It would be easy, so fucking easy, to fuck her right here. Right now. Her legs were already wrapped around my waist, her pussy just inches from my cock. All I had to do was shift, just a bit, and I could drive myself home.
But we were in the kitchen and the condoms were in my bedroom and even I wasn't foolish enough to risk it. Not with Addy. Not when I knew there was no future between us.
I carried her to the bedroom, each step a test of control and willpower. We fell to the bed together, a tangled heap of arms and legs. I twisted, reached for the nightstand and yanked open the drawer hard enough to send it flying. Addy's husky laughter filled the room and I shot her an amused glance before diving over the side of the bed. My hand closed around the half-empty box of condoms and I dug for a single packet, wrestling it free, tearing it open, and sheathing myself in three quick moves.
I reached for Addy, rolling on top as I tucked her under me and claimed her mouth once more in a kiss that left me both stunned and breathless. I pushed up on my elbows, my hungry gaze holding hers as she raised her legs and wrapped them around my waist.
Then I drove into her, nearly coming unglued with that single thrust. I stilled, reaching for control, worried that I wouldn't find it.
Wondering why this woman—the one woman I couldn't have—drove me to the brink and threatened to shatter my control. Not just now, but every time we were together.
I pushed into her again. Deeper. Harder. Rocking into her until she exploded around me, her nails biting into flesh as she called my name.
And then my own explosion erupted—inside me, around me, consuming me—and I wondered no more.
Chapter Twelve
Addy
Something tugged at me, pulling me from that odd state between sleeping and waking. I murmured my impatience and snuggled closer to the log of warmth next to me, wishing the cloak of hazy softness would wrap around me once more and pull me even deeper into sweet oblivion.
I heard the noise again, a sharp little trill, muted by distance. My eyes fluttered open even though I fought against it, wanting nothing more than to ignore the sound and go back to sleep. I couldn't, not when my subconscious had already recognized the sound and was urging me awake.
Strong arms tightened around me, pulling me closer as I struggled to sit up. My limbs were like rubber, sapped of strength and silently protesting when I pushed against the hard chest for leverage. Nathan grunted, the sound muffling my own sleepy groan as I finally sat up—only to nearly fall back down. It would be so easy to collapse against the mattress, to curl against Nathan and rest my head on his chest as he held me in the circle of his arms. But my phone was still ringing, the annoying chirp calling me.
"It's my phone." My words were slurred with sleep, lazy and thick even to my own ears. Nathan wrapped one arm around me and pulled me back down, settling me against him with a sleepy yawn.
"Not anymore."
I frowned then realized he was right—the phone had stopped. I snuggled against him with a sleepy sigh, my eyes already closed, my sated body already drifting back into the comforting hazy gray of sleep.
Until my phone rang again, less than a minute later.
I smothered a smile at Nathan's grumbled oath then reluctantly broke free of his hold. A t-shirt was balled up at the edge of the bed and I snagged it as I stumbled past, pulling it over my shoulders as I weaved my way from his room. The shirt was inside out and quite possibly on backward but I didn't care. With any luck, I'd be back in Nathan's bed within a few minutes, the t-shirt gone seconds before I curled against him once more.
My purse was on the floor where I'd left it and I bent over to retrieve it, plunging my hand inside to grab my phone. I winced at the cold dampness, briefly surprised my phone was still working after being so neglected. I should have emptied my purse when we first got here, spread the meager contents on the kitchen counter so they had a chance to dry.
I would do that in a few minutes, right after I found out who was so insistently calling me.
All thoughts of drying my purse and everything in it fled my mind as soon as I looked down at the screen. My stomach dropped open, allowing a rush of cold air to fill me from the inside out. I stabbed at the screen, accidentally hitting the wrong button and sending the call to voicemail.
A wave of guilt washed over me, clogging my throat and adding to the sudden chill that pebbled my skin. I swallowed against the lump, sucked in a deep breath, and started to call the number back when I looked closer and noticed I had seven missed calls.
All within the last thirty minutes.
All from the same number.
The phone rang again, vibrating against my hand as it chirped its tinny ring. The noise startled me so much I nearly dropped the phone, fumbled and caught it before it hit the floor. Maybe I should have let it fall. Maybe the phone would have shattered and I could have used that as an excuse for not answering earlier.
