by Sybil Bartel
She laughed but there was a nervous edge to it. “And you, Mr. Cougar, are going to be monogamous?”
I stiffened at the dig and for the first time in three years, my clients felt like more than a job, they felt like a fucking noose. I pressed my thumb into her clit. “I’m only going to be coming inside this pussy, sweetness.” It wasn’t a lie.
She grabbed my arms and her eyes closed for a second. The look of pure desire on her face made my dick throb, and because I had no self-control around her, I sank my finger inside her.
Her grip dug into my biceps and she sucked in a sexy little breath. Angel-blue eyes fluttered open and she looked hazily up at me. “You don’t even know me.”
She had no clue. No fucking clue. But she was about to because I decided then and there I wasn’t going to fuck with this girl. Not when I could help it. I slowly pulled my finger out of her tight heat. “Three years.”
She licked her bottom lip. “What?”
I couldn’t stop myself. I grasped her face and sank my tongue into her mouth. Two strokes and I pulled back just enough to speak. “I left the Marines three years ago and nothing since has held my attention.” I touched my lips to hers. “Until you.”
Killing changed a man, but I didn’t say that shit. She didn’t need to know that surviving a firefight was a high I’d spent a whole damn year after the Marines trying to replicate. Fucking was a distant third, fucking for money only slightly better, but until the very moment I’d sunk inside her, I hadn’t found shit that actually compared. Sure, I’d been fueled by money and fucking. I got off on making bank and bending women to my will, but being inside her? Being with her? It was so fucking different, I couldn’t categorize it. I didn’t want to. I just wanted more.
She stilled but her hands tightened on my arms.
I laid it out. “I see the look in your eyes when I’m inside you. I know how your body responds to mine. I heard every word when you told me about your brother. You’re not casual, Olivia Toussaint, and I’m not fucking with you.”
“Alex,” she whispered.
I didn’t give her a chance to respond. “We both want what’s happening here, but I want more.” I held her gaze so she knew just how serious I was. Then I did something that just about fucking killed me. “Put your shoes on and come to dinner with me, or walk away right now.” I stepped back.
“But I don’t—”
“Decide.”
Her chest rose and fell twice. “I don’t know you.”
I dropped the mask I kept firmly in place and stared at her.
She crossed her arms protectively in front of herself. “You’re asking a lot.”
I didn’t comment. I stared. This was the one and only time she was going to see me like this because I didn’t beg. Ever.
Her head fell back and she sighed. “I don’t know who’s crazier, you or me.” She glanced at me before going to her closet. “And I’m not wearing high heels because you told me to.” She stepped into a sexy pair of sandals that made her five inches taller. “These just happen to go with the dress.”
My heart pounding like I’d been sprinting with a full combat loadout, I didn’t smile. “Ready?”
“My hair is a mess, you’re making me wear a skintight dress with no underwear, and I have a sleeping pill hangover. Do I look ready?”
She looked exactly like I wanted her to look—fucked and taken. “Yes.”
“You’re a perv.”
I was already thinking about making her come in the restaurant. “You have no idea.”
It was official. I was out of my ever-loving mind.
I shoved my feet in shoes I’d regret in three seconds and pretended he wasn’t dripping out of me as I sauntered to the front door. Full of bravado that was in direct contrast to nausea that was about to make me dry heave my insecurities all over the front hallway, I threw out some attitude because it was all I had left. “This better be a spectacular restaurant.”
The side of his mouth tipped up, but if I didn’t know any better, I’d say he looked almost shell-shocked. Then again, the set to his jaw could just be a reflection of his bossy-as-hell temperament. How would I even know? I knew nothing about him except that he was hung like a legend and fucked like a rock star.
And I’d just agreed to what? Dinner and a lifetime of submissive sex?
Oh my God.
I was out of my damn mind.
He ushered me out of my apartment and pulled the door shut behind us. “Pietra’s.”
