She was sitting there, nodding every so often, and her absolute acceptance of what he was telling her pissed him off.
“Does that not turn you off at all?” he asked incredulously and swung away. “In a given day, I threaten, bully, kick ass—sometimes until an ambulance is necessary. At times not even a medic can help the guys I beat down. Do you get what I’m telling you, Red?” He couldn’t look at her. Fear should be shining from those emerald eyes of her. What if it wasn’t? “That’s why I shoved at you. I figured if I hurt you, you’d move on to someone better—”
He shut up when she appeared next to him, no fucking fear in her expression whatsoever.
“Why are you telling me this, Vincente?”
Holy fuck, could the warmth pouring through him that she seemed to be accepting him for exactly who and what he was be any more incredible? He didn’t think so.
“I, uh, want you to know exactly who I am.” Suddenly needing to be busy, he rolled his shoulders and let his duster fall, then threw it over the chair next to his dresser. Next, he took his SIG out of its holster and dropped it—after making sure the safety was still on—next to a Tag Heuer he hadn’t worn in a while. “If this goes as planned, you, uh, need to know me. You need to know what you’ll be getting.” He bent to unstrap his ankle holsters, removed them, and placed his other gun and blade beside the SIG.
She tossed her hair behind her shoulder. “Would you like to let me in on this plan of yours?”
He finally looked at her and practically heard the hiss of pressure leave his muscles when he took in the shy pleasure lighting her perfect features. Holy shit. She was going to accept him. He could see it in her expression.
He went to her and gently slid an arm around her waist to lift her off her feet and bury his face in the crook of her neck.
Her arms coming around his shoulders, her long fingers delving into his hair, substantiated her acquiescence, and Vincente closed his eyes and felt the ice that had been around his heart for so many years start to drip.
“I want to do more than kiss you, babe,” he warned her as he did just that to her fragrant skin. “I want to touch you everywhere. So fucking badly. How do you feel about that? Does it scare you? Excite you?”
She drew back and met his gaze. “Will we have sex?”
He almost whimpered. “If you want to.”
“And it will just be sex? Between two consenting adults? Nothing more?”
His goal to only ever tell her the truth was shelved. “Yes. Just sex. Nothing more. Work out whatever the hell this is between us.”
Something flashed across her face too quickly for him to identify before she nodded. “That’s good, because I, uh, am not scared by what you said, and I really want to have sex with you.” His body jerked when her mouth landed, open and warm, teeth and tongue drawing a gentle wet line from his ear down the cord in his neck, gently biting right at his pulse point. Sensation exploded down the side of his body, letting him know exactly what a mild stroke would feel like as part of his brain shut down, his knees going rubbery. She drew back and traced a soft fingertip over his lips, looking as if there was something else on her mind.
He was curious. “Tell me what you’re thinking, babe.”
Her eyes flipped to his, a gorgeous flush traveling up her neck. Sex. She was thinking about the sex. “I’m tired of thinking,” she murmured, putting her nose to his cheek to nuzzle him so sweetly. “Let’s just do this. Okay? At least this once.”
Before he could respond, she tilted her head and her parted lips covered his, her taste exploding in his mouth. At the feel of her stroking tongue, so gentle and tentative, Vincente felt his arms begin to tighten, holding her in place.
“At least this once, babe, I’m all yours. And you”—he slid his hands from her outer thighs to cup her ass and bring her in even closer—“are mine.”
At least this once.
Nika would take it. She was going to take this and use the shit out of it. Take this one time with Vincente and hold it dear.
She broke the kiss. “You’re sure about this? You’re not going to change your mind halfway through?” She didn’t wait for his answer before she slipped her robe down her arms and tossed it behind her to flutter to the floor at the foot of the bed.
His lips curved, lifting one side of his damned sexy goatee. “Not even if the house goes up in flames,” he promised. “I’m done waiting. Have wanted this for too long. That day on the couch at the apartment. And the night before, when you were stitching me up. Last night, when I gave you Charlie. That first day in Seattle even. Fuuuck. I tried to be good about it, but it didn’t matter. Every damn time, all the fucking time, I’ve wanted to strip you so I could touch you, lick you, have you all over—”
All that hard muscle surrounding her grew even harder as Vincente stiffened, seeming to come his senses. An adorable—who’d have ever thought she’d use that word with this man—flush hit his cheeks. “Oh, fuck, Red, I’m sorry. Shit. I’m so fucking ignora—”
Never more appreciative of a runaway tongue, she cut his unnecessary apology off by devouring his honest, no-holds-barred mouth. He felt what she felt. Exactly. And nothing had ever made her happier than knowing her attraction was returned.
“The bed, Vincente,” she gasped when he squeezed her ass cheeks. “Go to the bed. Please.”
Before she knew it, he was tumbling her down onto the thick comforter, covering her with his heavy body. After waiting for what seemed like forever, knowing this was finally happening had her body going molten. She didn’t care anymore that she was damaged goods, didn’t care that he’d hurt her, didn’t care that Kevin was after her. Her need was too desperate to allow her to care about anything but what was happening between them right then.
