by Jani Kay
FORBIDDEN FLAWS BY PEPPER WINTERS
3
THE MOMENT THE door shut, his fingers uncurled from around my wrist.
Rubbing the tingling sparkles from where he’d touched, I asked, "Confident I won’t run?"
He smirked. "Confident I can catch you."
My stomach somersaulted. Every inch of my body strained toward his. My fingers wanted to uncover every ripped muscle and my mind wanted to tear past the impenetrable outer shell and find out just who this enigma was.
His smirk transformed into a teasing smile. "Didn’t like this room before. Now I do."
His room was identical to mine, only reversed. My feet moved forward on their own accord, stalking him as he quickly grabbed a black shirt and a pair of faded blue jeans from the desk, and threw them into the open suitcase on the floor.
Sneaking a look into his belongings, I frowned. "You’re an athlete?" Tank tops and workout gear filled the case, along with mesh shorts with a large waistband with a name stitched in gold thread. I couldn’t read what it said—a sock rested over the middle, obscuring it.
He grabbed the top of his case, slamming it closed. "I’m going to give you another choice."
My eyes shot to his. "What other choice?"
He prowled forward, closing the distance until his heat prickled my skin. I fought the urge to back away—it would only end up with me splayed against the wall and him pressed against me. If he touched me now, I wouldn’t be held responsible for my actions.
Locks of messy blond danced over his forehead. "A choice and a promise. I promise I’ll use your body like no other man before. I’ll give you everything you’ve ever wanted from sex." Reaching up, he stroked my bottom lip with a confident thumb. "Have you ever been disappointed? Looking forward to fucking someone only for it to be a huge let down?"
My scarce romantic past shot before my eyes. There’d been Carl from school, who’d taken my virginity, Patrick, my ex-friend’s brother, and a few years ago, Cameron from my drama class. I had no scale to judge, but neither man had rocked my world, nor shown me the supposed bliss of carnal joining.
"I take it from your lack of response that you’re either too polite to complain about past lovers or don’t have the necessary experience in which to judge."
"Stop doing that." I moved out of his reach, unnerved by his ability to read me so well.
He cocked his head. "I’m right, though." One stride and he caught me again. His hands landed on my hips, holding me firm. "I promise you, you won’t be disappointed."
I couldn’t control my racing heart. "Again, so cocky. How can you be so sure? How can you be so sure I’m not going to be a huge disappointment to you?" I hated to admit it, but there was no doubt in my mind he’d had more conquests than me and more of a scale in which to judge.
His eyes narrowed, filling with sapphire sex. "I know because I haven’t wanted a woman as badly as this before. It’s all a matter of chemistry, not skill."
"We have chemistry?" Is that what the spitting electricity arching between us was?
"Hold up your hand," he ordered.
Biting my lip, I obeyed. My breathing was shallow as he raised his, placing his palm a centimetre from touching mine. Our hands hovered together, so close but apart. His fingers were so much longer, the span of his palm made me look positively doll-like.
I shuddered.
Something fierce and undisputed jolted from his non-existence touch to mine. It spooled through my blood like a comet, exploding into blistering shards in my core.
His chest rose and fell as his breathing lost its composure, matching mine for shallowness. "See, Lace? Chemistry." He swayed toward me, bringing more of the intensity until even my pinkie toes ached for more. "It’s rare—true chemistry. That’s why I couldn’t let you walk away without fucking you—without indulging in something we might never find again."
My mind tripped. Was he talking about lust or love at first sight?
Don’t be ridiculous.
He wasn’t talking about love. He’d already warned me that this would be a one-night deal. He didn’t do relationships, and well, neither did I. I would be leaving forever in forty-eight hours. He didn't factor into my new world.
My brain scrambled as I dropped my suddenly extremely warm and heavy hand. "My name isn’t Lace. Don’t you think we should introduce ourselves before we…"
He chuckled. The sound was positively decadent with intoxication and brutality. "I haven’t finished laying out your choices, but fine…" Tilting his hand, so it changed from chemistry deliverer to handshake introduction, he said, "Pleasure to meet you…" His eyebrow rose, waiting for me to give up another part of myself.
