by Vanessa Dare
“This—” she waved a hand between us, “—there’s something here. I need to know if you think this is real, or if you’re just here for sex. Will you use my ache for you like a weapon? Kiss me to get the answers you want, seduce me and remain unaffected?”
I tried not to wince. It was like a kick to the gut to hear her words. To know her questions had been dead-on—before I went to the reception last week. My plan had been to seduce her into finding answers, then leave her. But she was wrong on one key point. I hadn’t remained unaffected. I felt the same things as she, a connection that scared the hell out of me, too. It changed everything. I couldn’t just seduce her. I didn’t want that. I wanted it all. Wanted to know that—if everything else around us was a lie—this was real.
I didn’t want seduction. That was too easy. I wanted connection. Wanted to learn what pleased her, what made her gasp, what made her melt beneath my touch. Yes, it was fucking scary, but for once, maybe it was worth it.
What happened once she found out the truth about me? What happened when I couldn’t handle knowing she killed people for a living? Then what? Move to New York and play house with her? Doubtful. We had too much baggage to make this last for the long haul. I needed to forget the guilt, forget everything about what made us all wrong for each other and live in the now. Could we have now?
I crooked my finger at her. “Come here,” I said, my voice a rough whisper.
She eyed me warily, but followed my instructions. Stood with her legs between my spread knees, looked down at me.
“You’re so beautiful. I wouldn’t do anything to hurt you. If I touch you in a way you don’t like, just say so. I’ll never hurt you.” I repeated myself, but they were important words. I had to know she understood.
She nodded. Once she was within reach, I tugged her down to me. A gasp of surprise escaped her lips as she fell forward, her hands instinctively going to my shoulders to block her fall, her knees landing awkwardly over mine. I very gently shifted her thighs so she straddled me, my thumbs moving in slow circles over her soft skin below the hem of her shorts.
“Oh,” she said, although it came out close to a moan. Her eyes flared with surprise and awe.
I kept my wayward hands on her soft thighs, her shorts and my jeans a barrier between us. “You ache for me, love?” I whispered, my voice rough with need, repeating her earlier words. Needing to see her hair, I gently worked the tie free, let the dark tresses fall like a curtain over her shoulders. So dark, soft and sleek. The scent of her shampoo, tropical and luscious filled the air between us.
She tilted her chin back, exposing the soft curve of her neck, so I continued the caress down to the collar of her simple cotton T-shirt. Nodding, her hair whispered across her back at the movement.
“I ache, too. And, Anna, I’m not unaffected.” At those words, I tugged on her hips, pulling her in so her very center pressed up against my cock. Her eyes flew open in stunned desire. “Feel that?”
She rocked her hips into me as she nodded again. I hissed out a breath at the same time she let a little cry of delight escape.
“That’s not unaffected.”
Anna
I leaned into Nick, my cheek next to his scruffy one, just breathing. When I shifted my hips, I felt him, hard beneath me, rubbing against a spot that had me gasping in surprise. The move was instinctual, as if my basest needs recognized the opportunity to be fulfilled.
“It’s too much. Too fast,” I gasped, my breath coming in little pants. I was straddling the lap of a killer and I didn’t care! The intensity of the pleasure coursing through me was dulling all logic and reason. I hadn’t had a man touch me in so long I forgot what it felt like. This wasn’t just touching, this was deeper. More.
“I know,” he murmured, his own breath fanning the hair at my nape. His palms were warm on my thighs, pinning me in place. Not that I had any intention of moving. “And we still have all our clothes on.”
“Is it always like this?” I wondered. I hadn’t even known it was possible. My nipples were once again pebble hard; it seemed they turned that way whenever I was in Nick’s presence. My panties were wet, my clit throbbed, oh God. I never even knew it worked in conjunction with a man. I squeezed my legs into his thighs, hoping to dull the need. It totally didn’t work. There was something completely wrong with me if I reacted this way to a probable felon. I knew nothing about the man except he was solid muscle, unbelievably handsome and a really good kisser.
He shook his head, his forehead lightly bumping my cheek, his hair soft against my skin while his nose nuzzled behind my ear. “No.”