The second I heard the name, I froze on the top step. “I’m not going there commando.” The most expensive restaurant in Miami and not only did he have reservations that supposedly took six months to get, but he’d just called and demanded they change our reservation time? And I was going there without underwear?
His huge hands wrapped around my waist as his breath touched my ear. “Yes you are.”
I shivered but then I let him guide me downstairs because I seemed to lose all my brain cells every time he went bossy on me.
His suit cut perfectly, his hair not looking at all disheveled, he guided me to his ridiculously expensive car with a hand at my back. Every move he made was either so practiced that he didn’t have to think about it or he was the most confident man I’d ever met. Either way, just watching him open a car door was enough to make me wet. And that brought out my attitude.
I smiled sweetly at him and hiked the hem of my dress up to almost indecent. “I’m going to make a mess all over your pretty leather seats.” I slid into the passenger seat, stupidly thinking I’d won a round, but he squatted at the open door.
His huge hand caught my chin and jaw as the side of his mouth tipped toward pure trouble. “Do you know what happens to sexy little vixens who test me?”
I pressed my thighs together and amped up my sugary smile. “What happened to sweetness?”
“I push back, sweetness.” In one graceful move, he stood to his full height and quietly lowered the door.
The spicy scent of him and new leather surrounded me and I knew—I was so out of my league.
He got behind the wheel and pulled into traffic like he was born to drive. I leaned my head back against the seat and sighed.
He picked up my hand as if he were my boyfriend. “Tired?”
“I kinda hate you.”
His laugh was unexpected. Deep and rich, it sounded too much like a life I wanted.
He brought my hand to his lips and brushed a kiss across my knuckles. “Why’s that?”
“You’re too perfect.” He drove like he fucked and like he did everything else—with skill.
He released my hand but it was too casual to tell if it was on purpose. “What are you insecure about, sweetness?”
I glanced at his profile in the passing streetlights. It was as perfect as everything else about him. “You do that a lot, answer a question with a question.”
“You’re avoiding answering me.”
Maybe it was because his car was like a cocoon to the outside world, maybe it was because nothing in the past twenty-four hours felt real, but I answered him honestly. “I’m not insecure. I haven’t had time to be. I’ve spent the past two years working my ass off to get my charity off the ground and still pay rent on my shit apartment. When I’m not dead tired, I think about my brother. And occasionally I used to wonder why Jesse didn’t want me like I wanted him. But now?” Being with Alex? “I don’t give a shit.” And if I was being honest with myself, which I wasn’t, I’d acknowledge I was pissed at Jesse.
Alex was quiet a moment, and I thought he’d ask why I didn’t give a shit, but instead he zeroed in on something I didn’t want to talk about.
“Why don’t you have a dog?”
The practiced response rolled off my tongue. “I can’t have pets at my place.”
He looked sideways at me. “You’re lying.”
I shifted my bare thighs against the soft leather and regretted hiking up my dress. “Ask my landlord if you don’t believe me.
”
“Not what I meant. There’re plenty of places you could’ve rented that’d allow it.”
I stared out the window at the colorful lights of South Beach. I didn’t know how Alex picked up on it, but he was right. I wanted a dog. I wanted a lot of dogs. I’d take home every one at the shelter if I could. But my brother couldn’t have a dog and he’d wanted one. He’d asked me to go to the humane society with him before he’d died and I’d asked why. I’d stupidly, selfishly, ignorantly asked why.
A warm hand wrapped around my nape. “Hey.”
I flinched and realized belatedly that we’d pulled up in front of the restaurant. “What?”
He released my neck, grasped my chin and turned me to face him. For three heartbeats, he searched my face. Then he nodded once. “You can tell me what just happened after you eat.” He kissed me. No tongue, no innuendo, just the brush of his lips against mine.
My vulnerable heart grasped at the gesture and dangerously put more stock in it than anything else in the past two years.
