East Bound

by Nana Malone

"What floor?" I asked. As if we were strangers. As if his cock hadn't been inside me, hitting that spot that made my eyes roll into the back of my head over and over and over again until I had naught else to do but arch my back, grip the pillows behind me, and hold on for the ride as he punishingly drew orgasm after orgasm after orgasm out of me.

  Was I supposed to pretend that I didn’t know about his habit of dipping his head, licking my nipples, and chuckling to himself as if the art of making me scream was a joke? It might have been a joke to him, but it had been all seriousness to me, because I’d believed him. Believed that he wanted me.

  So no, I did not want to be trapped in a lift with him. I reached for the doors, but they closed too quickly, and the lift started moving. My question all but forgotten, he reached around me and pressed the button for the top floor.

  He would be on this sixty-seven-floor journey with me. Bloody fantastic.

  I just had to do this, didn't I? I’d wanted to avoid the crowds in the other lifts. If I'd just taken one of those, I'd be free, safe. Wouldn't be trapped with my enemy.

  He's not your enemy. You care about him.

  Because I was dumb enough to care about him, he felt like my enemy in that moment.

  "I hope to God you're not too fucking late."

  For a long moment, he didn't answer. And then he pulled something out of his pocket and tapped several buttons just as the lights dimmed in the lift. Then it stopped. I quickly grabbed the handrail behind us. "What the fuck?"

  He turned to face me, taking a step into my space. "Why did you do it?"

  I wanted to take a step back, but I wasn't going to give him the goddamn satisfaction, and I was already against the wall. "I didn't do anything. If that was you who stopped the lift, start it again. I don't do well with small spaces."

  "I'll start it up again when you tell me why you fucking did it."

  I just lifted my chin and glowered at him. "I don't know what you're talking about. I think we both have things to do."

  "Why do you have to be like this? Why did you tell her?"

  This time my brow did furrow. "I genuinely don't know what you're talking about. Honestly. So we can keep playing this cryptic game, or you can start the lift."

  "We move when you answer my questions, Nyla. Why did you call Livy?"

  My gaze searched his. "Are you serious right now? You could be in real fucking trouble. I called her to help. Hell, I guess I was too late."

  It was his turn to frown. "What are you talking about?"

  "Are you arriving now to take care of that ledger?"

  The muscle in his jaw ticked. "I am."

  "Then you're too late. Amelia's going to meet me here in less than an hour. I'm supposed to keep this guy distracted while she gets a warrant. Interpol's coming after him. If they get their hands on that ledger, you're so—"

  He shook his head. "No, we got it yesterday. We've had the pages that were added re-altered. They point at those we know were involved in the human trafficking."

  Relief flooded my veins, and I gripped the metal bar behind me to steady myself. "Jesus. You really got it?"

  "I’d advise you not to ask how."

  "No, I'm not going to do that. Because God knows what you'd tell me."

  "I won't tell you anything. You can't be trusted."

  Me? I couldn’t be trusted? "And you know what, neither can you. You're a grade-A arsehole. All I have ever done is try to protect you. And this is how you repay me? Fuck you, East. Your dick's not that nice. Not nice enough to put up with this shit."

  There would be times in the future that I'd look back on that moment and wonder why I'd used that particular phrasing. Because with us locked in this tiny lift, him so close, I did not need to be thinking about his dick and the silky-smooth perfection of it. The heavy length, how it hit all of those dark secret places inside me. I didn't need to think about that. Nope, not at all.

  Except, I did know all those things. And he was standing so close I could smell him. I could practically smell the arousal, the need, the desperation. "Back off, East."

  "No, I don't think I will. You're a naughty little girl."

  "I'm not into playing your little games. So back the fuck off. If you got the ledger, I don't know how you’re going to replace it. But whatever you have planned, I can't help you and I won't be involved."

  But he made no move to make the lift start again. Instead, he stood so close, too close. Was he sniffing me?

