by S. M. West
“Ahhh, Nick. Oh my God. Nick.” Her eyes dark and hungry.
Her legs tense, shaking; the rest of her body is rigid as she shudders on release. Maggie gets on all fours, her fucking outstanding ass taunting me, and I can’t help but smack her round cheek. She jumps on a squeal.
“What the hell, Nick?” She looks back at me, fire in her eyes.
“Can you blame me?” I squeeze her cheeks. “This ass.”
Her snow white flesh blooms red with my palm print and I rub soothingly. As much as I’d like to take her from behind, I won’t. She’s doing it again.
She wants rough, messy, and definitely impersonal sex. Doggy-style is amazing, and I will have her like that, but not now.
I flip her onto her back—her eyes pop and lips part—and my hips thrust forward, my cock breaching her entrance ever so slightly. Fuck, she’s tight. I slide the tip back out and push forward, watching for any sign of discomfort.
“Oh my God.” She blushes, turning her head to the side.
I tip her chin in my direction. “Look at me.” I drive all the way in and hold. “You feel fucking amazing. Perfect.”
With her breast in my hand, I roll her nipple between my thumb and forefinger and slide in and out, stretching her.
Not missing a beat, I gather her in my arms and reverse us so I’m on the mattress and she now straddles me.
“Nick,” she cries, grasping my shoulders, confusion and desire swimming in her eyes before she cuts away.
“Maggie, look at me.” My command startles her, annoyance flickers in her blue depths.
I thrust into her, slowly at first, building to a maddening pace; my fingers curl around the base of her neck. Her breath hitches with each pump into her. Sweat pricks at the back of my neck and our slick bodies stick together. She claws at me, screaming, moaning, and panting.
“You’re incredible.” My hand tightens around her neck, bringing her closer until our noses touch, our mouths only a breath apart.
Pools of vivid blue that I could easily drown in penetrate my soul. We ride our climax together, my mouth on hers, swallowing her deep moans. We’re melting and reeling together.
Once we both climax, we clean up and I slide in behind, bringing her body flush with mine and tightening my hold.
“I could sleep for a year,” I murmur into her hair.
“Hate to break it to you, but I can’t stay that long.” She laughs nervously, and I stiffen at the unsettling feeling that something is wrong.
She quells those thoughts as her ass burrows into my groin, and I groan. “Maggie, you gotta stop. I need sleep, and if you keep doing that, we’re not sleeping.”
“Sorry. I’m just getting comfortable.”
“Sleep.” I kiss her temple and breathe in her sweet scent.
“Hmmm,” she releases on a deep exhale.
My eyes open to darkness. Through the window, the charcoal sky is heavy with not a star in sight. It’s such a contrast from the shimmering sky in the Laurentian mountains, pregnant with stars.
Maggie isn’t next to me, and her side of the bed is cool.
I stumble upright, still half asleep, to find her fully clothed on the couch. Our eyes cling to each other and a playful smile cracks my sleepy face.
But her growing, cautious gaze releases an anxious stirring in the pit of my stomach. My guard’s up. Something isn’t right.
“What are you doing out here?” I kiss her forehead before sitting beside her.
She exhales a strange, breathy noise before shifting an inch or two away. She doesn’t have to—there’s plenty of room—but it feels like she doesn’t want to touch me.
“Did you sleep okay?” I ask, and still nothing. “Maggie.” I tilt her chin up, capturing her reluctant gaze.
“Nick, we need to talk.” Four little words that never mean any good.
“Okay. Talk.” I squeeze her knee and settle back.
“I made a mistake.”
My mouth twists. “How so?”
“I should have left well enough alone. I didn’t mean to make this more complicated than it already is.” She plucks at her sweater.
“Stop talking in circles and just tell me.”
“When you came to the garage this morning, I shouldn’t have gone with you. This”—she motions between us— “shouldn’t have happened.”
