Red (Love in Color Series Book 1)

by SM West

  His midnight blue eyes latch onto mine, never straying as he unrelentingly thrusts in and out, almost punishing but achingly divine. Buried deep inside me, his fullness is satisfying yet my need for more, for him, builds as he relentlessly drives me to the edge. Wrapping one hand around my ponytail, he strongly tugs, painful pleasure shoots directly to my core.

  With our lips almost touching, our slick, hot bodies move in rhythm, every inch touching, as we chase our release. We’re climbing and soaring together.

  We lay wrapped in each other arms, in silence. The sheets tangled with our legs and both our torsos exposed. Ry explores every inch of my body with his long, warm fingers, taking his time to record my curves and contours.

  “Damn, woman, I can’t get enough of you,” he says with a nibble to my neck.

  I laugh and tug on his short, dark hair, holding him close to me. The feeling is mutual. His touch is strong, tender and awakens my desire for him, again. Reading me like a book, he covers my body with his, as we both give into our need for each other.

  Something tells me that no matter how many times we do this, our appetites won’t be satisfied. As we’re coming down from another out-of-this-world experience, my phone rings, breaking our bubble of bliss.

  “Shit, it’s my father.”

  Sitting up, I pull the covers over my chest. Ry’s hand rests on my shoulder, the heat of his chest against my back.

  “Father,” I answer.

  “Tate, where are you? I came by the penthouse and you weren’t there,” he brusquely states.

  My first thought is to say I’m at the office. But, I know better than to say that because I have no clue where he is. He could be at the gallery or he could have already been there.

  “I’m running errands. Why?”

  “Look, I wanted to say this in person, but I haven’t had time to hunt you down,” he responds in a clipped tone.

  Interesting choice of words, daddy dear, after all, he does think of me as prey.

  “What?”

  “Why haven’t you made an appointment with Dr. Fraser? Your mother spoke to you about this months ago. If you don’t make the appointment, I’ll personally make sure you go,” he threatens.

  “I haven’t had a chance to talk to Bobby about it. He’s back in two days. I’ll talk to him then.”

  I don’t believe this. Actually, I do. They always meddle in my life. I’m not sure what I’ll do. I’m getting the shot. I have no plans to conceive Bobby’s child.

  I almost forget Ry’s there until his hands slowly, affectionately rub the sides of my arms, calming and centering me.

  “Tate, no more excuses. You’ve got two days and then I make it happen,” he threatens and hangs up.

  Damn it. In less than minutes, my utter bliss is killed. You’d think the conception of a child would be a private thing between the two parties doing the deed? Not in my family. My parents might as well be in bed with us, they’re as invested in getting me pregnant as Bobby is.

  “You’re sure this phone is clean, right? They can’t track it?” I anxiously ask.

  “Yes. Noel checks your phone each and every time he sees you. We remove any tracking devices or apps and put them on the decoy phone.”

  It’s times like these I’m reminded why I’d never succeed without the FBI. Even if they are controlling and demanding, like Bobby or my parents, and use me as a pawn. Even so, it doesn’t change my plans. From the onset of our arrangement, I knew it would be temporary. Two plans running in parallel until mine took a detour. It’s time to chart that course.

  A pang of guilt and remorse stabs my heart. Ry. Over my shoulder, he’s gazing hungrily at my mouth. Instinctively, I lick my lips in anticipation.

  “You’re safe,” he whispers, brushing my hair to the side. His tender lips skim my neck and jaw.

  His thumb and forefinger gently hold my chin and he turns my head, so our lips meet. The position’s awkward, but oh so right as his taste melts away my worries.

  “If we don’t stop now, I’m going to keep you for the night.”

  Sighing, I nod, wishing I could stay the night. Impossible. This is all we get, stolen moments of unadulterated bliss. And it’s only temporary. One beautiful, divine dream that will end soon.

  “What did your father want?”

  I’m mesmerized by all his naked glory sauntering to the bathroom. He’s truly beautiful. I love how confident he is in his own skin.

  “I’m going to grab a shower, join me?” he smirks. I match his with my own.

