That something was pain.
“She’s pregnant.”
At his words, my throat closed.
“Georgia has recovery plans. They might work this time. That woman your dad gave me to coming up pregnant…” It seemed he was going to say something else but shut it down in order to say, “I need to take care of my family. I needed to make that statement of loyalty. I—” he gave his explanation, much of which again I already knew.
But now he was in with Georgia and knew of her “recovery plans?”
It was worse than I thought.
And…
His family?
“Please be quiet,” I requested.
The pain in his eyes deepened.
“We need to talk,” he said.
“I disagree,” I replied.
“It’s always only been you,” he whispered.
“Funny,” I returned instantly. “When I was getting thoroughly and satisfyingly fucked against a wall last night, it wasn’t even a little bit about you.”
He flinched.
I didn’t feel that flinch.
I was over this.
All of it.
All of Tommy, our tragic history, or nonexistent future.
All of everything.
I couldn’t let it hurt me anymore.
I had to move on.
“I’m sure you have work to do,” I noted leadingly.
“Liv—”
I knew my face shut down to the extent it shut him out because I made it so.
“You need to go and do it, Tommy,” I ordered.
His mouth went hard.
We stared at each other.
I tried to recall his face those days in Baja when we were happy. When we thought we’d made it. When we were sure we were free.
I couldn’t pull up that first vision.
His wife, my cousin, was pregnant with his baby.
Yes, time to move on.
I watched as Tommy nodded and walked out the door.
I turned and bent to my computer, putting the files I needed on a flash drive.
While I was doing this, my cell sounded.
I looked at it and saw a text that simply had a number on it.
Sebring.
Hotel Teatro.
The room number.
I stared at the phone.
I would never have anything minimally real and somewhat normal with anyone. Not Nick Sebring. Not anyone.
What I could have with anyone I wanted, absolutely anyone, was a fantastic fuck.
I snatched up my phone.
I typed in 6:00.
I hit send.
Then I shut down, locked up and got the hell out of the filthy, dingy, obscene house that Clive Shade built.
Chapter Six
Tussle
Nick
In the hotel room, Nick heard the knock at the door.
He moved to it, looked out the peephole and felt the corners of his mouth hitch up when he saw her.
Fuck, those big green eyes, perfectly arched dark brows, the olive tint to her skin, the expert way she shaded under her cheekbones…
She was a coldhearted criminal but she was one that was very easy to look at.
And even easier to fuck.
He opened the door.
He was going to say something but he didn’t get the chance when her hand darted out and she caught him under his jaw, using it to push him in and around until his back hit wall.
She stared up at him, her hand wrapped around his jaw, her expression holding an emptiness that was so extreme it was almost like a void he could fall into and get lost forever.
He heard the door swish closed and latch.
Then she was up on her toes, her head moving toward his, those green eyes dropping to his mouth.
She didn’t get her lips to his before his tongue was out, as was hers, both of them colliding and tangling before her mouth slammed to his just as her body pushed in, pressing hard, forcing him tighter to the wall.
He shoved out. Gripping her wrist at his jaw, he yanked it down, twisting and slamming her against the wall, slanting his head to deepen an already deep kiss. Their tongues again clashing before he actually took her mouth.
But he took her mouth.
And like she’d done to his, he consumed it.
His fingers still around her wrist, he yanked it around his back, using his body to shove her tight to the wall, pressing his hardening cock against her stomach.
She arched, and moving quickly, whipped him around so his back was to the wall and she took over the kiss. Tearing her wrist from his hold, she curled her fingers around his throat just as she cupped his hardening crotch with her other hand.
Fucking hell, this woman was hot.
But he was done playing.
And he was done kissing.
Her mouth, that was.
He pushed her away. She struggled to regain control.
She lost this struggle when he caught her hand and dragged her down the short hall into the room.
She lost her footing when he gave her hand a strong tug and she fell into him with a soft gasp.
He let her hand go, caught her hips and threw her four feet onto the bed.
That got him another soft gasp which took his cock from hardening to rock-solid and throbbing.
He bent over her, holding her now intense green gaze, spanning her hips with his hands. Shoving backwards, he found the hook of her skirt, released it and pulled down the zipper.
He moved his fingers to curl them into the sides of her skirt’s waistband. With a vicious tug that took her hips and panties with it, he yanked off the skirt.
Chest to the bed, eyes to her cunt, the black curls neatly groomed with a precision that meant her wax technician was a master with possible OCD issues, they were also glistening with wet.
Having the tussle at the door, seeing the utter perfection of her pussy, smelling her, watching her legs part in invitation, her knees shifting up, Nick couldn’t have gone gentle if he’d wanted to.
