“Not being shot at again?” he suggested. “I somehow think that might have been on our agenda this evening.”
She had the most beautiful mouth. He was fascinated, even though he should probably have been a lot more worried about the men who were out there wondering how they’d lost his car—hopefully.
“Could they have been FBI agents?” she asked.
“I haven’t done anything illegal lately.” He moved toward the table and the phone. “You?”
“Oh, seriously?”
“Is that a yes or a no?”
“That is an ‘I am going to kick your ass if we ever have to have this conversation again.’ Yes, I’ve committed a crime recently. I really should never have designed that dress with fringe on the hem, but I did it anyway. That’s a crime. Call me impulsive. Fashion citation, right there. Fringe, right? Who am I? Pocahontas? Otherwise, no. Under the definition of the laws of the state of New York, nothing illegal. Well, I parked in a loading zone for about six minutes the other day. Sue me.”
“You are pretty hot when you are mad.”
“I was under the impression I was hot all the time.”
The way her tone had altered spelled a better ending for his up-and-down evening. He punched in the numbers on the phone and asked for a very—very—expensive bottle of champagne, charged it to the room, and then hung up and took off his coat. “When room service knocks, let me answer the door. One never knows.”
“I’ve heard that before.” Reign dropped into a chair. “You know, I sometimes wonder how I signed on for this rollercoaster ride.”
“You and me both.” He discarded his tie in a careless toss. “But, truth be told, I think I might find being a minister boring. Not that they aren’t good people. I’m just saying.”
“That would be the church of what?” For the first time since he’d found the GPS, she finally laughed.
“I have to admit I am unsure of the denomination myself.”
“Yes, well, that might be a church that all those who seek redemption might want to avoid.” Her voice altered. “What do we do now?”
“We drink champagne and make love. Then fall deeply asleep.”
“My son—”
“Reign, I think we’ve both figured out this isn’t about that sort of thing. They either want you, or maybe you’re not it and they want me. I’m very aware of Vince, but you’ve called and warned him, not to mention passing on the message through your father. There isn’t one part of me that does not think the minute we walked out of that prison, your father wasn’t pulling strings.”
“Tell me about yours.”
Why had he been afraid all along they would have to have this conversation?
“Italian men talk about their mothers. We leave our fathers out of it. Don’t you know anything?” He moved and checked the window. The street looked clear.
“So he’s dead. I wondered.”
“Look—” He started to tell her that perhaps they should just change the subject, but her gaze was sympathetic and he wanted her and … oh hell, this was apparently really complicated.
Nick took in a deep breath. “I saw you with your father today and it brought back a few memories. I loved mine, he was killed when I was nineteen, and I don’t want to talk about it. My brother is a priest and even he and I don’t discuss it, so don’t be insulted.”
She glanced around the expensive hotel room and her voice was even. “I’m not. You and I are getting to know each other. I thought I had something special with my ex-husband, but the truth wasn’t really all that important to him. Prove to me you value it.”
It was either the worst—or the best—time for someone to knock on the door.
* * *
Nick deftly uncorked the champagne himself after tipping and graciously dismissing the young man who had brought the room-service cart. Reign watched him do it, the fluid motion effortless, and he poured her a glass first—he had good manners, that was undisputed—and handed it over.
Here I am, she thought as she took the glass, playing with fire again. No one knew where she was. Oh sure, if she disappeared, Nick would come under scrutiny, but then again, he’d registered them under an assumed name.
But he’d saved her ass more than once as far as she could tell, and he was … exciting.
Dangerous.
“Shall we toast?”
He looked at her and picked up his glass. The tiny bubbles frothed the surface of the liquid inside it. “To?”
“Making love and drinking champagne.”
“Not a bad choice. Take off your clothes first.”
She had to admit that was a unique approach. “Excuse me?”
“I want to sit here and drink champagne with you naked.” Before she could speak he lifted a hand in a placating gesture. “Just a request. If you don’t want to, don’t. I know enough about you that it has registered you don’t like orders.”
“I hate them actually.” She toed off a shoe.
“Uhm.” He watched it hit the floor, his untouched drink in his hand. “That’s a nice start. Mind if I sit and enjoy the show?”
“I think you’ve got a voyeurism thing going, Fattelli.” She leaned over—gave him a really nice view of her breasts—and slipped off the other shoe.
“I like looking at you, what can I say?”
“You like my tits.” She sat up and swung back her dark hair.
“Don’t forget that world-class ass.” He lounged lower in his chair.
“Even Pat could have come up with a more charming comment than that one.”
He grinned, and it was, she had to admit, pretty effective. Boyish, yet also somehow entirely grown-up, hungry male. “Hey, it was a compliment, and don’t try and make me jealous.”
“Would you be?” She was just curious.
“Hell yes, but I’m assuming Pat is not really a threat.”
She surveyed his athletic build and handsome face and had to admit, Pat hardly measured up, but she informed him, “On a superficial level, no.”
He set the bottle back in the ice bucket. “Are you telling me it is the intellect that matters?”
“The whole package.”
“Okay. How am I doing so far?”