His fingers slipped under the hem of her tank to skim along the sensitive skin of her stomach, causing her breathing to speed up even more. Needing to feel more of him, she grasped the hem of his T-shirt and drew it up to pull over his head, hesitating because she needed him to lift up a little. As if reading her mind, he pulled back and did the rest. She nearly moaned at the sight of a black leather harness strapped across the bronzed skin of his chest and ribs. He’d removed the weapons earlier. Heat roared through her at the sight of the ropy muscles of his tight abdomen. She grabbed his wrists when he went for the clasp on the harness. “Leave it,” she whispered, her gaze unashamedly devouring him. “God, you’re so . . . sexy.”
His face darkened with pleasure, a shadowy picture of raw desire. His eyes were like black flames, his skin now tight over his sharp cheekbones, which cast shadows from the lamp next to the bed. He fingered the hem of her tee. “I need to see you, babe. But if you’re not comfortable with—”
He smiled when she raised her arms, and he wasted no time in drawing her shirt over her head and dropping it on the floor next to the bed. A low sound pumped from his throat as his head came down—no screwing around for this man—his mouth closing over her nipple. Her other breast was gently cupped by a deliciously rough palm, and it felt incredible. There was nothing but her and Vincente. No bad memories. Just this.
He rolled her nipple between his knuckles, his tongue and teeth tormenting the other, and Nika moaned and writhed as pleasure flooded her, back arching, offering him everything. Her fingers grasped at his shoulders, slipping off what felt like velvet-covered steel.
“Tell me if I’m too rough.”
She shook her head hard. “You’re not. God, that’s good. Not rough at all. Promise.”
She scraped her nails down his back, loving the low sound he made against her, and came around to tunnel her hands between their bodies. She felt warm metal and slipped the button free, sliding the zipper down, too.
“May I . . . ?” She wasn’t experienced enough to go as hard-core as she wanted to. “I’d like to touch you.”
His head came up, and he smiled croo
kedly. “Told you already I’m yours to do with as you please. I meant it.”
Strangely touched by that, Nika burrowed through the opening to grasp . . .
“Finally,” she panted, eagerly closing her fingers around that marble-like shaft. Or she tried to. Her eyes widened slightly as she stroked down. “Oooh,” she breathed, too far gone to care about the bald excitement evident in her tone.
He sucked in a ragged breath, and she stopped midstroke. Had she hurt him?
His head lifted from where he’d gone back to her breast. “What?” he panted. “Did I hurt you?”
“No,” she laughed breathlessly at the absurdity. “God, no. I was just . . . You’re very big.”
She cringed at her gauche remark, but then she didn’t care because Vincente had taken on an expression she hadn’t thought his face would allow. He looked endearingly self-conscious.
“Thanks.” The mumble came from under his breath, and she attempted to make him feel better. She didn’t want either of them feeling shy or holding back.
“I want it.” She tightened her fist on his length and felt a little bit powerful when his eyes flared and then rolled, his breath coming out in a warm burst.
“And you’ll get it. Just not yet. We’ve only started.”
His thumb brushed over her nipple, making her back arch. He dropped his head to nuzzle the sensitive stretch of skin between her breasts, the ends of his hair tickling her shoulders. His palm flattened on her, covering half her chest. But what caught her attention was the fierce hunger on his face, the blatant desire as he looked her over.
He had wanted this just as much as she had.
“What is it, babe?” he asked when he saw her staring.
She pushed at his shoulders, no doubt moving him only because he let her, and followed him onto his back. Feeling rather brave, she got to her knees and straddled him, crawling down backward from where she was so that the smooth leather of his harness brushed against her inner thigh.
He stopped her progress by clasping her just above the knee and led her back up a little. He groaned low in his throat. “Holy fuck, Red.”
A dam burst between her legs at the admiration in his voice; the moisture felt slippery and warm. His throat worked through a hard swallow as she looked down into his beautiful eyes, the dark, dark chocolate almost completely hidden by his dilated pupils. Nika smiled and had never been so glad she favored pretty underthings.
This was going to be worth every moment he’d made her wait.
“That’s what I like to see,” Vincente rasped, bringing Nika’s body up even higher. She was wet from his kisses. His touch. He could see the damp patch on her panties. With her straddling his chest, her legs spread wide, the sultry scent of her arousal nailed him like an uppercut. “I’m going to ruin your pretty panties,” he warned before doing just that. He tossed the tattered remains aside and couldn’t help himself. He had to taste her before his thundering heart gave out. Gripping her hips, he easily lifted her and pulled her over his face so that her knees were cradling his head.
His eyes almost rolled back as he drank in the sight of her, pink and glistening. “Not in my entire life have I seen anything so fucking gorgeous,” he whispered as he brushed the smooth skin of her inner thigh with his thumb.
Her soft gasp had him lowering her to his mouth.