The peace offering hung between us, slightly awkward, completely sexual. My body hummed from being so close.
I was tempted to lie—to give him my character’s name—Lucy Larson.
But only the truth was welcome in this strange connection. Only truth.
Slowly, I placed my hand in his. The intensity of touching him sent another full body flush through my system. I bit my lip as his fingers wrapped smoothly, imprisoning me completely. "My name is Saffron Duncan. And it’s a pleasure to meet you…"
His eyes smouldered. "Cas. Cas Smith." His cocky smile dropped as he sucked in a ragged breath. "I woke up to that fucking smoke alarm thinking I’d sue for lack of sleep, but now I want to write the hotel a thank-you note for planting you in my path." His voice dropped a decibel, whispering around my nipples. "You’re like every wet dream I’ve ever had."
I tugged my hand in shock. There was no appropriate response to that.
Rushing for a topic, I said, "You mentioned before you had two names…why?"
His fingers twitched. If I wasn’t so in tune and throbbingly aware of his every motion, I would’ve missed the flash of wariness on his face. "The why is purely a professional hazard. The second name is Ghost."
"Ghost? Like the movie?"
He grinned, but it didn’t reach his eyes. "No…like Casper the Friendly Ghost. They got it wrong on both accounts. I’m neither friendly, nor dead."
My eyes widened. "So your full name is Casper?"
He sighed, the openness in his blue eyes fading faster and faster. "No. It’s not." His shoulders straightened as he gritted his teeth. "Back to the choices. However, I’ve just made the choice for you, so it’s really more of a rule."
My heart tripped at the torn emotion in his voice. He sounded closed off—so different to the confident, cocky fighter from the corridor.
I didn’t want rules. This was supposed to be spontaneous and fun—not ruined by lines we couldn’t cross.
"Do we have to have rules? Can’t we just enjoy this for what it is?"
He scowled. "That’s why we need them—just one—to ensure tonight is exactly what we want. Pure delicious sex and nothing more."
His fingers inched from my hipbones to the small of my back, pulling me into him and pressing his erection against my stomach. "I told you we’d lose a piece of our souls. I fully intend to keep that promise, but I refuse to give up any more than that, and I don’t want to steal what I don’t deserve."
I couldn’t keep up. This man was too intense for me—too much life, too many demands, too much of everything. Dropping my eyes, uncertainty filled me. "I don’t know—"
"You already gave me your word. You’re not leaving." Grabbing the back of my neck, he jerked me hard. I fell against him, my mouth parting in surprise.
He took full advantage.
His lips landed on mine, devouring my excuses and drowning out any denial that this wasn’t what I wanted. Once again, the heady combination of watermelon and sin swept down my throat, twisting my heart and soul.
My clit swelled, begging for the same attention that my lucky lips received.
Cas groaned as he backed me up against the wall. His hands fumbled for my wrists, yanking them above my head and slamming them against the hard surface. His tongue danced with mine, licking and wors
hipping in the unique way of a male taking and giving all at once.
He corrupted me completely.
I cried out as he bit my lip, sucking the abused flesh into his mouth. My body bowed, trying to rub against his, needing friction, needing him.
Breaking the kiss, he rocked his hips into mine. "Fuck, you taste divine."
My wrists burned in his violent touch. I licked my lip, wincing at the tenderness from his teeth. "I could say the same about you. Watermelon?"
A smile broke through the dark intensity of his gaze. "A habit. I chew bubble-gum when I’m between fights. Gives my body something to do, while easing the blows to my jaw."
He fingers tightened around my wrists, eyes widening.
I got the impression he hadn’t meant to give me that strange but endearing piece of information.
Fights?
He did that for a living?
Kissing me again, his tongue dived into my mouth, making me drunk. With his lips pressed against mine, he breathed, "You don’t get questions. You get to obey. Take my body, take my come, but don’t take anything else."
