by Shayla Black
Blade Bocelli. The picture Mark had seen of the gangster hadn't included his whole face, but given the guy's cocky attitude, he had no doubt this was the man he'd come to bring down.
Bocelli sailed through the club, hawkish gaze seeming to take in everything, even as he gave off a definite don't-fuckwith-me air. Mark gritted this teeth, restraining the urge to jump off the stage, take the prick down, and beat him senseless. Too bad that wouldn't accomplish anything--except make him feel a whole lot better.
Suddenly, the thug stopped. He glanced from Mark to Lucia. His eyes narrowed.
"Your Uncle Pietro don't want you around those pretty boys, Lucia. Don't you have a research paper to write?"
Lucia's back turned rigid. "Don't you have anything else to worry about?"
"Right this minute? No." His ruthless glare riveted to Lucia, and he sauntered closer, until he stood at the base of the stage.
Bocelli and Zack were about the same height and build ... but the similarities ended there. Zack's slightly pissy air of authority drowned in Bocelli's heavy presence.
"Too bad," she shot back. "I'm introducing myself to Mark. Uncle Pietro can't object to that. And in case it's escaped everyone's notice, I am a grown woman."
Bocelli raked a quick dark-eyed gaze over Lucia. "You are. But I'm here to look out for the club. If the Viking over here isn't learning his routines," Bocelli said with a sneer, "then he's not doing something that's gonna earn this place some money. You're distracting him on company time."
"I'm being friendly."
"Call it what you want, but Pietro don't want you around him and his type." He gave Mark a dismissive glare then proceeded through the club and out the front door.
As the door shut behind him, the tension left Lucia's shoulders. She turned back to face Mark, her expression sheepish. "Sorry. Blade is harmless, really, but ... difficult. He likes to growl a lot."
Harmless? The good professor might know a thing or two about history. She knew squat about men.
"Growling makes him feel big and bad," Zack agreed.
Well, Mark couldn't wait to teach Bocelli otherwise. And he'd make damned sure the time came soon.
The only way to put an end to the insanity, Mark feared, was to hunt Nicki down and talk sense into her. He had an inkling that, in this case, Nicki's version of seeing reason was him nodding as she told him how things were going to be.
That wasn't going to happen.
Besides convincing her the Viking gig was a bad idea, he had to find some way to gain her trust, fast. The fact it had taken Nicki more than a year to trust Zack Martin to do a job he juggled almost effortlessly did not bode well. Mark didn't have a year to give to this endeavor. Even a month was stretching it. While that left his options limited, he had no objection to the one he had: pursuing the sizzling chemistry between them. It was a sure way to break down barriers and build intimacy--all while getting him very close to a woman he was dying to sample, one square inch of skin at a time.
He knew exactly where to start.
Climbing the stairs to the third floor after rehearsal, Mark entered his own temporary apartment. It wasn't his room at the Bellagio, complete with minibar and maid service, but it would do.
A quick shower and a shave later, he dressed in jeans and a tight T-shirt. Nicki had stared when he wore something similar, and Mark was all in favor of giving himself every advantage.
After a quick knock on Nicki's door, he waited. A long minute later, she answered, wearing black yoga pants and a bright pink tank top. What she wasn't wearing was a bra.
Hell, yeah! And it wasn't even Christmas.
"Mark?" she stared at him, her eyes straying down to his chest ... lower. "Is something wrong?"
He held in a grin as she checked him out. "I was hoping I could talk to you for a few minutes about the show."
"Tomorrow. This is my one day off a week, and I'm beat."
A second look told him she wasn't lying. She looked pale and heavy-eyed. His cock jerked when he thought of lying down next to her sleep-warm body, breathing in her scent, and imagining all the creative ways he could rouse her once she'd rested.
"Actually, I'm tired, too. And hungry. Are you?"
Nicki barely ripped her eyes away from his torso before answering. "No."
"You must be. It's almost seven. Let me take you someplace so you'll have a nice full belly when I try to talk to you out of making me wear that costume."