“This is crazy. I shouldn’t be doing this because you’re…and I’m—this is wrong. God. I barely know you and I’m sitting in your lap and—”
Nick shifted so he could put a finger to my lips, silencing me. His touch was soft, warm. Gentle. Our eyes met, held. His dark gaze narrowed and he murmured, “Crazy feels pretty good.”
I smiled against his finger.
“This is probably the only completely honest thing between us. No matter how much I want to take you here and now, I won’t. We both need to know, to be completely sure, that this is real. Our first time I don’t want you questioning this. Us.”
Our first time. I wanted that with Nick so badly. “But—”
“But what?” he asked, his brow creasing. This close I could see dark flecks in his eyes.
“You work for Moretti. You’re a—”
“Bad guy?” he finished for me, quirking a brow. He didn’t look offended by my words. It didn’t seem like much bothered him, not much could ruffle his feathers.
“Killer?” I questioned, my face scrunched up, afraid of the repercussions of uttering that word.
Nick shook his head, dropping down so our eyes met. “No. Not a killer. Bad? Yeah.”
I could only nod. So he didn’t kill people for a living, or so he said. I was all but riding his lap. The only thing I knew for fact was that he was just as hot for me as I was for him.
“You’ve admitted you’ve done bad things, too,” he murmured, his thumbs continuing their soothing motion on my thighs.
I nodded again. He’d inferred earlier he knew what I’d done to David. I was the killer! If he knew this, why was he here with me? Why would he even want to be? I was completely messed up, wary of the world and everyone in it. There were innocent women who didn’t have anywhere near the amount of issues I had that would be a better—safer—choice for Nick.
Thinking that, I climbed off his lap, stood before him, vulnerable.
“We go into this with our eyes open,” he added, looking up at me. “For once, we have someone who knows the truth, right?”
Maybe he wanted me because I was just as bad, just as tainted by evil as he was. And he was no saint. I didn’t know much about his boss, Moretti, but I’d Googled him and the stories weren’t good. He wasn’t a philanthropist; he was a thug, a drug dealer, a pimp, a murderer. So what did that make Nick? How bad were the secrets he kept? Was I one to cast stones after what I’d been through? What I’d done? If he’d thought I worked for Moretti, I couldn’t blame his attitude in his office. He wasn’t going to kill me. He had no reason to do so, as far as I could tell. He wanted me. A guy couldn’t fake something like that. I felt it.
Maybe he was going to sleep with me, then kill me. Why wouldn’t a guy wait to kill the girl until after they had sex? It gave a whole new meaning to a happy ending. I mentally rolled my eyes. No, he’d said he wasn’t a killer, and at this point, I was inclined to believe him. At least on that. I was being ridiculous, coming up with wild scenarios to avoid getting close.
Was it finally time to let someone in? Having the truth out there meant maybe I could.
The honesty I saw in Nick’s eyes was hard to take. He was willing to give this—whatever this was—a try. Like it was something simple. Maybe it was; I was definitely over thinking it. I slid off his lap to stand before him, took a deep breath. I couldn’t miss his gaze dip for a mom
ent to my breasts. “Eyes open,” I agreed, a bit unsteadily.
He stood, closed the little bit of distance between us. “Let’s go to bed. I’m wiped.”
“Bed? Um, I’ve…I mean—”
He put a finger over my lips again. He seemed to like to do that. “Just to sleep. That’s all. Let me hold you tonight.”
I stared at him, considering his words. Just to sleep. No chance of that if Nick was lying next to me. I’d never even had a man in my apartment before, let alone in my bed. I’d been married to Todd for six months, but that wasn’t the same. We’d had a king-sized bed and there had always been at least three feet between our bodies, except when…I wasn’t going to think about that. There was no chance Nick intended any kind of space between us.
I had a choice now. I got to decide. He wouldn’t push me or force me to do something I didn’t want, that I wasn’t ready for. I knew that, deep down. That didn’t make it less nerve-racking.
Nick wasn’t a monk, I knew. He’d been with women before, women who knew what they were doing, knew how to play the game. I didn’t even know the rules. “I’ve never…I, um.” I felt my cheeks flush. I couldn’t get the words out, practically clogged on my shame.
