Warren glanced away. “Let’s agree not to fight this week.”
I smirked. “Another deal?”
He leveled me with a look. “No fighting this week. No matter what happens, we agree to talk it out. I’ll tell you what I’m feeling and you tell me what you’re feeling.”
No fighting? Communicating like adults. How very mature of him. Too mature. I had doubts. “Warren—”
“Addison.”
“Are you making this part of our deal?”
“Yeah. I am.” He made it sound like a dare, as if I was the one incapable of being civil.
“Fine.” I decided to take his challenge, let the most mature person win.
He leaned forward, hand extended for me to shake. I took it. He yanked me forward. Somehow, I landed straddling him. In this position, he was still a smidge taller than me. Damn him. His head descended, lips hovering a hair’s breadth from mine. “I think we should seal it with a kiss.” He didn’t give me a chance to pull away. He dragged my ass forward, pushing me into his hardness. His nose brushed mine. He pressed his lips against the corner of my mouth, shifted then did the same to the opposite corner. Then he placed a single kiss against my bottom lip. “I’ve missed kissing you, Addy. Missed it a whole fucking lot.”
I couldn’t speak, too caught up in a tidal wave of emotions. Sweet, sweet Warren. I wanted to stay in this moment forever, where I felt loved and protected and cherished, where none of the real world could encroach. He flicked the seam of my lips with his tongue. “Open your mouth for me, baby,” he said. His eyes were dazed, the pupils dilated. “Let me back in.” His hands slid up, kneading my hips. I leaned in. Our mouths touched, parted, tongues exploring, getting to know each other again. The kiss grew rough, more urgent.
I moaned low in my throat.
In answer, Warren shifted, laying me down on the bench seat. He hovered above me, hips between my legs, hardness pressed against me.
Warren’s mouth moved to my neck, leaving a hot trail of kisses from my ear to my collarbone. “Baby, I don’t think I can wait. I need to taste you.” He cupped my cheeks and placed a gentle kiss on my lips. His hands skirted down my sides until they reached the waistband of my sweats. He tugged, taking my panties and sweats off in one effortless motion. My pulse raced. And liquid pooled at my core.
I was wet.
I wanted him.
It had been so long since someone had touched me down there. I was desperate for Warren.
He moved lower, nose skimming my belly, across my inner thigh. “Fuck, baby, you smell good,” he groaned. His mouth was at my center. When his tongue darted out and licked my clit, I nearly arched off the seat. A few minutes, that was all it would take. I was primed and ready and it had been so long. Sooo long. Warren seemed to sense this. I guessed he decided to torture me. His tongue was lazy, taking long, heated strokes against my center.
“Please,” I moaned, begging.
“Please.” His gruff voice spoken against the most intimate part of me sent shivers up my spine. I threaded my fingers through his hair. “That’s all I’ve ever wanted to do, baby, please you.” He slipped a single digit inside me. If it was possible for a human to disintegrate or go up in flames, I would have. I was scorched earth and Warren was the destroyer. “So wet, and it’s all for me.” He blew on my clit and then added another finger, plunging them in and out in a delicious pace that left me frenzied. “Say my name, baby. Say it like a good girl and I’ll let you come.”
“Fuuu—” My belly clenched in anticipation.
His palm landed on the underside of my butt cheek, slapping me hard enough to sting but not hard enough to hurt. “Bad girl,” he said. The limo was slowing. I started to wiggle away from him. Warren withdrew his fingers from me but his hands went to my hips, stilling my motions. “We’re not finished.”
“Warren,” I said uneasily, my eyes going to the tinted windows. I could barely see out.
“Ah,” he said with a wicked smile. “That’s what I’ve been waiting for, my name on those perfect lips.” He bent his head down. His tongue licked once, twice and then thrust inside of me. White spots danced in my vision. I writhed as the orgasm built.
“Warren.” I said his name again. The tempo of his tongue increased. My hands went from his hair to the seat. I might have punctured the leather with my nails. His fingers entered me again and my orgasm detonated, my sex squeezed and pulsed. My back arched. My legs twitched. I moaned or screamed. Whatever the sound was, it left my throat raw, parched.
