Except her only reason sits across from him. She’ll never want to be apart from Nick, especially knowing how he’ll brood without her. But, he plays along because they don’t have time to argue. They’re wheels up in an hour. “Yeah, that could work.”
“As long as she’s happy, that’s all I care about.”
“I know. Me too.”
Carrie’s laugh floats through the closed door, and Nick rolls his eyes. “I hate to say it, but I’m glad it’s you with them tonight. Good luck with that shit.”
Only for Shae. “Fuck you.”
#####
Son of a fucking bitch. Nick owes him big time for this. Max scans the room again, forcing his gaze anywhere but the soft-core porn playing out in front of him. Carrie sprawls across the bar, her top pushed up to her bra while Shae leans over her stomach, her lips hovering a few inches above Carrie’s skin.
“But, don’t do that thing with your tongue. You know it creeps me out!”
“You mean this?” Shae trails the tip across Carrie’s left hip before sucking the liquid out of her belly button making her squeal.
What the fuck? Nothing surprises him with Carrie. But, Shae being kinky is more than his brain can absorb. Maybe her friendship with Gina shouldn’t be encouraged after all.
Once Shae lifts her head, Carrie turns to Gina. “See? That’s how you do it, only with tequila. Then you suck the lemon on my throat. But, don’t give me a hickey because Nathan will know what we’ve been doing, and he’ll be pissed.” She hops up and grabs Shae’s hand. “Okay, your turn. Now Gina can lick you.”
Shae laughs and rubs her hand across her dress. “I can’t, you’ll see my panties--”
“So what? Gina already saw you naked. In the shower I might add. She doesn’t care about your underwear.”
Shae’s eyes grow wide, and she shakes her head. “Please don’t bring it up. You know Nick gets upset when you talk about it.”
He’s not the only one. Neither of them wants to be reminded of what Spencer fucking did to her or to Gina. No one more glad than him that the bastard’s dead. Carrie shimmies down to the floor and back up, sliding her fingertips over her body from her thighs to her breasts, and licks her lips. “You mean you guys rubbing on each other all wet and—”
“Carrie!”
“Nick’s not here, and he’ll never know. Now get up there!”
Oh hell no. If he wants to continue to live, Nick’s pregnant wife can’t lie on a bar and be licked. Before he reaches her, Gina slides in front of Shae, her eyes shiny with alcohol and mischief. “My turn, and I do want Shae to do that thing with her tongue.”
Carrie cackles with laughter. “Okay, that’s where we’ll put the salt.”
The other girls cheer as Carrie preps the virgin body shot on Gina’s stomach and neck. Fucking shit, he’s going to have to go to church every day with Marta to get the image of Gina’s arching back with Shae’s lips on her trembling skin out of his head.
One of Carrie’s friends holds up two more drinks. “Okay, who’s next?”
Another roar deafens his ears when Carrie sucks down a blow job shot with her hands behind her back. The glass falls from her clenched teeth and she turns to Shae, kissing her before she can react.
A group of guys watching from the doorway howl, while a quick succession of flashes light the room. Max nods to two of his guys and points to the men trying to push past club security. “Get them out of here.”
Shae pulls away from Carrie, laughing and wiping the whipped cream off her lips. “I’m going to wash my mouth.”
Her smile fades a bit when she steps closer, her body slumping next to him as they walk. “Is it time to go yet?”
“My thoughts exactly.”
“It’s only midnight, and I’m exhausted.”
Fuck! He needs to get her out of here. She’s been through hell the last few weeks, jeopardizing both her and the baby’s health. A stupid bachelorette party isn’t worth any more risk. “Let me take you back to the hotel. The guys can take care of everything here.”
“No, I promised Carrie.” She lifts her hunched shoulders and smiles brighter. “I’ll be okay.”
“Anyone inside?” He nods to the attendant standing outside the ladies’ room, her sequined top reflecting the strobe lights as she shakes her head.
“No, it’s reserved exclusively for your group, per Mr. DeLuca’s orders.”
“Thanks.”