  “If I get in there, I’m not leaving anytime soon. I have to go. I’ll take a rain check.”

  I walk over to him, completely naked. I figure if he can, so can I. Wrapping my arms around his neck, his hands instantly cup my ass and pull me right against his obviously growing need.

  His lips and teeth graze my skin as he sucks and bites. My eyes drift closed as urgent sparks shoot from my stomach into the apex of my thighs.

  “Ry,” I whimper. His mouth covers mine, silencing me with a blistering kiss.

  “Okay, go. I’ll hold you to a rain check. Before you go, what did your father want?”

  “Nothing important,” I dismiss, not wanting to talk about the notion of Bobby, sex and a baby.

  He easily lets it go with one quick, but no less delectable kiss.

  ***

  BOBBY COMES HOME A DAY early. I’m on my way to meet Ry when he calls.

  “Where the hell are you?” his voice is low and angry.

  “I’m on my way to an appointment.”

  “Cancel it. Get home now. I haven’t seen you in days.” He ends the call as brusquely as he started it.

  “Shit,” Noel’s brown eyes meet mine in the rear-view mirror, arching his eyebrow in question. “You need to take me back. Bobby’s home. If I don’t get back, he’ll send out a search party.”

  Noel nods, doing a U-turn. I don’t bother asking him to tell Ry. I know he will. Besides, I’m trying to play it cool. While I’m pretty sure he’s aware Ry and I have crossed professional lines, I don’t want to draw attention to it.

  I’m incensed by the time I get home. Annoyed Bobby’s back early, annoyed he’s summoned me. But most of all, fuming because now I have to wait a full week before seeing Ry. I don’t even make it into our living room before he grabs and gropes at me.

  “Fuck, I missed you, baby.”

  Funny he should say that when he reeks of another woman’s perfume. I’m sure he’s come from fucking some whore. As his thick tongue invades my mouth and his grip on my backside tightens to the point of pain. I fight to keep it together. His touch, scent and taste disgust me. Everything in me wants to scream no. My outright blank, unmoving attitude catches Bobby’s attention. He’s now glowering at me.

  “Cut this fucking shit out,” he bellows. You’d think he’d be used to my cold, lifeless body yet it infuriates him. Score one for me.

  Blinking, he comes back into focus. “That hurts,” I snap, immediately chastising myself for admitting the pain. It could encourage him. Bobby shakes his head and looks at me with scorn.

  “Tate, stop being so dramatic. I barely touched you. Now I can’t touch my wife? Fuck you,” he snarls.

  His rebuff doesn’t faze me. He heads for the bar, while I stand silently wondering what’s next. This man is as unpredictable as timing your death. The only thing I’ve learned over the years, is I’ll never guess what mood he’s in, how he’ll react or what’s he’s capable of. As he mixes a drink, I wish his taste off my lips and wait.

  “Why haven’t you made an appointment with Dr. Fraser?” Of course, my father’s already spoken to him.

  “I was waiting to talk to you first. I don’t think we need a specialist.”

  “Of course, you’d think that. It’s your ice-cold cunt that’s the problem.” I’m unfazed by his harsh, vindictive words.

  He advances on me, his hand snaring my throat, squeezing as he yanks me against him. His other arm pinches my bicep, so tight I fe
ar he’ll break my bone. Blinking back my tears, I clench my teeth, sucking in air as I wait it out. Urgently trying to block out the severe all-consuming burn in my throat, lungs and arm.

  “I came home to fuck you, but you’ve reminded me why I shouldn’t bother. You barren slut,” he shouts. “Make the appointment.”

  With difficulty, I nod in agreement. He shoves me violently, my back slams against the glass cabinet. Glass breaks, shattering around me. A stabbing sting and dampness radiates from my back. Shit, I’m cut. I prepare for more. He could be warming up. He stares at me and the mess, polishing off his drink. Giving me one final bitter glare before striding down the hall to his office.

  “And Tate,” he says ominously, not bothering to turn around.

  “Yes,” I reply in a monotone.

  “I don’t want any more excuses or else, you’ll fucking regret it.”

