"That's the goal," he agreed, snagging me as I went to pass him, pulling me down on his lap.
And it was just then that my phone decided to start ringing. Then stop. Then ring again.
I sighed, shaking my head. "That would be my mom," I informed him. "She decided to stop calling me at night."
"Why's that?"
Ah, crap.
There was really no way that I could tell him that I had told her that the night after Famiglia, that I was seeing someone. That was full-on crazy chick.
"I made the mistake of telling her that I was out with a man when I missed her call one night. She, ah, got ideas."
I went to pull away, but his arm held me tighter.
"What kind of ideas?"
Oh, boy.
Okay.
"The kind where she thinks I am, ah, seeing someone."
"Well, since you are, that no calls at night thing kinda does shake out, don't you think?"
It was never that easy.
Not even with 'normal' guys, guys without his guards, his past, his, ah, criminal present.
At least, not in my experience.
You always had to pry it out of them, force them to admit that you were more than just screwing around, or casually dating.
Then again, I guess I had only ever dated guys.
Ross Ward was a man.
And he was mature, confident, and stable.
Men like that knew their own mind.
Then acted on it.
Without hesitation.
Was there anything sexier than that?
"Yeah," I agreed, hopping up to go fetch my phone because I didn't want him to see the hope I knew was in my eyes at that.
Maybe it was soon, everything was new, but things had gotten intense fast. And I had a feeling that a man like Ross Ward didn't dip his toe in things; he jumped in.
And if he was jumping, so was I.
"Hey, Mom," I said, picking up the phone after the fourth time in a row she called.
"Now I know you have some dirt to spill," she said, voice teasing. "No way you missed three calls unless you were... otherwise engaged."
As if on cue, Ross walked up behind me, kissing my temple, and saying down by my free ear that he was taking a shower.
I was never so disappointed as not to be joining him. But when you got my mom on the phone, you were stuck for at least an hour.
By the time I was done, Ross was in one of his suits that I maybe wanted to peel back off, the food was gone, the coffee pot was cleaned out, and it seemed like Ross was about ready to be heading into work.
Which made sense since it was already closing in on five, much to my utter disappointment.
He led me back to my car, kissing me long and hard and borderline indecent before watching me pull off, telling me he would text me later when he had some free time.
He did.
Around eleven.
Telling me to lock my deadbolt.
I passed out early, the night before catching up with me, and the threat of work the next day making me realize I needed my beauty sleep.
Work had started with Dr. Wilmer fussing over my stitches - that I told him came from a simple fall - like a mama hen, clucking his tongue, telling me that if I was feeling even the least bit achy, that he demanded I take myself right back to bed. Then it was just hours of filing and appointments and phone calls.
Before I knew it, it was twenty past five, and Dr. Wilmer was at the side of my desk, offering to walk me to my car.
Which I accepted, suddenly finding my footsteps bouncy as my body loaded up with anticipation.
I had a surprise date!
A date that didn't involve squeezing into a tight dress that wouldn't let me breathe, and would make me worry about eating too much.
So I went home, washed the day away, spending ten minutes trying to get a good look at my stitches in the mirror before deciding they looked healed enough for me to be able to let my hair stay down for the night, hiding them completely. Another ten days, and they would be gone completely. I could sleep normally again.
And, well, I could get to feel what it was like to be under Ross too.
Let's face it, that was much more exciting than being able to roll over in bed at night to find the cool side of the mattress.
On that thought, I slipped into some pretty panties, a pair of lightweight wine-colored linen pants, and a simple, lightweight black long-sleeve tee. Sans the bra. Because I thought he would enjoy that.
I finger-combed my hair, put a little lip balm on, slipped into black ballet flats, grabbed my purse, and waited.
And Ross Ward, I would find, was someone who had very concrete rules about being on time.
As such, he knocked on my door at seven-twenty-eight.
I would like to say I didn't, but I totally did fly at the door, working the locks with somewhat frantic fingers, pulling the door open to reveal Ross. In another of his suits. Because the only time he didn't wear them, apparently, was when he was having sex or sleeping.
I wasn't complaining, though.
The man could sure hang a suit.
"Perfect," he declared, eyes raking over me for a moment before he reached out to pull me against him, kissing me hard, but quick, before pulling me out to the hall with him.
"Are you going to tell me where we're going?" I asked as we were nestled in the car, driving out toward the very edge of Navesink Bank, so far out, in fact, that I could smell the salt water of the beach.
"Nope," he told me, turning into a street that led into a parking lot of... a duel lighthouse?
"What is this?" I asked as he cut the engine.
"Navesink Lights. The Twin Lights. The Sandy Hook Lights. People have a lot of names for them."
"It's a historical site," I observed, noticing the lit sign leading toward a path around the front.
"Yeah."
"Are we allowed to be here?"
"In daylight hours of operation, sure," he informed me, smile wicked.
My lips twitched even though my belly was spinning a bit. "Your idea for a date is breaking and entering a protected historical site?"
"Don't worry; I bribed the security guards not to come back until midnight."