Unable to completely trust anyone who doesn’t work for him, he steps in with Shae and checks both stalls before waiting outside. A guy stumbles out of the lounge across from theirs and staggers his way. “Hey! Is that Shae Armstrong?”
The man grips the wall, his voice as shaky as his eyes. Drunk and sloppy. Fucking great. “Look, buddy, she’s having fun with her friends. Go back to your own party and leave her alone.”
“I just want to…” He pushes off the black brick and lurches toward him. “…talk to her for a minute.”
“Not tonight.”
The guy smirks and attempts a wobbly hit to his jaw. Without any effort, Max knocks his arm out of the way, twists it backward, and punches him in the gut. Hard enough to wind him but not do any permanent damage, no matter how much he wants to. Shae doesn’t deserve any bad publicity.
With the guy doubled over, Max bends down and whispers in his ear. “I’m going to be nice and not break it. But, don’t fuck with me again, or you’ll regret it. Now get your friends and get the fuck out of here.”
Max releases his grip and steps back. Gina’s gaze bores into his from the end of the hallway, her expression unreadable before she shakes her head and strides toward the other girls. No stranger to violence, she has to know he does what needs to be done. She can’t fault him for doing his job.
The bathroom door swings open, and Shae gasps at the man kneeling on the floor, worry creasing her forehead. “What happened?”
“Everything’s fine.” He gives her his most reassuring smile. “Let’s go back to the party.”
“Should we get him—”
“Nope.” He slides his hand onto her back, creating a barrier between her and the douche bag, and guides her to the main dance floor. The girls create a small circle, surrounding Carrie and Gina as they grind against one of the strippers who hung around once his performance ended.
After a few minutes, Carrie screams to Shae over the pulsing music, her face changing from blue to red to purple in the swirling lights. “Where’s Nathan?”
Shae laughs and shakes her head. “No, no, no. You made me promise not to call him no matter what you said.”
“Please!” Carrie tugs on Shae’s dress and pulls her against her. “I need sex! Please?”
“I don’t know where he is. You’ll have to wait until tomorrow.”
Carrie climbs onto the bar and starts calling his name. The stripper steps closer, sliding his hands up her legs. “You don’t need him. I’m here for you, baby.”
Okay, this party ends now. He nods at the bodyguard closest to the group, who drags the man out, while he holds out his hand to help Carrie down. She shakes her head and crosses her arms across her chest. Shae steps closer, calling up to her. “I’ll text him if you get down. I promise.”
Carrie throws back her head and laughs, teetering in her six inch heels. He grabs her waist as she tumbles forward and sets her on the ground as she giggles, totally unaware she could have hurt her best friend. Shae entwines their hands and nods to him, her eyes wide with relief. “We’re ready to go.”
He swipes his phone and taps the button for Jacks. “We’ll be there in three.”
“I’m ready.”
The rest of her friends assemble behind them, loud and boisterous, but at least following along without any complaints. Shae grasps his shirt as he pulls her close, curling his jacket around her as they hustle through the lobby and out the front doors, ignoring the errant fans and aggressive paparazzi stalking the perimeter of the club. Once outside, he glides past Jacks and helps
her into the SUV with Carrie falling in behind her.
One of the girls motions to Gina. Kelly, maybe? “We’re not ready to go back yet. Come out with us.”
Gina glances at him and smirks before nodding. His chest pounds at the risk she takes. He has to stop her. “Wait.”
After pushing the car door shut, he tips his head down to hers, sliding his hand over the silky skin of her wrist. “Don’t go.”
“Why not?”
“Because you’re drunk and shouldn’t be out by yourself with these girls you don’t even know.”
Wrong answer. Fury blazes in her eyes, her body rigid as she jerks her arm away. “Fuck you. Only Shae needs a baby-sitter.”
“It has nothing to do with…” A barrage of honking from a souped-up muscle car cruising the strip drowns out his words as she walks backwards down the sidewalk. Her angry gaze never leaves his until one of the girls laughs and pulls her along. Away from him. Damn. He shakes his head and climbs in next to Shae.
“You should go with her.” She smiles and nods to Jacks in the driver’s seat. “We’ll be fine. Straight to the hotel. I promise.”