“What? You’ve never what?” He searched my face as if he could see the answer there. “You’re a virgin?” His brow went up in surprise. No, he wasn’t a mind reader, but I had no doubt he couldn’t imagine my answer.
I shook my head. “No.” Taking a deep breath, I continued. “I’ve never…I’ve never been held.”
He stared at me, as if I’d grown horns. “You’ve never been held. By a lover?”
Lover. Was Nick my lover? Todd hadn’t been anything close to one. We’d had sex, but the word love had been missing from our marriage, let alone our marriage bed. The very idea of Nick filling that role made my heart speed up. It was impossible to take it back, to hold the secret close again. It was out, like this little bomb had exploded between us and he needed time to recover. I needed time to deal with the possibility that he might laugh in my face. I stepped back, walked around him and into the bedroom. I started straightening the sheets and blankets on the unmade bed. “By…by anyone. Not in the way you mean.”
Nick recovered fairly quickly, reverting back to his usual laid-back, nothing-can-faze-me state, and stood in the doorway and just watched me as I smoothed out the light blanket. “You’ve been with a man before, obviously.”
“Obviously,” I repeated sarcastically, tossing a decorative pillow into the center by the headboard. Why was I remaking the bed when we were supposed to be getting in it? “I was married for six months. Didn’t mean we were close.”
“No, it meant your husband was an asshole. What about your mother?” He moved up behind me, gently turned me around to face him, took the second pillow from my grip, dropped it back on the floor. “No scraped knees?”
I wasn’t going to cry at the pity in his voice. He was more surprised I’d never been hugged than by the fact I’d killed a man. He didn’t care that I was a murderer, but was bothered that I hadn’t had much comfort in my life. I was quickly learning that Nick was a man unlike any other. “My mother died when I was little. My father,” I sighed, continued, “was…indifferent.”
Indifferent was definitely the word for it, but it didn’t give the depth of his lack of interest in me. There wasn’t an adjective in the English language for that. He wasn’t neglectful, that’s for sure. The finest boarding schools in the world would agree he hadn’t neglected me.
He lifted up my hand, kissed my knuckles tenderly. “It’s time I showed you how then.”
I stood there and blinked at him. He wasn’t laughing, he wasn’t leaving. He was serious.
Not knowing what to do, I went to the linen closet and offered him a clean towel and new toothbrush. While he took a shower I picked up my bedroom, tossed my dirty laundry into the hamper. I put my shoes back on the floor of the closet and just puttered, trying not to think about the fact that there was a naked man in my bathroom. Quickly enough, he came out.
In just his boxers.
Oh my God. I thought he was unbelievably attractive with his clothes on, but…wow. His dark hair was slicked back from his face, still damp from the shower, his equally dark scruff on his jaw made him look rugged and dangerous. Which he was, in more ways than one. His shoulders were wide, his torso muscular and lean, a smattering of dark hair led from his chest down over his to-die-for abs and into a line that disappeared into the waistband of his dark blue boxers. His long legs were sprinkled with equally black hair. This wasn’t a man who sat around all day. Whatever he did for Moretti was more than just work behind a bar.
Don’t think about that! I didn’t want to know what he did for Moretti. I looked up at him and forgot my whole train of thought. Nick’s chocolate-brown eyes were heated, intense and focused solely and completely on me. “Your turn,” he said, his lip quirked up at catching me.
I was ogling him. Ogling that damn dimple. Shamelessly. I averted my gaze, felt my cheeks burn. My bedroom hadn’t ever seemed small before. Now, with six plus feet of Nick watching me in just his underwear, it felt tiny, like there wasn’t enough room for both of us. Unless we were in bed. I fled into the bathroom, not sure what else to do.
I didn’t linger in the shower, didn’t wash my hair. I didn’t have time to straighten it, not without him wondering what was taking me so dang long. He’d probably think I was afraid to come out. Which I was. Staring at the closed door, I took a deep breath. Could I do this? Once I opened the door, I’d be sharing more than just my past. Rejection wasn’t something I handled well. What if I wasn’t appealing? What if I couldn’t please him? I didn’t want to please him too much, because that meant that we’d—
Get a grip! I could face Nick or spend the night in the bathroom.