"That's not helping your case!" I called as he closed the door and moved around the hood to open mine.
Let's just say I had always been on the straight and narrow of life. I never got into trouble with my parents growing up. I sure never got in trouble with the law. I hadn't ever even gotten a speeding ticket.
But I was about to break and enter?
"Addy," Ross said, and I looked up to find him watching me carefully. "I promise it's fine. You're not going to get into any trouble. I fucking promise," he added, ducking his head, holding my eyes. "I wouldn't do that to you."
Maybe it was the emphasis in his words.
Maybe it was genuine curiosity for what he had planned.
But whatever it was, it had me nodding, letting his hand go to my lower back, and leading me toward a door.
"Oh, um--" Was there a polite way to say 'hell no' to a guy who planned a date for you in a lighthouse? Because, well, I don't know what I had been expecting, but these see-through wrought iron triangular steps that hugged the walls of the lighthouse were, um, not exactly tempting. Circular stairs, as a general rule, were a pretty firm 'no thanks' for me. But these were steep and see-through to boot? That was just begging me to fall to my untimely, bloody death.
"I'll go up behind you. You won't fall."
"Except if I lose my step, hit you unexpectedly, and we both plummet to our deaths," I offered, small-eyeing his amused chuckle. "I don't want my only newspaper heading in my life to say that I died scaling the circular steps of a building I was breaking into."
He smiled big at that, nudging me forward. "Fast is better if you're afraid. Otherwise, it will take all night if you keep over-thinking it."
Ugh.
Was there really much of a choice?
&nbs
p; I really did want to see what he had planned for me.
And the only way to do that was to get to the top.
I took a deep breath that I decided from then on to hold, grabbed the railing, and took off toward the stairs at almost a run.
"Baby, you need to breathe," he informed me about a third of the way up, one arm on the railing, one around my stomach. So I took a deep breath, pulled away, then took off again.
The only problem was, when I stopped for a breath the next time, my stupid ass looked down.
"Uh-oh," he said with what sounded like a smile in his voice as both my arms shot out, one a death grip on the railing, the other holding onto the white-painted brick wall. I was pretty sure I started shaking too.
Stupid, stupid see-through stairs.
"Um, I am going to live here now," I informed him. "Right here. There is no way I am going to be able to go down these stairs."
"Luckily for you, you don't have to think about the down for a while," he informed me before making me literally shriek when I felt his arm wrap around my lower belly, then lift me off my feet, carrying me up the remaining dozen or so stairs tucked under his arm like a watermelon at the farmer's market. "Alright, doll, the stairs are gone," he informed me, still sounding just the tiniest bit amused by my predicament. "Take a breath," he instructed, pulling me in close to his side, kissing my temple. And, if I wasn't mistaken, he was smiling as he did so.
"Just so you know," I told him as I tried to steady my hammering heart, burying my face in his chest for a moment, "for future date ideas, skydiving, bungee jumping, zip-lining, and speedboating are all off the table."
"Duly noted," he agreed, giving me a squeeze. "Come on, look around," he implored, making me take one more deep breath, breathing him in, then pulling back so I could see.
We were at the top, windows encircling all around, dark, of course, given the hour. Outside though, I could see a two-foot wide area completely enclosed by a cage where you could walk around the tower and check out the view. But the space inside was lit. Not with the enormous lighthouse bulb that was in some kind of display case right to my side, but by a huge assortment of lit white candles which - aside from creating the most romantic ambiance possible, also helped to keep the cool space much warmer.
Directly in the center of the room was a small white wrought iron table for two set up with covered plates, wine glasses, and a precious little vase of pink flowers.
It was straight out of a movie. It was the kind of thing all women swooned for, but most real-life men never took the time to invest in.
Ross Ward, I was learning over and over again, was not like most men.
I was not tearing up, okay.
Totally, absolutely not.
I was not going to be that girl.
I had my sexy big-girl panties on, damnit.
I couldn't be brought to blubber over dinner and flowers. Surrounded by candles. In a lighthouse.
Okay. Fine.
I glistened, alright?
Happy.
Just a glisten, easily blinked away.
Though, I was pretty sure, not before Ross got an eyeful.
Luckily, he said nothing.
"This is amazing," I told him because it was true, and when someone put this kind of effort in, you had to make sure they knew you appreciated it. "How did you do all of this?"
"Let's just say I owe a couple of my guys overtime," he admitted with a smirk. "Igor said he hopes you like the food. He was in charge of that," he informed me, leading me over to the table, pulling out my chair.
"He made it?"
"Figure he did," Ross agreed, sitting, pouring me a glass of wine. "He likes cooking almost as much as he likes hitting things for money."
"Can I ask you something?"
"You don't need to ask me if you can ask a question, Addy."
"Does it ever screw with you?"
"Does what ever screw with me?" he asked, reaching across the table to take the top off my plate as I reached forward to stroke one of the petals of the flowers, deciding that I was absolutely taking them home with me and drying them out. No matter what happened down the road, this night, this moment, this was as close to perfect as I had ever known. It deserved to be preserved.