No. He can’t chase after her. Not after his promise to Nick. Not when Gina hurts them both and doesn’t seem to care. “Let’s get you back. Nick’s already texted me twice. He won’t lay off until I get you inside.”
“I’m sorry.” She squeezes his hand before stroking Carrie’s hair as she lies in her lap, singing some fucked up song about her and Shae chilling at home instead of dancing in a club.
First Nick, now Shae. He’s not fooling anyone. Except himself. “Me too.”
Chapter 4
The hard tile stings her bare butt, burning almost as much as her pride at Max’s cold expression when he let her into the hotel room. His gaze boring into hers like a drill. Yet he never put down his phone. Willing to talk to some security guy but not her.
Well, fuck him. It’s his fault anyway. If her key had worked in the elevator to access their floor, she wouldn’t have had to call him. Not endure the walk of shame with Nick’s security team watching as she strode down the hall and into the penthouse under his glare. Pretending she didn’t care. Acting as if she was mad at him too.
Damn him and all of his unnecessary worry. Smothering her with his concern. She shakes her spinning head. Making her feel safe and protected and cherished. And, the world’s biggest bitch for walking away from one of the few people in this world who actually care about her any more.
She yanks her thong string from the unfriendly position it worked its way into when she busted her ass and crouches again in front of the stocked cabinet next to the mini-fridge. Shit, why did she drink so much? She just needs food. Then she’ll be fine.
She rummages through the boxes and bags on the previously well-organized wooden shelves. Maybe some carbs would work. Her hand slaps the smooth marble of the horseshoe bar overlooking the open living room of the suite, and she pulls herself up. Sure, she comes from money, but not Nick kind of money. Damn, it must be nice to be this rich.
At the first step, her ankle twists and she grabs the countertop. Fuck trying to be sexy for Max with these stupid stilettos. She yanks at the straps, trying to pull and kick them off at the same time. Her fight with the silver leather freezes at the soft light flickering on in the foyer. She peeks over the edge of the counter. Shae tosses her phone on the decorative table under a beautiful reprint of Renoir’s Young Girls at the Piano as Nick steps inside. His fingers wrap around the belt of Shae’s pink robe, and he pulls her against him.
“What are you doing here?” Worry coils through Shae’s voice as she looks up at him. “I thought you were staying with Nathan and the other guys.”
“I missed you.” His fingers lace through Shae’s hair, and he nuzzles her neck, muffling the words. “I needed to make sure you were okay.”
Fuck! Her stomach twirls, and she drops back into a squatting position. Shit! Dumb, dumb, dumb mistake. That was the wrong thing to do. Now, she’s trapped like a fool. Why is she so drunk?
“I’m fine.” Shae’s soft voice floats across the darkness. “Why is your hair wet?”
“I took a shower so I could try and sober up. I know I shouldn’t come to you when I’m drunk, but I had to see you.”
“You’re my husband. You can come to me any way you want.”
“Fuck, sweetness. Do you know what you do to me when you say shit like that?”
Oh my God! This is so gross and perverted and weird. Maybe crawling would be good. They won’t notice her behind the mammoth white sofa hogging up half the room. She’ll make it to her bed and go to sleep and pretend like this was all just a dream. Or nightmare. Or, never really happened.
“I know something’s bothering you. What wrong?”
“I don’t like my wife and my baby at a strip club.”
Shae’s laugh bounces across the expansive space. “It was a lounge in a beautiful bar, and our baby was very well-protected.”
“Un uh. He’s mine, and so are you.”
Is that a fucking growl? They’re going to fucking do it right here in the living room, and she’ll be traumatized for life. She’ll be the one who needs a shower. And a therapist. And a priest.
“You know you’re very possessive when you’ve been drinking.”
“Max said some motherfucker was trying to bother you.”
For the love of God why is it so fucking dark in here? A sharp corner jabs her shoulder before breaking glass shatters the stillness. Shit!
“Who the fuck’s there?”
Ice rolls through her body at the hardness of Nick’s voice. He’s not playing. She swallows hard, goose bumps covering her body, and peeks around the couch. The glint of his gun almost glows in the dim light, Shae barely visible as she stands behind his stiff body.
