His tongue touched one of his eye teeth. “That’s probably for the best.” He lifted his glass and held it next to mine. “How about to trusting your instincts? May they serve you well.”
“That works,” I said, tapping my glass against his and downing the contents. It didn’t burn anywhere near as much as I expected it to. “That’s not half bad.”
He moved closer and I moved back, my arse hitting the counter, halting my retreat. “Only the best for my duchess.” He took the glass from my hand and poured some more tequila, handing it back to me and clinking our glasses together again.
I looked at the pale amber liquid. “Duchess. Why do you keep calling me that?”
“I don’t know. It’s just what I think when I look at you. The way you act, I guess.”
“The way I act? You think I have a stick up my arse?”
With a chuckle, he shook his head and rested his finger under my chin. “No. It’s more that you seem ruthless, like you always get what you want.”
“I do not always get what I want.”
“You found me when no one else has been able to, right?”
I shrugged. “I suppose.”
“Plus, you’re kind of unobtainable.”
“Unobtainable?” I scoffed. “That is so not the case.”
“It is where I’m concerned.”
“You’re standing in my kitchen, not so inconspicuously brushing a hard-on against my hip.”
Placing his hands on the bench either side of me, he lowered his head, and his voice along with it. “Doesn’t mean I get to keep you.”
Did that mean he wanted to keep me?
I turned to meet his eyes, the question on the tip of my tongue, but he kissed me before I could speak. It started out as a simple joining of mouths, then turned into a hungry passion that caused me to forget I was holding a glass, the crash on the floor the sudden reminder it was there. Not that we cared to stop and clean it up. The moment it hit the floor, Nate wrapped his hands around my thighs and lifted me onto the bench, tilting my head back so he could kiss me deeper, pushing my legs open so he could fit between them.
“This is crazy,” I gasped when we broke the kiss for a mere second as he pulled my shirt over my head.
“Then let’s be crazy,” he responded, discarding his own shirt before his mouth returned to mine with a fervour that caused our teeth to clash. His hands were everywhere at once, igniting a raging fire inside me. Before I knew it, I was completely naked and his fingers had slipped between my legs, gliding through my juices. I was ridiculously wet for him.
“Mmm,” he murmured next to my ear. “Feels like you’ve been ready since I walked through the door.” With his fingers moving in and out of my pulsing need, his mouth travelled down until he found my nipple, sucking back hard and teasing it with his teeth through the lace of my bra. All I could do was quiver and moan in response.
My God, why am I letting him do this to me? There was barely a moment of objection on my part; I’d just let him into my house and into my body. But why? Because he was hot? Because he had a big dick? Or because I was uncontrollably attracted to him? So attracted that all semblance of logic went flying out the window, along with my self-respect?
As my head dropped back and I clutched at his arms, I knew it was mostly the latter. There was just something about him. “I want you inside me,” I gasped. “Please.” I’d been dreaming about it, thinking about it, envisioning that feeling of fullness for months.
“I want in that tight pussy of yours. I want to fuck you so hard that even when you open your mouth, you won’t be able to scream. You’ll be too far gone.” He said all of this while opening his jeans and sheathing his cock, readying himself to push inside me. “I can’t promise this won’t hurt.”
“Do it,” I gasped, shifting my hips to press my opening against his tip. I wanted it to hurt. I wanted to feel the shock of his intrusion and ache from it the next day.
With a groan, he slid inside inch by inch, stretching me to the point of pain but no further. “There it is,” he gasped when he was fully inside. He slid his fingers into the sides of my hair and looked down at me. “That’s what I’ve been wanting.” His hips moved back and forth as his fingers tightened against the roots of my hair, pulling my head back as his mouth devoured mine.
I could barely breathe. I could barely think. All I cared about was the coil tightening in my belly, begging for release as his cock stroked my insides. I released a long, low moan against his mouth.
“That’s it, duchess. Come hard. I want your cunt gripping the fuck out of my cock while you do.”
