by J. Lynn
I raised a brow as I lowered my bottle. “Oh really?”
“Yep.” His throat worked on the drink he took. “I knew you’d show up. It was inevitable.”
“Inevitable?” I repeated. “That’s a pretty powerful word.”
His heavy gaze met mine, and the twisty motion in me returned with a vengeance. “It’s the truth.”
“You’re a cocky bastard, aren’t you?”
“And you’re a cocky chick?”
I laughed then as I leaned against the counter, across from him. “Maybe.”
“I like it. I can tell you’re the kind of person who doesn’t play games.”
Nursing my drink, I crossed my legs at the ankles. “And you can tell this already?”
He nodded. “The moment your eyes met mine yesterday, I could tell you were the type of girl who knows she fucking stops traffic just by walking outside. You own it. There isn’t a single bashful or coy bone or muscle in your body.”
“And you could tell that just by looking in my eyes?” I snorted.
“Actually, I could tell that by those tiny ass shorts you had on yesterday,” he remarked, surprising me. “There is not a single female out there with legs as long as yours who doesn’t know that every guy they come into contact with is picturing them wrapped around their waist.”
I blinked, knocked off my game once more with him. A moment passed before I recovered. “So, you like my shorts?”
“I fucking loved those shorts.” He grinned as he lifted the bottle to his mouth.
Perhaps I should have worn them instead. “Well, it seems like you got me all figured out after two brief conversations, and here I am, not nearly as observant as you. I don’t know anything about you.”
“Not true,” he chided softly. “You know my first and last name. And where I work.”
“Wow. I could totally do a bio on you now.” I watched his lips twitch into a half grin again. “How about we play a game? A question for a question.”
He tilted his head to the side, lips pursed. “I think I can do that. Ladies first.”
Brushing my hair off my shoulder, I took another drink. “How old are you?”
“Twenty-six.”
“You’re still a baby then.”
He frowned. “How old are you?”
“Twenty-three,” I replied.
“What?” he laughed, the skin crinkling around his eyes. “That makes no sense.” He paused. “Unless older guys are normally your thing or something?”
I tsked softly. “It’s not your turn to ask a question. It’s mine. Have you lived here your whole life?”
“On and off. I was born near here.” His eyes glittered. “Answer my question.”
“Older guys aren’t typically my thing, but I don’t think I have a ‘thing,’ to be honest.”
“Equal opportunity player then?”
“I don’t think you understand how this game works, Nick.”
He smirked. “My bad.”
“Did you go to college or are you in college?” I asked.
Nick arched a brow. “Isn’t that two questions?”
“Oh, you got me. Pick one then.”
His chin dipped. “I did go to college. Is this your first time living away from home?”
I took a drink as I watched his thumb move along the bottle. “I lived in the dorm while I was at school, but this is the first time I’ve lived out of state. So, did you graduate?”
He nodded. “I did.”
The question formed on the tip of my tongue. I wanted to know why he was bartending. I was curious, but not in a judgy way, because there was nothing wrong with bartending. He’d probably made more money than I did, but I pushed the question down. That was too . . . personal for me. Tapping my finger on the bottle, I searched for a good one. “What’s your favorite hobby?”
“Besides fucking?” he said, his gaze hidden behind his thick lashes.
My stomach hollowed. Dear God, that was definitely putting it out there, and certain, important points in my body got all kinds of excited upon hearing that. “Yeah, besides that?”
“Hmm . . .” His gaze flipped to the ceiling as his lips pursed and then his gaze slammed into me. “If I had to pick one, I’d have to go with working with my hands.”
A sharp swirl of pleasure rattled me. “For some reason, I think that has a double meaning.”
One shoulder rose and he took a drink. “What about you? Favorite hobby?”
“Besides fucking?”
Nick’s laugh was deep, but his stare was no longer lazy. “Yeah, besides that,” he said, repeating my words.