“You mean, it shouldn’t have happened again.” I remind her that we’ve had sex more than once.
My gut pitches at where this is going. I could let her off the hook and play it cool. Tell her fine and leave. Be the dick she needs me to be to make this all right. It might be better for the both of us if I do.
“No sweat.” I play the part, rising, or more like stooping, to her belief in me. “Consider it forgotten.”
Unable to look at her right now or I’ll lose my shit, I head to the bathroom. Why the fuck did I think we could have something? Why did I let her in and share my past with her? I should have ignored that my dick wanted more and my fucking mind can’t forget her. I know better.
“Wait, let’s not leave it like this.” I hear the distress—and dare I dream, regret—in her voice.
I stop in the doorway, my back to her. Sure, I was an asshole to take her and barter with her life. That move is up there with my other colossal fuck-ups, but this makes us even.
Was she just looking for another good fuck? Since when did a woman get to me like this? Never.
“Look, I get it, I’m the mistake. Maybe it’s better this way. It’s too dangerous right now,” I say all the things she’s already told herself.
“Nick, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to jerk you around.”
“You sure?” I should shut my mouth. “Isn’t this payback?”
I hate that she has the power to hurt me. I twirl to face her and try not to feel the ache, desire, and regret that rush over me with one look at her.
“You sure this wasn’t your plan all along?”
“Why do you have to be a jerk?” Feisty Maggie is in the house. “You’re right. This was a mistake.” She storms to the door.
Her words cut deep and my chest aches.
25
Tuesday 8:53 PM
Maggie
I was wrong. Nick Prophet is handsome. There’s nothing ordinary about him. He’s a good-looking man, but when he smiles, he’s devastating. And when those pearly whites and shimmering deep brown eyes fix on me, my brain turns to mush. I’m reduced to an utter fool.
That’s what happened when he sauntered in wearing only his boxers and that smile. For me.
And then he had to kiss me. It wasn’t even sexual; in fact, it felt pure and intimate. His warm lips on my forehead, and his leathery, masculine scent. It felt so protective and comforting. He cracked me wide open.
In that moment, I saw our future and it was so good. But that’s my problem. I second-guessed what I’d rehearsed in my head while he’d slept. Not trusting the future, or maybe him, or maybe me.
When we started talking, he only confused me by agreeing that we shouldn’t have slept together. I hadn’t seen that coming. I didn’t think Nick would walk away. I was a complete idiot and said all the wrong things.
I wasn’t supposed to break it off. He’s right, it’s too dangerous with him working for Chin, but what about after things are settled? When he is no longer in debt to Chin? We could be together then, couldn’t we? At least that’s what I thought before Nick and I talked, and I ruined everything.
Maybe we are doomed no matter what. I’m not sure I can trust him.
Even still, I couldn’t stop thinking about him after Quebec City. The sex had been mind-blowing, but was what I felt real?
Our time together was intense and dangerous. It was natural to feel something strong, almost primal for him. And when he walked into my garage a week later, I couldn’t let him walk away.
I shouldn’t have gone with him to see Léa. I wanted him, but after seeing just how much more there is to this man than the callous exterior
and cavalier attitude he tries so hard to make sure that’s all you see—my want and need for him went through the roof.
I have a serious case of Stockholm syndrome. It’s the only thing that makes sense. Or maybe I’m just crazy. Either way, I like Nick. I want to be with him.
But can I trust him? I understood why he thought I was working with John. I even get why he used me, but will he betray me again?
And then there’s his job. Will he really walk away after he’s done with Chin? And suppose he does but he’s not happy, will he go back to what he knows?
I was supposed to say let’s talk after things with Chin are over. Instead, I pushed him away. Called what we had a mistake! Way to go, Maggie.
Desire wars with common sense. Being with him is what I want, danger be damned, but I’m not sure I could survive something happening to Nick.
