Craving

by Sofia Grey

  I swallowed down my nerves. “Why? Are you having second thoughts?”

  The intensity of his kiss reassured me. Raw hunger and burning desire all bundled into one very sexy package—and for the moment he was mine.

  “Baby, I want to lick you all over.” He pressed a hot kiss at the base of my throat. “I want to see if you have any more freckles.” Another kiss on my shoulder as he pushed the T-shirt away, exposing my bra strap. I jerked at his hoodie. He paused and took a moment to strip the sweat top, and then dragged away his shirt. Just a black T-shirt left. “Now you,” he whispered, as his fingers danced along the hem of my T-shirt. “Can I undress you?”

  I gave a small nod, and he removed my T-shirt with a delicate touch, sighing when he saw my breasts. I wore a plain white cotton bra, but the way Dante ate me up with his eyes, I felt as though I wore the finest lingerie. He swallowed as he curved his hands around them, cupping them before dropping his mouth to suckle one nipple through the fabric. God. I gasped at the electric shocks arcing through my body, the moist heat of his mouth like a drug to my system. A noise in the background jogged my attention for a nanosecond, but Dante’s fingers were sliding the bra straps down my arms, and my brain gave up trying to think sensibly.

  When his lips closed around my nipple, I wailed. Pleasure flooded through me as a surge of moisture erupted between my legs. Another hot, slow lap of my sensitive swollen nipple as I clenched my hands in his T-shirt. Car doors slammed outside, and I paused, half-listening, even while I moaned for Dante. It was probably just the cleaning staff. What was I getting so worried for? My father wouldn’t be home for ages.

  5.9 Dante

  There were a dozen reasons I shouldn’t be here with Kitten.

  I didn’t care about any of them.

  From the moment she’d kissed me outside the café, I was hell-bent on this course. Every touch, every shared moment all led up to this point. Kitten and me. Nothing else mattered.

  I felt like a poet as I undressed her. I wanted to write sonnets and beautiful words. I wanted to be a better person, for her. I wanted Kitten in ways I couldn’t begin to describe.

  We fell on the bed together, arms and legs tangled, with her glorious, magnificent breasts free at last. I feasted on them. A lick here, a nibble there. Rose pink nipples begged for my mouth and Kitten whimpered beneath me as I divided my attention between them both. She retaliated by closing her hand around my cock, already straining painfully inside my jeans. Jesus.

  “I told you,” I whispered against her stomach, “I want to take my time. You feel so fucking fantastic, I want to kiss every inch of you.”

  “I want to see your tattoos. Take off your T-shirt.”

  I had to smile. Even in the throes of passion, my Kitten wanted to be in charge. I complied. Tugging the T-shirt over my head, I straddled her thighs and sat still, waiting while she examined me. I sucked in my breath as she traced the spiral of ivy leaves with her fingertips; whisper soft, they explored my skin in a way no woman had ever done before.

  Her fingers rippled across my stomach next and then circled the piercing in my nipple. I’d chosen a silver hoop, simple and stylish. I tensed under her exploration and she paused.

  “Does it hurt if I touch it?”

  “No,” I breathed. “It makes everything more intense.”

  She sat up, leaned forward and pressed an open-mouthed kiss onto the piercing. I nearly came in my pants. I’d never felt anything so erotic before. I gasped for breath, trying for some semblance of control. “Kitten—baby—that feels too good.”

  I palmed her breasts, cupping their generous curves and flicking my thumbs over the pert nipples.

  “Dante,” she breathed as she tunneled her hands into my hair. With her head thrown back, she looked wanton and so hot. I blinked. Such a beautiful sight. I didn’t deserve to have someone as perfect as Kitten. I eased forward and buried my nose in the crook of her neck, inhaling her scent and licking up the curve of her throat. Christ. She felt good. I fought the urge to take her fast and hard. She deserved better.

  I reached for her, wanting to find her mouth, needing to slow things down, and she stilled in my arms. Cupping her face, I moved in for a deep kiss—shocked when she clamped one hand across my mouth. “Wait.” She cocked her head and listened.

