“Huh?” How could he burn her brain just by a look?
“You ask a question and I answer, then it’s my turn.”
“Okay.” She pretended to see something on her shoe and turned her back to him, swiping at the imaginary dirt.
Could she tell him the truth about her first few years at The Circle if he asked? Maybe it wouldn’t hurt for him to know, to understand what she’d gone through to become a total bitch. She squeezed her eyes shut for a few seconds. She wanted to escape from him and the emotions he made her feel. Going from one job to another had pushed away the desire to live a normal life, to be loved by a man, to have two point five children, and to own a minivan parked next to the white picket fence.
“How old were you the first time you walked across The Circle’s vestibule?” he asked with deliberation.
Damn! He was good. She could lie or try to avoid the question but he must know something and he’d already proven he could sense a lie. She took a deep breath and straightened.
“Fourteen.”
“The bastard,” he murmured vehemently as he moved away from the headboard, placing his feet on the floor, sitting on the side of the bed. Energy radiated from his body. He acted as if he needed someone or something to hit.
“Why did OS splinter off from The Circle?” she asked, hoping to avoid explaining why she’d entered The Circle’s Main Sector at such a young age.
His forehead wrinkled as if he was finding it hard to shift gears from her answer to his. “Theo’s decisions were becoming erratic after my family died.”
Erratic? What a nice way to call someone loony, crazy, downright nuts. In fact, she could add stark raving maniac. Thus, the reason everyone at The Circle dreaded meeting with him. Then the last four words he’d said sunk in. What did his family dying have to do with Theo?
“What were your duties for The Circle?” His hands on his knees, back straight, he looked at her over his shoulder.
The high tension and see-sawing of emotions she’d endured since her capture sucker punched her at that moment. She sighed. “Listen. I’m tired of the fucking around and playing twenty questions. What do you really want to know?”
He moved off the bed, walked to the dresser in front of her and leaned broad shoulders against it. If she reached out, she could touch his legs. But she remained near the end of the bed and concentrated on the carpet’s pattern.
“What is Theo to you? And why did he bring you into The Circle so young?” he asked, his low voice almost apologetic.
She didn’t need his pity. Shit happened and just because it happened to her more than others was only a fact of life.
“Where do I start? Why not from the beginning, eh? That way you’ll understand . . .” What had she convinced herself mere seconds ago? Oh, yeah, that she was a bitch, and she never believed in whitewashing the truth. “When I turned ten, the orphanage became too crowded and they fostered me out. Carol. The woman’s name was Carol Brinks. She took me in and was kind. For three years I lived in heaven. I worked hard on my lessons. I had a rough time understanding so much, but Ms. Carol was patient, kind, encouraging, loving. I was a good girl for her. Then she died.” She shrugged. “It was a stroke. Her brother showed up the day of the funeral and took me home with him. I knew that first night why he kept me. I ran away eighteen months later.”
Aware of how her voice sounded robotic, all emotions turned off, she still grappled with her guts twisting and churning on each word and memory.
“I’d been on the streets for little over two months, pulling tricks for Sweet Daddy near College Park when a tall handsome white-headed man saw me. Theo promised to take care of me. Sweet Daddy refused to give up a part of his lucrative income. So Theo sliced him up until he bled to death.”
She’d never told anyone about Carol and especially about Theo’s special talent with a knife. That last bit of information could get her killed in the most painful ways.
Wasn’t baring her soul, so to speak, supposed to make her shoulders to feel lighter? Or was that her chest? Didn’t books and movies all claim instant relief, like an antacid?
Well, she didn’t feel better. She lifted her head. He looked as if he was listening to a weather report. Why had she really told him so much? Maybe she wanted him to understand what made her what she was.
“Finish,” he commanded and glanced away.
The son of a bitch was judging her. Let him. She didn’t care. If she allowed what others thought of her to drag her down, she would’ve committed suicide years ago.
