Fighting for Control (Against the Cage Book 3)

by Melynda Price

  “You think so? I could text you a picture.” She sounded so sweet and hopeful . . . so fragile.

  “I’d like that.” Dammit, Celeste . . . Why was everything always her way or the highway? Ray was just a kid. So what if she had a hole in her nose? It’d grow shut. “You know what I think?”

  “What?”

  “That you’re gorgeous—inside and out, baby. Your mom and I are lucky to have you.”

  A sob broke from her throat before she could cover it with a sad little laugh. “Thanks, Dad . . .”

  “Anytime, sweetheart. Hey, I got an idea. Why don’t I drive down Friday and come get you for the weekend? We’ll hang out, eat pizza, watch movies, get tattoos . . .”

  Raven laughed. That light, feminine sound still held traces of that little-girl giggle he’d missed too many times to think about. Nikko’s heart cramped with regret for all the ways he’d failed her.

  “Stop teasing me, Dad.”

  “All right, just ice cream, then.”

  “That would be great. I’d really like to see you. You think Mom will allow it?”

  “Let me handle your mother. You just focus on getting all your homework done and quit skipping classes, okay?”

  “All right, I will.”

  “And don’t do anything else to ruffle your mom’s feathers, huh? No more holes in your face, or any other places. And don’t go shaving your head or something crazy like that. I’m the only one who gets to piss off your mom.”

  She laughed again. Man, he loved that sweet melody. It was that sound he’d played over and over in his head when he wasn’t sure he was going to get out of Alice-Gahn alive.

  “Sure. I’ll be good. I love you, Daddy.”

  “I love you, too, sweetheart. I’ll see you this weekend.” Just as Nikko was hanging up and slipping his cell back into his pocket, he heard a surprised gasp echo behind him. Slowly, he turned to look over his shoulder, already knowing who he’d find. How long had she been standing there? By the surprised look on her face, he’d say too long.

  Fuck me . . .

  “So, you’re umm . . . seeing someone?”

  “What? No, I’m not seeing anyone.”

  She didn’t look convinced. In fact, she looked thoroughly pissed off. What was he going to say? He had one of two choices here: let Clover keep heading down the path her mind was taking her or tell her the truth about Raven—something not another soul outside his family knew. And what would she think of him if she learned the truth? That he was a shitty father?—and a shittier human being for not being in her life the way a real father should? That he wasn’t man enough to keep his wife satisfied so she cheated on him—multiple times—and that his pride had prevented him from forgiving her so he’d left them, sacrificing his relationship with his little girl and the one chance he had to be a real father?

  Seriously . . . he was better off letting her believe whatever the hell she wanted. It wasn’t like it mattered, anyway. It wasn’t like they had a future together. But as the seconds ticked by, he watched as her shock turned to anger, and as raw as he felt right now, Nikko wasn’t sure he had the patience to weather Violet’s storm.

  “I can’t believe you! I shoot you down, and before you’re even out of the parking lot, you’re making plans to see some other woman and telling her you love her? Wow, you sure move fast. I don’t even know why I’m surprised.” She said that last part more to herself than to him, and there was lot of self-incrimination in her voice. “You men are all alike, you know that?”

  Hold up. What was that supposed to mean? This woman didn’t know dick about him, and here she was, standing there holier than thou with her little hands on her hips, chewing his ass out when he hadn’t done a damn thing wrong. This midge was fraying the last threads of his temper, and she didn’t even have the common sense to be afraid, because he was two seconds from backing her up against his car and shutting her the hell up. By the time he was done with Violet Summers, she would have no doubt in her mind who he wanted.

  It pissed him off that she could have such a low opinion of him, jumping to conclusions without even trying to give him a chance to explain—not that he would have, but she didn’t know that. It was none of her business who he was talking to. “Listen, Clover—” But she was too caught up in her own anger to heed the warning tone in his voice.

  “Stop calling me that!”