  I’M BACK AT THE RITZ-CARLTON. Things with Bobby and Warren are heating up and with my fake home being renovated, they expect Clint to be staying here. Of course, to make things more complicated, I’ve another room under another name for meeting Tate. I’m a great agent with a great track record. Still, I take risks. I don’t always play it straight and narrow.

  What we’re doing is reckless and could easily blow up in my face. Still, I can’t help myself. Tate’s under my skin. I can’t stop thinking about her. She’s worth the risk and truth be told I like living on the edge. Of course, the upside is alone time with Tate. The downside is getting kicked off the case, at a minimum, and the worst case, is losing my job. I intend to keep us a secret and protect her at all costs.

  Since Bobby’s returned, I’ve only seen Tate once. While we spent every minute in bed, it wasn’t nearly enough. My unmistakable smile has me thinking about our last conversation under the covers, wrapped up in each other. She willingly opened up about how she discovered her love of and talent for painting. She relived her tenth birthday and the gift that would change her life. She’d been given a rudimentary easel and painting kit.

  “The first stroke of my paintbrush was like opening the wardrobe into a magnificent world of color, light and beauty,” she whispered softly.

  I gently pulled us up so I could watch her come alive with her rouge cheeks and ruby-red lips as she talked, for I don’t know how long, like a kid enthralled by magic. I couldn’t tear my eyes away from the ethereal beauty before me. Her eyes burned with passion, verity and enthusiasm as she described seeing her first Jackson Pollack to creating her first, very own painting.

  I sigh at the mess I’ve gotten us into. I wouldn’t change a thing, now that I’ve had Tate, there’s no turning back. Shit, things aren’t ideal. And now with Christmas upon us, we won’t see each other this week. It’ll also be harder now, limited with Bobby back. It’s likely better this way as it’s less chance of getting caught, although right now, I seriously couldn’t give a fuck. I want her.

  I’m buzzing at the thought of seeing her tonight. Bobby called late last night, inviting me to a holiday dinner he’s hosting at some restaurant. He made it crystal clear it was a command performance, and I must bring a date.

  He promises more business for me, I don’t buy that. Again, he’s flexing his muscles. Reminding me how connected he is and I best stay in line. His closest business associates are supposed to be there. I’m not sure if Tate knows I’ll be there.

  My new partner and “date” for the evening is on her way. I’ve been waiting for Coop’s replacement for months and was beginning to think it wasn’t going to happen.

  I’m torn. On the one hand, I could use the extra set of eyes and ears. On the other hand, it’ll mean even less alone time with Tate. We’re getting down to the crunch.

  I’m going to have to distance myself from her. I need to explain all this to her. Although I’m pretty sure, she already knows.

  I have no clue who my partner is. I was told I’d get the details upon her arrival. It’s not typical, yet not unheard of, to not know which agent is assigned to your case before they show up. Although, in this case, I can’t shake the unease in my belly.

  My phone rings. Noel.

  “Wolfe.”

  He gives his update on Tate and Bobby, as well as shares some unsettling information that doesn’t make any sense.

  “You’re sure?”

  This isn’t some minor observation. His accuracy is paramount. He’s confident in the information. Shit, I’m going to have to speak to Tate. The question is how much do I share? And more importantly, how much is she going to share? Will she tell me the truth?

  We’ve come a long way in trusting each other, though I’m no fool to think all is good. She has many more demons than I can fathom. It’s evident she holds back, it’s there in her eyes, the way she holds herself when she thinks I’m not looking.

  There’s a hard knock at the door, at the same time, my phone vibrates. One text appears with one name: Gia Adessi. Bloody Hell. Looking through the peephole, speak of the devil.

  Opening the door, there stands my new partner and ex-fling, although I’d bet my life if you asked Gia, she’d say ex-girlfriend. Everything makes perfect sense as to why the agent’s name was withheld till the last minute. Gia’s handiwork is written all over it.

  She most probably banged someone to get this position and lied to keep it from me. Deliberately keeping me in the dark till the last second because she knew if I caught wind of this bullshit, I’d have put a stop to it. No way I’d have agreed to her joining the case and she knows it.

