The lights from the buildings downtown glowed red and yellow beyond the highway, finally falling away in favor of the flat urban sprawl outside the city. He tried to keep his mind on Locke and their meeting, on what would come next, but he couldn’t concentrate on anything but the woman next to him, her thigh inches from his in the Saab.
He’d been thinking about her all day, a constant presence in the back of his mind as he’d discussed his proposition with Locke Montgomery. As he’d begun putting into place the pieces for a new life — one that was dangerous, reckless, some would even say foolish.
And yet nothing he’d discussed with Locke compared to his memories of Nora on the beach the night before, her cheek soft against his palms, her mouth warm and welcoming. He imagined the rest of her body, naked and pliable as he sunk into her like a warm lagoon.
His cock stirred in his jeans and he shifted in the driver’s seat, clenching his hands around the steering wheel. He turned to look at her, taking in the beauty of her face lit by the street lamps around them. It only made him want her more.
They pulled off the freeway and headed west. Everything was flat, the road flanked by strip malls, fast food joints, and diners as they made their way into the South Bay and the string of beaches west of Los Angeles. By the time they crested the hill on 190th Street, the beach lit up below, his need for her had grown into a bone-deep ache.
He turned right at the water and kept driving past her street.
“Where are we going?” she asked.
“My place,” he said. “That okay?”
She nodded, unable to hide the surprise that shaded her features before she turned her face to the window. He didn’t blame her. They’d only been to his apartment a handful of times. It had been by design, an attempt to keep her at a distance.
And it hadn’t done a damn bit of good.
He pulled into the carport at the back of his building and cut the engine, then got out of the car and hurried to open her door. He caught a scent of her as she stepped past him — warm vanilla and an undercurrent of bourbon — and his hard-on lengthened in his jeans.
He took her hand, led her up the stairs of his building. He was glad there was no elevator to confine them. He didn’t know if he would have been able to keep his hands off her inside a small space. It was already all he could do not to spin her against the wall of the building, press his body against hers, feel her curves molding to his hardness as he slipped a hand inside her jeans, let his fingers slide into her wetness. He drew the brisk ocean air into his lungs, trying to clear his head of the desire that was closing in on him like a drug.
They reached the top floor and he removed his keys, unlocked the door, pushed it open. He waited as she walked through, hesitating on the threshold like she knew nothing would ever be the same once she walked through it.
He shut the door, watched her walk into the open living room. She made her way to the big window that offered up a prime water view during the day. The lights from the walk street outside lit up her face: the high cheekbones, full mouth, heart-shaped face.
She turned to look at him. “What are you doing?”
“Watching you.”
She shrugged a little. “Why?”
There was so much honesty in the question. Like she really didn’t know why he would want to look at her.
Like she really didn’t know how beautiful she was.
He pushed off the door, walked slowly toward her, stopping when only an inch separated their bodies. He reached down, lay his palm against her cheek, rubbed his thumb against her skin.
“Because for years I’ve had to sneak glimpses of you. And now I want to really see you.”
She was breathing heavy as he looked down at her, a flush spreading from her cheeks to the barely-visible cleavage under her black T-shirt. “I want to see you too.”
“You’re going to see me, Nora.” He lowered his head, stopping when his lips were almost touching hers. “And you’re going to feel me, too.”
He pressed his mouth to hers, slipped his tongue inside as he angled his head, already needing to take the kiss deep. Needing to taste every inch of her mouth, to prove to himself that she was real.
That this was real.
Her hands slid around his waist, traveled up his back as she pressed herself against him. The feel of her stomach against his rigid cock sent a shockwave of desire through him. It blocked out everything else, and for a long moment he was lost to the sensation of her mouth, the warmth of her body, separated from his only by the thin layer of clothes. He already knew what it would feel like to sink into her, to feel her smoothness under him as he took her.
Her hands came back around to his chest, traveling over his pecs, down to his stomach as she kissed him feverishly, matching the urgency of his tongue stroke for stroke. He growled when she flattened her hand against the bulge in his pants, her small palm cupping the erection that had been torturing him for the last two hours.
Hell, for the last five years.
He took hold of her wrist, not trusting himself under her touch. “I’ve waited years for this moment, Nora. And if you touch me I won’t be able to wait a second longer.”
She looked up into his eyes. “I don’t care.”
“I care.” He swept her into his arms, surprised by how light she was. She was so formidable at work. A warrior. But he’d always suspected she was all softness and warmth underneath it all.
Now he was ready to find out.
He made his way through the dark apartment, down the hall, and into the bedroom. He set her on the bed, then turned to open the windows, letting in a gust of salty air on the night breeze. He turned to look at her, sitting on the edge of the bed.
Waiting for him.
“Take off your clothes, Nora.”
She lifted her chin, leaned back on the bed, propping herself up on her forearms. “Take them off yourself.”
He stalked slowly toward her, wishing her defiance wasn’t such a fucking turn-on. It would only make taking his time more difficult. If she’d been anyone else, he would have laid down the law; the bedroom was his domain.