“For four years I warmed his bed and was grateful each day I lived.” Never had a more bitter truth been told and she wished everyday she could forget. “Each day with him, I made sure to learn a new weapon or tactic in surviving inside The Circle.” Her chest tightened. Well, there went the feeling of relief. “I wanted to ensure, when he finally tired of me, he would have a reason to let me live.” A clammy chill coated her skin as she began to tremble.
At the time he’d brought her into The Circle, she’d met her predecessor, a pretty little blonde with sad blue eyes. One day she’d been there and then the next she was gone.
Two years later, Theo had threatened sixteen-year-old Olivia by telling her how he’d fucked the girl and then twisted her neck when he climaxed. It had been the blonde’s eighteenth birthday. Theo claimed when a woman reached that age she became boring, useless, like so many other women. So she made sure not to be boring or useless, in or out of the bedroom.
Oh, God, she’d wanted to kill Theo for years but had been too afraid to admit if he deserved to die, she did too.
Even before she entered The Circle, she’d already had her first kill. She’d stabbed Carol’s brother in his fat gut and watched him bleed to death as she grabbed her stuff to leave that last night. Her body shook as it had so long ago. Memories of the terror and the loneliness crashed in on top of her, bringing back those feelings best locked away but never forgotten.
Chapter Ten
Despite Collin’s warm hands on her shoulders, Olivia couldn’t stop shaking. She hated feeling weak. Smothering underneath his kindness, she pushed him, blindly slapped her hands against his chest and then her fingernails reached for his eyes. He clasped her hands for a second to give himself time to move back. With a twist of her body, she was off the bed, crouched in a fighting stance, ready to take him on for real.
She struck out with her left foot, hitting him square in the stomach. He grunted, staggered back, giving her a ferocious look, and then blocked her next two kicks. Her arm hit the television and her hip slammed into the desk chair with each swing or kick she used. The room was too small for them to truly fight without alarming the other guests with the crashing of lamps and furniture. She quickly realized he remained on the defensive, only blocking her moves.
She took a couple steps back from him, panting like an overheated dog. Her gaze drifted down his body to see a bulge beneath his zipper. The thought of him being turned on by her story pissed her off.
“You sick bastard!” She stared pointedly at his crotch.
His upper lip curled. “Fighting with you makes me horny.”
“Oh.” She exhaled and all the air left the room.
“Are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” she bit off.
He tilted his head as his eyes narrowed.
Of course, she didn’t mean it, but she was unsure how to handle her feelings on hearing him say the word horny. She’d instantly wanted to spread her legs for him.
She turned her back, afraid of what she would do. Beg him to fuck her? Her weak knees and the moisture soaking her thong told her she was lying by denying him and herself. But, oh mercy, that reasonable little voice in her head reminded her that no matter how bad she wanted him, she needed to take a cold shower and rein in her lust for a man who had control of life and death over her. He’d made it plain he didn’t want her body no matter how his cock hardened in her presence.
An arm came around her waist and
lifted her off the floor while a big hand covered her mouth. She kicked back and heard a grunt. Good. Probably only his shin but it should leave a bruise. She landed face first on the bed and Collin’s weight kept her down. He jerked her arms back, tying her up with what felt like a silk tie. At the rate he was going, he would have to replace his whole wardrobe of ties.
“What the hell are you doing?” she asked, her voice sounding airy. He continued to press so hard on her back she struggled to breathe.
“I’ve let you work off some steam, now it’s only fair you let me have my turn,” he said in a guttural tone.
His hand slipped into the front of her jeans and yanked the snap and zipper open, shoving them below her hips. He didn’t do anything more for several seconds. Then she felt a light flutter on her buttocks. Had he pressed his lips to her?
Then she heard another zipper. He was going to fuck her like this? To wait all this time and have her looking away? No way! She’d wanted to see his face when he came into her the first time. She wiggled, trying to turn over but he held her down, controlling her. In her struggles the bedspread rubbed her cloth-covered breasts and they hardened, aching for his touch.