“Um . . .” His thumb was moving up and down the neck of the bottle, and I couldn’t help but picture that hand on me, that thumb moving likewise. My mouth dried and my mind was skipping around in dirty, dirty places again. I lifted my gaze. “I’d have to say watching movies. I’ve probably seen thousands and thousands.”
“Interesting.” He eyed me over the opening of the bottle.
I set my beer aside and clasped the edges of the counter on either side of my hips, waiting for his next question. He was taking his sweet old time.
“You know what?” Setting his own bottle aside, he pushed away from the counter, and I straightened, my hands slipping off the counter. “I didn’t come here to play twenty questions.”
My head tilted to the side. “Well, no shit.” I smiled sweetly, even as a heaviness settled in my breasts and my blood felt like it thickened.
He was grinning that half smile again. “And you don’t want me here to answer questions either.”
I met his stare as he stepped forward, stopping right in front of me. Every cell in my body became super aware of his proximity. “If I say no shit again does that make me repetitive?”
“Only a little,” he murmured, leaning in and placing his hands on my hips. “So let’s say fuck the questions and answers and get down to what we both are anticipating.”
The flutter moved from my chest and then down, low in my belly. “You’re not the kind of guy to beat around the bush, are you?”
“Nope.” His hands settled on my hips and my eyes flew to his. He held my stare. “And neither are you. You’re done with these questions, too.”
“I am?” My breath caught as his grip on my hips tightened.
“Yeah, you are.” He lowered his head so that his mouth was near my ear. “Want to know how I know that? You started to get hot from the moment I said fucking was my hobby.” He lifted one hand and without breaking eye contact brushed his thumb over the tip of my breast, unerringly finding and grazing my nipple. “And these have been getting harder by the second.”
Oh, sweet Jesus. The bolt of pleasure shot out from my breast and scattered, lighting up every nerve. I was struck speechless, which was a new thing for me.
“And I just want to thank you for wearing this top.” Both hands were at my hips again. “I like it almost as much as I liked those shorts.”
I placed my hands on his chest and slid them down the length of his stomach, the tips of my fingers following the hard planes of his abs. “Then I think you might like what I have on under these jeans.”
A deep sound rumbled out from him as his hands slipped around to my lower back and then down, cupping my ass. “I cannot wait to find out.”
“Then don’t.” I tugged on his shirt, and his answering chuckle was rough. Glancing up, I let go of his shirt. “This is only about tonight.”
“Then we’re on the same page, aren’t we?” He stepped back and reached around to his back pocket. He pulled out his wallet, flipping it open. Out came a silver foil, and I had to laugh.
“A condom in a wallet?” I said. “So damn cliché.”
“And so damn prepared,” he replied with a wink. He tossed his wallet and the condom on the counter
. Grabbing the hem of his shirt, he tugged it up and off. Muscles along his shoulders and upper arms flexed and rolled as he threw the shirt to where he laid his jacket.
Good God, all I could do was stare. Boy took care of himself. His chest was well-defined and his waist was trim. His stomach was a work of art. His abs were tightly rolled but not overdone. He reminded me of a runner or swimmer, and I wanted to touch him.
“Your turn.”
My breath shuttled out of me. I wasn’t necessarily a self-conscious person, but my fingers trembled nonetheless as I wrapped them around the hem of the cami I wore. In a weird way I didn’t understand, the fact we really didn’t know each other made it easy to take the top off. Maybe it was because there were absolutely no expectations between us or because this was only about tonight.
Nick’s gaze slowly left mine, and I stopped thinking in general. The taut set to his lips and jaw was like stepping too close to an open flame, but the heat and intensity in his gaze was what started the fire. The look was hungry, and it was a punch to the chest, stealing the air right out of my lungs.
Silently, he lifted one hand and cupped my breast. The gasp that came out of me sounded strangled. He ran his thumb over the hardened tip and then he caught it between his fingers. My back arched and a smug half smile graced his lips.
“You’re beautiful,” he said, voice gruff. “I bet the rest is just as fucking stunning.”
