by M. Leighton
“You ready?”
Talk about your loaded question!
I nod. I’m not sure what all I just agreed to, but every nerve in my body is alive with anticipation.
“Come on,” he says with a tip of his head and a wicked grin. “Let’s go get you off.”
I can’t help but smile.
CHAPTER TWENTY- Cash
I can’t keep my hands off Olivia as we leave the bar. Not completely anyway. As she steps out in front of me, I put my hand at the base of her spine. I feel her twitch at the contact. It’s not a flinch, but an actual twitch. Like I shocked her with a small electrical current. Like she’s feeling everything I’m feeling. And I’d bet any amount of money she is.
It’s sexual awareness. It’s attraction. It’s anticipation. She’s made her choice. She doesn’t have to tell me, or even admit it to herself, but she’s made it nonetheless. I can feel it.
I walk her out to her car. My bike is parked sideways in front of it. She stops when we get close to it.
“Is this what you drive?” she asks, turning those wide eyes up to me.
“Yes,” I say, but then I add with a smirk, “but you’re not surprised, are you? Isn’t this what bad-boys do? Ride motorcycles and break hearts?”
Her smile is weak. “I suppose so.”
She turns away and moves around to unlock the car door and pop the hood.
I shouldn’t have said that.
I unstrap the jumper cables I brought from behind the seat and hook them from my battery to hers.
“Will that be enough to jump start my car?”
“Should be. Go give it a try.”
I watch Olivia as she slides in behind the wheel to give it a crank. The engine doesn’t turn over; it just makes a clicking sound.
She shakes her head and gets back out. “It’s not working.”
“You think?” I tease.
She tilts her head to the side and gives me a dirty look.
Damn, she’s adorable.
“The reason for that is that it sounds like the alternator, not the battery.”
She slumps over the car door. “Ohmigod! That’s expensive, isn’t it?” she mumbles.
“It’s not cheap. But I know a guy.” I say it in my best mobster voice.
She looks up and grins. “Those suspicious connections, huh? Can you get me some concrete boots while you’re at it?”
“Probably,” I say, deadpan.
I see a frown flicker across her forehead. She doesn’t know whether I’m joking or not.
“Get your stuff. I’ll take you home. I’ll have my buddy come get your car and we’ll figure something out tomorrow.” She looks undecided, tapping her fingers along the door frame. “It’ll be fine here for a little while. I don’t think anybody will mess with it.”
She snorts. And then looks embarrassed that she did. “In a way, I’d almost be relieved.”
“Hey, I know a guy…” I say.
She laughs outright. And I love the sound. Makes me think of tickling her. In bed. While she’s naked. Lying on top of me.
Without further argument, she locks up the car and comes to stand beside my bike. She shrugs her shoulders. “What now?”
“You’ve never ridden a motorcycle before?”
“Nope.”
“What kind of bad-boy girlfriend are you?” I ask in mock dismay.
“Evidently a terrible one.”
I swing onto the bike and grab my only helmet. “Nah, you just haven’t met the right bad-boy.”
Her cheeks flush a little. I want to kiss her. Again. And I will. Just not right now.
“Put this on and then get on behind me,” I say, handing her the helmet. Obediently, she slips it over her head and then throws one leg over the bike and scoots onto the seat. I see her long, bare legs clamp around my hips and I look back at her. Her eyes are shining behind the raised shield of the helmet as she situates against me. “Put your arms around my waist and hold on.”
Her eyes never leaving mine, she leans in close and slides her hands around to my stomach. I can feel that plump chest of hers against my back and I jerk inside my jeans.
I turn around and start the engine. I let it idle for a few seconds while I regain my composure. It’s hard to rid my mind of the image of her sitting in front of me, minus those shorts, with her legs wrapped around me. I’d give her the best ride home she’s ever had.
With a growl, I rev the engine and ease us upright and off the kickstand. Shifting quickly into gear, we take off like a shot down the street.