  “I’ll be quiet.” I nipped at her palm. “It’s not as though your husband’s due back.” I grinned at my joke. The look of abject horror in her eyes made me freeze.

  “Please,” she whispered, her eyes darting left and right. “Don’t say a word. Don’t. Do. Anything.”

  Footsteps approached her room. “Oh shit, no.” Shrinking back, she fumbled for her T-shirt, finding mine instead. “Oh God, he can’t find you here, Dante.”

  “Who—” before I could say any more, she covered my mouth again. “You have to go. Now. Right now.”

  “What?”

  “My father’s home.” I grabbed her hand and pulled it away from my face.

  “Kitten, what the fuck is the matter?”

  A deep voice called through the closed door. “Katherine, you need to come downstairs. George is on his way.”

  Gone was the confident, bossy young woman. In her place sat a trembling girl, ashen-faced and wide-eyed. What the fuck did her father do to her? She looked terrified.

  Her voice came out faint. “I’ll just be a minute.” Amber eyes beseeched me as she clung to my arms, gripping as tightly as she’d done on the bike. I went to speak but stopped when she shook her head.

  “No,” she mouthed.

  The man spoke again. “Bring the wedding plans down with you. George wants to go over the guest list to make sure we even up the numbers on both sides. We have more on your side at the moment.”

  What the fuck?

  “Don’t keep me waiting, Katherine.” I stared at the door, unsure if I’d heard him right.

  As the footsteps receded, I found my voice. “Your father?” She nodded, her eyes fixed on mine. I swallowed hard. “And who’s George?”

  In reply she covered her bright red cheeks with both hands and ducked her head.

  My stomach clenched. I swallowed hard and pressed on. “He’s talking about a wedding.”

  She nodded, still with her eyes averted. I sucked in my breath.

  “Yours.” My voice came out flat. Please don’t say yes, please don’t…

  “Yes.”

  Kitten’s hands fumbled as she tried to refasten her bra, then abandoned it to the floor and yanked on the T-shirt in her hands. Mine.

  My brain churned in slow circles as I watched. I felt remote, disconnected from the panic that surrounded her.

  She’s getting married.

  Wriggling out from beneath me in a flurry of movement, my shirt and hoodie dumped in my lap. “You’re going. Now.” Her voice high and anxious.

  Stupid fucker.

  Bitterness filled my mouth as I stood up and met her eyes. Standing there, half naked, I should have felt vulnerable. Contempt came to the rescue. “This isn’t funny, Kitten.”

  She ignored me and opened her door a crack, peering through the gap.

  I dragged my shirt back on and glared at her, my temper barely leashed. “Kitten—Katherine—this is not. Fucking. Funny.”

  “Believe me,” she tossed over her shoulder, hair swirling in a russet cloud as she moved. “It’ll be even less funny if my father sees you here. This is one battle I’m not ready for.” She hesitated. “Not yet anyway.”

  “So what was this all about? Just a quick fuck before you tie the knot?” I didn’t bother to fasten the shirt. “Fancied a bit of rough, eh?”

  A flash of pain in her eyes. I’d obviously hit the mark.

  More fool me.

  She caught my arm as I snatched up the hoodie. Her voice urgent. “Dante, you don’t understand–”

  “I understand perfectly.” It may feel as though she was ripping out my guts with a rusty knife, but I’d never let her know that. Nan’s warning rang in my hea
d. The best you’d get would be a major head fuck. How right was that.

  “You don’t.” Her eyes darkened and little spots of color rose on her cheeks. Damn, she looked gorgeous. “Just give me a couple of days.”

  I almost laughed. A couple of days and then she’d try to pussy-whip me again? Yeah right.

  “I’ll ring you, Dante.” A whisper.

  My fingers clenched tight, I stepped toward her, face to face. So close I could have kissed her. “Fuck you, Katherine.” Summoning every ounce of bravado I possessed, I yanked the door open and sauntered into the corridor. Icy and control could be my middle names. I had to push past her. The feel of her skin almost broke me.

  “This way.” She pushed me toward a narrow staircase and hurried me back down to the kitchen, her hand on my shoulder.

  “I need my helmet and my leather.” Shaking free, I stalked to the chair where I’d dumped them earlier. They were gone. “Where’s my fucking gear?”

