My attention swung over to Cris when he announced it was my question again, but my eyes snagged on Jasmine’s along the way. She looked back and forth between me and Lexi, eyes narrowing in speculation. Then, as if coming to some conclusion, she grinned at me, looking pretty satisfied with herself.
Whatever my future sis-in-law was thinking, she needed to stop.
Nothing was going to happen between me and Lexi outside of our fake marriage.
“If you were born in September, what would your birthstone be?” Cris asked me. “Emerald, diamond, or sapphire?”
Once again, I became trapped in Lexi’s radiant stare. “Sapphire.”
My new favorite color.
I could drown in those blue oceans of hers. Especially when they darkened on me like they were now, a reaction I’d seen from her only once before. When arousal had been unmistakably stirring inside her.
That morning in the kitchen.
When we’d both been half naked and couldn’t take our eyes off each other.
The second round was fill in the blank, or just questions with no multiple choice. The guys were still up by one point until it came to Jasmine’s question. “In football, how many points are awarded when a team scores a safety?” Roxy asked her.
All the guys groaned in unison because we knew she knew that one.
“Two,” Jaz answered correctly. “That one’s for you, Sam!”
Sam was her best friend who lived in Atlanta with her husband, Kade. They both worked at the Football News Network down there as studio analysts. They had actually been the ones who’d discovered that Raphael Esposito had been bribing NFL refs and fixing games. To prevent Sam from broadcasting the story, Raphael had gone after her.
Long story short, it was a damn good thing that Kade and Cris had been friends for years because Cris had come to their assistance when shit went down. Despite the fact that the clusterfuck had ended in Raphael’s arrest, the life-threatening events of that night had set a series of even more chaotic shit into motion.
Fast forward several months and here we were.
Lexi answered her question about poker correctly, and then it was me again. “Nico,” Cris said, “when a child birth is a C-section, what does the C stand for?”
Ah, shit.
The word was right on the tip of my tongue. I knew it. I sensed Lexi watching me anxiously, but I forced myself not to look at her. I couldn’t have her distracting me when we needed another point.
Gia started humming the Jeopardy theme song just as it came to me. “Caesarean.”
All the girls grunted at the same time.
“Correct!”
Third and final round: charades.
Most of us were a few drinks in, so it was bound to get interesting.
One person from each team was supposed to act out the action on the card and try to get the rest of their team to guess it. We scooted the table and chairs aside to give us more space. A few other games were going on around the bar, but for whatever reason, a small crowd had begun to form around ours.
Lexi and I were always the last ones to go on our team.
Gia acted out “changing a flat tire,” which the girls got right.
Rome mimed “having a tea party”—fucking hilarious.
Roxy got “playing hockey.” Too easy.
Luka drew “going to the spa.” We did not get that one right. I still didn’t know what the fuck he was doing.
Jasmine had “watching the Super Bowl,” which the girls couldn’t figure out.
Since we had one more player than the girls, it was Ace’s turn to opt out of this round, sending it to Cris, who acted out “playing with dolls.”
As Lexi drew her card, her expression morphed into one of adorable concentration. When her time began, she started running her finger over her stomach, like she was drawing something.
“Having surgery!”
“Getting liposuction!”
“Tickling?”
Shaking her head, Lexi started getting frantic when they still weren’t getting it and time was running out.
Then she suddenly lurched at me and shoved up my shirt.
What the fuck?
Oh, fuuuuck. She was touching me.
I understood what she was doing when she pointed to the tattoo along my side and started tracing the words with her finger.
“Getting a tattoo!” Roxy shouted, shooting a sly look toward Ace.
“Yes!”
All the girls cheered.
But Lexi’s hand didn’t move. It lingered on my skin, unconsciously sliding toward my abs, causing them to tense beneath her fingertips.
She was on her goddamn knees as she did this, for fuck’s sake.