  He leaned closer angled his head just a little, leaning in so that his nose tickled the hairs along my neck. "You smell like honeysuckle, and I want to bury my face in your neck and to make you work those thighs as you straddle me. I dream of pounding into you until both of us are screaming. That's what I fucking want from you."

  I stubbornly shook my head. "You can't have it. You tried to break me."

  "If I wanted to break you, you'd be done already."

  "Fuck off."

  "I know you'd like to help me with that."

  I shoved at his chest. "I hate you."

  "Oh, the feeling's mutual, sweetheart. But ever since I watched you touch yourself and sink those delicate pretty fingers into your sweet wet pussy, all I've been thinking about is your taste and how I miss it."

  "You're doing this because you miss my taste?"

  He blinked as if he couldn't believe his own words. "Yes. I am." The furrow on his brow only grew deeper.

  "Well, I'm not doing this. You broke me. You did it deliberately and did it coldly. So you don't get to shag me. Never again. I'm not letting you touch me."

  He leaned in closer then, still sniffing, and a shiver ran through my body. And I knew I was weak. If he touched me, I was done for. Completely done.

  "Are you sure about that? Because I think you miss me just as much as I miss you."

  East

  Sniffing her was a mistake. An unmitigated, absolute catastrophe. Because now she was looking at me with her big hazel eyes, blinking, daring me, and there was nothing I could do except bloody give in.

  I didn't wait for her permission; I didn't ask if she wanted this. I just crushed my lips to hers and moaned as her flavor hit my tongue.

  I knew I was angry, too angry to do this gently. And so I waited. Waited for her to consent to being punished.

  Oh yeah, sure, if that's what you think you're doing.

  It was exactly what I was doing. I was punishing her and myself. Her for breaking me, me for letting her.

  When her lips parted and her body molded against mine, I growled, dragging her against me, my hands over her ass, cupping her hard.

  I didn't know how to find any gentleness within me. I didn't know how to find anything soft or easy. She had betrayed me. She had broken me. I had let her in, and she was a Trojan horse.

  And for that she needed to pay.

  Our kiss was all tongue and teeth and grunts and groans as her hands tugged at my shirt, my suit jacket, the tie, up to my hair, yanking. Every tug sent an electrical charge through my body, and I shook from the violence of it.

  She wore this sexy cashmere gray sweater dress with tights. Damn thing came to her knees. And she was wearing those insane fuck-me boots that matched her dress color. They looked like some kind of soft gray suede.

  I backed her up against the rail and the wall, and she clamped onto me. Then I dragged my lips from hers and chased them along her jaw. I muttered, "Now's the time to stop me, princess. If you don't say the word, I'm shagging you in this lift."

  I held my breath, waiting for her to say no. When I pulled back to meet her gaze, I saw anger, fire, electric heat. She lifted her chin and glowered at me, and I gave her a cheeky grin. "Turn around," I growled, my blood thick with need. My brain overruled by my dick, closely followed by my heart.

  "Fuck you."

  My grin flashed again. "Oh, you're about to."

  I spun her around before dragging both her hands over her head and clasping them in one of mine. Then I dragged up the skirt of her dress. "H
ands here. Don't move them."

  Her tight arse wiggled against my cock. "If you think I'm—"

  With my free hand, I turned her head roughly and planted my lips over hers again before she could say anything else. I pulled my lips back. I muttered, "Shut up. You're ruining this. Isn't that what you said to me?"

  "Fuck you."

  "I see, you're repeating yourself."

  The next several seconds were a blur of hands and teeth and the taste of her on my tongue, and I couldn't think.

  Me, the thinker, the one concerned with safety and protocol, and yet I couldn't rub two brain cells together to stop this madness. She was doing this to me. This was her fault.

  Oh yeah, it's her fault you don't have any bloody control.

  It was her goddamn fault. Nonetheless, she held her hands on the wall like I’d told her to. Like a good girl.

  Except she wasn't a good girl.

