Sebring

by Kristen Ashley

  “It appears you may have much the same relationship with your brother as I do with my sister.”

  His arm around my neck tightened as he started moving, drawing me farther into his place.

  “Somethin’ we have in common, outside we both like control, you in those shoes and you in those jeans. Though I ’spect the reason why I like you in those shoes and jeans is different than the reason you like ’em.”

  “I suspect you’re right.”

  He stopped us by the wine, released his hold on me, gave me an amused gleam out of his blue eyes and ordered, “You pour. Then you’re on salad duty. I got bread to sort and shit.”

  After that, he sauntered comfortably around the bar in a pad that might be perfect, but to him it was home, to get to the bread, which was part of the foodstuffs arranged on the island.

  I put my purse to the bar, shrugged off my jacket, poured wine and asked, “You want more?”

  “Top up would be good,” he muttered, reaching a long arm out to nab a bread knife from a knife block at the back counter.

  I moved around the bar and topped up his wine. Then I assessed the salad stuff. After that, I assumed salad duty, keeping an eye on Nick who was very much sorting the bread. In fact, with an ease obviously born of practice, he was making homemade garlic bread, including microwaving crushed garlic, butter and olive oil, brushing, sprinkling bits of cheese and broiling.

  I looked to the bubbling sauce.

  “Homemade bread, does that mean homemade sauce?” I asked.

  “Didn’t have time,” he muttered surprisingly, a mutter that alluded to the fact that, if he did, he could also have made homemade red sauce. “And hope you like meat,” he went on. “Sauce has got ground sirloin and Italian sausage in it.”

  “I like meat,” I assured him.

  His attention came to me on that but fortunately he didn’t treat me to some coarse, schoolboy, low-intellect comment.

  He just gave me a look telling me he had one on the tip of his tongue and he was saving me from it.

  “Thank you,” I replied to his look.

  Another mistake.

  He again started laughing.

  It didn’t start with a surprised bark leading to audible hilarity with his shaking body pressed to mine making me feel we could have something that was beyond normal straight to amazing at the same time it was heart-stoppingly real.

  But it was nearly as pleasant.

  I concentrated on the salad.

  All the veggies were fresh and high quality. With the latter, as was the wine.

  “Did you shop for this?” I asked the tomato I was cutting into wedges.

  “Found out no salon openings, called you, then yeah, I went to the market,” he answered.

  He just didn’t throw this together.

  He’d shopped.

  God.

  “Speaking of salons, booked us Wednesday night.”

  I turned my attention to him. “I can’t Wednesday night.”

  He lifted his brows.

  I answered his unasked question. “Duty supper with my mother. After it, I have a habit of going to the emergency room to ask them to check my heartbeat, in other words, if there is one, and call in the on-call dentist to examine the possibility I’ve grown retractable fangs. This, since I’m relatively certain a vampire begets a vampire and so far in my lifetime those traits have been latent.”

  More deep, pleasant laughter from Nick, this time with twinkling ocean blue eyes aimed at me.

  And it was then I knew I was working for it.

  I needed to get smart and fast. He might be able to respect boundaries but I already knew my heart had no clue what they were.

  “Not close with your mom,” he pointed out the obvious, eyes still twinkling my way.

  “How’d you guess,” I murmured, looking away and tossing tomato wedges into the greens.

  “Olivia,” he called.

  I looked to him.

  “I’ll book it another night but we’re not scheduled to be there until ten thirty. Do your duty. Later, meet me there. I’ll examine your gums a way you’ll like better, and you turn vamp, there’s a lot of places I don’t mind you suckin’ me.”

  I shook my head and again looked away, allowing a slight curve to form at my mouth.

  “Christ, she can smile,” he teased, reminding me my life didn’t offer me many occasions to do this, and to play it safe with Nick Sebring, I shouldn’t let him give them to me.

  Thus, the curve evened out.

  My name didn’t sound close to teasing when he called, “Olivia.”

  I didn’t look from the salad. “I’m hungry, Sebring. Feed me then fuck me. Then I need to get home. I have a busy week next week.”

  There was silence broken only by bubbling from the stove before I heard end-of-cooking noises as I focused on the finishing touches on the salad.

  I was done and about to go wash my hands when I felt Nick fit his front to my back.

  He didn’t wrap his arms around me and hold me but there was warmth in his closeness all the same.

  “We both like what we got,” he said softly into my ear. “That means you’ll be here again. So you gotta know, the invitation is open for you to stay after we fuck. You feel you need to make your point by leavin’, your call. But I figure with the way we fuck we’re not gonna be done with each other for a long time. I like you at my side in bed because that means I get more in the morning. You want that too, stay. You’re not in the mood, go. If I got shit on I need to give attention to first thing in the morning, I’ll share that we need to see to business and I’ll walk you to your car. But outside that, you need to know, the invitation is always open.”

  I twisted my neck and lifted my eyes to him.

  I didn’t know what to say. What he just gave to me was more than anyone had given to me in my life, outside Tommy. And what Tommy and I had had been dangerous and stupid and we both knew it even if I was just figuring out the full extent of that years later.