I turned off the light behind me, wearing pajamas, a black short-sleeved shirt and matching shorts. They were soft cotton, edged in white lace and were as modest as I could manage without pulling out my winter fleece. The bedside lamp was on, the room cast in soft shadows. Nick was on one side of my queen-sized bed, the white sheet pulled up to his waist, hands folded behind his head. Watching me. He took in my outfit, but his eyes lingered on my breasts. I felt hot all over when he looked at me like that. He didn’t say anything, just reached over and pulled back the sheet for me.
Okay, he didn’t laugh. I was so nervous, my heart was pumping in my ears. Could he hear it? My fingers played with the hem of my shirt. What was I supposed to do? I didn’t know how to just lie in bed with a man. Where did my hands go? On his chest? What if I did it wrong? I was going to mess this up! This was a bad idea. I could sleep on the couch. Move to Kansas. I could—
“Anna.”
My gaze darted up to his. My tongue flicked out to lick my lower lip.
“Breathe.”
A slow, reassuring smile spread across his face and I took a deep breath. How did a guy, who was so bad, seem so good? Why did I want to trust him? Why did he get me to do things, albeit not crazy to most people, like share my bed with him? Guys at the karate school had asked me out, given me very obvious indication that they were attracted to me, but not one of them had gotten behind my defenses as quickly as Nick had. I’d never let them. Never wanted them to. With Nick, I did. I so did.
He held out his tanned hand and I just looked at it. His long fingers, the rough calluses on his palms, the close-cut nails. Nick was offering something to me, something simple and new and special. I just had to reach out and take it. I might be climbing in bed with the devil, or maybe the devil’s underling for all I knew.
“Stop thinking. I can practically see smoke coming out of your ears. Take my hand.”
After a final moment of indecision, I took another breath and did just that.
As soon as his fingers closed around mine, he gave me a little tug, pulling me off balance and onto my knees on the bed. He tugged once more and I fell softly onto my side. Without a chance to thin
k, he had me up against him, my head on his shoulder, my hand on his belly, my left leg tangled with his. “Oh,” I said in surprise, not only because he had me off balance, but in surprise to how he felt.
His skin was so warm, surprisingly soft, the little hairs on his stomach crisp and springy. His ridged muscles flexed and tightened when my fingers moved. I wasn’t used to touching people like this, and definitely not without their clothes on. Sure, I made contact with my karate classmates, but it was clinical, like going to the doctor’s. It was nothing like this. Who needed an electric blanket in the winter when you had a man to warm you? This was something I could easily get used to. Or easily long for once it was gone.
Nick gently brushed my hair back from my brow. It was a calming gesture, and I liked it. I couldn’t see his face to know if we were doing it right, but I didn’t have to, because I was in his arms. He tugged the sheet back so I could climb beneath, then settled against his full length, only his boxers and my pajamas separating us. He was relaxed; his muscles—except where my fingers roamed—were lax. His breathing was slow and steady. His heartbeat beneath my palm was strong and even. “Okay?” he asked, his voice soft.
I nodded against his shoulder. It was more than okay. It was…perfect.
Grif
I stayed still, just letting my hand lightly run up and down Anna’s back, hoping to soothe her. It sure as hell soothed me. Feeling her heartbeat against my side, knowing she was in my arms, safe, made me feel better. All week, I’d wondered if Moretti would change his mind about giving me this little assignment and send someone else to finish her before I got to her. I’d wondered if she was off doing another job for Frank Carmichael. But in this moment, with her in my arms, it was just the two of us. The rest of the world, the Morettis and Carmichaels out there, didn’t exist.
She might have been soothing to my stressful week, but having her pressed head to toe against me was a kind of torture I’d never experienced before. I should be given a fucking medal. She was soft in the right places. Her hair was silky against my shoulder, a wayward strand or two tickled my cheek. Full breasts were pillowed against my chest. I’d felt her nipples tighten when I pulled her against me, even through her pajama top. She definitely wasn’t wearing a bra. Now, in sleep, her whole body had softened, her wariness gone. I watched the bedside clock, afraid to move, afraid to break the spell of the moment.