I was so close, so perfectly ready to the explode that when he pulled my bra down and clamped his mouth over my nipple, I did just that—mouth open, head thrown back, the cry of a wounded animal reverberating out of my chest as he moaned and then stilled as he came equally hard, a hiss between his teeth.
“Fuck me,” he gasped, taking a deep breath.
“I’m pretty sure that’s what you just did to me.”
“Mmm,” he hummed, capturing my mouth in a quick kiss, breathing me in. “I really like fucking you.” He pulled out of me and threw his condom in the kitchen bin before tucking himself away and zipping his pants. “If only I’d met you on a different night, different time, different place.”
“That wouldn’t change who you are, or what you do. We could never be together.” Even as the words left my mouth, my heart squeezed. Because what did he really mean by that? Did he regret that he was at that nightclub, that he chose me to go home with, that he chose me to rob even though we’d had such an incredible night together? Or was he saying that he wished we’d been given the chance for more, that had his crimes not connected us, perhaps it could have just been our chemistry?
I wished things were different too. Don’t go there, Holland.
Sliding his hand back in my hair, he kissed me in a way that was deep and tormenting, his tongue taking its time exploring my mouth, stealing my breath. When he released me, he looked into my eyes for a long moment before he lifted his glass of tequila to his mouth. “To the man who steals your heart.” Then he drained it, refilled it and held it out to me. “Since yours is kind of smashed on the floor.” Wrapping my hand around the glass, our fingers brushed and held for a beat. I couldn’t help but feel sad at his toast. To the man who steals your heart.
I held the glass to my lips. “That man won’t be you.” Closing my eyes, I downed the shot of alcohol then released my breath. I didn’t know who that man would be, but I knew without a doubt that it couldn’t be the one who stood in front of me, no matter how strong our attraction to each other was.
“You should probably go,” I whispered as I set the glass back down and pulled my shirt back over my head, righting myself. I couldn’t meet his eyes.
“Trying to push me away, duchess?” he responded, leaning down and picking up my panties. He held them out on one finger and waited until I met his gaze. My chest jolted from our unspoken connection. Then annoyance flared when he snatched my panties away as I reached for them.
“Yes,” I responded honestly. “This wasn’t why I went to so much trouble to find you.”
“I know that. You want your mum’s hairpin back. I get it. Family is important.” He leaned down and slid my panties over my feet, then pulled them up my legs. “How did she die?”
“Car accident. I was eight. My parents were out celebrating their wedding anniversary and they got T-boned by some jerk who ran a red. None of them survived.” I didn’t even know why I was telling him, it served no purpose other than to make me look more pitiful than I already was.
“I’m sorry.” He touched my chin so I met his eyes.
“Don’t be sorry, just give me back what you stole.”
He searched my eyes for an uncomfortable moment, then took a sharp inhale and picked up his shirt, pulling it over his head while he spoke. “I know where the pin is. I’ll get it to you, and then you’ll never see me again.”
I turn
ed away from his gaze. “I think that’s for the best.”
When he didn’t answer or move, I chanced a glance at him and met two very cold and possibly angry eyes. Why would he be angry at me? He’s the fuck-up in this relationship.
Relationship? I squashed that thought before it had any more of a chance to grow.
“Goodnight, Holland,” he said, his voice curt as he turned and walked straight over the broken glass and out the front door. I jumped when it slammed shut, then closed my eyes and tried to ignore the emotion that was welling in them. I didn’t know what it was about Nate that had me wanting him when he was so obviously bad for me.
Pressing my knees together and pulling my shirt down, I looked at the mess on the floor. I was still on the bench and had no shoes on. He’d left me high and dry in the middle of a glass-shard minefield.
What a jerk. I was glad he was gone.
I picked up the tequila and took a swig straight from the bottle. At least I’d done something right tonight. I felt weak for having sex him, but I was proud of myself for telling him to leave.
Sliding down from the bench, I was careful not to get glass caught in my feet while I picked my way across the floor to the cupboard where I kept my mop and broom. As I cleaned up the mess, my head started to ache, a combination of stress, shame and tequila. After a quick shower, I felt even worse. It was like a migraine was coming on, but I’d never had one before.