My heart was pounding and my voice was throaty when I spoke. “You want to find out?”
“Do you even need to ask that question?”
I smiled as I reached up, wrapping my hand around his wrist. I drew his fingers down my stomach, to the button on my jeans. He needed no further explanation. Nick broke records when it came to how fast he had me out of my jeans.
“You were right.” His fingers skimmed along the thin strap over my hip as he turned me around, his hand following his movements, slipping under the lace along the center. “I really do like this, too.”
The thong was nothing more than a scrap of flimsy material, no barrier against his heat as he slipped his hand between my thighs. “God,” he said, his voice a thick whisper. “You’re already ready.”
I was.
I’d been ready from the moment he’d made his intentions clear. With his hand between my legs, he drew me against him, and I could feel him through his jeans, heavy and hard, pressing against me. My back arched and a breathy moan escaped me as his fingers went to work, slipping inside the material and through the wetness gathering there. I grabbed his arm, holding him to me, and the other slammed onto the counter. I braced myself as he curved his body into mine, his chest sealed to my back. Tension simmered to life as I moved my hips against his hand, building on top of itself as his warm breath fanned my temple.
“We can do it here if that’s what you want. I can lift you up, get that sweet ass on the counter. Or against the fridge,” he said, his lips brushing the shell of my ear. “Or I can take you on the table or the couch, fuck you right there.” One hand slid up my side, sending a shiver through me as it closed around my breast. “Or I can just turn you right around, right here, and fuck you from behind.” His lips skated over my neck, stopping over my wildly beating pulse. He nipped at the same moment he added another finger, causing me to gasp. “You tell me what you want.”
Good God . . .
Those words almost sent me over the edge, and I was close, so close. The guy had magic fingers, and if he kept going like this, it would be over before we got started. “Like this,” I gasped out.
“Fuck yeah,” he grunted.
My undies were at my ankles and then, over the thunder of my slamming heart, I heard the tinny sound of his zipper going down. The condom was off the counter and on him before I had a chance to grow impatient.
Nick gripped my hips and lifted me up on the tips of my toes, then one hand disappeared and a second later I felt him between my legs. I didn’t have to see to know that he was large. Then I felt it. He eased himself into me, inch by inch, and so slowly that every nerve ending felt raw as he seated himself fully. The pinch of pain faded and the pressure was almost overwhelming.
One arm circled my waist, drawing me up against him. His groan was deliciously harsh in my ear, mindlessly drugging. He started moving his hips, rocking in and out of me. There was nothing slow about this. Each thrust was deep and fast, wholly precise. This was . . . this was about fucking, and that’s what he did—that’s what I did. Pushing back, meeting each stroke just as fiercely.
I didn’t get a chance to even aid the release along. Both my hands were flattened on the counter and the space between us grew until he curved his body over mine, pushing my upper body down on the counter. The coolness of the laminate was a shock against my heated skin.
The sounds of our bodies coming together, of my gasps and moans and his rough grunts filled the kitchen. The tension built and built, tightening up until my toes started to tingle. One hand slid up the center of my back, balling in my hair as he pinned me there, his hips slamming into mine.
I came in a burst and it was fast, powerful, and damn near blinding. I cried out, my body stilling as if I was being stretched, and his hips kept moving, kept pounding, until he pressed in, grinding against me. Pleasure poured into me, intensified with each thrust. His hoarse shout joined mine and he jerked, his body going still.
Aftershocks sparked. Tiny spasms shook me. Dazed, I let the coolness of the counter seep through my flushed cheek. After what felt like forever, I opened my eyes and found myself staring at the stovetop. My lips curled up at the corners in a lazy smile.
Huh. Never thought I’d be breaking in the kitchen this quickly.
Nick eased off me, his hand dragging down the center of my back, lingering on my hip for a few seconds, and then there was a rush of cool air against my skin. “You still alive?” he asked.
I didn’t want to move. “I don’t know yet.”
His chuckle caused the grin to spread. Pushing myself away from the counter, I bent down to grab my undies.