I step out of the elevator, the loft only feet away, and silent tears fall. I choke back my sobs. Those are the hardest ones. Tears shed for something you can’t have, shouldn’t have. For a silent yearning you’re stifling, suffocating, making sure never comes to life. Each tear strangles me.
26
Friday 6:27PM
Nick
I’m miserable. The second I’m done with Chin—there’s only a few days left—I’m going after Maggie. I’ve respected her wishes and left her alone although it goes against everything I want, and it doesn’t help that Kit is still her best bud.
Even with my plan to get her back, a lead pipe sits heavy and uncomfortable in my gut. I’ll be putting it all on the line, and what if she wants nothing to do with me? Then what?
Fuck it. I can’t wait any longer. I dial Kit on the way to the Phoenix. If anyone will know where she is, it’s him.
“Where’s Maggie?”
“How should I know?”
“You mentioned something about seeing her tonight.” I drive straight through a red light, her garage my destination.
“Yeah, I got a job and can’t go tonight.”
“Go where?”
“Some car thing. She asked me to go with her.” The sound of papers shuffling crackle over the phone line. “Why, you want to take her? I think she said she was going to ask a friend.”
I stiffen at the mention of her going with someone else. I’m at the Phoenix now and the place is closed.
“Why’s the garage in darkness?” It’s usually open until seven on weeknights, if not later.
“She closed early for this thing. You’re beginning to worry me, what’s up, Nick?”
“Nothing. Everything is going to be right for a change. I gotta go.”
Breathtaking. Yeah, that’s the word. I don’t particularly like that Maggie steals my breath or easily brings me to my knees, but there’s no way around it. My body doesn’t respond to my commands if she’s near.
Not even twenty feet away, there she is. Tall and regal, with her back to me. Glossy raven locks tumble to her waist, flowing seamlessly into the dazzling silver floor-length gown. The ends of her dress fan out as if she’s perched on a cloud.
Breathtaking. She’s fucking breathtaking, and I’m not alone in thinking so.
In the vast, bright showroom with a bevy of spectacular sights to feast on—vintage cars everywhere and beautiful women in revealing gowns—she is by far the most spectacular of them all. Hard to miss. A sultry siren.
I spy at least five men who can’t take their eyes off her, and no surprise, she’s not alone. The blond guy from her garage the first day I followed her, Dick or some other run of the mill name, is with her. And judging from the way his hand rests just above the swell of her gorgeous ass, he’s her date.
My fingers rake through my hair. I should leave, I’ll only piss her off if I interrupt, but what else is new? We piss each other off. For us, it’s foreplay.
Determined, I cross the open expanse to her side. In the Armani tux I splurged on a couple of years ago, I catch my fair share of interested gazes. As if she senses me, she turns in my direction at the same time Boy Wonder looks my way.
Her eyes brighten; those electric blues shamelessly roam my body from head to toe. She’s good at hiding her emotions behind a blank expression, but her eyes say it all. She likes what she sees.
Like staring down the barrel of a gun, my breath stalls and my heart thunders in my ears. Out of this world.
The plunging neckline of her dress rains shimmering pewter drops down the front, drawing the eye to her incredible cleavage. Not that she needs any help with that.
“What are you doing here?” Pretty Boy says with a ring of exasperation, as if he knows who I am.
He’s not pleased to see me. Too bad, buddy, get used to it.
“Nick,” Maggie finally says. “You’re in the market for a classic?”
My lips curve into a sexy smirk. She wants to play. “I sure am.”
My double entendre does the job; her cheeks flush and her pink tongue darts out to wet her lips. Tease.
Her companion steps forward, edging in front of her, and folds his arms. “You’ve caused her enough problems, why don’t you move along?”
A chuckle slips past my smile.
“Dan, it’s okay.” Maggie steps in front of him. “Give us a minute, please.”
“You can’t be serious. This jerk is bad news. Why would you even give him the time of day?”