  “Hell’s teeth.” Her face was pale, mouth a tight line, and as I scowled she raked both hands through her hair. “I don’t know. I’ll go and look.”

  “Fuckin’ A.” This was all I needed. I glared at the vacant chair and cast my eyes around, hoping it would materialize.

  The kitchen was huge, bigger than most people’s living rooms and decked out with shiny, expensive looking equipment. The work surface nearest to me was liberally strewn with small, gleaming objects, and I paused to take a closer look. It must have been there earlier and I hadn’t noticed. Silverware, small ornaments and an empty bottle of metal polish. A job half done. Indecision warred inside me. Kitten’s father was loaded. I could take something small, and they’d never miss it. My hand hovered over the silver teaspoons…and then I saw it. A ribbon with a series of medals dangling. Small enough to fit in my pocket and payback for the shitty way Kitten treated me.

  And there was my gear, neatly piled on the floor. I was out of here.

  Moments later I sat astride Bonnie. Sanctuary.

  The devil rode me as I roared out of the kitchen yard and aimed at the two men in suits standing next to the gray BMW. They stared open mouthed as I veered away at the last moment, spraying gravel across the car and flicking them the bird on the way past. Fuck Kitten. Fuck the lot of ‘em.

  Chapter

  ~6~

  6.1 Dante

  I stared into the mug of tepid tea as though trying to divine the future. The remnants of my half-eaten bacon sandwich lay congealed on the plate, just inches from the latest spirit to lock onto me. It was two hours since I’d left Kitten. I still felt confused and pissed off. Something just didn’t add up about her, and I couldn’t shake my conviction it was linked to Ingrid and Simeon treating me like a bad smell. Shaking my head, I got up and headed out of the roadside café. I had business to attend to.

  Ash’s tattoo parlor, Ink City, occupied a prime position on one of the main roads out of Manchester and I’d spent so much time there over the past few years, I almost qualified as staff. Rezzie, on the front desk, greeted me with a cheery wave, and Giant bumped fists with me as I walked past his stool. There was no sign of Ash in the main areas so I headed to his miniscule office, finding Nan there instead.

  “Dante.” She flashed me a feline smile as she uncurled her ankles from the stool and sashayed toward me. “How are you?” Without waiting for my response she wound her arms around my neck and squeezed hard.

  “Thought you were staying in Cornwall.” I stepped back, easing out of her embrace, but she hung on with grim determination. “I need to speak to Ash,” I said.

  Releasing me, she eased back and sat on the edge of the desk, a move fleetingly reminiscent of Ingrid. Nan pouted her full, pink glossy lips. “He’s not here. Can I help you instead?”

  Ash’s office looked different, tidier than I’d ever seen it. The teetering piles of paper had vanished along with the clutter that normally covered every surface. “Where is he, Nan?”

  “Told you. Not here.” She crossed her arms over her chest and studied me. “He’s gone to visit his sister for a few days, and I’m in charge while he’s away. So whatever it is, you can ask me.”

  I mooched around the room, flicking at one of the designs pinned on the wallboard. Something else new to me. “He won’t be happy when he sees what you’ve done in here.”

  “Chuckles…”

  I peered at a postcard. The beach scene looked familiar. “I want a card game. Tonight. D’you know of any?”

  “Of course.”

  I spun around to look at her.

  Her lips curled upward, white teeth flashing. “I’m hosting one tonight. I can get you a seat—if you ask me nicely.”

  I dredged up a smile. “Please Nan, I’d like to join your game tonight.”

  The air hung heavy between us. Nan eventually slid down from the desk and walked the three steps to close the office door, then turned to face me. “Come on, Chuckles. You can do better than that.” Her voice a sensuous whisper, while her eyes gleamed. When she kissed me this time, there should have been no reason to refuse, but I still ducked out of the way.

  6.2 Katherine

  Oh God. I had to make this look convincing. Back in the kitchen, I grabbed the first large envelope I saw and shoved a handful of papers inside. A couple of deep breaths and I was ready. When my father and George stomped through the front door moments later, I gave them an innocent look and a vague greeting as I pretended to read a text on my phone.