There was no other outcome for me. I was so fucking hard I could barely stand upright. When her nails scraped my flesh just the slightest bit, I hissed through my teeth.
Her hand jerked back as if I’d burned her.
It took what miniscule self-control I had left not to snatch up her hand, place it right back where it had been on my stomach, and tell her to explore all she damn well wanted.
Her eyes grew wide with panic when she stumbled to her feet, disbelief overtaking her features. She looked angry with herself as she stomped back over to the girls’ side.
It was my turn to draw a card. Acting something out now, with a semi in my pants and Lexi’s touch still burning my skin, was a laughable endeavor, if not a cruel one.
And that was before I saw my fucking card.
I groaned and took a healthy drink of my whiskey, knowing I’d need it for this bullshit. With a withering sigh, I pulled the rubber band out of my hair, shook out the strands, and mimed holding a blow dryer in front of my face.
“Caitlyn Jenner!”
“Jason Mamoa wannabe!”
“It’s an action, you assholes,” I growled.
“Auditioning for a L’Oréal commercial?”
That one sent the women into hysterical laughter.
“Seriously?” I bit out. “Stop being dumbasses. You guys know the answer.”
Cris took a break from laughing and wheezed, “Blow-drying your hair.”
I tossed the card at his face. “Fuck all of you.”
Both sides broke into more laughter, while I cursed all of them under my breath.
My eyes found Lexi again as I shoved my hair back to re-tie it.
My hands paused.
Her lips were parted. Her chest was heaving. Her eyes were glazed.
Goddammit, no.
I wouldn’t be able to withstand this. Withstand what was flashing in bright neon letters all over her face.
My wife was ready to fuck.
And those ocean eyes said she wanted me.
He. Was. A. God.
Seriously. A Norse god. Or a character from Game of Thrones. Or a reincarnated Viking warrior. All that was missing was his blood-stained sword and heavy coat fashioned from animal furs.
Nico finished tying off his hair, his movements slow, his focus on me laser sharp and—
Burning with lust.
Desire pooled in my belly. When my thighs involuntarily clenched, I berated myself for wearing a dress instead of jeans or even shorts. Anything that would have provided more friction. How I was going to get through the rest of the evening without catching on fire from his heated stares, I didn’t know.
Before I knew it, it was back to me to draw a card. I groaned up at the ceiling as soon as I read it.
Are you kidding me right now?
I got…putting on a condom.
Apparently, the universe knew I couldn’t stop thinking about Nico’s dick.
The time started and I froze. The only thing I could think to do was hold two fingers up, miming a penis, and act like I was rolling something down it.
“What the— Breaking your finger?”
“Masturbating?”
Chuckles rippled through the surrounding crowd.
“I have absolutely no idea.”
&
nbsp; How the hell was I supposed to do this! Time was running out, and my mind was blank.
Although there was one obvious tactic.
I didn’t want to do it, considering what happened last time, but my competitiveness demanded action. Barging right on through my embarrassment, I rushed back over to Nico, who hadn’t taken his eyes off me.
I kept my focus on the girls as my hand lowered to the bulge in his trousers. A bulge that looked to be pressing up against his zipper a lot more insistently. My hand hovered over his shaft as I tried to mime the action of rolling on a rubber.
“Getting a hand job?”
Gia gagged.
I blushed super hard, especially when several people in the crowd whistled and clapped.
This time, I added the action of opening something with my teeth and then rolling it down his length. Even though I desperately wanted to wrap my fingers around his girth and massage it until I squeezed the pleasure out of him, I avoided making any physical contact.
“Condom!” Jasmine screamed. “Putting on a condom!”
“Yes!”
The whole crowd burst into applause. Even the guys laughed and clapped for us.
Nico wasn’t among them.
He looked like he was two seconds away from turning into a sex-crazed Mr. Hyde.
Or just ripping off my dress and plunging inside me in the middle of this bar.
