Hammered: An Enemies to Lovers Romance (Hard n' Dirty Book 5)

by Alexis Alvarez

  “I’m sorry I bypassed an inexpertly locked gate and came onto the site without appropriate gear.” I smile.

  “And?” He crosses his arms.

  “And… that’s it. What else did you want me to say?”

  A little smirk plays on his lips and suddenly I think about all kinds of wicked, dirty things that have nothing to do with construction sites or Danton Carter. My face grows hot and I touch my cheek.

  He laughs. “Just trying to find out if you needed to ‘fess up about anything else.”

  I ignore the way my nipples want his fingers. “I think that’s the entire catalogue of today’s sins, thanks.” I narrow my eyes. “But I appreciate the opportunity to soul-cleanse. Not enough of that these days.”

  “Indeed.” He grins.

  “So now you have to answer my questions about Danton Carter.” I don’t even try to keep the note of triumph out of my voice.

  “I suppose I do.” He smiles at me, but doesn’t say more.

  “Okay. So first of all, where can I find—”

  “How about down in the bar?”

  What?” I blink, nonplussed.

  “More comfortable. I’ll answer your questions in the bar, all three of them.”

  “Which bar?”

  “The one you were trying to find. It’s just downstairs.” He smirks at me.

  “You are such a dick.” I shouldn’t say it, but it slips out. “The bar was there all along?”

  He laughs. “You go through a door in the back, by the alley. Come on, I’ll show you.”

  “Why are you even here? I don’t understand why you of all people would be in this restaurant slash embarrassing place slash bar.” I frown.

  “My friend owns it and I’m doing some work on the building for him.” He regards me for a minute. “Expansion. You think a construction guy can’t speak Chinese and have friends in the restaurant business?”

  I put up my hand. “Just curious.”

  He nods. “Fair enough.”

  I look for Lem.

  He seems to know what I’m doing. “Don’t worry, Bae will bring her down in a minute. She’s safe.”

  I think it over; mentally agree. Follow him back through the restaurant, where he waves and says something in Chinese to the woman folding napkins.

  When we walk around back, he points to a door. It’s nondescript metal, a little battered. Yet it has a bright red chicken painted onto the door, and a speech bubble. The chicken is saying something I can’t read, as the words are written in Chinese.

  “It says, Corndogs are better than chicken. We go in through here.”

  “Oh my God. I can’t believe this was here all along.”

  “Sorry.”

  From his smirk, I can see he’s not sorry at all. “You are not.” I give him a look.

  “You’re right. I’m not. I’m enjoying this.” He smiles at me, and when I see the dimple in his cheek, I can’t help a matching grin from spreading across my face. “Come on, then.”

  He takes my hand, and I know I shouldn’t allow it, but it feels perfect. I love his strong fingers holding my delicate ones—warm, pressing just with the right amount of pressure. The feel of skin on skin makes me want him.

  Chapter Four

  Talia

  The stairs are narrow, and he goes down first, still holding my hand. Nobody is waiting at the bottom to hear us say, “Corndogs are cool.” I roll my eyes, thinking I’m going to have to lecture Lem about her website browsing techniques.

  A band is playing, and it’s so loud that you can’t talk. There’s no way I’ll be able to ask any questions or hear his answers.

  I’m pissed, and then I forget all about that, because he puts his mouth right up to my ear and says, “What do you want to drink?” His breath on my skin practically makes me swoon.

  I have to speak into his ear, too, and it’s the sexiest fucking thing I’ve done in a long time. I rest my hand on his shoulder and he bends down to accommodate me while I reach up on tiptoes. “Pinot Noir if they have it. If not, I’ll take whatever.”

  His shirt is crisp under my hand, and I feel his muscles. Smell him—cologne, soap, his skin. I love it.

  He puts his mouth back to my ear. “You want the menu, or do you trust me to choose?” His breath fans my hair and sends tingles down my spine. Into my toes, my nipples.

  I tilt my head up again to talk into his ear, and he rests one hand lightly on my waist, as if to provide support. His fingers splay out, softly, not doing anything erotic. But the touch alone makes me catch my breath.