“Nick, wait! It could be Carrie or Gina.”
Shae’s whispered plea sounds like a scream in the harsh quiet, pounding in her ears even harder than the throbbing in her chest.
“I said who the fuck’s there?”
She flinches as a warm hand wraps around her waist while another slides over her mouth stifling her scream before he pulls her against his hard chest, twisting his body to shield her from Nick.
“It’s me. Leo said you were on your way over, and I wanted to make sure you didn’t scare the girls coming in so late.”
Max! Thank God!
Nick lets out a huge breath and shakes his head. “God damn it! I almost shot you, you stupid dumb ass.”
“Yeah, I know. I love you too.”
Max’s hold loosens on her as Nick shoves his gun in his back waistband and points in their direction. “Well, then go to sleep and stop fucking around in the dark.”
“Good night, Shae.”
“Good night, Max.” Shae tugs Nick’s shirt, leading him toward the master bedroom. “See you in the morning.”
“What were you doing?” His voice hisses in her ear, angry but worried. Both of his hands wrap around her waist, and he turns her to face him, his gaze searching her features. “You could’ve gotten yourself killed.”
“I was hungry.” She holds up the bag of peanuts, uncertain if they vibrate from the air conditioning blowing or her trembling. Mafia princesses can handle a lot, but guns, tequila, and fuck buddies can give even hard-core girls the shakes. “A midnight snack.”
His body softens and a small smile releases the lines creasing his forehead, making her shiver for a better reason. Why does he have to be so damn sexy? “It’s three a.m. You should be in bed.”
She wraps her hand around the hardness pressing against her stomach. “Come on then.”
The moan rumbling in his chest conflicts with the frown returning to his shaking head. “Not when you’re drunk.”
“You’re not taking advantage of me. I’m sober enough to know…” She strokes him through his pants, his body leaning into her hand. “…I want you.”
“I can’t.” His voice firm but husky, deep with need.
“Not like this.”
Despising herself for being weak and sad, she tucks her hand into his. She doesn’t want to be alone. Her stomach drops. More than that, she wants to be with him. Wants him to want her too. Even if it isn’t for sex. Just together. “Will you at least stay with me?”
She smiles at his head bob, her heart twirling as he squeezes her fingers. They pass Carrie’s room, and walk into hers. He locks the door behind them, an ache traveling from her chest to between her thighs at the implication. “Who are we hiding from?”
“No one. Just making sure you don’t sneak out for food and get a bullet instead.”
Or not. She pushes back the comforter and plops down on the bed, ripping open her snack. “Join the picnic.”
He digs through her junk strewn across the vanity and grabs two bottles of water before setting them on the night stand and climbing in next to her. A cracked shell rolls toward him as the mattress sinks under his weight. “Now we’re going to have to sleep in a dirty bed.”
Visions of their edible treasure hunt float through her head, and she winks at him. At least she attempts to. Stupid alcohol makes her eyelids heavy. “Won’t be the first time.”
He tosses back a few nuts into his mouth. “Or the last.”
His playfulness drives the guilt from her heart to her mouth before she can stop it. “I’m sorry about earlier. I know I was a bitch.” Her fingertips rub over the blanket’s satiny edge. “It’s hard being second choice.”
Red flushes his face, and he stares down at her, a shiver rolling through her at his intensity. “You’re not. Protecting Shae is my job. You don’t have anything to be jealous about.”
“I’m not. I just…” Her voice catches, impossible to keep going when they both know it’s a lie. “Compared to her, I--”
“No one is comparing, except for you.” He slides down from the headboard, shoving away the crinkled bag and pulling her against him.
Lying in the crook of his arm, his heart beating under her hand, she kisses his chest. “I like being with you like this.”
“Me too.” He entwines her fingers with his while his other hand glides to her waist, warming her with his gentle touch. “That’s why I’m here. You’re the only woman I want.” She blinks at his kiss on her forehead, bringing her back from where she was floating. “But, I need you to believe it too.”
Truth About Tequila (Surviving Absolution #3) Page 3