It was Nico’s turn, but he barely glanced at the card he drew. He gave a half-arse attempt at acting it out, keeping his fervent gaze glued to me all the while.
His distraction secured our win.
Gia took my hand and raised my arm above my head. “Let’s hear it for Lexi! The Charades Queen!”
The entire bar erupted into cheers.
The victory came with a free round of drinks, free T-shirts, and our team’s picture posted on the bar’s Facebook and Instagram pages. I almost balked at that. Then I realized I had no need to be worried about posting in real time tonight. I wasn’t alone. Regardless of the fact that Nico and I had spent ninety percent of our time together sniping at each other, I knew he wouldn’t let anything happen to me.
I was heading to the bar to claim my free drink when my hand was clasped in a much larger one. Now, I towered over Jaz, Roxy, and Gia with or without heels. But I still had to crane my neck to look up at Nico—he was that close. So close that when he spoke to the rest of the group, his lips grazed mine.
“We’re taking the next round to go,” he announced without looking away from me. “We’ll see everyone on Sunday.”
We didn’t get very far through the bar before a guy, probably around my age, stepped in front of us. He only had eyes for me, and didn’t even spare Nico a glance. “Hey, aren’t you Alexia Kozlov? The model?”
I opened my mouth as Nico glared and bit out, “No.”
He swiped up my hand and shoved past the other man, dragging me toward the exit.
Words failed me as he pulled me behind him into the dark night, the noises of the bustling city whirring around us. With nothing but a tight grip on my hand, he led us into an underground parking garage. It must have been some kind of reserved parking because there were few cars taking up the spaces and no other people around as far as I could see. He eventually stopped at a sleek silver sports car with suicide doors.
“Which car is this?”
“The Pagani Huayra,” he answered in a clipped tone.
The what? Was that even English?
Yanking me forward, he pushed me against the passenger door. My breath got stuck in my throat as he pressed himself against me, roughly, brazenly. Gnashing his teeth, he slapped his palms on top of the car and grinded against my center.
I gasped. “Wh-what are you doing?”
His head lowered over my neck. “It’s more like what I’m not doing, legs. And what I’m not doing is keeping my dick away from you like I should be. I’m not ignoring the way you smell or the way you lick those red lips…” He dragged the tip of his tongue across my jaw. “Or the way you taste. I’m paying a fuck ton of attention to all of it when I shouldn’t be.”
I felt a persistent tugging inside me at his confession. He’d been thinking about me? Imagining things? Maybe even…fantasizing?
I released a dry laugh, feeling bold. “Why shouldn’t you? We are married, aren’t we?”
He grunted. “But we won’t be forever. And the higher we bring ourselves now, the harder we’ll crash in the aftermath.”
Did he mean sexually? Emotionally?
“Back to my original question, then.” My head fell back against the car when his tongue snaked along my collarbone. “What are you doing?”
His hands slid off the roof and trailed down my back, lowering until he was grasping me around the waist. “I’m sure not keeping my hands off,” he rasped, gaze locked on where his fingers nearly touched. “Am I, legs? Though neither were you in the bar.”
Was he expecting an apology or something? “I was just—”
“I liked it,” he interrupted. “A whole fucking lot.”
A primal growl was ripped from him just before his mouth took ownership of my neck. It was a blatant display of possession if ever I’d seen one. Just like in the club in Rovinj. It was as if his goal was to lay claim to every inch of my body with his mouth. To mark me.
Except for my own mouth, apparently. He hadn’t attempted to kiss me. In fact, he seemed determined to avoid the act altogether. Afraid of extending the intimacy, perhaps?
Oh, who cares about the consequences?
My core was throbbing too intensely to concern myself with anything outside of relieving the pain, satisfying the itch. Fulfilling the craving.
My fingers slid through his hair and pulled. “You want more?”
A guttural groan rumbled from deep within his chest. “I don’t want more. I need more.”