Feeling the full weight of gravity pulling at my limbs, I climbed into bed, falling asleep the moment my head hit the pillow.
Chapter Eight
Reconnaissance Only
A pain on my left side roused me from my sleep. I couldn’t remember a time when my mattress had felt so uncomfortable. When I shifted slightly, the first thing I noticed was my lack of a pillow. Opening my eyes, the second thing I noticed was the carpet—right next to my head. I was on the freaking floor. For a split second, I hoped I’d somehow managed to fall out of bed, but I knew that was too good to be true. I had knowingly fucked the thief, after all.
Shit.
Sitting up, wincing from my aching body, I looked around my bedroom. It was completely empty. Forcing myself to my feet, I stumbled to my door. A quick perusal of the rest of the apartment showed that it was empty too.
“Fuuuuuuck!” I screeched, stomping my feet and flailing my arms. “Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!” They hadn’t even left me clothes this time. All I had were the Kmart pyjamas I had on with sloths on them. God, I wanted the floor to open and swallow me whole. I couldn’t believe I’d let this happen again. I knew I should’ve called the police when I found him, but no, I had to be stupid and actually trust that the guy would do the decent thing and give my mother’s hairpin back.
Boy, was I a shitty judge of character.
I couldn't even cry this time. I was so damn angry—at myself and at him—that I couldn’t do anything except pace back and forth, grunting and hissing like some caged animal. What was I supposed to do? I couldn’t walk to Alesha’s this time, because not only was I in my pyjamas, but I also didn’t have any shoes. That arsehole!
With my head aching, both from the stress of the situation and the aftereffects of whatever drug he’d slipped me, I went into the bathroom, hoping they at least had the decency to leave me some headache tablets.
When I opened the cabinet, that’s literally all there was. Well, a pack of ibuprofen and an envelope with my name on it.
Picking up both, I swallowed two pills and then tore open the envelope. There was a note, and inside the note, my mother’s hairpin. “Oh my God.” I hugged it to my chest, giddy with happiness from its return. He’d actually come through. He’d done it in the cuntiest way possible, but at least he gave it back to me. I slipped it into my hair for safekeeping.
Confession time: I lied. I was never a Boy Scout. Stop trusting shitty people. Here is your mother’s hairpin. Since it’s the only thing you care about, it’s the only thing I’ve left you with. Have a nice life, duchess. You won’t be seeing me again. N.
P.S Don’t bother looking for me at the gym. I won’t be there anymore.
P.P.S I really do wish things were different. I could get addicted to that snatch of yours.
Somehow, I managed a laugh at the last line. He was probably the most self-centred, arrogant man I’d ever met. Still, I wished things were different too. We had a great connection and could’ve been great together under better circumstances.
Knowing I had to make at least one phone call to deal with the mess I was in, I went next door and asked to use their phone, telling them I accidentally got locked out when I went to check the mail instead of offering the truth. It seemed too ridiculous that I could possibly be robbed again, less than four months after the first time. Although, how they’d managed to move the entire contents of my apartment out twice without anyone asking questions was beyond my understanding.
After my phone call, I returned to my apartment and sat on the floor, waiting for a knock at the door. It came forty-five minutes later, and there Alesha stood, looking perfectly made up for work with a question mark etched into her expression and a bag of clothes in her hand.
“What’s the emergency? Everything O—shit.” She stepped over the threshold and looked around the empty room. “He robbed you again.”
Wincing a little, I nodded.
“Why did you even let him in? Oh no, did you sleep with him again too?”
Full-blown wince.
“Holland.” She put her hands on her hips and looked at me like I was a naughty toddler.
“I couldn’t help it, Leesh. He makes me feel so good. I’m weak. I’m pitiful and weak.”
Still looking around the room, she clutched the leather strap of her handbag at her shoulder. “He must be if this could happen again. Have you called the police yet?”
“I’m not calling them this time.”
“Why? How are you going to replace your things without a police report?”