Interesting question. There was no doubt he was capable, courteous, good-looking, all balanced with enough intrigue that appealed to her adventurous side.…
Instead of answering directly, she shot back, “I’m thirsty, so I’ll indulge your little fantasy. Unzip me?” she stood and turned her back.
“Those words, when they come from you, are music to my ears. My pleasure.” He came over and obliged.
The pleasure was all hers as his mouth pressed the nape of her neck, and he lowered the zipper on her dress with excruciating care, taking his time, then pushing the garment finally off her shoulders. Reign leaned back against him, feeling the strength and heat of his body, as his hands came around, first to unfasten her bra, sliding it off her arms, then to cup her breasts.
“I do love these. I suppose I’m guilty as charged there.” His breath was warm against her neck and his fingers did some very nice things. “I’ve never been able to decide if I am a breast man or a leg man.”
“I thought we were going to toast?”
“We are. Lose the thong, sweetheart.” His hands slid to her hips. “I’ll be happy to help.”
Even as she shimmied out of it, she said, “Now see, that sounded like an order.”
He let go and backed away. “It wasn’t meant to be. When it comes to you, I sometimes lose track of my train of thought.”
She had to confess the same problem, even if she didn’t do it out loud. She settled back on the chair totally nude now, the tautness of her nipples no doubt revealing her own arousal. She picked up her glass in a languid movement. “Here’s to fine champagne and making love. Did I get that right?”
“Almost. Don’t cross your legs.”
He was enormously aroused. She could see the bulge in those finely tailored trousers, and
her body responded traitorously, the heat between her legs building. Deliberately, she did as he requested, opening her legs a little so he could see her sex and notice, no doubt, that she was already wet.
Nick said, “Here’s to drinking champagne and having wild sex with the most intriguing woman I have ever met.”
The word “love” made her uncomfortable also, so she leaned forward and touched her glass to his in a light, delicate clink.
The champagne was perfect, light and crisp, and she had no doubt he’d paid quite a lot for it. They both drank, and then she eyed him over the rim of her glass. “What are you going to do about the current problem that we aren’t sure is mine or yours?”
“Not worry about it tonight.” His blue eyes were intently focused on her nude body. “Tomorrow is, after all, another day. I’ll make some calls, sniff around, and see if I have a problem I’m not aware of, but for now my attention is focused elsewhere.”
“I think I can guess where.”
His response held a hint of moody resentment. “You know, I find you too distracting.”
A very telling statement. Outside, the skyline was like a canopy of jeweled light, and there was the slight hint of traffic moving below, but it was all background. Reign waited a moment. “How much is too much?”
“Let’s say if the door was being battered down I still might fuck you before I assessed the problem. That qualifies as too distracted.”
She drained her glass. “I don’t know that I ever agreed you could fuck me.”
“Sweetheart, you are naked and drinking champagne in our hotel room. We both know I’m going to fuck you, and I am happy to say from gratifying previous experience, you are going to fuck me right back.”
With a provocative lift of her brows, she shot back, “Maybe. I’m kind of getting tired of waiting if you want the truth.”
“Jesus, I’m not fifteen.” Nick stood and started to undress. A shoe hit the wall as he tossed it carelessly. “But you do drive me a little crazy.”
He was beautiful in his own right, she thought as he stripped, his torso gleaming in the reflected light, all defined muscle and sinew, his profile clean and masculine.
Not to mention the size of his swollen cock when he discarded his pants. He stalked over to where she sat—there was no other way to describe it—and said, “You can walk to the bed or I can pick you up and take you there, but either way, this is the equation: my cock and your tight pussy. Got it?”
“Bossy,” she murmured as she rose in a smooth movement.
“Tease,” he said in response and physically picked her up. “Carrying it is.”
“I would have walked.”
“I’m not in the mood for a long wait.”
“I wouldn’t—”
He kissed her, effectively ending the conversation.
Chapter
EIGHTEEN
Even in the grip of what was a feverish sexual need that startled him with its intensity, Nick instinctively made sure he chose the side of the bed where he’d set his Glock on the nightstand so it was within reach.
Apparently even the hard-on of the century couldn’t deflect that habit.
“Let’s do this a little differently.” Reign’s voice had taken on a just-slightly-lower tone he had discovered he liked to hear. A lot.
“You enjoy playing with my body, let me play with yours.” She got to her knees next to him on the bed, her long hair a contrast to her smooth skin.
He settled on his back. “There’s an offer I can’t refuse.”
A slow smile curved her mouth. “Just don’t forget me.”
“I can’t seem to,” he responded more softly than he intended, looking into her eyes. “And just so we’re clear, that is very, very unusual.”
“I’m not looking for a commitment.” Her hand drifted down his chest and her lashes lowered.
“I’m not offering one.” He sucked in a breath as she ran a finger down the length of his cock.
In the back of his mind the word “yet” lingered, but luckily what she was doing at the moment distracted him from wondering if he’d lost his mind.