He slapped a bare buttock. The sting promptly halted her movements.
“Be still,” he ordered and smacked the other one. His fingers brushed across the sensitive skin, likely tracing the outline of a red handprint.
The spot burned as hot as she felt between her legs. She imagined he enjoyed marking her like that. Never a lover of pain, nevertheless her body tingled in all the places she wanted him to suck, lick, and fuck.
Then his heavy body rested along her back. His cock found a cradle between her butt cheeks but nowhere near an opening for them to enjoy. He kissed her neck and tugged at her earlobe with his teeth. She groaned. When he began to rock, pressing her hips into the mattress, she pushed back and his breath heated her neck. His cock slid up and down the crevice perfect for the motion. She continued to apply friction to her breasts and against his groin. He thrust harder, rubbing an absurdly long and thick cock against her, but not into her.
“Please,” she begged. “Fuck. Me. Please.”
His hand slid beneath her and a broad finger slipped between the moist folds. As soon as he touched the stiff little clit, it was over for her. He rammed her smarting cheeks twice more and then he released a soft groan and warmth filled the small of her back.
A flutter near her shoulder felt like another kiss and he lifted off her. With a tug, her hands were free, but he held her down for second.
“Wait a minute, don’t move. I’ll get you a towel,” he said.
She couldn’t move anyway. Every bone in her body had melted from the most intense . . . what would she call that? A brawl? Sex? She wasn’t sure, but she had a feeling he hadn’t intended for it to happen. He’d been so cool until she began fighting him. He’d been telling the truth. He hadn’t wanted her until she tried to kick his butt. The only man she’d never been able to defeat. Maybe that was why she wanted him so bad too.
A warm wet cloth wiped at her back. Then he gently dried her skin. His attentions were so soothing she didn’t dare move a muscle for fear of him stopping.
“Are you okay?” he asked, his hand caressed her waist.
She closed her eyes. Couldn’t he just leave her alone?
“Olivia?”
With a deep breath she turned over. Those beautiful dark eyes of his were filled with concern. She liked that. She also liked how he looked with mussed hair and his shirt wrinkled. Dark blue splatters decorating the front shook her up. He’d lost control. She was used to losing control around him, but this was the most he’d allowed his desire full rein. It had to be disturbing for him. Poor baby.
She looked at the alarm clock. “No worries. If you don’t mind, I’ll take a shower in the morning. I’m beat.”
Giving him her back, she shoved her pants the rest of the way down her legs, and then crawled under the sheets. Like a virginal bride, she unclasped her bra beneath the covers and tossed it toward her suitcase on the other side of the bed, not caring if it hit its mark or not.
He still stood beside her bed watching her with dark brooding eyes.
Then she faced the wall, ignoring whatever was bothering him. He got what he wanted. Didn’t most men? Sure, he brought her off but the relief was fleeting. That she knew better than anyone and it didn’t really matter.
So why was her chest tight and tears in her eyes?
Collin sat in the chair farthest from the bed. In the two hours since she’d fallen asleep, he’d hoped, if he remained quiet and watched her, he could understand what in the hell he was thinking when he . . . hell, what had they done?
He’d nearly raped her. She’d been fighting him and then, before he realized what he’d done, he’d been pumping against her creamy peach buttocks. Somehow he’d remained in control enough to refrained from sticking his cock into her and fucking her senseless.
Sure she begged him to fuck her. It would’ve still been rape. She hadn’t wanted him at first. Only later had she changed her mind. His need was there, barely restrained below the surface. He’d wanted to pound into her. He knew how close he came to hurting her by taking her the way he really wanted to. He wiped his face and shook his head.
Her soft skin rubbing against him, smelling the delicate perfume she used, knowing she could kill him any moment if he released her, all added up to a lethal woman he wanted more than breathing. But he couldn’t take her. He needed her on the edge, wondering when he would give her what she wanted. Acting as the carrot was becoming difficult. How much longer could he last?
