He looked down and caught her glance. His eyes narrowed. The cooler dropped with a thud to the floor of the elevator. Blake turned to him even as he reached for her, pulling her against him.
Blake slid her hands into his hair and kissed him as his fingers unfastened her jeans.
“Hurry,” she gasped. Shane would be waiting for Nick to return.
“He can wait,” Nick muttered, working his hand between her flesh and the tight fit of her jeans, moving aside her already damp panties to touch her soft flesh.
“Oh, God,” she moaned. In seconds she was ready for him. Her body, trained to expect pleasure from his hands, began preparing itself immediately for the thick heat of his cock.
The doors opened and he walked, with her in his arms, to one of the chairs, sitting down with her in his lap. Blake wriggled off of him immediately and kicked off her shoes and then shoved her jeans down her legs and pushed them aside with her foot. Nick had unbuttoned his jeans and shoved them halfway down his thighs, but he already had his dick out of his pants and was stroking himself with his hand, readying himself for her.
Blake bit her lip, yanked the shirt over her head, and unfastened the front closure of her bra as she watched him touch himself. Her breasts sprang free. His hand moved a little faster.
“God, I love your tits,” he gasped.
Blake cupped her breasts in her palms and squeezed them together, thumbing her nipples roughly. “I want you to suck on them while I ride you.”
“I’ll suck anything you want, just get the fuck over here.”
Blake did as he asked, releasing her breasts and gliding over to him. Climbing into his lap, she put her feet near his hips and tucked her knees high up against the back of the chair, squatting a little, just enough so that the head of his cock brushed her entrance, but didn’t penetrate her.
He knew what she wanted. Bending his head, he brought both hands up to cup her breasts while he captured the first nipple in his mouth. Grabbing the back of the chair, Blake rotated her hips eagerly as he licked her gently. She sank down just enough that the tip of his shaft penetrated her and she stopped, letting just that taste of fullness tease them both.
His tongue went from a gentle caress on her nipple to a lash while her other nipple was pinched between his fingers. She gasped, circling her hips again, and sank down another inch.
He began to suckle her in earnest, drawing on her until she moaned. Her flesh had tightened, the ring of muscle at the entrance refusing to give way, and she couldn’t sink down easily, not without help. He slid one hand down from her breast and gripped his cock, holding himself still. Releasing her nipple, he slid his other hand down to her hip, pulling her downward.
With a sharp jerk upward, he penetrated her completely. Easing her forward, so that her clit rubbed against him, he began to thrust in short, rapid movements. Blake moaned, rubbing and grinding herself against him, trying to force him harder, deeper, faster.
“Take me harder, Nick.”
“Oh, no. You’re close. And I like watching you writhe all over me.”
She shoved up his shirt and pressed her breasts against his chest, abrading her taut wet nipples against the hard muscles and coarse springy hair. He encouraged her, squeezing the cheeks of her ass as he ground his cock against her, filling her thickly, stretching and opening her.
Blake felt herself flush and her skin tingled all over as the pressure built inside her. He was rubbing over that perfect spot, the head of him rolling against it mercilessly, making her gasp and jerk, but still the pleasure built and built until she arched her back with a scream, forcing herself down on him hard, her body clamping on him like a vise.
He came, throwing his head back and gripping her hips fiercely, squeezing her as she milked every last drop from his throbbing dick.
She collapsed on him, sweaty and panting, her eyes stinging from the sunscreen that had run into her eyes.
After several minutes, she wiped her face on his shirt and sat up, her lips parting in pleasure at the feel of him still semi-hard inside her.
“It’s too bad you have to go,” she teased, lifting herself off of him slowly. “Sailing seems to make me horny.”
He lay there with his shirt damp and shoved up to his chest, his pants open and his dick soft against his thigh. “I don’t think I can move for a week anyway,” he murmured, but his eyes were looking at the curls between her legs.
She smirked. “I guess we could just leave you here like a decoration, and I could come out and just pleasure myself on you whenever I had the urge. Would you like that?”
Nick’s eyes gleamed. “Believe me, Blake, honey, I can think of less pleasant ways to spend the rest of my life.”
15
IT FELT STRANGE to be going into Blake’s apartment without her there. Outside, the market was packed with people enjoying the warm spring day, and the flower carts were filled with tulips and daisies and big fluffy pink flowers that he couldn’t have named to save his life, but they reminded him of Blake in her abundant glory, her white breasts with their pink tips. He shifted uncomfortably in the passenger seat of the limo.
“This Keenan the same asshole that hurt her before?” Shane asked as he drove, negotiating the crowds and the pedestrians who crossed the street without the benefit of the signal.
“Yeah. Roland talk to you?”
“Yeah, but he’s been gone like ten years, right? What brought him back?”
“As far as we can tell, he’s here to steal our software. But that doesn’t mean he won’t hurt Blake as well. Over the years, Roland had been looking for him, but he’s been living abroad, in nonextradition countries, thieving for various terrorist groups and mafias. MOMENT targets people who intend to commit mass murder.”
“Milton talked about it a little. He said it was Roland’s idea.”