I was still trying to shove all my emotions down when Alex beat the valet to my door and opened it. As discreetly as I could, I pulled the hem of my dress down, and like a gentleman, Alex helped me out of the car. But the second I was vertical, he released his hold on me to shake hands with the valet.
I didn’t know if it was the sex or the sleeping pill or not having eaten, but the sudden loss of contact destroyed my equilibrium and a wave of dizziness made me stumble.
“Olivia.” The quiet sternness to his voice belied the force with which his hand hit the small of my back.
Except he didn’t pull me into an embrace. His arm didn’t go around my shoulders. He didn’t grasp at my arms to steady me. His hand took up all the real estate on my lower back and he stepped against the side of my body like a shield. Pushing me into him, using his strength to brace me, he looked down and barked out a question that demanded an answer. “You going to faint?”
The air cracked and humidity pressed against my skin as if there was a sudden change in barometric pressure.
“Olivia.”
Wind swirled around us and tossed strands of my hair into my face. “I’m okay.”
His hand brushed across my face and tucked my hair into place. “When was the last time you ate?”
Everything he did was practiced. “I don’t know.” Why was he so good at this? Wind kicked the palms into a clatter then lightning flashed across the sky. A low rumble of thunder built to a nerve-jumping growl and I shivered.
His gaze fixed on me, Alex didn’t even glance at the sky. “Inside. Now.”
The hostess nodded discreetly at Alex and led us immediately to a table.
My stomach growled and thunder rattled the front windows. Conversations didn’t even pause in the full restaurant. Silverware clanked, people laughed, waiters hustled through a busy dinner rush, but no one looked at the ominous sky or knew that my brother was dead.
A studious-looking waiter met us at our table as the hostess seated us. “Good evening, Mr. Vega. Ma’am.” He opened my menu and handed it to me. “Thank you for braving the storm to join us tonight. Would you care for wine?”
Alex rattled off a Scotch order for himself and white wine for me.
The waiter retreated with a nod.
Lightning lit up the space and I glanced around a restaurant I’d never be able to afford on my hourly wages.
Alex didn’t open his menu. “Why didn’t you eat today?”
“I did eat.” I must have.
His measured stare was more charged than the brewing storm.
The waiter showed back up. He placed wine in front of me and Scotch and a glass of ice in front of Alex. “I’ll give you a moment to look over the menu. Please let me know if you have any questions.”
Alex dismissed him with a nod and picked up the glass of ice. “Pull your dress up.” He poured the ice into his napkin.
Alarm spread across my skin like a cold chill. “What?”
“Spread your legs.” He twisted the napkin.
I nervously glanced at the surrounding tables. Our backs were against a wall and the tablecloth more than covered my legs, but holy hell. “I’m not—”
He grasped my thigh, spread my legs, and put the ice between them.
I sucked in a breath as the cold hit my sore body.
His hand still generating heat on my leg, Alex pushed the ice against my entrance. “You’re hungry, you’re tired and you’re sore. I’m going to feed you then I’m taking you to my place and putting you to bed.”
Emotion lodged in my throat.
“Before you fall asleep, you’re going to tell me what happened in the car.” He squeezed my thigh, released me, then picked up the menu. “What do you like to eat?”
I blinked then the answer fell out of my mouth because I didn’t know what to do with someone taking care of me. “Anything except red meat.”
“Vegetarian?”
“No, I just don’t eat red meat.”
He nodded and closed the menu. “How long?”
“What?” My nerves shot, I didn’t know how to act around him.
“How long have you not eaten red meat?” he asked patiently.
“Awhile.” I was eight. My brother told me beef was really dog meat because Mom couldn’t afford a cow.
He studied me. “What’s going on?”
I pushed the thought of my brother away and dropped my gaze to my lap, barely refraining from pressing the ice against myself. Once the shock of the coldness had worn off, it felt good, really good. “How did you know, about the ice?”