“So smooth and hot.” Reign began to give him a hand job, slow and with just enough pressure it threatened his control but didn’t quite send him over the edge. Perfect. The sensation was so pleasurable he wasn’t interested in having it over anytime soon. His left hand was fisted in the bedspread and he had to consciously relax.
Nick closed his eyes. “Sweet Jesus, you do that nearly as well as I do.”
She gently squeezed the tip of his cock. “Is that a compliment?”
“It is. Lord, if you keep doing that, this will be over pretty soon.”
She laughed, low and throaty, and leaned over to kiss him. Against his lips she murmured, “I was kind of hoping for a long night.”
“I’m pretty sure you could ask me for anything right now. Besides, did you see how many condoms I tossed on the bed?”
“Yeah, that was pretty promising.”
Nick opened his eyes and brushed back her hair behind her ear in an intimate gesture. He loved the way her hair smelled, like lilacs in the spring, clean and fresh, and the sensation of it brushing his chest was beyond erotic. “Care to put one on me so we can continue this with a little more fun for you?”
She did as he asked, kneeling there like a lush goddess, and the moment he was covered, he rolled her to her back, moving on top of her. “My turn?” he asked. “I’m feeling a little selfish so far.”
“Help yourself.”
It was no secret he was a fan of her breasts and he started there, nibbling and sucking and holding the pliant flesh in his hands, trying to at least show some measure of patience.
Lucky for him, Reign was not long on patience, especially in bed. “If you wouldn’t mind fucking me, sometime in the next decade would be good. Men always think foreplay is essential to women, but it can be overrated. Put that”—she stroked his rigid cock and pointed at her pussy—“here.”
The graphic suggestion as she opened her legs and pointed made him catch her hands and pull them over her head. Nick asked roughly, “Like this?”
Immediately he was worried he’d been too rough when she gave a small cry after he entered her with a slick, hard thrust.
He stilled, suddenly aware with an acute sense of how much smaller she was than him despite those voluptuous curves. “Good?”
“Are you kidding me? Yes. If you stop, I’ll kill you.” She stared up at him fiercely and wrapped her legs around his waist.
“You do realize you are the bossy one.” With exquisite sensation bombarding him, it was a little hard to get the words out.
Her nails bit into his shoulders.
He decided if the lady was that impatient …
She was, he found out, moving with him in a fluent rhythm they’d seemed to have in common from that very first encounter, as if while they might be getting to know each other intellectually on a cautious basis, their bodies had thrown that caution to the four winds and recognized the attraction.
The damn woman was like a drug, and he was addicted.
He couldn’t say who came first. All he knew was that in the aftermath they lay in each other’s arms, and he could literally feel the pounding of her heart against his chest. Or was it his?
Both maybe. He struggled to take a breath and thankfully succeeded.
Though if he were to die, this was how he’d want to go.
Reign smoothed his hair back, her body soft and pliant beneath him. “Okay, all is well with the world.” She added, “At least at this moment.”
“I agree.”
But they still needed to consider their next move, and he was always proactive, always thinking and moving forward. He’d stayed alive because of his ability to do so, and things seemed to be heating up.
“Tomorrow morning I’ll order room service and over breakfast, maybe we can sort this out, one-on-one.”
“Try to decide if it is you or me, right?”
Nick stroked her cheek, letting his fingers feather down her throat. “I’m not going to let anyone near you.”
“I hate to inform you of this, but I might be the one to not let anyone hurt you.”
Fierce was entirely appropriate.
“Do you ever give an inch?” He had to laugh.
“Not very often, though I like when you do.… And when you give, it is definitely more than an inch.” She lifted her hips.
“Reign, I’m being serious.”
“Me too.”
“Tomorrow morning. It’s a date.”
“And what would you call this?” She stirred in his arms.
“An even better kind of date.”
“I need this to be resolved because of Vince.”
“I’ve always wanted to be a father.”
The words just escaped—he was older than she was, and he did to a certain extent envy that she had a son. He’d waited and she hadn’t. She must have been a very beautiful young mother.
Way too honest. Even he wasn’t sure where that came from. He wasn’t sure how to fix it either, but Reign must have took pity on him, because she just said evenly after reading his expression, “It isn’t the world’s easiest job, so not for the faint of heart.”
“I’m sure not.” Dissembling seemed the best course, especially since he’d never planned to be so open in the first place. “But for the sake of argument, do I seem faint of heart?”
* * *
Reign had always wanted for Vince to understand that life consisted of a variety of choices, but she wasn’t sure she’d always made the right ones—well, it was obvious she hadn’t since she was now divorced—and so preaching at her son had never been an option. She was very happy he’d been admitted into a good university and hoped he’d make a go of it, and she was willing to work her ass off to make sure he had the chance.
This affair had come at the worst time possible, especially if Nick Fattelli was dragging along some baggage in the form of someone who wanted him dead. Or maybe she was the intended victim.… Or was it Sal? She had no idea.
With Nicky’s rangy body pinning hers to the bed, she could hardly start a good argument, and she didn’t even want one. Reign placed her palm on his bare chest. “No, your heart seems to be functioning just fine.”
Playing with Fire Page 15