I lay there on the bench seat, my body slick with sweat, my eyes heavy-lidded. Warren sat up, his big body still between my legs. He wiped wetness, my wetness, from his mouth with the back of his hand. The tattoos on his forearms swirled in my vision. My cheeks flushed hot as I got a flashback of moments before, of watching that tattooed arm move as his fingers worked in and out of me. Warren’s smile was self-satisfied and smug. It felt like he was boasting, like he’d won something.
I arched a brow at him. “If we’re all done here, I’d like to get dressed.” In the wild, creatures often hissed when they were injured or cornered, a last desperate attempt at self-preservation. I’d learned this on safari with Billy years ago.
Warren’s smile fell. Had I hurt his feelings? Impossible, Warren didn’t have feelings. He was bulletproof. He flashed me a cutting smile. “Yeah, we’re all done.”
He waited for me to dress and as soon as I was covered, he left the limo. I put my head in my hands and basked in the now empty space. The scent of our recent intimacy hung in the air.
My chin trembled. Was I going to cry? Shit, I was going to cry. I was totally exposed. I was stupid. So stupid. Why had I thought I’d be able to separate sex from emotion with Warren? I’d lied to myself. Warren Price still had some of my heart. If I wasn’t careful, he would take it all.
Humongous glass and wrought-iron doors rose up in front of me, the kind you might find in a modern-day castle. As War and I walked up the winding driveway, my eyes traveled all over the house. Scratch that, this wasn’t a house. This was an estate. Beside me a fountain that rivaled those found in Rome bubbled. The gleaming white structure that stretched ahead was a miniature Caesar’s Palace. Oh, shit, there were even two white matching marble statues of naked men (fig leaves covered their most private parts) flanking the doors. It wasn’t what I’d pictured Warren buying. When we discussed living together after the European tour, we’d always talked about a little cottage, hopefully by the beach. What had possessed Warren to purchase this monstrosity?
Warren smiled, proud, boyish as we mounted the marble steps. “What do you think?” he asked.
I had nothing.
He keyed some numbers onto a state-of-the-art security pad and the doors swung open. Tentatively, I stepped over the threshold. Inside was even more garish than the outside. Gleaming marble floors. A wide staircase with a gold banister. A crystal chandelier with electric candles. My eyes hurt from all the white stone, from the gaudiness. Warren rolled back on his heels and I realized he was waiting for me to say something, anything. “It’s very palatial,” was all I could muster.
“Yeah, it came with all the furniture.”
Thank goodness he hadn’t bought everything to furnish the house.
“C’mon.” He jerked his head. “I’ll show you the rest.”
Goody. I could hardly wait. He led me up the marble staircase and then down a long hallway. “This is the east wing.” This place had wings? He stopped in front of a set of golden double doors and pushed one open. The room was twice the size of my apartment. Scratch that, it was four times the size of my apartment.
Warren raised his eyebrows, clearly waiting for my reaction.
I stepped over the threshold, my sandaled feet sinking into plush carpet. A king-size bed in a simple wooden frame dominated the center of the room. Across, a matching low, wooden dresser took up one wall. Floor-to-ceiling windows took up another. The view beyond was of a turquoise pool that glimmered in the o
range, setting sun. The room was simple. Restrained. So at odds with the rest of the house.
“It’s the only room I decorated myself. I know it’s not as nice as the rest of the house, but I had nightmares of suffocating in gold and marble.” Warren’s gruff, unsure voice was close behind me. His breath tickled my ear. Gooseflesh rose on my arms. I turned, frowning. Why had Warren bought this place when it was clear he hated it?
I opened my mouth. “War—”
He cut me off with his lips. The kiss was quick. Over too soon. “No more talking, Addy,” he said. His hands went to my hips, pulling me gently forward. I bit my cheek. His thumb went to my cheek, to the place I chewed on. “No more thinking either,” he said.
His head lowered, bringing his mouth closer to mine. He paused. Waited. For what? For me to breach the space between us. I leaned up on my tiptoes and brushed my lips against him. That was all he needed. My permission. I wanted this too. I had left so abruptly. We’d never gotten the chance to say goodbye. Maybe that was what Warren needed, what we both needed. A sweet farewell. So I convinced myself this was the end. And since it was the end, I could give myself freely, without reservation. His tongue moved into my mouth, gently swiping. The sweetest kiss. I leaned into him, urging him on.