He slid closer to me and cupped my face. This time, when his mouth touched mine, his tongue ran across my bottom lip, as if he were asking permission.
My heart, my body, they responded. I melted against him and let him kiss me.
Slow and languid, he possessed my mouth with no less dominance than his heated intrusion last night. He expertly teased my tongue to meet his then he swept through my mouth as if he knew every way to make me his. The second he had my pussy pulsing against the ice between my legs, he pulled back. “Stop being nervous.”
My lips tingling, my skin feverish from his touch, I wasn’t nervous. I was falling so hard I was terrified. Desperate, I glanced around the restaurant and grasped for a subject change. “I’ve never been here.”
He winked. “The food is spectacular.”
I ignored his teasing of my earlier statement because threads of jealously twisted in my gut. “Do you come here a lot?” I hated myself for even thinking it but it was impossible not to recognize that this was a date restaurant.
The waiter approached but Alex didn’t take his eyes off mine. “We need a few minutes.”
I picked up the menu.
“Olivia.”
My eyes closed, and for one second, I breathed in the way he said my name. It wasn’t a request or a question. It was dominating and commanding and nothing made me feel more like a woman.
And I needed to ignore it. “What’s good?”
“Put the menu down.”
“I’m in the mood for pasta.” There weren’t even prices listed. I guess if you had to ask, you couldn’t afford to eat here.
The menu was plucked from my hands and his stare cut through my defenses. “I’ve never brought a woman here. I don’t date.”
The tidal surge of relief was undercut by reality. “Except when you escort older women to fundraisers.”
His jaw ticked. “One-off.”
I picked up my glass and swirled the pale wine. “Pretty sure lying to someone constitutes fucking with them.” I took a sip. Ice cold and tart and perfect.
He waited until I set my glass down. “I don’t date.”
I got it. He fucked. Probably a lot. “But here we are.”
His hand landed on the back of my neck, he leaned forward and his voice dropped. “I’m not going to date you, Olivia Toussaint.” His blue-eyed gaze pierced me with warning. “I’m going to own y
ou.”
Every fucking inch. I was going to dominate that tight pussy, lick those lush tits and taste every single curve on her body. I owned her. Because she owned me.
“How do you know my last name?” Breathy, nervous, her voice was still sexy as hell.
“Your phone.”
She nodded.
“Hey, Sarge.”
I looked up.
Mother. Fucking. Fuck.
I was going to kill him. “Jared,” I bit out his name and tipped my chin as I glared at him. My hand still possessively on Olivia, I refused to look at two of my clients draped on either side of him. “What are you doing here?”
His lazy grin spread wide. “A little dinner.” He checked out Olivia. “A little fun.”
My shy client spoke. “You were in the military?”
Half of Jared’s smile dropped. “Staff Sergeant Alexander Vega, Second Light Armored Reconnaissance Battalion, United States Marine Corp. You’re looking at a real live hero, ladies. He saved my life.” He ground the last sentence out with zero gratitude.
My 10:00 p.m. cougar client dropped her gaze to my lap. “Oh, he’s a hero all right.” She licked her lips. “Too bad he’s not working tonight.” Her hand rubbed down Jared’s chest. “He’s missing all the fun.”
Shit bottomed out in my stomach and I glanced at Olivia.
Her face ashen, she pushed away from me. “Excuse me.” She stood.
Fuck. “Olivia.” I reached for her but she was already walking away.
Glaring at Jared, I fished a few bills out of my wallet and threw them on the table. “We’ll talk tomorrow.”
“Sure.” His grin returned. “But not too early.” He kissed my shy client on the cheek then nipped my cougar client under the ear. “One way or another, I have a feeling it’s gonna be a long night.” He chuckled.
I didn’t give two fucks about his threesome. He was an idiot for taking it out of the bedroom and every complication he’d just brought down on himself, but that was his fucking problem. I was too busy being enraged he’d paraded that shit in front of Olivia, knowing I would be here.