  “Special Agent Wolfe,” she purrs.

  Her long, vermillion painted nails skate across the top of my chest, delivering a slight sting even through my shirt. She smirks with her red, moist lips and gives her hips extra sway, all for my benefit I’m sure, as she saunters into the suite.

  “Gia,” my greeting’s frosty.

  “Don’t be mad, Rylan,” she pouts.

  Dropping her bag at the foot of the bed, she scans the suite and then her big brown eyes rest on me. I cross my arms, unimpressed. She wants a rise out of me. I’m more than happy to disappoint.

  “Nice digs. This case has you living the high life. I’m glad I could join you,” she says, smiling big, the one that makes men think she’s all sweetness until she gets her claws into them.

  I shrug, let her continue this little act. I’m at least somewhat amused. Gia and I are done. Have been for a very long time and I’ve no desire to ever go back there. Even with how good she looks. Looks can be deceiving.

  Her long brown hair, big doe-eyes and those legs that go on for miles. She knows she’s attractive and has no qualms using her God-given talents. She’s got spunk, smarts and can be sexy as hell when she wants to be.

  At first, her looks caught my eye. Our attraction was mutual. Gia set her sights on me and from that point on, it was game over. She’s a hard woman to resist especially when you’re her target. It didn’t take long to realize that she’s a handful and a fucking headache.

  Thriving on drama, being the center of attention, is irritating and exhausting. There were many nights I’d find myself in a fight or trying to diffuse one she started. She’d flirt or go too far with some guy and then look to me to step in. She loves the brawl, the intensity and gets off on it being all about her.

  She had it in her head I was jealous, couldn’t stand any man looking at her. The funny thing is I didn’t care. We weren’t exclusive. We weren’t serious and we didn’t even last long. I could take or leave her. She was a distraction and a quick fuck at best, as she soon discovered.

  There were times when Gia would show up to a bar and find me among our friends with another woman. It wasn’t deliberate. She wasn’t supposed to be there. Even though, we weren’t exclusive. Yeah, I was a dick, but I’d been open with her. She knew it was no strings.

  At first, she said that worked for her too. But like all things Gia, it was an act. That’s why she’s here now. She can’t stand the thought I didn’t want her and still don’t.


  “You done?”

  “Rylan, you used to be so much fun, what happened?” she whines with an exaggerated pout. “We were good together and can be again. You’ll see.”

  “Look Gia, you’re here and it’s too late to change it.”

  I want it known I don’t want her here. My intent isn’t to hurt her. This girl is hard of hearing. And if I give her an inch, she’ll take a mile.

  “Let’s keep this professional and we’ll get along fine.” I hand her a file. “Here’s who we’re meeting tonight and a dossier on your cover.”

  “I know my cover.”

  “It doesn’t hurt to refresh yourself. Bobby Thornton and Warren Conrad are shrewd. They’ll be watching us.”

  ***

  WE DELIBERATELY ARRIVE ALMOST TWENTY minutes late to the upscale Italian restaurant in Greenwich Village. Our team has been here for hours, scouting the place. With Christmas, only two days away, the owner tried to push back on our operation. He didn’t stand a chance, we’re the fucking FBI.

  The team’s set up, reported who’s who, watched each guest arrive for this private party, and figured out who’s packing. We don’t need any surprises tonight. Bobby’s invited an underboss with one of New York’s major crime families and the place is filled with bodyguards.

  The hostess escorts us through the restaurant to the private room. We walk hand in hand all the while scanning the restaurant. The place is small and packed. The bar is brimming with people either having a few drinks, waiting for their table or having dinner. Every table in the place is occupied. It’s loud, filled with chatter and laughter. Our guys are spread throughout the place and I even spot a few of Bobby’s.

  The hostess opens the door into a decent sized room with blood-red walls and a very large oak table, taking up most of the room. All eyes turn to us, conversation stops.

  Bobby immediately stands. It’s hard to miss he seeks our attention. He slowly examines us for what seems like minutes, yet, in fact, is only seconds, before he decides to speak. He’s asserting his power, trying to intimidate. What else is new.