  Like hell he would. She was his four-leaf clover whether she wanted to be or not. He took a step toward her that would have made anyone else back the fuck up. But not this woman, and damn if he didn’t respect her for it. She had to notch her stubborn chin higher to keep eye contact with him as he glared down at her.

  “You lost the right to get pissed at me the minute you decided to shut us down in there.” He pointed to the building behind her. “Unlike you, I do not, nor will I ever, want to get married or have children who would ultimately become pawns used against me. I don’t want a fucking dog, and even if I did, it certainly wouldn’t be some little shit kicker named Sparky.”

  “Is that what you really think?”

  He was too pissed off to register the subtle softening of her eyes until it was too late. She took a step forward, moving into his personal space. He wanted to step back, but the fighter in him refused to back down, even if it were at his sanity’s expense, because the hot Nevada breeze was brushing past her and slamming her scent right into him. His body responded to the olfactory assault—his blood heating in his veins, his cock swelling, and his nostrils flaring as her light vanilla scent triggered him like Pavlov’s dog, ushering in a flood of memories he shouldn’t be thinking about right now.

  “Yes, I think Sparky is a terrible name,” he said, deliberately being obtuse. They were entering dangerous territory here—physically and emotionally, and, no lie, he was About. To. Snap.

  “No, not that—”

  Her delicately arched brows drew tight in concentration as she studied him. Now he knew what it felt like to be a bug under a microscope, and it was damn uncomfortable. She lifted her hand and placed it on his chest. He tensed. She was touching him. Why was she touching him?

  “—what you said about children, about them being pawns? Do you really believe that?”

  He shrugged. “Seen it happen before.”

  He could feel his heart hammering against her palm. Did she have any idea how deeply she affected him? His response to her was unlike anything he’d ever felt before—so visceral and bone deep—the need for her as inherent as breathing, so desperate and beyond his control.

  His gaze dropped to her mouth. Her bottom lip was just a little fuller than the top—so lush . . . just begging to be kissed. He swallowed, trying to banish the memory of her taste. Would it be as good as he remembered? Would it feel as right as before, or had time skewed his memory, inflating it into an unattainable moment of perfection?

  Perhaps he should just kiss her and get it over with. Maybe it would be nothing like he remembered and the anticipation would far outweigh the reality. Once he realized the real thing paled in comparison, perhaps then he would see that his clover was really lawn grass and would quit obsessing over the woman. He was just desperate and pissed off enough to find out.

  “I don’t know what to say . . .”

  Which was really quite amusing when you thought about it. He was so fucked up he’d rendered a psychologist speechless.

  “It’s fine, Clover, because I’m done talking.” He stepped into her hand, backing her up until she bumped into the rear panel of his car.

  Her eyes widened. No doubt she saw the intent in his. Her lips parted and that pink little tongue slipped out to moisten them. “Nikko, what are you doing?”

  She sounded nervous, but at the same time her soft, feminine voice was undeniably breathy—needy. She might still be mad at him, and there was no way in hell she’d ever admit it, but she wanted this as much as he did. Maybe she was just as curious to discover if that night had been nothing more than a shooting star.

/>   He moved closer. She had nowhere to go. She felt so small and fragile trapped between his body and the car—but damn, she was soft in all the right places. The air between them crackled with that same familiar energy. That visceral awareness he’d felt the first time he’d touched her returned with a vengeance, heating the blood thundering in his veins and throbbing in his cock.

  He could feel the beaded pearls of her nipples pressing into his chest, knew she could feel the evidence of his arousal against her stomach. His hands dropped to the warm metal beside her, caging her in his embrace. “I have to know . . .” He lowered his head, stopping inches from her mouth, her quickening breaths brushing against his lips.

  “Know what?” she whispered, sounding so sexy and breathless.

  “If you taste as good as I remember.” The strain of self-control made his voice little more than a low, throaty growl.

  Her eyes widened in surprise, a breathy little gasp escaping her parted lips. Perhaps she wasn’t used to someone speaking so bluntly, but he didn’t give her a chance to deny him. Closing the short distance, Nikko pressed his mouth against hers. Ho-ly hell, if he was hoping to prove that his memories of her kiss were nothing more than overinflated imaginations, then that plan was an epic fail.