I love the adrenaline of my bike. I always have. I try my best to let it chase away the feel of Olivia at my back, but I think nothing short of a week locked up in a bedroom with her can accomplish that. And oh what a week that would be.
It doesn’t take long to get to her place. It’s kind of a sweet torture. In a way, I wish the ride was longer. But then, in another way, I’m glad it’s not. The longer she’s wrapped around me and pressed up against me, the harder it is to control myself. Especially now that I know she wants me.
And she’s so close to giving in.
When I stop along the curb, she hesitates for a second before she gets off. She comes to stand beside me, handing me the helmet she’s already removed. I hold it under my arm, against my leg and wait for her to speak. She looks like she has something to say.
“How did you know where I live?”
She doesn’t sound concerned. Just curious.
“Employee forms. Remember?”
“Ahh,” she murmurs with a nod. She’s waiting. And I think I know for what. “So, do you want to come in?”
“I’d better get back, but thanks anyway.”
She’s good at hiding her disappointment. But not that good.
“Okay, well thank you. I really appreciate you coming to help. And for the ride home, too, of course.”
“Not a problem.”
“So, I guess I’ll talk to you tomorrow?”
“Yep. I’ll be in touch.”
She nods again, slowly. Waiting.
“Well, goodnight.”
I love watching her, watching her uncertainty and her hesitation. And her attempts at denying what we both know she’s feeling. Teasing her is going to be so much fun. Hot, sweet, sexy, delicious fun.
I reach out and brush her hair away from her cheek. “Sweet dreams, Olivia.”
I rush to put my helmet on to hide my smile from her. I want her to be ready to beg for it.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE- Olivia
I walk away from Cash before I do something stupid like proposition him.
What the hell is the matter with you?
Before I get more than a few steps, I remember my car. I turn back to get Cash’s attention before he pulls away. I dig my keys out and take them to him.
I see his frown behind the smoky shield of the helmet. “Don’t you need them to get inside?”
“I’ve got a spare,” I explain.
He nods once and takes the keys, sliding them into his front pocket.
I give him a quick smile then hurry away. I refuse to look back at him, even though I know he’s still at the curb. I can hear the throaty rumble of his idling bike. But more than that, I can feel his eyes on me. I just wish they were his hands instead. And his mouth.
I shut my eyes as I reach for the spare key under the flower pot on the porch. It’s when I open my eyes to push it into the lock and open the door that I hear him accelerate away from the curb. I guess he was making sure I could get in okay without my keys.
Oh, good God! Don’t show me the sweet, considerate side! I won’t stand a chance.
After I get inside, I lean back against the door and stand there with my eyes closed until I can no longer hear even the faintest rumble of Cash’s motorcycle.
My legs and butt are tingling from the vibrations of the bike. The rest of me is tingling from being wrapped around Cash. Tingling or aching. Or both.
Frustrated—both sexually and with myself for my utter la
ck of hormone control—I flick on the light and push away from the door. The first thing I see is the vase of flowers on the coffee table in the living room. They are a bright spot of color in an otherwise fairly muted room. I walk to the spray of lilies and bend to stick my nose into one. It smells wonderful, but something pokes the corner of my mouth. It’s the card announcing who they’re from.
I reach for the tiny square. I feel bad reading Marissa’s “mail,” but then again, she shouldn’t leave it lying around. Or poking out of flower arrangements.
As I pull the card from the envelope, I chastise myself for inflicting more torture. I’m sure they’re from Nash. And I’m sure the card is probably some sweet little love note that will make me want to jump out of a tall, tall building, but that doesn’t stop me. I’m too curious, so I read it anyway.
And I get a surprise.
“Olivia, if you need anything give me a call. I’m never far. N.”
A little thrill races down my spine. He must’ve used Marissa’s keys to come inside and leave these for me. I can’t help but wonder if he just dropped them off and left or if he stayed for a few minutes. Or walked around. Or went into my bedroom.