His cell phone vibrated. He checked the screen and then answered, “Yeah.” He kept his gaze on Olivia during Rex’s quick explanation. “Are you sure?” After a couple more questions, he hung up.
She hadn’t moved. He would let her sleep through the night undisturbed. They had a long day ahead of them tomorrow. Mason had disappeared and they could only hope he wouldn’t miss the big after-race party at The Phoenician in Scottsdale.
He stripped completely and slid into bed next to her. The smell of sex and Olivia surrounded him. She moaned and her butt squirmed against his hard cock. A smile flitted across his lips. Unsure if she sensed his presence and wanted space, or she hungered for his touch as much as he craved her taste, he refused to think anymore about it. Instead he snuggled a little closer. He was sleeping with her whether she liked it or not.
She whimpered and grabbed his hand, pressing it to a firm full breast. Her nipple pebbled as he cupped her but he held back from doing more. He almost whimpered too.
Another smile lifted the corners of his lips. He couldn’t wait until morning to see her reaction to his invasion of her bed and person. There was no doubt her irritation would keep him on his toes.
He pressed his lips to a bare shoulder and closed his eyes.
Yep, seeing Olivia in action tomorrow was going to be a treat.
Chapter Eleven
“I’m going to kill the son of a bitch,” Olivia muttered as she sauntered back to the couch with an apple martini in her hand held high.
Maneuvering in the crush of people while trying not to spill her drink or fall on her ass and show off the aforementioned body part was difficult. Collin had been no help by insisting that she wear the strip of shiny material she’d scorned the night before. She made sure to use her stilettos on tennis shoe–covered feet, maybe more out of spite since she wished she was wearing a pair at that very moment.
“What did you say, doll?” Mason asked over the pounding music.
He scooted over and patted the seat next to him. His gaze skimmed over the roomy hotel suite slammed with NASCAR drivers and their wives or girlfriends, race team owners, and all the people who supported or sucked them dry. Those beady pale blue eyes returned to her but as always landed on the dark depths of her cleavage and didn’t move no matter what she said or did in an attempt to bring his attention to her face.
&nbs
p; “Nothing much, sugar.” With a slight wiggle, she scooted into the spot the tall, rawboned redhead indicated. With any luck her thong wasn’t showing to the rest of the room. “Mostly about how crowded it is. I really wish we could go somewhere private and have some fun.”
She hated this part of Collin’s asinine plan. Her abhorrence of parties, especially crowded ones where bodies rubbed against strange ones wasn’t helping her attitude. Just as her stomach rolled whenever Mason caressed her arm or leaned on her.
She understood Collin’s plan but that didn’t mean she had to like any of it. So far the entire day had been a slice of hell.
Waking up with Collin’s hand playing with her clit almost guaranteed her being in a good mood until she caught the look in his eyes. He’d only amused himself, to see her reaction. She’d rather he’d done it to start a mutually satisfying moment, yet again, he held back.
What was the man? A sadist? No. Wrong one, but probably that too. A masochist. Yeah. He must get off abusing himself. She’d never known a man to hold off his satisfaction for so long and he was showing his expertise at it. Well, except for his release on her back. Later he’d pay for teasing her and then placing her in the present position of dodging this slime ball’s octopus hands.
Then he informed her, Mason had disappeared, and they would prepare for the party that night by skipping the race. Mason never missed the party.
Skip the race? Well, hell. Collin refused to have sex with her and continued to tease her, and he stuck her in a stuffy hotel room. And then to take away the opportunity to experience powerful motors revving in testosterone-laden air, well, that was cruel. A sadist, masochist, and an asshole.
For now, the plan was to find a way to separate Mason from his bodyguards. As she’d told Collin and Rex, the man loved to fuck married women while the husband hung out nearby and clueless, and then later, convince the husband to fuck the wife in front of him. Collin instructed her to encourage Mason’s interest and not kill him.
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