many of the Kendricks were driven and smart. It may have missed me, but that didn’t mean I wasn’t proud of my name and the accomplishments of my family.
Each generation had doubled the fortune from the previous company’s leader. My father had nearly tripled Pop’s success. And Aubrey was poised to put all the Kendrick men to shame.
I was proud of my sister, something—like thank you—I hadn’t said enough.
But while I’d missed thank-yous simply because I was more concerned with myself than others, I was scared to tell Aubrey that I admired her success. Because while I could compliment her for hours, she had nothing to compliment back.
I’d done nothing to make Aubrey proud.
So far, I had gone through life existing off my family’s money and, since I’d turned thirty, my multimillion-dollar trust fund. It was something all of the direct descendants of my great-great-grandfather received.
I liked to imagine that my great-great-grandfather was a lot like Dakota. Ambitious. Hard-working. An opportunist.
Maybe he’d teach me more than what it was like to be with a real man. Maybe he’d teach me a little something about those qualities too. Maybe he’d teach me to stop hiding behind my money and do something with my life.
Maybe, in a small way, he already had.
“Thank you,” I said against his chest.
“For what?”
“I don’t know. But I wanted to say it.”
“Is there a reason you’re crawling on me?” I stopped in the middle of the staircase leading to the basement.
Sofia was on the step behind me. Her hands were clinging to my shoulders and her front was pressed against my back like she was ready to hop on up. “I don’t like basements.”
I peeled one of her hands off my T-shirt then threaded my fingers with hers. “Come on.”
After she’d told me about her family’s history, we’d fallen asleep on the couch. When we’d woken up, she’d asked to see more of my house, so I’d followed her around as she’d explored. When she’d hit the kitchen, Sofia had shot a wary glance at the basement door.
I’d practically had to pull her through its frame.
She clung to my hand, staying close all the way to the bottom step.
I flicked on the lights, illuminating a short hall on our right. “There’s another guest room and bathroom on this side.”
“It’s nice.” She walked down the hall, going into the bedroom. As she looked around, she ran her fingers over the quilt I’d put on the bed. Then she peered into the attached bathroom. “Did you remodel this yourself?”
I nodded. “Yep. Took me forever, but I saved a fortune doing it myself in my free time.” I didn’t need the room for guests. I rarely had them. But I’d fixed it all up in case I wanted to sell the place one day.
“You’re very . . . handy.” She wagged her eyebrows, glancing at my fingers.
I’d had them all over her intimate places earlier. And I planned to have them there again after we regained some energy.
“The other side isn’t as nice.” I turned away from the room, walking down the hall toward the other half of the basement. If we stayed in that bedroom, we’d be using it. So I went to a room that had no temptations other than the woman herself.
Sofia followed, staying close to my back as she waited for me to turn on the lights. When I did, she peered past me and giggled. “Oh my god. You’re a hoarder.”
I chuckled as she stepped into the storage room. It was dark, despite the bare light bulbs in three sockets. The ceiling was raw and unfinished. The walls were just pink insulation batting between two-by-four studs. The cement floor was barely visible underneath all of the stuff I’d shoved in here.
“What is all of this stuff?” she asked.
“Junk mostly. I’ve got a few rental properties up in Kalispell. I bought each cheap and part of that was because they’d been full of old shit. Anything I thought could be salvaged I brought here.”
“Wow.” She took in the mirror propped up against a wall then the antique clock I’d stacked on a dresser. Neither was expensive, but with a little cleaning, I’d be able to sell them to someone who wanted that vintage look.
“One of the places I bought was owned by a hoarder,” I told her. “The woman died and it took days for anyone to notice.”
Sofia’s face soured. “Gross.”
“Yeah. Smelled pretty bad. Almost everything she had was trashed, but there were some good pieces in there.”
“This is cool.” She stopped in front of a piano. “Does it work?”
I shrugged. “Don’t know. It makes noise but I don’t know if it’s any good.”
She pulled out the bench, but when she saw the thick layer of dust on the seat, she pushed it back in. But the dust didn’t scare her away from the keys. She lifted up the cover, bent at the waist to set her hands in place and played the beginning of an unfamiliar tune.
; “It just needs to be tuned.” She pulled her fingers away, then returned the cover before wiping her hands clean. “But it has a nice tone.”
“Good to know.” That piano hadn’t been a priority, but now that I knew it worked, I’d get someone in to fix it up. Maybe paired with a few other sales from my storage room, I’d have enough to get an offer in on my next property.
“You’re good.” I gestured to the piano.
“Not really. I haven’t played in ages.”
“Why not?”
“I don’t know.” She shrugged. “I took lessons for years.”
“When was the last time you played?”
She thought about it for a moment. “My last lesson.”
That was the same thing she’d said about her foreign languages. Sofia had taken all of these lessons to learn incredible things, but I doubted it was because she’d wanted to.
“Rental properties, huh?” she asked, still maneuvering through the crowded room.
“Yep.” I leaned against the door.
“So you buy these gross places, fix them up and rent them out?”
“Pretty much. Eventually, I hope to have the capital to just buy them. Fixing them up is a bitch.” But for now, I did it all to save up for the next property since I couldn’t afford a construction crew.
“How long will you keep the rentals?”
I shrugged. “Depends on the market. As long as the rental income can pay for the mortgage, I’ll keep them. Let them appreciate. If we have a boom in the market, I might sell.”
“There’s a lot of opportunity in real estate. That’s smart.”
“Hope so.” I was counting on it to fund my future. I liked working at the bar, but I wasn’t going to do it past my thirties. In fifteen years, I wanted to have enough properties that managing them was my only job. “They’re going to fund my retirement. Free me up so I can quit bartending and maybe do some traveling.”
“I like it.” Sofia passed a stack of boxes, scanned the room once more, then walked to me at the door. She placed her hands on my waist, sliding them underneath the hem of my T-shirt. “Anything left to show me on the tour?”
“Nope. You’ve seen the whole place.” I ran my fingers over her hair then stole a soft kiss.
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