  It was that thought, that memory, that betrayal that hovered just below my conscious thinking, that had me fisting the skirt of her dress, and I glanced down and nearly choked. Her tights were stockings, held in place by a gossamer yet hardworking garter belt.

  "You're wearing this on purpose aren't you? To taunt me."

  "I—I didn't even know I was going to see you. How could I—"

  I nipped her ear with my teeth and treated her clit to a quick tap through the silk of her knickers.

  She gasped and jerked her head to the side, presumably to tell me what for, but my lips were waiting for her. My tongue danced with hers even as my hand went to my buckle. I couldn't hear her voice, because if I heard it, I would believe. I would hear her lies and think they were real. And I couldn't. I just couldn't. I slid my thigh between both of hers, and kicked her stance wider. Her sharp inhale made me growl. "Wider, love."

  "I'm not your love. Get this over with."

  I chuckled softly as I dropped my trousers and boxers. "Ah, so we're pretending you don't like this?"

  I was hard. Like a steel rod.

  Could you die from a hard cock? Actual death from something being too good? At that point, I was willing to wager it could happen.

  I didn't even take time to drag down her knickers. Instead I just slid my finger under that red thong that teased me, and I shoved it aside.

  Without preamble, I lined myself up against her slick center, and I groaned. Her pussy was dripping. I bent my legs to get a better angle. "Why are you so wet?"

  "Because I was thinking about my new boyfriend, not you."

  With a muttered, “I hate you too, love,” I sank home hard in one fluid thrust.

  Electricity danced over my skin, and my vision went bleary. Holy Fuuuuck. I was lost.

  Retreat. Slide. Retreat. Slide. She felt better than anything I could ever remember. Just the idea of her with someone else set my teeth on edge.

  "You’re a liar."

  Her voice was breathy when she whispered, “And you’re the devil.”

  Our movements were a torrent of thrusts and slapping flesh and whimpers and moans. With each thrust, her slick wetness clung to me like a silken sheath.

  All it took was one quivering flutter from her pussy and just like that, my fingers intertwined with hers, my teeth were on her shoulder, and I broke my own oath to myself.

  The oath I’d made to never feel anything for her again. That I was never going to touch her again. It was then that I realized my word meant nothing, because I was absolutely going to touch her again. I was absolutely going to break this oath again and again and again until I was nothing.

  It didn't take long before she started to quiver around me, and I lost whatever hold I had on my sanity. In my own ears all I heard was the rush of my blood, her pants, the low murmurs of my name, and my grunting. And when she started to break apart, her little breathy moans and cries, the tightening of her hands on mine, I sank home deep one more time and was lost forever.

  Maybe it was only a minute, but it felt like eons that I stayed inside her. Like a tenant refusing to leave upon receiving an eviction notice.

  But then she pushed away from the wall and I had no choice but to release her.

  The next several minutes were a blur of confusion, readjustments, and tacit denial of what we'd just done. Once her dress was down and my clothes were righted, I disengaged the stop button.

  It’s too late. This happened. You won’t be able to forget it.

  I prayed I was wrong about that.

  Chapter 9

  Nyla

  East wasn't the only one who could watch. I had just as many skills as he did in the surveillance arena. As I trained my binoculars on his penthouse from the building across the way, I took a sip of my coffee that helped to warm me from the chill.

  What you two have going on right now is not love.

  No, it certainly wasn't. It was mutual disdain. Was Van Linsted right? Despite what my gut told me, could it be that East had lied to me?

  You certainly believed him when he told you he cared about you.

  Granted, had he ever actually said those words, or had I just imagined them? Like in my own deranged mind, we were a thing. It wasn't his fault if I had chosen to believe what I wanted.

  And there he was, marching around that penthouse like he owned the goddamn world.

  This isn't healthy. First, you shag him in the lift, and now you're watching him?

  I considered putting on a disguise and slipping inside the building, but getting up to the penthouse would have been tricky. This way, I wouldn’t be in danger of running into him. Not that I cared.