He was in control here. He made the rules.
But she wasn’t anyone else. She was the woman of his dreams. He would still be in control when push came to shove, but he would take it slow.
He stopped at the bed, looked down at her. “We’re playing by my rules now, Nora. Now please take off your clothes.”
A small smile crept onto her face as she stared him down through the moonlight making its way into the room. He thought she might argue, rebel. Instead she sat up, pulled off her T-shirt. His eyes were still glued to the magnificent swell of her breasts, barely hidden by a lacy pink bra, when she unbuttoned her jeans, lowered the zipper, lifted her hips off the bed as she shimmied them down her hips.
He almost couldn’t breathe as she tossed them aside, her porcelain skin glowing in the darkness. She was naked except for the bra and a matching scrap of fabric that covered the mound between her legs, just enough hidden to push his imagination into overdrive.
When she spoke, her voice was husky. “That’s as far as I go without you. You’re going to have to meet me halfway, Kane.”
He stripped off his shirt, then unbuttoned his pants, dropped them to the floor. His cock sprang free, both a relief and further torture with the refuge of Nora’s body so close.
He stood at the edge of the bed, ran his palms up her delicate feet to her smooth calves. Then he hooked his hands behind her knees and pulled her to the edge of the bed.
He knelt between her legs, inhaling the scent of her. “I think you’ll find I’m willing to meet you more than halfway.”
14
She was still reeling from the revelation that was his body — the perfectly sculpted chest, the thick, muscled thighs, the cock that looked like it would stretch her to the limit — when he lowered his mouth to her inner thigh.
Her head dropped back of its own volition as he kissed his way u
p the tender skin, his big hands stroking the outside of her thighs as his tongue came out to flick against her skin, his teeth biting down just hard enough to cause a fresh wave of wetness to rush to her core.
He pulled aside her panties, exposing her center to the cooler air in the room.
“I knew you would be this beautiful, Nora.” She felt the whisper of his breath against the secret cleft at the top of her thighs. “I knew it.”
He ran two fingers lightly over her clit, then let them slide between her folds until she moaned with the pleasure of it, the torture of having his mouth and fingers so close to filling her.
“Look at me while I taste you,” he commanded.
She lifted her head, looked down at him between her thighs.
“I’m going to make you come with my mouth. Then I’m going to fuck you until you know you’re mine.”
It wasn’t a question. It wasn’t a request. She barely had time to register this version of Braden before his hands hooked around her hips, his big shoulders nudging open her thighs as the heat of his mouth closed on her pussy.
She gasped as he worked his tongue all the way up her slick folds to her clit. His fingers slid inside her as he teased the little bud with the pad of his tongue. The room seemed to tilt as sensation took over, cutting her loose from the tether that usually anchored her to reality.
She moved in time to the stroke of his tongue, rocking her hips against his mouth as he plunged his fingers in and out of her, alternately sucking and lapping at the center of her desire.
She felt his head in her hands and realized she’d given up any semblance of politeness, making it clear he was right where she wanted him as he worked her pussy with his mouth, an orgasm already rumbling from the deepest parts of her body, threatening to crack her open like a lightning bolt.
“Braden…”
He moved his fingers faster, closed his mouth around her clit until it was buried in the heat of his mouth, her hips grinding against it. She was on the brink, standing at the edge of the abyss when he pressed on the secret spot hidden deep inside her. Then there was no holding back, and she tumbled over the edge into the darkness, nothing but her body shuddering against his mouth, clenching down on his fingers, the explosion going on and on until she thought she would die from the pleasure of it.
When she opened her eyes it was to find him kneeling on the edge of the bed between her knees. His eyes were glassy, his jaw tight as he bent his head to kiss her. He enveloped her mouth in his, the taste of her sex salty and sweet on his tongue, his cock straining between her soaking folds.
She wrapped her legs around his hips, trying to pull him into her. He resisted, dropping his mouth to her neck, kissing his way to the sensitive spot at the base of her throat.
“Please,” she said. “I need you.”
“Not as badly as I need you, beautiful.”
The words were said against her skin as he continued down her chest, pulling back the fabric of her bra. He took her erect nipple into his mouth and she cried out, arching her back off the bed as the pleasure shot between her legs. She felt the emptiness at her core, was desperate for his cock to fill her.
To feel his body moving against hers.
He took one nipple between his fingers while he sucked on the other one, moving his hips against hers, letting his cock slip and slide through her wetness, close enough to feel like torture, the sensations an assault on every nerve in her body.
She took his head in her hands, forced him to look at her. “You can make the rules next time, I promise. But right now I’m going to die if you don’t fuck me, Braden.”
He lifted his head and kissed her again, then reached into his nightstand for a condom.
She sat up, plucked it from his hand, took him in her mouth. He groaned as she stroked his shaft, sucking on the tip before taking him all the way into her mouth.
He pulled her off him. “You asked me to fuck you, remember?”