She presses her lips together, flicking her eyes to Dan before coming back to me. “It’s complicated. Give us a minute.”
He huffs, glares at me, and walks away muttering he’ll get drinks.
“Complicated?” I step into her space, winding one of her tresses around my finger. Silky. Soft. “Really? We’re so much more than that.”
She smirks. “What are you doing here?”
“I’m in the market for a vintage car and thought you could set me up.”
She raises her finger, ready to admonish me, I’m sure, but I wrap her hand in mine. The pale pink polish on her fingernails catches my eye. Not a speck of grease or grime anywhere.
“I don’t know how you do it.”
“What?” She glances to where we are joined.
“Your hands look like you’ve never worked a day in your life. No one would ever guess you spend your days on a creeper under cars.”
“Just because my work can get messy, doesn’t mean I don’t clean up good.”
“That you do.” My eyes twinkle, roaming her alluring body again.
“I could say the same for you. A tuxedo, no less; I’m surprised you own one, or is this a rental?”
“Cute.” I wink, and her smile widens.
“We agreed to stay out of each other’s lives.” She flattens her smile and cocks her hip. “Why are you here?”
“I wanted to see you.” I’m bold and eager for her reaction.
She arches one perfectly shaped eyebrow, and Dan clears his throat from behind me. “It’s time you leave.”
A swift roundhouse kick to his chest would be satisfying, but something tells me it wouldn’t go over well, especially with Maggie. Before I can respond to the jackass, she beats me to it.
“He’s right. Let’s talk tomorrow. Good night.” She turns her back to me, and Dan guides her away, placing his hand on her lower back again, where it doesn’t belong.
I need a drink. I stroll to the bar, keeping her in my sights. She peers over her shoulder in my direction once or twice. Like magnets, we’re stuck on each other, but she’s always the first to look away.
“What’ll it be?” the cute purple-haired bartender asks.
“Your top-shelf bourbon.”
“Sure thing, but it’s extra.”
Reaching into my jacket, I drop a fifty on the bar top. “Let’s start with a double.”
“Coming up.” She winks, snaking out her tongue to give me a glimpse of her piercing.
My gaze is friendly but not interested, and she shrugs before turning to fix my drink. I should go like Maggie told me to do. Except, she’s here, and I’m not
leaving her with that fuckwit.
My first sip eases the sharp edge of seeing Maggie with another man. Barely. But the more I watch his hands on her, the more my tension intensifies. A hand on her lower back, the other on her elbow as he guides her further into the crowd, away from me.
The smooth vanilla and caramel flavors coat and warm my throat on its way down. I slam the glass on the pop-up bar, disturbing a few of the guests.
An older, refined-looking lady glares and I wink with an apologetic smile; her cheeks heat, and she glances away, bashful.
Since when did I ever do what I am told?
I follow them through the crowd, keeping a safe distance. She hasn’t looked back once and my skin prickles at her indifference. At how easily she dismissed me and doesn’t care that I’m here. Instead, she’s playing nice with her boy toy and it’s pissing me off.
I wish I had another drink. Screw this. I’m outta here. Without another glance at the happy couple, I head to the entrance, but Maggie’s lilting magical laugh digs into my gut like a fishing hook and reels me in.
It’s a Herculean effort not to turn around and go to her. A deep growl slips past my lips as I clench my fists. Just keep walking, Prophet, keep walking.
The solitude of the night is a welcome change from the bright lights, incessant chatter, and loud music in the showroom. The air is crisp and fresh like only a winter evening can be.
But I don’t stay there long. I want Maggie. Plain and simple. I love her and need her in my life. I came here to tell her that and I’m not leaving until I do.
I stalk back into the crowded room, wading through the crowd, on the hunt for Maggie, when I catch sight of three of Drago’s men entering the pavilion ten feet away.
Shit. No doubt those guys are packing, and I’d bet my life the motherfucking Russian is breaking his deal with Chin and going after Maggie.