I doubt Nash would do anything like that, and the thought that he might ought to creep me out. Only it doesn’t. The idea that he might’ve gone to look inside my bedroom excites me for some reason. And I’m already excited enough by his dangerous brother.
Feeling more and more like it’s vibrator time, I get ready for bed. A vigorous tooth-brushing and face-scrubbing don’t help that feeling. The brothers chase each other through my head, taunting me with their words and their eyes and their touch. By the time I slide between the sheets, I have no doubt what my dreams will be about. Or rather who my dreams will be about.
The click of the front door closing wakes me. Having just fallen asleep, it takes me a few seconds to determine whether I’m awake or not.
Strangely, I feel no fear when I see the tall, vague shadow stop just outside my bedroom doorway. I recognize it instantly. I’d know that shape and that fluid way of moving anywhere.
It’s Cash.
Or Nash.
I start to speak, but the words die on my lips when he moves slowly toward the bed. He stops at the foot. I’ve always loved how dark my room is until now. Now, I’d give anything to see him more clearly, for some clue as to which brother it is.
He bends and grabs the covers, dragging them off me. Chills spread over my arms and legs, partly due to the temperature change, partly due to the guy standing at the foot of my bed.
He says nothing. Neither do I. Instinctively, I know words will shatter the wicked perfection of the moment. And that’s the last thing I want to do.
With very deliberate movements, he reaches forward and winds his long fingers around my ankles. Slowly, he pulls me toward him, toward the end of the bed. I’m breathless. And excited. And still I say nothing.
His fingers loosen their grip, but his hands don’t leave me. No, instead, he slides his palms up the outsides of my calves to my knees where he stops. I see him bend forward then I feel his lips on my left thigh. They’re like a red-hot branding iron. His tongue flickers out to taste my skin sending heat gushing to my core.
“I can’t stop thinking about doing this to you,” he whispers, so quietly I can barely hear him. “Tell me to stop now if you don’t want this. If you don’t want me.”
Even as he speaks, his hands are skimming the outsides of my thighs, sliding under the band of my panties. He pauses. Maybe he’s waiting for me to tell him to go. Maybe he’s rethinking what he’s about to do. I have no idea because I don’t know who’s in my bed. And at the moment I don’t care. I want both Cash and Nash. They both come with their own brand of trouble. Maybe not knowing which one I’m giving in to will be a good thing.
For tonight, I don’t care. I don’t think. I only want.
I feel his hands turn and his fingers curl around the elastic of my panties. He pauses a second time. I wonder again what he’s thinking and what I can do to make him continue. My answer is to lift my hips off the bed. I hear air hiss through his teeth before he drags my panties down my legs. It must’ve been the answer he was looking for.
My chest is heaving with excitement when I feel his hands again, gliding up the insides of my thighs, pushing my legs apart. He puts one knee on the bed between mine and leans down, pressing his lips to my stomach.
“All I can think about is what you taste like,” he murmurs, his tongue dipping into my navel making my muscles clench in anticipation. “And what you feel like.” I feel his palm cup me between my legs. I spread my thighs further. I’m rewarded with pure bliss when he slides a single finger inside me. He groans. “Oh my God, you’re so wet.” He pushes another finger into me. “All this for me,” he whispers, moving his fingers in and out as I raise my hips to meet him.
His lips move down my belly and I feel his shoulders settle between my legs. His warm breath tickles me just before I feel the first stroke of his hot tongue. My back arches off the bed. “Mmm, even sweeter than I imagined,” he moans, his fingers still moving inside me.
With lips and tongue, he licks and sucks until I feel the familiar tension of an orgasm building inside me. My hips move against him, grinding against his mouth as his fingers penetrate me harder and harder, faster and faster.
I fist my fingers in his hair, holding him to me when the world breaks apart. Light and heat explode behind my eyes and I cry out. I feel his hands come around my hips to hold me still and he finishes me off, burying his hot, wet tongue inside me, licking me from the inside.