  The moment his lips touched hers, it was like pure adrenaline flooding his veins. The rush of hard-core lust hit him hard, arrowing straight south. The ache in his balls pulled a tortured groan from his throat as he pressed in tighter, letting her feel the full effect she was having on him.

  His hand slipped into her hair, his fingers curling around those silky platinum strands as he shifted the angle of his mouth to more fully claim hers. At the intrusion of his tongue, she tensed as if surprised by the hunger of his kiss.

  He didn’t know if it was the PDA that bothered her or if she was caught off guard just as much as he was by how right this felt. She tasted amazing. After his tongue stroked hers a couple of times, she began to melt into him, her arms slipping up to wrap around his neck. She tugged him closer and her tongue joined the fray—twisting and tangling with his in an erotic dance that swiftly shattered the last restraints of his control. Her hips pressed against his, grinding against his cock in that needy little rhythm he remembered like their encounter on the plane had happened yesterday.

  Nikko snaked his arm around her waist and lifted her up, sitting her bottom on the trunk of his car. He moved in between her legs, fitting his erection tight against her core. Her legs came around his waist, the heels of her sexy boots digging into his ass, and it was so perfect—like she was made just for him. He’d never felt anything like it. There was something about Violet Summers that rocked his world. When it came to this woman, none of his old rules applied—all his hurts, habits, and hang-ups seemed to disappear.

  For the first time since he could remember, Nikko didn’t mind being touched. In fact, he wished she’d touch him more—lower. Even when Aiden’s wife Ryann had shown him platonic affection, he’d shied from the contact. But with Violet, everything was different. He liked kissing her, loved the way she tasted—the way she smelled . . . He couldn’t seem to get close enough. Holding her in his arms as she clung to him, seeming as lost in the moment as he was, was the closest he’d come to feeling whole since he’d come back from Afghanistan.

  The first time he’d been with her, he’d felt it then, too, but had quickly dismissed it, unwilling to credit a woman for having that kind of power over him. But there was no denying it, something about his four-leaf clover did unexplainable things to him. And right now, he wanted to do unmentionable things to her. If he thought for one second he could fit into his backseat . . .

  Somewhere in the back of his mind, he heard a car door slam not far from them, and a feminine gasp accompanied a low masculine chuckle. Awareness of where they were, and the scene they must be making in the parking lot of Carboni’s, must have hit Clover at the same time it dawned on him, because she broke their kiss, her mouth looking so delectably red and swollen. Fuck it, let ’em watch . . . He moved in for another taste and was halted by her palm traffic-copping his chest.

  “Nikko, stop,” she panted, looking a bit lust drunk.

  He knew the feeling. His head was spinning, too.

  “We can’t do this.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because it isn’t professional, that’s why.”

  “It wasn’t very professional when I fucked you in the bathroom of a Boeing 747, either, but you didn’t let that stop you.”

  “Shhh!” she hissed, glancing at the snickering couple walking past them. “Someone’s going to hear you. Besides, that was different.”

  His brow arched in wry amusement. “Enlighten me, Clover. How is that different?”

  “Because you weren’t my patient then.”

  “I’m not your patient now. You’re just interiming, remember?”

  “But you are still seeing me, and it’s not right.”

  “Then maybe I shouldn’t see you,” he challenged.

  “Nikko, you can’t quit coming to therapy. The CFA would suspend you. Your career is too important to throw away on sex.”

  Even if it was really incredible sex . . . ?

  He dipped his head, kissing the sensitive spot on her throat just below her ear, and growled, “Get in the car, sweetheart. I’ll take you back to my place and you can be the judge of that.”

  The moment the endearment slipped past his lips, she flinched as if he’d struck her. He muttered a curse. The change in her was instantaneous, and he knew she was remembering his conversation with Raven—or what she thought she’d overheard. Slowly, he lifted his head and met her stare. Guilt, embarrassment, and regret reflected in those beautiful eyes. The culmination of emotion staring back at him hit Nikko like a kick to the balls.