  “Katherine,” barked my father. “Who was that hooligan on the motorcycle?”

  “Motorcycle? Do you mean the courier? I just had some research notes delivered.”

  George stood patiently, the perfect second-in-command for the family empire. My father was not appeased. “I want to know which courier company to make a formal complaint to. I have the bastard’s registration number.”

  My heart sank. What the hell had Dante done?

  I raised my eyebrows in an enquiring gesture I’d learned from my stepmother “Is there a problem?”

  “Problem?” He spluttered over the word. “He tried to run me over. I’d class that as a problem.” My heart plummeted further. I tried to laugh, but it came out more as a croak.

  “Daddy, I’m sure there’s been a mistake. Maybe he just wasn’t paying attention and you startled him. It seems hardly worth making a fuss over.” I stepped forward and gave George a polite kiss on the cheek. “How lovely to see you, can I get you a drink? I’m glad you’re here, we can talk some more about the wedding.”

  Dispensing glasses of single malt whisky went some way to soothing my father’s ruffled feathers. I also had to chatter inanely about guest lists and wedding planners, and whether or not we should hold the reception here or hire a venue. My jaw ached from the fake smiles. I operated on two entirely separate levels: the dutiful daughter acting as hostess while at the same time, my brain spun in circles, searching for an escape route. And all the time, I was thinking of Dante.

  George stayed all afternoon. Somehow, God only knows how, I’d managed to hold myself together. The bedroom door clicked behind me, and I sagged against it and slumped gracelessly to the floor. Dante. What had he thought? Would he ever speak to me again? Shivers racked my body, and I wrapped my arms around my knees, curling in a fetal position. Dante.

  When I next looked up, it’d gone dark, and my back ached from lying too long on the floor. I couldn’t stay on the carpet all night. I crawled to the bed to hug my pillow and try Dante’s number. It dropped to voicemail—as it had earlier. I stared at the ceiling. Dante was proud, I could see that. And just maybe, his pride would prevent him from seeing me again. I rubbed dry eyes. No tears. Not here.

  Heavy footsteps sounded on the landing, followed by a solid thump on my door. I couldn’t summon the energy to get up. I sighed and then called out. “What is it?”

  “Downstairs in two minutes, Katherine. We need to talk.” My father.

  I walked into the library and produced a reasonably convincin
g yawn while checking out who already sat there. My father stood by the fireplace, arm across the mantel and his fingers tapping against the edge. Marina claimed an armchair while Olga, the Polish housekeeper stood by the door. Marina looked blank as usual. Olga’s hands twisted, her lined face miserable. I felt the first glimmer of anxiety.

  Father stared at me, his eyes cold. “Tell me again about the courier that was here this afternoon.”

  “What do you want to know?”

  “Why you were kissing him in the kitchen?” Father strode toward me and stopped a foot away, hands clenched at his sides.

  Holy crap. A cold ball of panic slammed inside my stomach.

  Olga refused to meet my eyes. “Kissing?” I managed, before my voice deserted me.

  Father came a step closer, tightly bound anger pouring off him in waves. His words flayed into my skin. “Am I expected to believe this is a last fling before you settle down?”

  A last fling? We hadn’t even managed a first one yet. I felt like a raw teenager again. I shook my head and tried to speak calmly. “It was nothing. Just a—”

  My skin crawled at the look of icy satisfaction that swept over his face. “He means nothing to you?”

  “That’s right.” Under no circumstances could I even hint at what Dante had started to mean to me.

  “You won’t be upset then, when I file charges.”

  “Huh?”

  His eyes reminded me of a cruel winter sea. “Your friend is a thief. I’m just about to call the Police.”

  I couldn’t speak. My eyes darted from Olga to Marina and back to Father as I swallowed and tried to come up with something—anything. Dante a thief? No. I managed a whisper. “What is he supposed to have stolen?”

  “Your grandfather’s medals. Olga left them in the kitchen while she cleaned the contents of the valuables dresser.” He advanced until his nose almost touched mine. His voice a low growl. “Not only do they hold immense sentimental value, they are also worth a hell of a lot of money.”