  “You think you know what I want?” I half-whisper it, but my lips are so close to his face that he can hear me.

  A muscle clenches in his jaw. “I think I’m a fast learner. Never had complaints.” His hand tightens ever so slightly.

  “Is that so?” This time I leave my hand on his shoulder a second longer. My whole body aches for it and I sigh, like a druggie getting her high, when I feel his lips at my ear again, that tingly tickle of his voice.

  “You taste what I give you and tell me what you think, alright?”

  Fuck me, but I want to taste him. I want what he’ll give me.

  A slow smiles spreads across my face.

  He raises an eyebrow. “I don’t think you’ll be disappointed, Talia.” He runs a hand over my arm and steps away, pointing to the bar. When he leaves my side I feel surprisingly alone, and shudder, touching my neck. My ear. Where his lips just were.

  I stand by the tall table and press my thighs together, already feeling a driving need in my core. What is it about this man that has me so worked up?

  People are dancing in front of the band, in a small square that barely accommodates a few couples, but they’re not bothered by the tight quarters. Others stand together, swaying to the beat, and at the handful of small tables, people sit locked together in embraces, or talking like Dane and I did: intimate, right into each other’s ears.

  Dane comes back with a glass of wine and something on the rocks. He hands me the wine and holds up his own glass; a toast. I clink, and as the band plays something wild and exotic, I taste the pinot, letting the flavor burst onto my tongue. He’s watching intently, eyes on my lips, and it feels like he’s tasting it, too. I want him to taste it from my lips.

  He bends down. “First question. Fire.”

  I lick my lips. It’s hard to bring up the face of florid Danton Carter in my mind, and even more difficult to focus on what I need to ask.

  The band launches into a ballad, and it’s slightly less noisy. I put my mouth to his cheek next to his ear. “Where can I find Danton Carter, the CEO? I found his bio on the website, but I can’t locate the man.”

  He looks up at the ceiling and sighs, then puts his mouth to my cheek, finding the same spot I touched on his face. It’s erotic, and it makes it difficult to listen when he says, “He’s out of the country.”

  Fuck. I swallow. “Where?”

  He shakes his head, then presses his lips to my ear. “He didn’t send out a memo to the staff about that.”

  “When is he coming back?”

  He shrugs, but follows it up with a low murmur into my ear. “He hasn’t said a thing about his return to the crew.”

  “Well, he must have a second in command, right? Who’s that person, and can I talk to them instead?”

  Instead of answering, he gives me a slow, lazy smile. “That was three, Talia.”

  “Dane.” I pull back in irritation. “Those weren’t even useful. That’s not fair.”

  “Is it my fault if you can’t come up with the right queries?” He raises a brow. “Maybe you need to enroll in a continuing ed class, Journalism 101. I held up my end of the bargain.”

  “You did not.”

  “I’m sorry, are we both using the same numerical system?” He gives me a smug little chuckle. “You know, the one invented by the Arabs and then imported to the Western world in the—”

  “Oh my God. You are so frustrating right now.” I scowl.


  “Oh, I am?” He gives me a look. “How about you try this on: A woman comes sneaking into the construction site where I’m leading a crew, almost hurts herself, harasses me—“

  “I was not harassing—”

  “Then tries pumping me for information about somebody who clearly doesn’t want to talk to her—”

  “I’m sorry, I don’t understand why he's such a recluse. Why, is something wrong with him? Is he, like, in jail?” I narrow my eyes. “In rehab? Look, all I want is half an hour just to talk to him face to face and tell him about our environmental concerns.” I think of that red, florid face. “Is he getting an angio or something?”

  At the look of steely disapproval on Dane’s face, I sense that I’ve gone too far. The disappointment that hits me has as much to do with the man himself as with my inability to access Danton Carter.

  I sigh. “Are we done here then?”

  “We’re done with that conversation.” His voice is flat.

  “Will you at least give him my card? Put it on his desk and give him the chance to call me?” I’m desperate.