  Oh, you care.

  And I did care. Who was I kidding? Now this idiot and his friends were in trouble. Bram Van Linsted had pointed the finger at them, and if he could provide any sort of evidence whatsoever, the London Lords were going to be up a creek.

  It's not your job to protect them. They're grown men.

  My gut just told me they were on the right side of this.

  Oh, our infamous gut. Hasn't it gotten us into enough trouble?

  My gut had, in fact, gotten me into more trouble than I wanted to think about. But sometimes you just had to follow a hunch. And as excited as Amelia was that we might have something on them, I didn't think she was thinking clearly.

  Oh, and you are?

  Okay, fair point. I picked up the phone and was about to dial East, even though I knew he wouldn't answer. Sure enough, he didn't. But I could see him reaching down to pick up the phone and look at it.

  He could see I was calling. Jackass. What the hell was wrong with him?

  Says the woman who's standing on a rooftop, watching her ex.

  At least I wasn't behaving like Denning. I hadn't broken into his place yet.

  The operative keyword was 'yet.' And to be fair, he liked to watch. That was on him.

  From what he’d said in the lift, he'd really been into watching me the other night. And he'd started this little game.

  Oh yeah, real mature.

  I didn't bother leaving a voicemail. I'd already left so many. Asking for answers. Never begging though. Because God, that was just pathetic. I had told him to contact me because I was trying to protect him. But he didn't need my protection after all. He was a grown-arse man. Well, more like a grown-arse idiot.

  As soon as I hung up, my phone rang, and I damn-near dropped my binoculars in my haste to answer. "Hello?"

  "Agent Kincade, dare I ask what you're doing?"

  Could he see me? Did Theroux know I was there watching East?

  I certainly hoped not. After all, he'd likely be so disappointed that I was the one he picked to bring him in after all these years that he'd change his mind. "None of your business. What do you want?"

  He chuckled then. "You remind me of someone. Always direct and to the point. Never any waste of words."

  "What would be the point of wasting words? I’ll ask again. What do you want, Theroux?"

  "Testy, testy. You didn't have a good day?"

  "If you're calling to f
ind out if I'm back in Interpol, the answer is no. But I’m working on it. Can we get this show on the road? The sooner I help you, the sooner you help me. But again, I want some kind of guarantee."

  "Ah, we're back to not trusting."

  "If you were me, would you trust you?"

  He chuckled then. "I learned a long time ago never to trust anyone. You probably need to learn that lesson."

  "Noted. Thanks, Dad. Now tell me, what do you want already? This is the third time I’ve asked you that, and I won’t ask again."

  "Ah, fair enough. Agent Kincade, I am glad to hear that you are good at following orders, and I trust it won’t be too difficult to get back into Interpol? Not letting your daddy issues get in the way?"

  "My father and I are none of your business. Get on with it already, Theroux."

  "The next step is going to bring you closer to me coming in, but you'll need to work with a partner."

  "No. No partners. I'm not working with one of your low-life criminal buddies and giving them access to Interpol. Let me just be very clear. I don't need to do this, and I'm certainly not going to aid and abet any criminals."

  He sighed. "Agent Kincade, you wound me. You would think you would know by now that when it comes to criminals, they come in all shapes and sizes. Those you call law-abiding citizens could be the worst of them all."

  "Isn't that the truth."

  "Besides, you already know your partner."

  My breath caught in my throat. Amelia? Was she working for Theroux?

  That sent my brain into a tailspin. But then he said the two words I most certainly didn't expect. "You will be working with East Hale."

  I cursed under my breath. "What?"

  "Yes. I understand you and Mr. Hale are already well acquainted."

  "What the fuck?"

  He sighed. "Young lady, I understand it might be a difficult partnership, but it's necessary. It has come to my attention that the task I have for you will be more difficult than I originally thought, but Mr. Hale has some avenues available that you might not be able to explore without him."

  "You want me to work with him?"

  "Why is this so difficult?"