He swept me up into his arms, never disconnecting our mouths. I landed on the bed. Warren’s mouth moved to my neck, to between my collarbones, then down and down. He paused at the waistband of my sweats. I thought he would yank them off like he’d done back in the limo, but he merely placed a gentle kiss on my bare stomach. “Not yet,” he said, flicking his eyes up seeing the question on my face. “I told you I was going to take my time.” He smiled, wicked and taunting. He rose up, stripping off his T-shirt, his muscles flexing. God, he was sexy. The sexiest man I’d ever seen. My eyes went to the busty mermaid on his bicep. His dad had been a fisherman. My look drifted down to his forearm, where my name was tattooed in loopy cursive wrapped in vines. Below it, written in smaller script, were the words: in love, in life, in death.
Warren came back to me. He removed my shoes, placing a tender kiss on my ankle, in the arches of my feet. He stripped me slowly, methodically—T-shirt, panties, bra. With each layer, he kissed the spots he bared. “Missed you, baby. Missed you so much,” he ground out against my hip bone. He slipped his jeans and boxer briefs from his legs in one motion. He crawled on top of me. I felt the weight of him, heavy and hard against my stomach.
I closed my eyes as we kissed. Warren’s hand drifted down my side, then over, cupping my sex and playing with my clit. I nearly came off the bed. I was already so worked up. I placed my hand on his chest, over his heart, and could feel the beat, fast and loud. “I can’t wait anymore, baby.” He kissed me once. A condom appeared between his fingers. He tore into it with his teeth and rolled it on. “Are you ready for me?” he asked.
I could only moan. He slid home. I rocked against him, welcoming his length, the fullness. Shivers raced across my skin. “You’re so tight,” he ground out. “You haven’t had anyone since me. Have you, baby?” Arrogant Warren reared his ugly head. But I didn’t mind. I was gone, too lost in a tidal wave of emotion and pleasure.
“It’s always been you, War,” I said, speaking the truth. It would always be him. Someday, I might move on, but Warren would always have a piece of me. A big piece. His hand moved between our bodies, thumbing my clit as he thrust.
I came on a breath and a shudder.
Warren followed closely behind, collapsing on top of me when he was finished. Our bodies were a sweaty, tangled, slick mess. I caressed his back, his shoulders. I couldn’t stop touching him. I licked a drop of sweat from his neck. He hardened against me. Stamina had never been a problem for him.
“Again?” I asked, a teasing smile on my lips.
The sun had gone down, bathing the room in blue twilight. Warren rose on his forearms. “Once will never be enough, Addy.”
I woke throughout the night to Warren, to his mouth, kissing my back, my shoulders, my neck. He couldn’t get enough of me. I couldn’t get enough of him. Three years we’d stored this up. And Warren was right. No matter how many kisses, how many times my body arched and met his, it would never be enough. We made love twice more. The last time was the slowest and sweetest. Warren murmured words in my ear, declarations of love I wasn’t ready to receive or return. He was the sweetest temptation. Before he fell asleep, he whispered, “This is a new beginning for us. I’m going to be different, try harder. Just give me the time to prove it to you.”
Tears choked me. I couldn’t reply. I wished I could explain to him. I didn’t want him to be different. He didn’t need to try harder. I had loved him, loved him for free. But he’d taken it and squandered it, my precious gift.
Warren fell asleep thinking of new beginnings.
I drifted off promising myself this was the end.
I woke mid-morning, alone and in rumpled sheets that smelled of Warren. I held the edge up to my nose, inhaling his scent, disappointed he wasn’t waiting for me, ready for round four. Where had he run off to? Then I remembered. Sex inspired Warren. Back when we were together, I’d wake to find him gone. The first time I panicked, dressing and running from the room, expecting to do the walk of shame. But then I’d found him in a grubby hotel lobby, guitar in his lap, headphones in his ears as he composed. “You’re my muse, baby,” he’d told me on a bright smile. Then I’d sat in his lap while he sang in my ear the most incredible lyrics.