  He seems to consider this. “I’ll put it on his desk.” He nods. “Now can we move on?”

  I shrug, pissed I didn’t get more information.

  He adds, “I just don’t have a lot to tell you. Sorry.” He grins, tilts his head.

  “Well, I suppose if I’ve drained you.” I smile. I suppose a foreman wouldn’t have information on the CEO, necessarily. Shame. I thought this was going to be a good lead.

  “Oh, now who’s talking dirty?” He trails a finger down my arm. “I wouldn’t mind if you did.”

  “Oh, you’re going to have to earn that.” I give him a mock ferocious stare, but my whole body is alight with energy.

  Across the room, Lem and Bae appear, and she’s glowing like a thousand marquee lights. When she sees me, she waves. Instead of coming over, she and Bae head to the dance floor, where he encircles her in his arms, looking down into her face.

  “See, told you she’d make it.”

  “I wasn’t worried, or I wouldn’t have left her.”

  “Good friend.” He lifts his glass, and when I don’t lift mine, he leans in and clinks my goblet. “Truce. Yes?”

  I bite my lip. The music changes again, back to the previously loud rhythm, a driving beat. Like sex. I toss caution aside. “Yes.”

  “Good.” The smile that comes across his face, satisfied and teasing, makes my heart pound. “Answer me honestly. If we met somewhere else, and I asked you out on a date, would you have said yes?”

  “Possibly.”

  He laughs. “Then how about we consider this a date? Even if it started off a little rough?”

  I tilt my head, a noncommittal gesture. “I don’t know if I’m ready for a date.” Then I put my lips back to his ear, feeling reckless. “But you can try to convince me, if you’d like.”

  He smiles. “I do like. And I don’t think you’ll need much convincing.”

  “Pretty sure of yourself.” I raise an eyebrow. “Cocky.”

  “If you like, yes.”

  “You are a bold, bad man.”

  “I can be that and more. So why don’t you set the pace.” He puts down his drink. “You’ll tell me if we make it to a second date. Or anything.” He grins. “I’ll just sit back and be charming.”

  “Oh, you will?” But I’m already charmed. I’ve already half-lost my heart, for reasons I can’t explain.

  He taps my drink. “How do you like it? Are you… satisfied?”

  The environment, one of wild abandon, makes me shed my inhibitions. I press my lips right to his earlobe, and put both hands on his chest, liking the way his body tenses under my touch. Leans in closer. “Not even close. But the wine is delicious. Thank you.”

  He wraps one hand around my neck and bends down, laughs into the other side of my neck, into my skin. I can feel the vibrations of his chuckle in my nerve endings. In my fingertips. In my clit. “Tell me what will do it, then.”

  “You think you could handle it?” For some reason we’re face to face now, and I’m speaking into his lips. So close. Just a millimeter apart.

  “Why don’t you try me? I think you’d be surprised.” He smirks, and the confidence in his face, his stance, make me weak.

  “I do like surprises.” I run my hand down his arm, and our fingers intertwine. He strokes my palm with his thumb.

  “Tell me what kind of surprises you like best.” He nips my neck softly.

  I moan and close my eyes, leaning into his strong chest. He dips his head down and bites my earlobe. “You like your surprises soft or rough, Talia?”

  “Both. It depends.”

  He puts one arm around me and holds me against his chest, runs his index finger over my upper lip, then my lower one. “I’m good at either.”

  “Do tell.” My voice is low now, and our heads are so close that nothing can interfere; not the band, not the lights, not the other people. It’s just us and this beautiful, fucking delicious tension.

  “Oh, I don’t think so.” His murmur is so soft I have to really lean in to hear it. “You’re setting the pace, remember? You need to be the one to tell me something. Either a stop, or a yes, more.”

  “Oh, I do?” I just want any excuse to have my face near his. My lips by his skin, his mouth by mine. His body brushing mine, sending exquisite sparks of energy into me with each stray touch, each deliberate caress.

  “Mmm hmm.”

  “Tough decision.” I lean my head back and listen to the music, feeling it pulse in my chest, in my abdomen.