She laughed. "Well, that's honest."
"C'mon. It'll be more fun than eating alone," he cajoled.
"Maybe I want to be alone."
"No, you don't. You were hoping I'd come over here and make you laugh and offer to feed you."
"You're dreaming."
Mark smiled. "Probably, but a guy's got to have goals."
Another of her lilting laughs bubbled to the surface, and Mark relished the sound. Something about Nicki kicked him in the gut every time he looked at her. Her smile gave him the old one-two punch.
"See. I'm good for your morale."
She groaned. "You don't know when to quit, do you? I don't want to go out."
"Then you can invite me in. We'll share a pizza and talk."
Nicki hesitated for a long moment, biting that lush bottom lip. Ah, she was vacillating. Just a little longer in silence and...
"All right. But only because we both need to eat. I don't want anyone getting the idea that this is any sort of date."
Interesting. He'd pursue that in a minute--once he was safely inside. "I doubt they will."
Finally, Nicki stepped back and let him in. Mark shut the door behind him.
Goal one, complete. They were alone.
Nicki's decor was a lot like her, rich and warm with smooth lines. A little exotic. Unique.
After a quick discussion about topping preferences, in which they both admitted loving pineapple on their pizza, Nicki ordered from a local place.
"Twenty-five minutes," she announced, hanging up the phone.
"Good. It's quick, but gives me plenty of time to understand why you don't want anyone to think we're dating."
"I thought you wanted to discuss your costume." "We'll get back to that. Tell me why it's important no one think we're dating."
Sighing, she sat down in the room's lone chair, rather than next to him on the wide sofa. "It's just not a good idea."
"When you were questioning my heterosexuality and telling me I could pursue any interest I might have in Zack," he snorted, "you said you didn't have a problem with employees dating."
"I still don't."
"Then why would it be different if, someday, we did want to have a date?"
"Because I sign your paycheck, not share your dressing room."
"We're still working in the same place, under the same roof. I don't really see the difference."
He stared, bracing his chin in his hand, and tried to keep his mind on the conversation ... and off the reality that only a thin layer of cotton separated his gaze from her breasts. Those same breasts with nipples now pointed at him, beckoning him mercilessly.
Mark gritted his teeth. Did she have any inkling that he was about three seconds from pinning her to that cozy chair under the weight of his body and using his tongue to acquaint himself with every inch of her?
Wearing a strained smile, Nicki rose and turned away with a shaky sigh. He grinned. Had it been his hot stare that had put her on edge or the steel-pike erection in his jeans? He made no attempt to hide either. She'd been quick and discreet ... but she'd looked.
With a grin, he rose and followed with silent steps.
"It's an irrelevant question, anyway," she said, then glanced over her shoulder.
Her eyes widened when she saw him closing in on her.
"Irrelevant how?" he challenged, voice purposely soft.
"I--I don't date, really. Too busy."
"Maybe you just didn't have the proper motivation."
"And you would be the proper motivation?" She managed
to inject a hint of disdain in her voice.
"It's possible. You never know until you try."
"Are you asking me out?"
"If I was?" He sauntered another step closer.
A deep breath had her breasts rising, her nipples rasping against the cotton and tightening. Damn, the woman was about to kill him.
Nicki backed away, shaking her head. "The answer is no."
"Because ... ?"
"I told you, I just don't have time. I'm a serious businesswoman with a club to run, and I think some of the other dancers would think ... I was playing favorites or something. They'd think it isn't a good idea."
"But what do you think?" He edged closer. "If it weren't for the other dancers and all."
"It would still be no," she said, voice turning breathy. "I don't need distractions."
"How do you know I'd be a distraction?"
Her gimme-a-break stare nearly had him laughing out loud. "You're a walking, talking distraction. The fact we're having this conversation when I should be laying down the law about your costume tells me the answer needs to be no."
"Hmm," he murmured and came closer still. "Good thing I didn't ask."