My pulse is throbbing in every part of my body when I feel him move up to pull my tank top over my head. I’m limp beneath his hands when they cup my breasts, teasing the hard points of my nipples.
He draws one into his mouth, gently nibbling it with his teeth, intensifying the waves of pleasure coursing through me. I raise my hands to his shoulders and feel only smooth skin. He’s not wearing a shirt.
I thread my fingers through his hair when he moves his head to my other breast. He teases and taunts it as well.
He moves again and his lips are on mine.
His tongue slips into my mouth to tease mine, licking at it. I draw his tongue into my mouth and close my lips around it, sucking gently. When I release it, I hear his hoarse whisper. “See how good you taste?” I cup his face and lap up the wetness from around his mouth, from down on his chin. He groans loudly, his body moving against mine. “That’s right, baby. You like that, don’t you?”
I hear his zipper followed by the rustle of his pants as he moves to push them down his legs. I use my heels to help him, reveling in the feel of his bare skin against the insides of my thighs.
He flexes his hips and I feel the tip of his hardness slip between my folds. He makes tiny movements, sliding back and forth, stroking me with his body. “Just so you know,” he says breathlessly, “I’m clean. Tell me you are, too, and that you’re on the pill,” he begs.
“Yes,” I answer breathlessly, the only word I’ve spoken since his arrival.
He comes up onto his elbows where he’s poised above me. I can feel him looking down into my face even though I know he can’t see me any better than I can see him. There is a smile in his voice when he says, “Perfect!”
And then slides into me.
I feel like whimpering when he stops far short of full penetration and pulls out again. I want to cry at the loss. But I don’t have time. He moves in again, further this time, letting me get used to his size before he pulls out once more. He continues to tease me, each time filling me up a little further, bringing me closer to the edge again, until I’m ready to scream.
“Say it,” he whispers, taunting me with the tip as he moves in and out in quick, short strokes. Reaching up, I fist my fingers in his hair and pull his mouth to mine. I use my lips and tongue to plead with him, to show him every ounce of my desire. I sink my teeth into his bottom lip and I lift my hips, hoping
to bring him fully inside. But he pulls back, again only giving me part of himself. “Say it,” he demands.
I’m panting with need, the threat of another orgasm tightening my muscles as I squeeze his hips between my legs, begging with my body. Still, he resists, never allowing his body to move more than a few inches into mine before retreating. “Say it,” he repeats a third time.
I lick a trail from the base of his throat all the way to his ear where I force out between shallow breaths the single word he wants to hear.
“Please.”
Bending his head, his mouth covers mine as he drives his body deep into mine, stealing my breath. He gives me every inch of length and girth as he moves violently within me, stretching me tight over and over again, driving me closer and closer to ecstasy.
His lips move over the skin of my face and neck to the valley between my breasts. Blood pumps to my tingling nipples when his mouth moves toward them. I arch my back, pressing my chest toward him, begging for the feel of his hot mouth and wet tongue. “Come for me,” he says softly, drawing my nipple into his mouth and flicking it with his tongue. As if to punctuate his request, he grinds his hips into mine and bites down on my nipple. “Come for me, baby,” he growls again.
It’s all the motivation I need. Tightening around him, I give in to my second orgasm, glorying in the friction of his hips against mine as he rubs me into a wave of the purest pleasure.
I’m breathless as he pounds harder into me. I feel my body gripping his, milking it. His tempo increases with his breathing until, suddenly, he stiffens. “Olivia,” he moans heavily, coming and spilling heat and passion deep inside me.
His movements slow, but he remains buried inside me, making the spasms of my body squeezing his even more pronounced. We remain like that for a couple of perfect minutes.
When neither of us has anything left to give, he collapses onto me and we lay in a tangle of damp limbs and heaving chests. With his weight braced on his forearms, he nestles his face in the curve of my neck and presses a soft, wet kiss to the skin beneath my ear. He says nothing, but his warm, heavy breath dries it.