“Oh, God, Vincente!”
Her shocked and pleasure-filled cry shot down his spine. The feel of her velvety smoothness, wet and slippery on and around his mouth and tongue, sent him into a tailspin. He lapped at her; then, unable to get at her like he wanted, he easily flipped her onto her back and forced himself to slowly settle between her legs. The position made it easier to control what he wanted to do to her. She fisted his hair as he licked her like a lollipop. Cried out as his tongue speared her, deep, over and over. Made his name sound like a prayer when he spread her open with his thumbs and worked that little bundle of nerves at the top of her slit. That’s what it took, and Nika’s body tightened like a bowstring and she went off. Her nails dug sharply into his scalp as a passionate cry left her, turning into a long endless wail of pleasure that he worked her through, lapping up her sweetness until the final spasms left her.
Savoring it all, Vincente kissed his way over to her hip and then up her flat stomach, laving her navel, his muscles trembling with the restraint he was using to hold back from claiming her.
“Now, please, Vincente. I want to feel you inside me.” Her voice was raw with a desperation that matched his. But he still ignored her.
And proceeded to lick, nibble, and suck every inch of silky skin he could reach. Worked her erogenous zones as much as he was able—neck, belly, thighs, even the backs of her knees and the creases of her elbows—and still stay sane. He avoided the obvious places this time—that mouthwatering core and those blindingly beautiful nipples—too worried about losing it and possibly hurting her with the strength of his need.
His eyes closed at the plea in her voice as she said his name again, snapping open when she sank her nails into his hips, guiding him as she spread her legs as wide as they’d go.
“Something you want, babe?” He held himself away from paradise by a bare inch.
“Yes, yes. You. Please. Here. I’ll do it.” And before he could do more than smile, she was maneuvering him onto his back again. Her strength registered like a warm breeze, but he allowed the movement, unable to curb her enthusiasm.
Not wanting to curb it.
He held her askew and, knowing he’d made her wait long enough, leaned to the side to yank his nightstand drawer open. He grabbed a condom, ripped the package open, rolled it on in record time, and then Nika was moving over him like a living flame, her glorious hair falling in disarray over her shoulders and down her back, a thick strand curling around the nipple of one perfect breast.
Her hips hovered over his as she circled her fingers around his cock, making the breath shoot out of his lungs. She rubbed just the head at her hot entrance and then took her hand away and slowly impaled herself, needing to work a little until she’d seated herself to the hilt. Their eyes held as her core clutched him in a tight—fuck, so tight—silky grip. Holy hell. He nailed his jaw shut in an effort to remain silent, so tightly his temples started to ache, and simply watched as Nika began to move, her body like water, hips rolling, but not rising up yet. There was nothing that could have made him look away right then. She looked so alive, her expression one of total bliss. She let her head fall back so that the ends of her hair tickled his thighs.
Mine. All mine.
She raised herself up and paused a second before sinking back down, grinding forward and back, and Vincente couldn’t hold back the groan that ripped from his throat. “So fucking good. Tight . . . wet . . . so beautiful . . . all mine.” Jesus Christ, he was no romantic. He wanted to apologize but couldn’t get the words out. But then he didn’t have to.
“Yes, sooo good,” she agreed. “So big . . . yours . . . all of me.”
Fuck. Yes. Vincente’s fingers gripped his lover’s thighs, and he stilled her, biting the inside of his cheek so that he wouldn’t come. He raised a hand to clasp the back of her neck and pulled her down to devour her sultry smile.
Claim her. Mark her. Own her. Fan Boy ground out instructions in his head.
He wanted to obey, to do all of those things so no other man would go near her. Not without inciting his wrath. He’d circle around her in public and protect her from everything that could harm her in any way. He’d make her happy. Build her up. Lavish gifts on her. And if there was something he couldn’t find that would please her, he’d build the fucker with his own two hands. And in the privacy of their bedroom, he would love her body. Take her over and over again. Pleasure her. Satisfy her. So thoroughly that she’d never want anyone else.
Ever.
Only him.
Him and her.
Vincente and Nika.
“Vincente? Are you here?” Her nails sinking into his pecs snapped his attention out of his possessive thoughts; the hint of anxiety in her voice clued him in that she’d noticed his distraction.
“I’m so fucking here, babe,” he promised, taking her mouth again. He let go of her nape and clasped her thighs, lifting her so that his hips could go to work. Frustratingly, she went to lift off him. He brought her back with a hand under her arm and across her back, shifting her to bring her nipple closer so he could tongue it as he stroked into her.
“Yes,” she gasped, her voice breaking. “Please. Yes, like that. I need to feel you. Everywhere.”
Yes, ma’am. He rolled them so she was underneath him, barely disturbing his rhythm, and she cried out when he went deeper. God, the sounds she made—so beautifully vocal—made him soar; her delicate panting and restless, squirming body brought his need for her satisfaction to the forefront of his mind.
The Salvation of Vengeance (Wanted Men #2) Page 30