Did that mean this was merely his inability to resist his own body’s needs? That he didn’t actually want it? If he had it in his mind to play some sort of hot and cold game with me, that was definitely not going to work. He either wanted this or he didn’t. He was either in or he was out.
“What’s happening here, Nico? I need you to tell me before it goes any further.”
His grip on my waist tightened. “I don’t fucking know, Lexi. All I know is that it hurts. Whatever this is, it hurts. And I need it to stop.”
Sympathy wriggled its way through me. I knew he’d been hard ever since I’d lifted his shirt and brushed my fingers along his tattoo. In front of everyone. He had been aching for a release for some time. Decision made, I took him into my hands. First, cupping his balls, then molding my fingers around his shaft.
He blew out a heavy breath, head dropping forward. “Yeah, legs. That. Do more of that and make it stop.”
I rubbed him through his slacks, massaging as best I could. When I couldn’t get a good enough grip and got frustrated, my fingers flew to his belt buckle.
Lightning fast, his hands covered mine and placed them right back where they were on his stiff erection. “Christ, please don’t do that. If you pull out my cock, there’s no way I won’t fuck you against this car. I’ll have to free your tits. I’ll have to wrench up your dress so I can see how your pussy looks when it’s squeezing me. I’ll have to give it to you so motherfucking hard, Lexi.”
Uh…da, pozhaluysta? Yes, please?
I was so not seeing a problem with anything he was saying.
“Just…” He paused. “Clothes stay on.”
Fine. If he kept talking like that, I wouldn’t need my clothes off to get off anyway.
I went back to jacking him through his trousers, while his hand drifted beneath the hem of my dress and inside my tights. He kneaded the flesh of my arse roughly before his hand was on the move again. It came around to my front and crested over my mons, his fingers reverently stroking the delicate material of my panties.
“You wore this dress tonight just to be a damn enigma, didn’t you?” he hissed.
&
nbsp; “What do you mean?”
Hungry sounds emanated from his mouth as he kissed the swell of my breasts. “At first glance, it looks all sweet and innocent. The light fabric, the red roses, the modest neckline. On most women it would probably look almost demure. Something they could even wear to church. But on you? With your vixen red lips and your sinfully long legs, this dress becomes fucking obscene.”
He plunged a finger inside me as he growled the last word.
I moaned loudly. Lewdly.
Any filter I had was long gone.
“Mmm, then we have this pussy. Yet another enigma. Because your mouth might be all luscious, and your legs might have been made strictly for the temptation of man. But your cunt is virgin-tight, Lexi. Almost as if you’ve never been touched before. A woman who’s basically sex on two legs, yet feels like she’s never had a man? That’s a fucking enigma.”
I whimpered when he added a second finger and pumped them in and out of my channel. I tightened my hold around his cock, squeezing to the rhythm of his fingers thrusting inside me.
Then he scissored them.
My thighs spasmed around his hand, my body shaking with my orgasm as I plummeted straight over the edge. While I buried my face against his shirt to muffle my screams, he bit out curses as I came, encouraging me, praising me, demanding that I give him every last drop.
Rocking his hips faster against my hand, he chased his own climax. But he wasn’t finding the right angle. He needed more pressure. This wasn’t enough, and we both knew it.
My fingers once again fumbled with his belt.
He knocked them away. “No.”
“Why? You touched me.” My frustration rose at being told I couldn’t give him what he so obviously needed. “You have my cum on your fingers.”
“And it’s going to stay there for however long I want it to be. But with that needy, swollen clit of yours only inches away, my dick cannot be let loose.”
Cursing up a storm in Russian, I threw my arms around his neck and hiked up my legs to cinch around his waist. He lost his balance for a moment, the move clearly taking him by surprise. One arm shot out to steady us against the car, the other one wrapping around my back.
I smiled, satisfied that our new position placed my center right against his erection. “So be it. We’ll play by your rules tonight.”
Booze and Bullets (Brooklyn Brothers #3) Page 12