My back bowed as he thrust harder against me. His lips were an aphrodisiac, his words even more so. "No guessing about who I am. No wondering about my life, my past, or trying to turn this one night into more. You do that, and I’ll promise the same."
I shuddered as he kissed me deep, his tongue sweeping and dragging a moan from my chest.
Sucking my bottom lip into his mouth, he let me go with a nip. "I want your body. I don’t want your mind."
Ouch.
My heart smarted with reprimand. I’d never been complimented in such a confusing way. He wanted me—never wanted another as much as he wanted me—but he wanted nothing to do with me. He only wanted a release.
Nothing more.
But that’s what you want, too…isn’t it?
Well…yes. His rule made perfect sense. It meant I could relax and board my plane with memories of an incredible man named Cas Smith and never think back on what could’ve been. Because there never could be more than what was.
But what does he hide to be terrified of simple questions?
Letting my wrists go, he stepped back. His lips glistened from kissing. "Use the phone. Call for your spare key before I drag you to bed." He pointed at an invisible watch on his wrist. "Time, Saffron. We have a limited amount of time, and I plan on a lot of fucking."
I shivered as my name fell from his lips.
Up until now, my name had been a curse—a fairly unusual one that kids at school loved to mock. But in one moment, he’d turned it into an expensive spice—just like I was named after. Amplifying the threads of red and passion, mixing with his intoxicating voice.
Without a word, he headed toward the super king bed.
I swallowed hard, taking in the crisp white sheets as he threw himself backward, going from standing to reclining. Propping a hand behind his head, he relaxed into fluffy pillows. His dressing gown parted, revealing powerful thighs with a splattering of dark hair and the delicious shadow of what existed higher.
My belly clenched, thinking of him sleeping there, alone—only a few doors away before the fire alarm brought us together.
His eyes latched onto mine.
"Every second you stand there, you’re denying yourself pleasure from my tongue."
My breath caught, gaze drinking him in. The tangled comforter was shoved to the bottom of the bed and there was a trace of blood on the pillow case.
Blood?
I frowned, moving closer to the bed. "Are you hurt?"
Surprise filled his eyes, then annoyance. Sitting upright, he followed my attention, glanced at the blood, then flipped the soiled pillow upside down. "No."
"What happened? Are you okay?"
A noise of warning rumbled in his chest. "Don’t, Lace. No questions. Remember?"
I knew what I’d promised, but I couldn’t stop myself from peering closer, searching for the origin of his wound. His five o’ clock shadow had inched from sexy to slightly scruffy, the bruise beneath his eye was diminishing, so what caused…
Then, I noticed.
His bottom lip was split. I hadn’t felt it when he kissed me—in fact, it was mainly healed, just slightly red. "You were in a fight."
Suddenly, everything clicked into place. Just like he’d been able to read me, I saw a little of what he wouldn’t say.
Bubble-gum after fights.
Something about his jaw.
"You fight—I’m guessing for a living. That’s why your knuckles are a mess, and you have boxing shorts in your suitcase. You—"
"Yes. I fight." He sat up, swinging his legs over the side of the bed and spreading them the way men do. Locking his hands between his thighs, the hotel robe spread wider, granting the barest amount of discretion. "I fight. I hurt others for money. I’ve been doing it for a while, and I’m fucking good at it. You going to judge me, Lace?"
Lace.
It seemed my real name wasn’t good enough when he was pissed at me.
Waving his hand at the door, he growled, "Go. If you’re too much of a fucking princess to sleep with a guy who is good with his hands, then go. I won’t stop you. It’s you who’ll regret walking away, though. Not me. I don’t look back. Ever."
The animosity washing off him both thrilled and terrified. Beneath the strength and cocky confidence existed fractured morals and a broken sense of self-worth.
The flash of vulnerability—just like in the corridor—lashed me to the spot. I couldn’t leave. But I also couldn’t sleep with him. He’d already taken more than just my sex drive. If I let him use me, give me the pleasure I knew I’d feel, I didn’t think I’d be strong enough to forget.