I lay still and silent for a moment, listening to the birds outside. Finally, I rolled from the bed. At my feet were my clothes from last night. My lip curled at the thought of putting them on again. I wandered the room, pushing open doors.
I found a massive bathroom containing a shower with three heads and a porcelain tub. I vowed to get to know that tub through many bubble baths.
Next door led to a walk-in closet. The racks were mostly empty—Warren’s wardrobe took up a small slice of space. I grabbed a flannel from a hanger and slipped it over my shoulders. I turned and frowned. The other side of the closet was filled with women’s clothes. Rat bastard, was my first thought. I inspected closer, visions of me with a pair of scissors shredding said clothing dancing before my eyes.
I stopped short.
The clothes were mine. The ones I’d left behind in Rome. Warren had kept all my things? I was surprised he hadn’t burned them. That was what I would’ve done with his. My fingers drifted over the clothes—sundresses, blouses—all neatly hung and pressed. Of its own volition, my hand went to a set of drawers. I pulled the top one open. A long necklace I’d bought in Greece, a cheap piece of costume jewelry, was nestled inside the velvet-lined drawer. Next to the necklace was a black box. I flipped it open, and nearly dropped it. A simple gold band—my original wedding ring, the one I’d pawned—lay inside, along with a massive diamond ring. Hands shaking, I shut the box and shoved it to the back of the drawer. Out of sight, out of mind.
Since Warren kept my dresses and blouses, I imagined my underclothes were hidden in one of those drawers. But I didn’t want to wear my old things. That would make me feel like Old Addy again, the girl who allowed Warren to walk all over her.
I was New Addy.
I tramped from the closet and yanked open one of the dresser drawers. Finding Warren’s boxers, I slipped a pair on and left the bedroom.
I wandered the halls for at least twenty minutes. My stomach growled. I found the kitchen and decided to help myself to some breakfast. I opened a massive Sub-Zero fridge and put my head in, searching for sustenance. Prepared meals in Tupperware containers sat on the shelves. A couple of bottles of orange juice lined the back. I reached for one.
“So now that he’s got money, you’re all over him again.” The voice startled me and I jumped, banging my head on a fridge shelf. Shit. Ouch. Rubbing my head, I turned.
A very disgruntled Derren, wearing an old Rolling Stones shirt and faded jeans, stood by the marble island. His hands were jammed in his pockets, a
nd his brows were dipped in a frown. I imagined smoke coming out of his nostrils and ears. He looked more angry bull than man. I glanced down, making sure I wasn’t wearing red, lest he mistake me for a cape and charge. I remembered Ash’s words—Derren says you have a black heart. I matched Derren’s frown. “I’m sorry, what did you say?” I asked. I wanted to make sure I’d heard him correctly before I went ape shit all over his ass.
He sneered. “You heard me. Now that War’s got money, you’re back on him like white on rice.” Shaking his head, he snorted. “Typical female.”
Whoa. When had Derren become such a misogynist asshole? I didn’t know what to react to first—Derren’s comments about Warren’s money, or Derren’s assault on all womankind. I decided to defend females and myself simultaneously. “Shut up, Derren. You have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Your actions speak for themselves, Addy.” Under his beard, his cheeks tinged red. “Three years ago it was all fun for you until shit got real. Then when you realized Warren didn’t have any money and probably wouldn’t for a long time, you cut and run.”
My eyes narrowed to slits. If looks could kill, Derren would be slumped on the floor, eyes rolled back in his head. I crossed my arms. “That’s what you think?” I rolled my eyes. “I thought you knew me. But it’s clear you don’t.” I turned around, dismissing him, and began to rummage through the cabinets. There had to be some cereal around here. I said a silent prayer for Lucky Charms.
“Yeah, that’s what I thought. You won’t even defend yourself because you know it’s true.”
My shoulders tightened but I didn’t turn. Then I heard it. Derren muttered under his breath. “Rich bitch.”
Fury erupted in my veins. I came unglued. Slamming the cupboard shut, I flew at Derren. His arms came up, but he was too slow. My palm connected with his cheek, forcing his head sideways. The slap echoed in the cavernous kitchen.
Good Lies (A Wild Minds Novel) Page 13