  So I just said, “Thank you.”

  Nick nodded, touched my waist and moved to the stove.

  We ate spaghetti with a spicy meat sauce, fantastic garlic bread and a delicious fresh salad.

  In other words, Nick could cook.

  He insisted we leave the dishes but we took the wine to his bedroom.

  We fucked combative, fast and rough.

  I won.

  After, Nick did as promised and returned the favor of what I gave him that morning after room service.

  But his ended with more fucking and me getting another orgasm.

  Although I got another orgasm, that time, he won.

  And after that, because to be smart I had to make my point, we got dressed and he walked me to my car.

  We kissed hard and greedy at my driver’s side door.

  And I nearly ran into a streetlight as I watched Nick in my rearview mirror as he jogged up his steps while I drove away.

  Chapter Ten

  A Goddamned Squeeze

  Nick

  10:38 – Wednesday Night

  She was late.

  Nick was not happy.

  He looked at his phone to the text he got from her fifteen minutes ago that warned him she would be.

  A dinner with her mother should not last this long. He knew. He’d sat through watching her do it more than once.

  Shit.

  Olivia Shade.

  He was fucked and getting more fucked by the day, and not in ways he wanted.

  This included the fact that the last two nights, later than their normal meets, at his invitation she came to his place. Once there, she immediately tried to climb on his dick (he allowed her to be successful before he stopped allowing this). He gave it to her and she gave it to him. After she was done, at her choice, they got dressed and he walked her to her Range Rover.

  She had not retreated. She spoke. The sex was just as aggressive, but with their conversations, the outing of her scars, there was a trace more intimacy
.

  And she was learning to give him full access. She definitely came out of the moment if he touched her scars, but she fell back into it faster and faster and no longer tried to avoid it.

  But other than that, she was giving him nothing. No in. She accepted his invitation to be friendly but only accepted it to the point she was comfortable with it, which was not much.

  At this early point in his plan, Nick should be down with that. He assumed with her remark she’d “earned” her scar that her father had given it to her. He did not know this as fact, but with her shame around it, shame that felt deeper than her simply being a woman who had what she considered a flaw that marked her, it was a good assumption.

  There was a story behind that scar and it had to do with Vincent Shade.

  That mystery he would solve along the way.

  Olivia sharing that she might be one of the few people in the world who’d understand the struggle he’d had coming to terms with his relationship with his brother and handing him the shock of her softheartedness when she thought his father died were unexpected things he knew he had to guard against.

  So Nick had needed to step back.

  When this was over, when he’d earned her trust and used it to gather enough information to bring down the House of Shade, the best case scenario for her was that he’d walk away and she’d remain standing. There was no doubt she’d hate him, but she’d remain standing.

  Another scenario, when he had what he needed and made his move, she went down with her father, not literally, as in taking a bullet, but figuratively, as in enjoying a long stay in a prison cell.

  The worst case scenario, she’d shield her father in a way where she did go down. Literally.

  He already knew from what he got from her he’d work for the first.

  But he had to be all in with his plan, so if she worked against him on that, he’d have to roll with it.

  And take her down.

  He’d given her two nights to back off and get her shit together, through doing that giving it to himself.

  Now it was time to go back in.

  He was impatient to do that.

  In order to control the feeling, he also had to admit to himself that he was impatient to see her again.

  This meant they needed to fuck, and a lot, so he could work that feeling out.

  Eyes to the scene in front of him, a guy getting it from three girls, something that didn’t hold Nick’s attention (he’d prefer the guy being absent and just the three girls), knowing she was going to be late and that would last at least another quarter of an hour, when the call came in from his boy, he took it.

  So he was surprised, in the middle of it, when he heard the door open behind him.

  He had to roll with it.

  Regardless, in order to gain her trust, he had to give her the impression she had his.

  Therefore, even as he cast his eyes over his shoulder and watched her walk his way carrying a green drink in her hand, wearing a slim-fitting, expensive-looking turtleneck, one of her signature skintight skirts (just seeing the folds at her sex making his dick start to get hard) and another signature—her pumps, he kept talking.

  “Call the boys. Three more to come to you. Set two men at the perimeter, another man inside. And tell Lee if this shit goes south, he owes me another fuckin’ marker. Where he finds these women we gotta keep safe, I don’t know. It’s starting to be a fuckin’ joke.”

  His gaze aimed up, locked to hers as she moved in front of him. He then turned his head to watch her fold gracefully into the chair beside him.

  “It’ll take at least twenty minutes to get three more guys here, Nick. And Stark reported the threat is imminent,” his boy reported.

  Giving an important situation his attention, Nick looked to his shoes, his legs stretched out, his feet crossed in front of him. “Okay, Casey, then stop talkin’ to me, get the boys there, even if they show as reinforcements, and do your job.”

  “There could be casualties.”

  “Just as long as those casualties aren’t my guys or the woman you’re keepin’ safe, I’m okay with that.”