Nick nodded. “He’s been working with the government to get surveillance feeds of shooting incidents and mass bombings.”
Shane shook his head. “So he’s stealing it so terrorists can continue to kill with impunity?”
“I don’t know why. He may want it for himself.”
Shane drove into the entrance for a small boutique hotel near the marketplace and Blake’s apartment. “I thought we could leave the limo here and walk to Blake’s apartment. There’s nowhere to park with the market so crowded. Besides, the manager owes Milton a favor.”
“Good idea.” Nick stepped out of the limo and waited while Shane spoke to the valets working in the shade of the porte cochere, checking the security app on his phone. No one had come or gone since he’d left.
With a muffled curse at the worry that nagged him, he shoved the phone in his pocket. She’d said she’d stay in the apartment, and she had every right to leave if she wanted to. He pictured her face, lifted to the sun, the salt spray kissing her skin. He’d known she’d like sailing, the speed and adventure of it. Nick liked the way the boat required all his concentration and coordination. He didn’t have time to think or worry when it was only him and the sea.
When Shane was finished with his conversation, he and Nick walked down several back streets, working their way around the market to the alley where the entrance to Blake’s apartment was located. She’d given Nick the key along with a short list of items.
Nick knew something was wrong the minute they stepped inside. The apartment always smelled like her, but now there was something else in the air as well, something that made Nick think of his father. Fish? Gasoline? And a perfume he didn’t recognize.
Shane noticed it as well. “Smells like the docks. And cheap perfume.”
Nick nodded. “Someone’s been here. It may not be safe to go inside.” They stood in the narrow entryway, Nick looking down the hall and Shane keeping an eye on the alley outside.
Shane shrugged. “There any reason why he’d blow up her apartment?”
Why would Keenan blow up Blake’s apartment? It didn’t seem like his style. Nick picked up his phone and called Roland.
His friend answered on the first ring, his voice harried. “Roland, you have a minute?”
“I was about to call you, actually. One of my other cousins saw Keenan in the old neighborhood. Said he was with a woman.”
Well, that explained the perfume. “I think he’s been here at Blake’s apartment. Shane and I are at the door. There’s no sign of a break-in, but as far as I remember, he’s as good as you at picking locks.”
“He’s better,” Roland muttered darkly. “I doubt he left any evidence to his location, but I wouldn’t go inside.”
“I’ll check the surveillance camera feeds, but I would have been alerted if they’d picked up anything.”
“He’d have been able to handle the cameras as well, or someone with him would have.”
Nick agreed. “Yeah. We’re standing here by the door. It smells a little like gas. Someone should go in with protective gear just in case. You have any ideas?”
“Unfortunately, yes. I’m with that detective of Blake’s. I think we can arrange something.”
Nick nodded. “All right. Shane and I will wait for you.”
“I’ll call you when I know more.”
Nick hung up and nodded to Shane to back out onto the landing. Following slowly, Nick closed the door behind him.
“Now what?” Shane asked, shoving his hands in his pockets. The alley was dim compared to the sunshine blazing onto the nearby street and it smelled of diesel from the garbage trucks and buses that passed by. Nick started down the stairs, looking for any sign of Keenan or that someone might be watching them. Shane followed, moving silently for a big man.
“Roland is getting the cops involved,” Nick explained. “They can send in robots and use protective gear to make sure there are no bombs.”
Shane raised an eyebrow. “Never ceases to amaze me what Roland can talk people into.”
Nick shrugged. “Money buys a lot of cooperation, but in this case, the detective has some motivation to want Keenan caught.”
Shane snorted. “Roland doesn’t need money to get people to do what he wants.”
It was true. In his own way, Roland was as manipulative as Keenan—he just had better intentions and a sense of honor.
“You hungry?” Nick changed the subject. He was starving. Sailing—and fucking—always made him hungry.
Shane brightened. “Have you been to Jessie’s?”
The man looked so hopeful that Nick didn’t have the heart to tell him he’d eaten there with Blake yesterday. Besides, there was always something on the menu he hadn’t tried before.
“Of course I have.”
“She has a new pizza she promised to let me try. It’s not on the menu yet.”
Shane’s rough face glowed, his eyes bright at either the idea of food or . . . possibly . . . did Shane have a thing for Jessie? She was half his age.
“Sounds good,” Nick agreed, but his thoughts had already shifted back to Blake. He needed to call her, but he didn’t want to tell her over the phone that Keenan had been in her apartment. If she was upset, he wanted to be there to comfort her.
Comfort her? he mocked himself. How, with your cock?
Shane led the way toward Jessie’s while Nick followed, debating whether to just pick up the phone and call her. If Milton had been around, he’d have sent him to keep an eye on her.
“So, I’ve been meaning to ask.” Shane sounded cheerful, a sure sign that he was up to something. Nick and Shane had never managed to be friends the way Nick was with Roland or Milton, but they had history, and they’d always respected each other.
“What’s that?” Nick asked warily, checking his phone again. No one had gone in or out of the apartment. She was there. She was safe.
“How’s it going, having a woman in your apartment? Hell on earth or just twelve hours of packing fish?”