I wasn’t very good at forgetting. Hell, even now I still held onto the blind belief that my parents had made it out of the fire somehow. Their remains hadn’t been found—I had no closure. Hope was a never dying enemy sitting painfully on my heart.
"I’m not leaving," I whispered.
You’re not? But you just…
I shut my internal voice up. I’d come here with one goal. I wouldn’t back down. I’m not a coward. I wanted him. I wanted to live with no regrets.
"I won’t ask any more questions, and I’ll leave when we’re done. We’ll both walk away from this as we began."
"What does that mean?" Cas asked, his voice dark.
"It means we’ll stay strangers. We’ll fuck as strangers. We’ll part as strangers. That’s what you want, isn’t it?"
My heart poised mid-beat, hanging onto a small thread of hope. It smashed to dust as he nodded. "Yes. That’s what I want."
"Good." Breaking eye contact, I turned for the phone on the desk.
Running my hands through my blonde hair, I cursed the appearance that’d landed me into this mess. The lingerie was one culprit, but I’d also lavished attention on my other attributes. I’d splashed out a small fortune to have golden low-lights and ash highlights put in my hair before the audition. I’d learned how to tame the thickness into soft curls—so much nicer than my mousey blonde straightness from before.
I should’ve thought of the consequences of looking confident when in reality I still nursed the orphaned sixteen-year-old.
Picking up the phone, I dialled one for reception.
Cas smiled, leaning back and spreading his legs on the bed again. His confident pose could be taken either as a lewd gesture or overtly sexual. I tried to ignore him but that was as impossible as ignoring an asteroid plummeting to earth.
"Reception. How may I help you?"
Cas’s eyes took full advantage, latching onto my breasts. The way he ogled made the expensive underwear between my legs grow shamefully damp.
"Hello, Mr. Smith. Are you there?" the chirpy female voice prompted in my ear.
Mr. Smith?
Ah, yes. The stranger I’d agreed to sleep with.
Tearing my eyes off him, I said, "Yes, hi. I seem to have locked myself out of my room during the fi
re alarm. I need another key."
"Oh, I’m sorry, this isn’t Mr. Smith?"
"Do I sound like I’m a man?" My heart fluttered. "Sorry, that came out a bit rude."
The receptionist giggled. "No, ma’am, you don’t. Sorry for the mix-up. Do you mind advising me of your room number, so I can confirm the necessary details?"
I hooked my hand over the mouthpiece. For some reason I didn’t like the thought of spilling my privacy—now that we’d established the ‘rules’, it seemed like an invasion—not to me but for him to listen.
"Ma’am? Who is the room registered to?"
There was no way around it. "The room is under Lucy Larson."
The gentle sound of sheets rustling behind me made the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. Was he wondering why I’d given him one name but used another? Too bad. He’d lost the right to ask questions when he decided he wanted to remain clueless.
The tap-tap-tapping of computer keys came down the phone. "I’m sorry, ma’am, there is no room under that name. Is there another name perhaps?"
I slouched in the chair. They must’ve amended the guest name after the problem with my inability to provide identification.
I looked over my shoulder at Cas. He sat upright, curiosity blazing in his eyes. He didn’t hide that he was listening.
"Ma’am? Perhaps you can come down to the lobby to confirm the correct details?"
"No, that’s not possible."
There was a pause. "Um, well, we really need to confirm your identity before we can approve a new key. Are you sure you can’t come—"
"The room might be under Saffron Duncan."
A soft shuffle from the bed as Cas shifted to the edge. His jaw clenched, eyes dark.
Every thought shot from my head. Damn him for being so distracting.
"And the room number?"
"1346."
I couldn’t concentrate—completely obsessed by the seething sensuality of the man behind me.
I glared at Cas, who was now perched on the end of the bed, his fingers steepled in front of his lips, blue eyes narrowed and sharp.
What was his issue?
"Look, can you just send housekeeping or something with a spare?"
Silence for a moment before the woman said, "I’m afraid our housekeepers are dealing with another issue. We’ll have another key coded the minute the problems have been fixed."