Retreating another step, Nicki did her best to put space between them. If he gave her a second to think about how much ground she was giving, how revealing her actions were, Mark had no doubt she'd stop now and ream him out. He'd bet his last dime that Nicki's idea of a good defense was usually a good offense.
Instead of stopping to think about it, though, she eased back again--until her back hit the wall.
Mark smiled.
"Then I guess I'll just have to settle for pizza ... and that kiss you owe me."
Chapter 4
"Kiss?" Nicki's heart beat against her chest hard enough to do a battering ram justice. Mark stared his hazel eyes sizzling her with intent. His look said it all--sex. Fast, hot, demanding, explosive--just the way she liked it. Now.
Air. She needed more air. Despite quick, short breaths, she felt dizzy. And flushed all over. Damn, he smelled good, like spice and vitality. He oozed musk and mystery. Nicki feared she had all the resistance to his scent that an addict had to crack.
Mark slid a large hand across her cheek, curled it around her nape. Tingles burst across her skin wherever he touched. His hot, insistent fingers tilted her face up to his. Breathless in a way she never had been, Nicki waited. Her sensitive nipples scraped her cotton tank with every breath. He leaned in, not close enough to touch ... but the heat of his body penetrated her, scorching her like a Vegas afternoon in August. Suddenly, her stomach had more knots than a sailboat in a raging storm.
Mark edged closer still and anchored his other hand to the wall beside her head. A dangerous ache coiled between her legs. She felt every minute of her two years of celibacy.
"Yeah," he breathed as he nuzzled her ear. "A kiss."
Nicki shivered.
Lust and self-preservation arm-wrestled in her mind. To her passionate side, the concept of saving herself for anything, like a less dangerous man, held all the appeal of scrubbing off shower scum with her toothbrush. But her head told her that resisting him now would save her problems in the future. First, she needed all her time and mental energy to run this place. Second, she didn't need romantic ... complications. Mark didn't seem like a forever kind of man. While Nicki wasn't ready for a picket fence quite yet, succumbing to a charmer who would give her the ride of her life then pack his bags seemed downright stupid. Generally, she had more intelligence than a horror movie victim, and hiding in a closet had never been her style.
"I don't think--"
"You think too much," he whispered, moving his hand off the wall and easing it around her hip. "Your eyes tell me your mind is always moving. Now it's time to just feel."
He knew her. Somehow, someway, he'd seen the constant mental energy, the relentless planning and worrying and hoping going on in her head. She fantasized about just letting go. The fact he understood her both thrilled and terrified her. What else would he be able to guess about her? Her deepest fantasies?
Mark leaned a fraction closer. Her hormones catapulted like an Olympic high jumper.
Nicki swallowed. "The problem is--"
"You think you're going to control this--and me. You're not, baby."
"But--"
"Are you the kind of woman to welsh on a bet?"
Damn it, she hated having her honor questioned. She defended it with everything she had when necessary. But when it warred with her preservation instinct, that just sucked.
"No," she admitted. "But I don't want--"
"Yes, you do," he whispered. "It just scares the hell out of you. But I'm going to kiss it and make it all better."
He wore a smile of lazy challenge as the searing hand on her neck situated her perfectly under his mouth. His lips hovered above hers, and he hesitated like a man contemplating a feast. The green heat in his hazel eyes burned her. Nicki's pulse picked up speed. Near Mm, dizzy seemed like such a permanent state she might as well make it her middle name.
Robbed of the will to resist, she closer her eyes.
He pulled her flush against his hard torso. Nicki had a mere instant to marvel at the sensation of his wide, muscleslabbed chest against her breasts before his lips covered hers.
Actually, covered was too weak. Mark seduced her lips apart with a soft swipe, a teasing hot-breathed brush. He gave so little, took even less. Taunted her. He left her wanting, aching.
Damn him.
More. She needed more now. Melting like a cheap candle, she arched up, opened to him. Silently, she invited Mark--pleaded with him--to taste her.
His fingers on the back of her neck tightened. That was her only warning before he slanted his lips over hers, seized her mouth and invaded.