When they were old enough, both he and Shane had worked packing fish at a local South Boston warehouse. The hours had been long, the pay had sucked, and both of them had left each night reeking of marine life. To this day Nick struggled to eat seafood.
“It’s fine,” Nick answered. “It’s only temporary.”
“Fine? This from the man that swore he would never live with a woman?”
“Yeah,” Nick said shortly, thinking about Blake straddling his cock in the entryway. He’d never be able to look at that chair again without thinking about it, or about what he’d said in response . . . the rest of my life. “Fine.”
16
AFTER NICK LEFT, Blake showered and changed into a long-sleeve T-shirt and yoga pants before wandering into the kitchen to locate some lunch. She found very little in the way of anything she’d eat, but ultimately made a salad with grilled chicken and an avocado dressing that turned out to be delicious.
She sat on Nick’s couch, pleasantly tired and loose after all the exercise she’d had the past few days, and turned on the old black laptop so it could load while she ate her salad. His apartment was quiet, unlike hers. During the day she could always hear a din from the marketplace: people laughing, musicians playing, and buskers hawking their wares.
The quiet made her . . . restless.
When she was finished with the salad, she walked to the tall French doors that led to a large balcony and opened them, letting in the salt air and the sounds of the bay.
She walked outside, wrapping her arms around herself as a breeze made her shiver. The patio furniture was still covered for the winter in thick khaki-colored canvas and a high-tech bicycle hung from a nearby wall.
“Why haven’t you ever found a girl?” she said out loud. Nick had always attracted women—she’d never known him to be without a date—but he’d never had a serious girlfriend that she could recall. She’d thought it was just his philosophy, his reluctance to share space with anyone, but now she suspected it was more than that. What would he do if she told him she loved him?
“Probably run for dear life.” She chewed on her lip and went back inside. Of course, he’d said that he would be happy to be her sex toy for the rest of his life, but that had just been after-sex talk, not a serious comment on what he wanted, right?
The computer had finally started and was waiting for her to log on. He’d used her name for her log-in ID and a picture of a fluffy puppy for her icon. He’d written the password on a Post-it note and stuck it to the top of the computer screen. She glanced at it, but didn’t sit.
Homework waited. She knew she should sit and just get it done. Thoughts of Nick had her distracted, though. She picked up her phone off the nearby table and wandered through the living room looking at the paintings of nautical scenes, collections of scrimshaw behind glass, and shadow boxes of seafaring equipment. None of the furniture reflected a marine theme, but every piece of art she looked at had something to do with the sea. How had she never asked him about it before? He was her friend. Am I really so self-involved that I never realized how fascinated he is by the ocean?
Frowning, she ventured into his dining room, smiling at the tables full of ropes and notepads with obscure codes written in his strong, slanted cursive. She touched the ropes with her fingers, tracing the knots. She recognized some of the ones he’d been teaching Chuck, and others she knew from working with Milton on the magic show. She’d even practiced escaping from several of them.
Her phone dinged. It was a text from Rosa, asking if she was coming to the support group on Tuesday.
Blake wasn’t sure at this point. She supposed it depended on what was going on with Keenan, but she didn’t see why she couldn’t go. If Nick was worried about her safety, he could come with her.
I think so, she texted back.
Good. New girl @ shelter. Hoping you would talk to her. New women and girls came into the shel
ter all the time. Blake had never made any special effort to get to know anyone except Rosa, but plenty of women had reached out to her when she’d first starting going there, letting her know that she was welcome and offering to help if she needed anything. It seemed like the least she could do was return the favor.
Sure. Blake hoped she could help. At the moment she didn’t feel capable of offering anyone advice.
Great. See you then.
Still restless, Blake wandered back into the living room and realized that she’d yet to see the upstairs. He may not want her to go up there, but he’d never said she couldn’t. Not that it would have stopped her if he had. Aggravating Nick had always been one of her favorite pastimes. She didn’t see why realizing she loved him would change that in any way.
The stairs ended in a landing with a railing that overlooked the living room and split off to the right and left. She went to the right first and found Nick’s library, or office, it was hard to tell. There were shelves of books, but also a desk with several monitors that were bigger than the TV in her apartment. He had a two or three different pinball machines and a Ms. Pac-Man. She grinned, seeing it. She had a feeling it had been a gift from Milton.
She looked over the titles, finding science fiction, fantasy, and the kind of fiction she remembered not reading in high school, but the majority of what he read seemed to be books on science and math, on simple machines, martial arts, and biographies. There was also shelf after shelf of books about sailing, knots, ancient fishing vessels, and the sea. One section did surprise her, though. Nick, it seemed, liked erotic art, especially erotic art where women were tied up in intricate ways. Several of the books had in the title Shibari or Kinbaku and seemed more like instruction manuals, while the rest were clearly collections of photographs from Shibari practitioners, their models on display in various locations around the world.
Frowning, she studied the pictures. She’d only ever seen something similar in movies, usually when women ended up dead, but these models looked serene, almost Zenlike, and the idea of being helpless like that for Nick, decorated with the knots he loved, had her breathing more quickly.
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