Luckily he didn’t want to.
He bent his neck and devoured her.
Fuck, she tasted just as perfect as she looked.
As he fed, he felt her excitement ramp. Tasted it. Ate it. Gave her more. Consumed the result. Drove her to the edge.
And when he had her there, he stopped and moved over her.
Not surprisingly, she used both the pump she already had planted into the bed and the calf she had wrapped around him to flip him and then she was straddling him, pushing up, her hands already to his fly.
Normally, he would not allow this.
Her face flushed with need, her manner urgent, even desperate, all that surged through his blood, his gut, straight to his cock.
So he allowed this.
She tugged his pants down, grabbed his dick, guided it to her and took him home.
At the beauty of her sheathing him, he gritted his teeth against the urge to let go and release way too fucking early. Bucking his hips, he watched how much she liked taking him, her head thrown back, her shining, straight mass of silken black hair swaying.
Then she dropped forward into a hand in the bed by his side, locked eyes with him and rode him violently as he watched until she gave it to herself and she kept doing it until she forced it from him.
Fucking spectacular.
He came down buried inside her, his eyes opening to see her still resting in her hand in the bed, her body moving gently with her still-labored-but-evening breathing, her dark hair framing her oval face, her straight bangs brushing her lashes, her green eyes locked to his trying to brand him, make him hers.
No way in fuck that was happening.
But he’d take more of this.
A lot more.
That said, the woman was going to learn how to give up control.
Not surprisingly, without a word, she swung off his cock, moving immediately toward the side of the mattress.
Nick focused on pulling up his t
rousers, doing the fly and angling off the bed. By the time he was up and had turned his attention back to her, she was on her feet, facing him, arms twisted behind her to do up the skirt she’d put on.
He held her gaze.
“We got all night, Olivia,” he informed her.
Not even a hint of a response to him calling her the name she hadn’t given him.
Then again, he knew she knew him; she’d make it her business.
She also knew he’d do the same with her, even before he sat next to her the night before.
Her expression might not have changed but his words spurred her to action, this being walking his way.
She stopped. Her eyes still on his, she lifted a hand and touched his chest lightly with just the pad of her middle finger.
It lasted half a second.
Then she dropped her hand, turned and walked away.
He heard the door close behind her and he couldn’t stop his smile.
Fuck yes, a seriously cool customer.
And the hottest fuck he’d had in his life.
* * * * *
10:45 The Next Morning
Nick typed in the text and hit send.
Teatro. Six.
Forty-five minutes later, he received, Room number?
He smiled at his phone and didn’t fuck around with waiting games.
He texted back, Later.
Olivia didn’t reply.
When his assistant checked them in, he sent the room number.
Olivia texted back, 6:00.
* * * * *
6:47 That Evening
He was ass to the chair watching her ride him and he didn’t even know how she maneuvered him there.
The kiss tussle started them off again the minute he’d opened the door to her.
This time it segued into a bed vs. chair tussle, one he somehow lost.
Fuck, she was going to make him come again, climb off and take off.
This would not allow him to move forward his plan.
Fortunately, he was stronger than her and could do something about that.
Her sexy noise of frustrated surprise made his cock jerk and his balls tighten as he stopped her mid-ride, pushing up to his feet with his arms around her.
Their eyes clashed as he carried her to the bed and, serious as fuck, as shocking as it was, he nearly burst out laughing at the uppity annoyed princess look she had on her face.
He controlled his reaction and then set about controlling her expression when he fell to the bed on top of her and started fucking her.
Hard.
She enjoyed control.
She also liked taking cock.
Proof she liked to give and receive.
Nice to know.
This didn’t last long. She manipulated with eyes, hands, mouth, noises, and best of all, squirming until she’d pulled off his cock and turned underneath him. Wedging herself up, she offered herself, ass in the air.
He was a guy so he didn’t delay, took his knees and accepted her offer.
She reared into him, her neck twisted, eyes cast high, watching his face as he fucked her on her hands and knees in front of him.
She was still fully clothed, her skirt pushed up her hips, her blouse on, the pointed toes of her pumps rooted in the bed.
He was still fully clothed too.
But from what he could see of her round ass and sweet thighs, he was going to find a way to fuck her naked as soon as possible.
Starting now.
Continuing to take her, he shifted his hands from hips up her ass until his thumbs moved from smooth, supple skin to encounter something he wasn’t expecting that took his attention away from repeatedly burying his cock in her pussy as hard and deep as he could manage it.
She instantly pulled so far forward, he lost her and his eyes went from his hands under her skirt to her face.
She twisted to her ass, scooting back, her eyes another invitation.