“I’m going to go get them back myself.”
“I’m sorry. You’re going to do what now?”
“Aunty Maya gave me this tracking card that’s hidden in my handbag. All we have to do is activate it and we can find out where they went. Then we can get a moving van of our own and steal my stuff back.” I shrugged as if the idea wasn’t even a bit preposterous.
“Why don’t you activate the tracker, then call the cops with the location and they can go get it all for you?”
“Because it might be too late then. By the time they mobilise units—or whatever they do—Nate and his thieving helpers could’ve found the tracker and gotten rid of it. We need to move now.” I pulled the clothes out of the plastic bag she gave me and started getting dressed. It was a pair of black harem pants and a too-small T-shirt with Wonder Woman on the front. It barely covered my stomach, and poor Wonder Woman’s face was stretched across my left boob.
“That is the craziest fucking idea you’ve ever had, and I’ve known you for twenty-four years. I survived home bleach jobs, crashing parties we weren’t invited to, and that time you convinced me to write something nasty about Stacey Ryan in the bathroom stall and I got caught by the vice principal.”
“Considering she didn’t even know the difference between ‘your’ and ‘you’re’, I think Stacey deserved every properly punctuated syllable you wrote about her.”
“That’s true. But I still got detention over it.”
“And it made you badass, so you’re welcome.”
Shaking her head, she started laughing. “Of all your crazy schemes, Holland, this by far takes the cake. You’re not seriously going to try to steal your stuff back, are you?”
“Of course. And if I’m lucky, he’ll lead us to where he lives and I can rob him too. It’ll be the perfect revenge. Give me your phone.” With her lips pursed in disapproval, she did as I asked, and I brought up the website where I could log in and track my bag. It popped up on the screen plain as day in an industrial area in Geelong. “Feel like go
ing on a road trip?” I asked, holding the screen out for her to see.
“Only if you promise not to confront him. If we go, we go in there all stealth mode, locate your stuff, and then we call the cops to do the dirty work. I beg you. We are not stealing anything.”
“You are one massive party pooper.”
She took her phone back and placed her hands on her hips. “Considering you need me to drive you to this place, it’s either my rules or we don't go at all.”
With a groan, I rolled my eyes. “Fine. You win. Reconnaissance only.”
She smiled and handed me the pair of black espadrille flats she’d purchased along with my clothes. “I knew you’d see it my way. Now, call in sick to work. We’ve got some thieves to catch.”
Stuffing my feet into the canvas shoes, I muttered under my breath as I followed her to her car. Stealing everything back and robbing him would’ve been the sweetest payback for a man like Nate. But Alesha was right—without her help, there was no way I could do anything. I had no transport and no access to my money to rent a moving truck. Watching him get arrested was just going to have to do.
“It’s self-storage,” I mused as we pulled up to the building the tracking app had sent us to. There were several cars in the parking lot along with signage promising the best rates for self-storage around. “How are we going to know which one it’s in?”
“We can’t know without going inside. And I really doubt they’re going to let us go walking around in there on our own. It’d be a maze. Plus, I’m pretty sure we’d be trespassing, and I’m not paying to rent a storage unit just to give you a reason to snoop. I think this might be where the cops need to be called in.”
“I suppose.” I pouted, disappointed that we hadn’t arrived in time to spot Nate unloading my furniture from a truck. We could’ve caught him and his accomplice red-handed—and it wouldn’t have hurt to watch their muscles bulge as they carried some of the bulkier items while we waited for police assistance either.
Just as Alesha started keying in the phone number, movement in the entry caught my attention and I grabbed her arm. “Oh my God. Look,” I gasped, lowering in my seat. A group of four men laughed and messed around, looking completely carefree as they headed towards an SUV parked in the lot not far from us. One of those men was none other than Nate the thief. Another was the brother I’d seen at the gym. I’d never seen the other two before, but they all had similar builds and features, leading me to believe they were all related. The Cartwright brothers. The girl at the gym had gone to school with them. It made sense.
Fool Me Twice_a Cartwright Brother Romance Page 7