  He needed to do some serious damage control, and fast. She placed her hands on his chest and steadily pushed, backing him up far enough that she could hop down. Her heels hit the asphalt with a sharp clap, and she broke eye contact, seeming reluctant to meet his gaze again. He caught her chin and gently tipped her face to meet his determined stare.

  “I’m not lying to you, Violet. I’m not seeing anyone.”

  “Then who were you talking to?”

  She didn’t believe him . . . And that pissed him off. He didn’t owe her any explanation beyond the truth of his word, and if that wasn’t good enough for her, then too damn bad. Crossing his arms over his chest, he glared down at her in defiance. It was a look that had cowed many a soldier, but not this stubborn slip of a woman. She met his glare head-on and raised him an arched brow.

  “This is a bad idea.”

  No shit, but that didn’t stop him from wanting her. Her rejection stung, and something in his chest twisted painfully tight. He stood there feeling a bit numb after going from sixty to zero in a matter of seconds. There were a lot of thoughts and protests roaring through his head right now—all of which he kept to himself, afraid he’d say something he’d regret if he opened his mouth.

  Somehow her purse and the packet of papers had ended up on the ground. She bent to retrieve them, the tension between them ratcheting higher by the second. She slipped her purse over her shoulder and stood.

  “Enjoy the rest of your night,” she quipped with cool disdain, as if he hadn’t just had his tongue in her mouth thirty seconds ago. She didn’t wait for him to respond before turning and walking away, her prize tucked safely under her arm. The heels of her boots clapped on the asphalt, dismissing him, leaving him standing there, staring at her sweet little ass, and wondering what the hell had just happened.

  What a complete and utter mistake . . . Violet never should have gone after him. She had what she’d come for. But as she’d watched Nikko walk out of Carboni’s, that little voice in her gut had screamed at her not to let him go, and she’d reacted—impulsively and stupidly. Well, she was officially not listening to that voice ever again. In fact, from now on she planned to do the exact opposite because that bitc
h gave horrible advice.

  She’d never pegged Nikko for a player, which only proved, once again, what a terrible judge of character she really was, because she never would have believed Barry was an asshole cheater if she hadn’t seen it for herself. Considering character assessment was a vital part of Vi’s profession, the realization that she sucked at it was almost more devastating than the fact that she’d almost said yes to Nikko’s tempting offer to take her home and rock her world.

  If he hadn’t called her sweetheart, reminding her of the woman he’d just made plans to spend the weekend with not even ten minutes earlier . . . Jeez, had she really become that woman?—the accomplice to his infidelity, the duo to his debauchery?

  He’d denied he was seeing someone readily enough, but when she’d pressed him for answers, he’d refused to give them. In hindsight, he’d seemed more pissed that she was questioning him than guilty, but either way, it didn’t really matter. They were not meant to be.

  Not your finest moment, Vi, that’s for sure.

  No, no, it was not. Problem was, her life was starting to consist of one of these moments after another. It was frightening, the power this man had over her will, her mind, and her emotions, his ability to destroy her resolve and render her senseless with just a kiss. She’d learned a lot about Nikko Del Toro tonight, and even more about herself. From this point on, she’d have to be on constant guard, because it didn’t matter how attracted she was to him, he was her patient—at least for the next several weeks. And whether Vi liked the idea or not, they were going to be stuck with each other, and she would just have to find a way to harness her hormones and keep it professional.

  Feeling minutely better with her convictions firmly in place, Violet slipped into her fuzzy VS-patterned slippers and matching pajama pants Pen had gotten her for Christmas. She walked into the kitchen and poured herself a glass of wine. On second thought, she grabbed the bottle, bringing it with her to the living room. With Nikko’s file in hand, she headed to the couch. After settling in, she took a couple sips from her glass and broke the seal of the envelope. Sliding the packet of papers onto her lap, she began combing through the psychiatric evaluation the CFA was expecting her to sign off on.