Suddenly, he was everywhere. The taste of creamed coffee and mint and something that could only be him flowed from his tongue to her with every caress. It blended with the scent and feel of aroused man. The elements exploded in her head, igniting a spark of need that made her knees go loose and wobbly.
Her ability to think--gone, burned away in a kiss that was three parts lust and one part Mark's determination to make her surrender.
He was thorough, methodical in his passion, ensuring no part of her mouth felt neglected. His tongue raked the roof of her mouth before he nibbled her bottom lip. Nicki whimpered, drowning in sensation. The man's kiss was a tender domination. Soft, yes, but no less in control. Persuasive, cajoling, yet Nicki knew--just as he did--who commanded it.
Having her control stolen away so quickly, so completely, was a new and unsettling experience--but one that only made her want him more.
Pressed against his firm chest, her breasts ached so badly. The idea of his fingers, his mouth, on her stiff nipples obsessed her. That thought alone gushed the pulsing place between her legs with moisture. At least one part of her was an optimist, hoping he'd be guiding the length of his impressive male anatomy deep inside her soon. But the length of his arousal pressed stiff and strong into her lower belly, far too north of her ache to alleviate any need.
Damn him.
She squirmed, her body seeking relief. Without lifting his mouth from hers for an instant, Mark fitted his hands beneath her arms and lifted her from her floor. Hands clinging to his shoulders, Nicki held on as he braced her against the wall and held her in place with the burning width of his chest. She felt seared with his touch, the need to get that evil shirt off his body and feel his flesh against hers.
Instead, satisfied that her mouth and torso were firmly under his dominion, Mark's hands glided down the sides of her body. The palms brushed her breasts, lingered, before outlining her waist and hips. Then he cupped her rear in his hands and bent until he could curl his hands in between her thighs, his thumbs toying for an instant with each of her cheeks.
Mark lifted her legs, parting them on either side of his hips, wrapping them around him. He slid every part of his body flush against her. The amazing ri
dge of his erection nudged her clit as he rocked against her once, twice.
Ohmigod! Nicki felt the ache inside her sizzle and spread. She clutched at the bunched muscles of his shoulders and cried out as the rhythm of his mouth and hips synched up, catapulting her sensations into overload, until she kissed him back in a frenzy, locked her ankles together at the small of his back, and arched into him, drowning in the sudden rush of desire.
Nicki felt him tugging at her tank a moment later, lifting it over her abdomen, up her ribs. He freed her breasts. Thank goodness! The cool air rushed over them, and she felt the jolt of the chill all the way to her toes. The impossibly hard pebbles of her nipples tightened more. As Mark angled his head, deepened his kiss yet again, the scorching heat of his palms enveloped her breasts, thumbs teasing their tips in a slow glide..
At the moment, she'd give anything to have his talented mouth on her. If he was this mind-blowing with a mere kiss ... the other things he could do with that mouth would likely replace her concept of oral gratification with something she'd only vaguely imagined before.
Another pinch of his fingers on her nipples coincided with another bump of his cock against her clit as his tongue swept through her mouth, demanding surrender and conquering anything that resembled thought. Lust, thick and heavy, urged her to thread her fingers into the soft strands of his golden hair. The heat ratcheted up as he growled, and the sound reverberated through her body, ramping up the coil of want in her stomach. Breathing took a backseat to pleasure. The ache between her thighs turned sharp. A bell rang in her head. She was so close. Almost there ...
Against her, Mark stiffened, lifted his mouth from hers, and set her on her feet.
No! He couldn't leave her like this.
Damn him!
He swore in a low growl as he whirled away from her and marched toward the door. Mark dug into his pocket, then she heard him wrench the door open. Nicki frowned, lost in a haze of pleasure-clouded senses. What was he doing?
The scent of hot pizza bombarded her brain a moment later. Food. The pizza delivery guy. Nicki released a pent-up breath. The bell ringing in her head had been the doorbell, not a signal of great sex to come.