  “Right, Nick. I’m on it.”

  “Later. And report back.”

  “You got it.”

  He disconnected and looked back to Olivia to see her attention on him.

  She arched one haughty, princess brow.

  “Work issues?” she asked.

  Cool customer, hot as fuck.

  And cute.

  Shit.

  “There are a few arms in my business that can be more than your average risky,” he answered.

  “I see,” she said in her soft voice, turning her head away and lifting her drink to take a sip.

  “Melon?” he guessed at her drink.

  “And vodka,” she murmured against the rim of the glass.

  He was hoping it was just pussy-booze, like Midori, something that was lame that she liked that he would find unappealing about her.

  But no.

  She had to have the added vodka.

  “There’s a new Ross,” she noted.

  “Hmm…” he muttered noncommittally, being the reason why they’d employed a new Ross at the club and not about to explain that.

  He reached to his whisky.

  She turned to him again. “I’m surprised. I’ve been a member for years now and they’ve had no turnover in staff.”

  He shrugged. “Shit happens.”

  She looked to the scene in a way he knew she didn’t see it, murmuring, “I don’t like it.”

  “The woman could have found a higher paying job, or she got married, or a hundred other things, Olivia. Your business is not hers, her business is not yours. It’s the way of the club.”

  She nodded at the scene but said nothing.

  “You wanna tell me why dinner with your mother lasted nearly four hours?” he asked.

  “I was ambushed,” she replied.

  He felt his neck start to itch.

  Ambushed?

  “Say again?” he pushed.

  She looked to him. “I was ambushed. It was not dinner with my mother. It was dinner with my mother, one of her friends and her friend’s son.”

  That was when Nick felt his jaw tense and his repeat of, “Say again,” was gritty.

  “It was a fixup,” she explained offhandedly.

  But the blazing streak of jealousy Nick experienced at her words was alarming.

  And unhealthy.

  And last, so severe and unexpected, he had no tools at hand to battle it in order to ignore it.

  Completely oblivious to all of this, Olivia kept speaking.

  “We all had dinner and he was under instruction to take that further, which meant I had to have drinks with him after. Mom and her friend left. He bought me a drink that unfortunately led to two which unfortunately led to him sharing rather openly he was interested in fucking me but also interested in taking me to dinner. In order not to earn the wrath of my mother, which I would incur if I did not give him the attention she thinks he deserves, I had no choice but to drink the drinks he bought and make plans for dinner. However, since I already have plans for intercourse, I refused that part of his invitation.”

  Nick felt his jaw get tighter to a point a muscle danced in his cheek all the way up to his temple.

  “You made a date with this guy?”

  She shrugged and looked back to the scene. “This is new, Mother matchmaking. As with any motherly attention she turns my way, she’ll lose interest in it soon enough.”

  “You made a date with this guy.”

  This was a statement voiced in a way that her attention shifted swiftly back to him.

  Her eyes moved over his face slowly before she whispered, “Yes, Sebring.”

  He studied her for any signs he was the player getting played.

  As was her norm, she gave him nothing.

  “You date him, you do not fuck him,” he ordered.

  She twisted her torso, turning fully to h
im. “Sebring—”

  “You take me ungloved. You’ve never taken me gloved. You make a habit of that with all the men you fuck?”

  Her shoulders straightened and her eyes darkened. “Absolutely not.”

  “And I believe that…how? I fucked you against a wall and took you repeatedly for days, all without protection, all before you even said hi to me.”

  “This is rather late timing to share your concerns,” she remarked.

  “Answer my question,” he demanded.

  “That is not a common occurrence.”

  “Is it uncommon?”

  Her soft voice was a strained snap when she replied, “It’s singularly unique.”

  “I gotta believe that, Olivia.”

  “I have to believe the same, Sebring.”

  “Wasn’t me walked your way, beggin’ with my eyes for you to fuck me,” he pointed out.

  He felt the searing fire which was indication she had a formidable temper she had not yet unleashed as she stood, announcing, “This is done.”

  She bent to put her drink down and turned to her purse but he caught her before she grabbed it and had her in his lap before she could make a move to stop him.

  She twisted at the waist, planting a hand in his chest and pushing hard.

  “I said this is done,” she reiterated.

  “What’s done?” he shot back. “You bein’ pissy I’m askin’ pertinent questions after you strut in here tellin’ me some guy wants to fuck you and you made a date with him while you’re fuckin’ me and doin’ it takin’ me ungloved? Or somethin’ else.”

  “We’re done,” she retorted sharply.

  Fuck!

  He felt those words too many places, including his balls, his gut, spearing into his temples and burning around his heart.

  He wanted that reaction to be about Hettie. He wanted it to be about his plan. He wanted it to be about vengeance.

  But Olivia Shade never smiled, she fucked strangers in a way it was clear that was the only connection she’d allow herself and she had nasty scars on her back.

  And Nick was drowning in all that.

  So in order to control that too, Nick had to admit to himself it wasn’t just about Hettie, his plan or vengeance.