Nothing could make her forget the throbbing vacuum at the center of her body, waiting to be filled by him. “I remember.”
She’d barely gotten the condom on his shaft when he shoved her backwards onto the bed, hooking her legs over his shoulders as he positioned his tip at her entrance. He hesitated, and she knew what he was thinking.
Nothing would ever be the same after this.
And somehow she knew neither of them would come out of it unscathed.
She cried out, her nails digging into his ass as he pushed into her with a vicious thrust. He held still for a minute, kissing her deeply, letting her body loosen for him as her mouth opened under his. He was still kissing her when he started moving inside her.
It was an impossible kind of perfection: his cock filling every inch of her, his body hard and smooth as it glided against hers, the rhythm he played like a finely-tuned instrument against her hips as he rocked into her.
Moving with him was second nature, her body expanding as he drove into her, clenching down on him as he pulled out. The friction of his cock against her clit caused another orgasm to blossom inside her like a flower. She could feel it bloom as he sank into her. Could feel the pressure, hot and insistent, building at her core.
“Look at me while I fuck you, Nora.”
His command was guttural, the raw need in his voice unfamiliar. She opened her eyes, found him staring at her with such intensity that she looked away. She didn’t want him to see her so clearly. Didn’t want him to see all the broken parts of herself she’d been hiding under a veneer of confidence.
He lowered his head to her cheek, nudged her face forward, kissed her as he thrust into her again. “There’s no hiding from this, love. No hiding from me. I want all of you.”
He broke off their kiss and picked up his pace, his gaze fevered as he plundered her body, driving into her again and again until the fire inside her was raging, on the verge of exploding until she was nothing but heat and flame.
“You’re going to come for me,” he said. “I can feel it.”
He slipped a hand between their bodies, circled her clit gently with his finger while he pushed into her. It cut loose the last vestige of her control.
Then she was the fire.
It licked at her insides until they were one, her body shuddering again and again as he groaned, coming as he pumped into her at a frenzied pace, like he couldn’t take her hard enough.
Couldn’t go deep enough. Couldn’t take her far enough.
She rocked against his hips, wanting to milk him of every drop, wanting to make her own orgasm last. Wanting to stay here in the place where there was no fear. No secrets. Just this man who had been made for her. This man she’d been waiting for without even realizing it.
He drove into her one last time, dropping his head to her collarbone, leaving a trail of kisses up her neck and along her jawline until he reached her mouth. The pressure of his lips was slow and tender, like he, too, didn’t want it to end. Like he wanted to put off the moment when he would pull out of her. When they wouldn’t be one anymore.
She kissed him back, cupping his head in her hands, his hair damp where it met his neck. When he pulled away, he rolled onto his back, pulled her into his arms, kissed the top of her head as he smoothed her hair.
“I knew it. I knew you were meant for me.”
15
He was still thinking about her when he pulled onto the long road leading to Locke’s. Still seeing the way she looked at him when he’d dropped her around the corner from the Bureau, lingering to kiss her long enough to make her late.
His now almost perpetual hard-on tightened against his jeans as he keyed in the code Locke had given him for the front gate. The timing was shit. There was no doubt about that. He couldn’t afford the distraction. Not when he was going rogue with Locke’s outfit.
Not when he was going to become everything Nora despised.
But he’d known that when he’d started things with her. Had known he would go to Locke. That working with the vigilante grou
p was the only way he would be able to live with himself — even if it put him on the wrong side of the law.
The wrong side of Nora.
He would have to explain eventually. It was either that or end it, and that wasn’t an option. But it wasn’t too late; he hadn’t done anything illegal. Hadn’t violated any of the Bureau’s codes.
Yet.
He had some time before he had to figure out how to tell her, but not long. He already hated that they weren’t starting on solid ground. She deserved better.
He pulled in front of the big house and stepped into the gray morning. It was always like this in California in June and even July, the clouds hanging over the beach in the morning, the temperature just a little too cold for a swim.
He wasn’t surprised to find that it hadn’t stopped Locke. The other man answered the door still in his wetsuit, unzipped to the waist, his hair damp. He wore the same necklace he’d been wearing the last time Braden had been at the house, the same rope encircling his tanned forearm. Braden wondered if Locke ever took them off. They exchanged greetings, then headed to the terrace with two beers and the file Braden had brought with him.
They got settled, Locke sprawling out in his chair like some kind of lazy god. He didn’t seem at all concerned about the fact that Braden was there, the fact that Braden had worked with the Feds only two days before.
“You’re not worried?” Braden asked him.
Locke took a drink of his beer. “About what?”
“About me.”
Locke shrugged. “What would be the point? We already had this conversation. No use wasting time second-guessing my decision.”
Braden didn’t know whether to admire the other man’s Zen or fear it. In his experience, being philosophical sometimes meant being apathetic. But looking at Locke’s shrewd gaze, knowing his long track record, he had a feeling Locke’s philosophy was something else entirely.
Rogue Love (Kings of Corruption Book 1) Page 6