He followed her. Stopping her movements with an arm around her waist, he pulled her up.
She took hold of his dick, guiding him in.
When he caught at her wet, he impaled her.
Driving his other hand in her silky hair, he clutched it and yanked her head to him so he could drive his tongue into her mouth as he fucked her against the headboard.
Fifteen minutes later, they’d both come and he was ass to the bed, back against the headboard, pants up but undone, cock still pulsing but tucked away, eyes on her shimmying her skirt over her panties.
He didn’t say a word, but watching her, he couldn’t beat back his grin.
When he gave that grin to her, her eyes dropped to it and it almost looked like her movements stilled for a second.
But it was only a second before she went to a hand and then knee in the bed to reach him.
She kissed the side of his neck, pulled back, looked into his eyes then pushed off the bed and walked away.
Nick heard the door close right before he heard his own chuckles.
He’d fucked the woman three times.
And she hadn’t spoken a word.
* * * * *
Hotel Teatro, 6:04 The Next Evening
He opened the door and she came through with intent.
Ready for her, he wrapped an arm around her waist, taking a wide step back. He shifted them sideways then pushed her into the wall. He pressed the door closed and flipped the safety latch just as she tried to shove against his hold and get away from the wall.
He let her push him back but went back farther in order to give himself room to do what he intended to do.
Which was what he did.
Lifting her up wrapped around his middle, feeling his lips twitch at the angry, surprised noise she made, he walked her into the room. He swung her around like they were swing dancers doing a lift and she made another noise, this one just surprised, before she landed on her back on the bed.
He landed on her and that was when he heard and felt her breath leave her in a puff.
“Right,” he began. “Let’s start different this time.”
No void expression.
Her eyes were shooting fire.
Not the kind that she wanted to use to brand him.
The kind that told him she was pissed right the fuck off.
Nick again fought laughing.
She said nothing.
He didn’t laugh but he did smile, moving his hand to her face, cupping the side and dropping close.
“Hi,” he whispered.
Her gaze had dropped to his smile but after he said that word, it lifted to his.
He again had the void.
He missed the fire.
But he got her voice.
“Hi,” she whispered back.
Necessarily, due to the fact it was a whisper, it was soft.
Surprisingly, it was a lot more.
Too much more.
He decided that was good enough.
So he slanted his head and took her mouth.
* * * * *
Twenty-two Minutes Later
They’d both climaxed.
Her face in his neck, his cock in her cunt, him on his ass, his legs up, cocooning her, she tried to shift off.
Nick allowed it to a point.
When he was done, he caught her ankle.
She stilled her movements and lifted her eyes to his.
“We’re not done,” he told her.
She held his gaze. She did this for a while.
Then she licked her lips.
After that, she shifted again.
Toward him.
When she got close, he wound his arms around her and took her to her back.
He also took her mouth.
Later, he took something else with his mouth.
And later, for the first time, she took something of his with hers.
He also managed to get all their clothes off and, without a fight, she let him ride her start to phenomenal finish. They took their time, both coming harder
and both taking longer to recover because of it.
He left her in bed to hit the bathroom.
She was dressed by the time he came out.
This did not make him happy.
“Olivia—”
She moved quickly to him, lifted a hand and touched her fingers to his lips before they slid across his cheek and hair then down and around the back of his neck.
Only then did she open her mouth to speak.
“Tomorrow, Sebring.”
She started to move away.
He caught her at the waist and hauled her back, angling his head as he did.
As happened often, their tongues collided before their lips did.
They kissed hard and uncompromisingly. Battling. Seizing. Claiming. Going at it. Giving it all they had.
With no one winning.
But still, they both broke contact as the victor.
“Tomorrow,” she repeated, pulled from his hold and walked away.
* * * * *
5:27 The Next Evening
“Don’t go Unka Nick!”
His five-year-old niece, Kasha, was yanking on his hand, her expression set to stubborn, her eyes—Knight’s eyes in a face shaped like Anya’s—irate and trained on him.
He swung her up in his arms and she tried to beat back the giggle but did not succeed.
“I gotta go, princess,” he told her.
She forgot she wasn’t getting what she wanted and she gleamed.
She loved being a princess.
Fuck, he had to stop thinking of Olivia Shade doing princess shit.
Kat and Kasha, his nieces, were his princesses.
Olivia Shade was nothing.
Except a fuck, a really good one…and a means to an end.
“You don’t gotta go. Daddy’s making steaks,” she reminded him.
He looked to Knight who was in the kitchen with his older girl, Kat.
But Knight’s attention was on his younger brother.
Nick looked back to Kasha. “I’ll have a steak next time around.”
She got irate again. “But I want you to have one now.”
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