"Having an underground fighting club when you were forced into one as a child?"
"Maybe I was concerned as I was building it that it might. But it never has. My men make a huge salary off their fights. And I cover all their medical expenses. Chiropractors, acupuncturists, and dental included. That, I think, made the difference. No one is being is forced into it. Everyone is taken care of, physically and financially. And, to be honest, these men need the outlet. Igor and Pagan, Grant, Slate, they all need it. Shit builds up. It needs to get out. They get to do that in the ring, and make some money too. It's a win/win."
"I guess that makes sense," I agreed, looking down at the plate to see what had been making my belly grumble as Ross spoke. I found small medium-rare slices of filet mignon to one side of the plate, stalks of white, purple, and green asparagus cutting the plate down the center, and a pile of whole mini yellow and purple potatoes with carrots and rosemary taking up the remainder of the plate.
It was fancy with its minimalist high-brow portion sizes and perfectly plated immaculateness.
I almost found it hard to believe that a man as huge and hulking as Igor could make something so delicate and careful. Those big hands of his that I had seen pound into another man had plated this food.
That was incredible.
"Please tell me he is a chef when he isn't beating the heck out of other people. It would be a shame to waste this."
"He's working on plans for his own restaurant. He's raised the capital with what he's earned, and what I am willing to invest. He's just scouting locations, looking for furniture. He's not in a rush."
I had a bite of the potatoes, cooked perfectly, with the right amount of oil and rosemary and something else that I couldn't quite place. I let out a small moan and nodded. "When it opens, I want a table."
"You'll have it," Ross said without a hesitation.
So then we ate, talking a bit more about his men, then about my day, his, my mom, his plans, lighter stuff. Life stuff. The stuff that actually mattered.
Way too soon, my plate was clean, and I had about three glasses of wine in me, making me a bit light and floaty, maybe a little braver than I normally would have been.
It was the only way to explain why when Ross suggested we take a walk on the little balcony, I had not only agreed, but did so a little too enthusiastically.
The chilly night air bit at my skin as I moved forward, walking around the curve so I could get the full view. The bridge was lit up. Some boats were flashing lights against the calm waters. The wind whispered through the air, sending my hair dancing around my face as I took a deep breath of the salt water air, feeling something I wasn't able to name settle deep, heavy, impossible to ignore, even if I couldn't figure out what it was.
"It's beautiful," I told him as he moved behind me, making me have to press slightly forward, almost pressed against the metal bars that prevented any idiots from horsing around and falling.
His arm slid across my lower belly, pulling me back against his solid, warm chest, "Yeah, it is," he agreed, his other arm going to wrap around my upper chest. There was a pause before he spoke again, tone a mix of amused and intense. "You didn't wear a bra?"
I smiled out into the world, happier than I had been in years, maybe ever.
"I thought I remembered something being said about not needing it."
"Think I remember you saying you don't need a lot of things," he agreed, voice thick as his hands moved down toward my waist, slipping under my thin shirt, then stroking up my belly. His fingertips traced the sensitive, soft undersides of my breasts, making a shiver rack through me before closing his hands around the swells, rolling my nipples until my ass was grinding back against his suddenly hard cock.
It felt like
forever, yet far too soon, before his hands drifted back down, one slipping easily under the waistband of my pants, then panties, his finger sliding between my slick folds, finding my clit, and working it until my head was pressing back into his shoulder, pain from the stitches be damned.
"Drenched," he told me as his finger left my clit then moved downward, pressing deeply inside me.
My moan echoed off into the quiet night, floating on the breeze, disappearing. His head ducked down, running his lips, tongue, scruff up the column of my neck as his finger started fucking me, fast, demanding, wanting to get me mindless with need.
Then just when I was, his finger pulled out, his hand left my panties entirely.
"Ross, what..." I started to ask as he snagged the material of my shirt, and started dragging it upward.
"Miles and miles of people looking out their windows, driving in their cars, walking their dogs. Out there. Looking around. They could be looking this way right now. But none of them can see you," he told me as the shirt slipped over my breasts, making the nipples tweak hard against the cold air.
It wasn't like me.
I wasn't, ah, adventurous.
I wasn't an exhibitionist at all.
But something about being up here, with him, it made normal boundaries blur.
My arms raised, and the shirt was pulled off, and tossed down on the ground.
The wind whipped, assaulting my sensitive skin, somehow more erotic than simple wind had the right ever to be.
His hands slid downward, snagging the waists to my pants and panties, and slowly dragging down.
All I could think as the material exposed my pussy to the night air was This is crazy.
And it was.
For me.
Crazy.
But also exciting, forbidden, hot.
I could feel Ross' front brushing my back as he lowered himself down behind me, getting my legs free.
There was a second of nothing aside from my complete and utter nudity. Then I felt his teeth nip into my ass before he moved up behind me again.
I heard a zip, then a crinkle.
My belly swirled as my sex tightened in anticipation.
Hell, in that moment, I was too far gone to care if someone actually could look up and see me right then.
Grudge Match Page 14