“Damn,” he groaned, and I realized I was giving him quite the eyeful. “No words,” he continued. “No fucking words.”
Shimmying my undies up, I turned around. His pants were already buttoned as he disposed of the condom in the trashcan. I reached for my top, and as I bent again, I was surprised by the amount of wetness between my thighs.
It had been a while since I’d had sex, but geez, that felt a wee bit ridiculous.
I dragged my top on, straightening out the hem. My gaze lifted to his, and he gave me the lopsided grin. “I don’t have words either,” I admitted.
“Looks like we’re still on the same page.” Snatching my jeans off the floor, he came to me, and much to my surprise, helped me put them on, his hands straying in the process. When he was finished, he stepped back. “It’s late.”
“It is. You good to drive?”
A flash of momentary surprise flickered across his face. “I think I got just enough brain cells left to make it home.”
“Fucking your brains out can be dangerous,” I replied. “I’m sure there’s an operating machinery and driving warning involved.”
Nick tipped his head back and laughed as he reached for his jacket, shrugging it on. “God, I really do like you.”
“Of course.”
Still grinning, he shook his head as he grabbed his helmet. “You’re welcome to what’s left of the beer.” He headed for the door while I slowly trailed after him. He opened the door and then turned to me. His gaze met mine, and the green of his was light and warm. “Tonight was . . .”
“Just tonight,” I finished for him. “I had fun.”
“Of course,” he mimicked, and I laughed.
“Be careful,” I told him.
Nick opened his mouth as if he were going to say something, but seemed to change his mind. He mo
ved quickly, swooping down before I knew what he was up to. He pressed his lips to the corner of mine, the touch brief and yet entirely startling. It knocked me out of my bliss and forced my eyes wide as he lifted his head. “See you around.”
I didn’t respond, was totally incapable of it, as he turned around and walked out the door, closing it behind him. I don’t even know how long I stood there, but at some point I had lifted my hand to the corner of my lips. The skin tingled.
That was the closest any guy had gotten to kissing me in a long time.
Chapter 3
“I’m good. I’m great.” In the rearview mirror my blue eyes seemed way too wide as I clutched the steering wheel until my knuckles bleached white. “I got this. I totally got this.”
Ignoring my pep talk, my stomach churned uneasily. I let go of the steering wheel and reached over, grabbing my purse. Prying it open, I pulled out the small bottle of Tums and popped one. The last time I’d been this nervous was eight years ago, and I ended up hurling all over my best friend’s open-toed shoes.
I would not hurl today.
Not on my first official day of the rest of my life.
Okay. That was a bit overdramatic. Today was a big deal, though, as it was my first day as an executive assistant at Lima Academy. After all the education, I really had no idea what to expect. I could actually be doing the work I had spent years in college preparing for or I could be stuck with getting coffee and dry cleaning for my boss. If the latter was the case, it would suck, but I would do it. No matter what, you had to start somewhere. You had to put your time in.
Taking a deep breath, I snapped my purse closed and stepped out of my car. I smoothed my hand over my pencil skirt, drew in another shaky breath, and started across the parking garage, the clicking of my heels echoing my pounding heart.
Lima Academy was in a huge building downtown that had once been a factory but now was completely upgraded and converted into one of the premiere training facilities in the United States.
I’d already been to the building several times, during the interview process and then afterward, getting a basic layout. The first floor was a state of the art gym, equipped with practically every cardio and weight machine one could think of. On the second and third floors there were multiple rings, cages, and areas where mats covered the floor as far as the eye could see. Lima Academy didn’t just focus on mixed martial arts or cage fighting. They trained boxers, kick boxers, karate, Brazilian jujitsu, Krav Maga, and during the evening, on certain nights, they offered self-defense classes to the public. The fourth and fifth floors were currently under construction. Andrew Lima, the owner and founder of the academy, planned on adding more training rings. The offices were all on the sixth floor, with the exception of Lima’s office, which was the seventh.