  “You seem like a woman who knows what she wants.”

  I pull back up. “I do know what I want.” And I press my lips to his for a second, pull back to say, “And I want this,” before kissing him again.

  His hands go to my face, one on either side, and he kisses me back, his lips tasting of scotch. He uses his tongue to explore my mouth, teasing mine, and I press into him as closely as I can until my hips are against his thighs. His body is hard, flat, muscular—everywhere I touch, where I run my hands, is a pleasure.

  He bites my lip, then bends down and kisses my neck, sucks the skin, and I moan in arousal.

  When I lean forward for another kiss, he pulls away, and takes both of my hands in his. He looks at me for a long second, his eyes full of passion.

  “Not here,” he says, a little smile on his face.

  When I don’t reply, he leans in to whisper into my ear, “Unless you want to put on a show, and there are more appropriate places for that.”

  I shake my head. “No show.”

  His mouth twitches. “Would you like to leave?” He loosens his grip on my hands and steps back. Giving me space to think, maybe, but I don’t want it. “I’ll take you to my place.”

  “Maybe.” I smile up at him, suddenly shy. “No promises.” But I’m addicted to the taste of his mouth. The feel of his stubble rubbing my cheek. The large cock I felt pressing against my body before, hard, straining—for me.

  Fuck. I want to be alone with this man. Explore him. Learn his body. Have him touch me everywhere, kiss me a thousand ways, a million places.

  “I would never presume.” He smiles. “Just wine and conversation to start. Yes?”

  When we head up the street, the blaring of the cars, the horns are like a silence. Compared to the intensity of the club, noises spread out, and my ears seem to sigh in relief, even though the place enhanced my desire.

  The lights look brighter out here, too: The reds, yellow, green, and the pink of the sign. Clean, like after a rain, although it’s as dry as before. The wrappers rustling in the gutter are artistic to me, pretty, now that I’m with this man. His hand in mine.

  His phone rings, and he drops my hand to answer it.

  His face changes. “What? When? Okay.”

  He steps a few paces away and half-turns, lowering his voice.

  I bite my lip, blinking, adjusting to the environment. He’ll be back in a s
econd, I think. He’ll kiss me, and then we’ll head into bliss.

  But when he returns to my side, his body language has changed and his eyes are distant. “I’m sorry, Talia. I need to go.” His voice is clipped, the passion from before gone.

  Chapter Five

  Talia

  “Is everything okay?”

  “It’s fine. I just have a thing.” He types something, then looks up at me. “Did you come with your friend? I’ll call you an Uber if you need.” He taps his phone as if to summon an app.

  “No, it’s okay. I’ll find my way home.”

  “I don’t want you to wait out here. Wait in the restaurant.” His voice is firm.

  “I think it’s safe enough.” I glance up the street.

  “Humor me.” He takes my elbow. “The place is open late. They have extra chairs in the lobby for bar patrons who wait for rides.”

  “Fine. Do I have to order a drink to be polite?”

  He laughs. “No.” Then his face gets serious. “Talia…” He touches my cheek.

  His phone buzzes with a text, then rings.

  He curses, looks down at it. “I’m sorry. I have to go. I’ll talk to you soon.”

  “Really?” I cross my arms.

  He looks into my eyes. “I’ll find you. Promise. We’ll talk tomorrow.” His words are simple; his expression isn’t. The look on his face makes something flutter in my chest.

  He puts the phone to his ear and heads to the lot across the street, looking back once to point to the restaurant.

  I roll my eyes and put up my hands, but obediently push open the door, entering the quiet gloom of five-spice and garlic, the soft music. When I glance back out the window, tinted a rose pink, I see a Porsche roaring away.

  Was that his? I frown, not sure how a construction guy could afford a Porsche. But there are more than a few things about Dane that perplex me.

  Frustrated, I sigh and sit down in one of the creaky folding chairs in the small lobby. I’m the only one waiting, and it occurs to me to text Lem before I call my Uber, in case she needs a ride, too.

  Where R U? Sucking face with your new boyfriend?