I sucked in a fortifying breath, pasted a big smile on my face, and answered the phone with a cheerful hello. Maybe the charade would have worked if my voice hadn't been so breathless and foggy with sleep.
There was a short pause on the other end and I could easily imagine my father standing in his study, a frown puckering his forehead as his mouth pursed in disapproval. Or maybe his face would be wreathed with worry, his eyes widening with relief now that I'd finally answered the phone.
"Adelaide. Where are you? I've been calling for the last thirty minutes."
That was definitely disapproval I heard in his voice and I swallowed back a sigh, wondering if I was destined to disappoint my father every day for the rest of my life. "The phone was in my purse, Daddy. I didn't hear it."
"Where are you?"
"I'm at a friend's—"
"Where?"
"In the Quarter."
A full minute of silence greeted my answer and I waited, already knowing what would come next. More disapproval, followed by a lecture on my choice of friends, followed by yet another reminder that I was a Landry, with a hundred opportunities awaiting me as soon as I saw fit to pursue them.
The admonishment I fully expected never came. Instead, I heard my father's deep sigh then his muffled voice as he covered the phone and spoke to someone else. His words were followed by the click of a heavy door then another sigh before he spoke into the phone.
"Why are you in the Quarter when you were supposed to be here at seven o'clock for dinner?"
I pulled the phone away from my ear and squinted at the tiny numbers at the top of the screen. 7:02. My stomach dipped and rolled as dread washed over me. The dinner party hadn't even registered in my memory even though Daddy had reminded me this morning. How could I have so completely forgotten about it?
The answer to that question came up behind me, one strong arm wrapping around me from behind as he dipped his head and nuzzled my neck. I cringed and stepped away, my breath held as I silently prayed Nathan wouldn't say anything. He must have sensed my worry—or maybe it was the stark fear written so plainly on my face—because he stepped around me and moved into the open kitchen, completely comfortable with his nudity.
I yanked my gaze from his broad back and lean hips and strong thighs and jerked the phone back to my ear.
"—expected you here."
"I'm sorry, Daddy. I must have lost track of time with the storm."
"The storm that passed by more than two hours ago?"
I twirled around, dread washing over me once more as I looked out the wide glass wall that framed Nathan's balcony. The murky light that had only partially registered with me earlier was the shadowed hue of approaching twilight, not the remains of the raging storm as I'd first thought.
How could I have been so stupid? So selfish? So thoughtless and irresponsible?
I hurried toward the small laundry room off the kitchen, swallowing back a groan when I realized my clothes were still in the washing machine. I hadn't thought to move them to the dryer and neither had Nathan—we'd been too preoccupied
to pay any attention to anything but each other. I took care of that now, knowing I'd wear them home damp if I had to. I'd have to change anyway, nobody would be able to tell—
"I'll be home in forty-five minutes, Daddy—"
"Don't bother. I've already made your excuses to Quinn and his parents."
Coldness nudged against my guilt, pushing it away as the certainty I was being manipulated crept over me. "You never told me the Hardings were our guests for the evening."
"No? I was sure I had."
"Daddy, I want nothing to do with Quinn. I told you that."
"We'll discuss this when you get home."
"That won't be until later."
There was a short pause, the silence filled with stubborn determination that I met head-on with my own. My father sighed, the sound wearier than I expected. "Then we'll discuss it in the morning. No arguments, Adelaide."
I opened my mouth to tell him I wasn't the one arguing but the phone went silent. I stared at it for a few long seconds, trying to sort out every emotion battering me. Anger. Sadness. Disappointment—in myself for letting Daddy down, in my father for being so bullheadedly certain he knew what was best for me.
I wasn't in the right frame of mind to deal with any of that at the moment so I pushed the thoughts and feelings away and focused my attention on shoving the wet clothes into the dryer. I slammed the door closed, hit the series of buttons that would start the dryer, then turned around—
And came face-to-face with Nathan. He watched me through cool blue eyes, every thought carefully veiled behind thick lashes. He held a water bottle in one hand and slowly raised it to his mouth, took a long swallow without ever looking away from me.
"Everything okay?"
"Yes. Fine." I stepped around him then stopped, not knowing where to go. I couldn't change, not with my clothes in the dryer. I couldn't freshen up or even run a brush through my tangled hair because I didn't have a brush—or anything else. And what little I did have was in my purse, currently marinating in the mix of rainwater and whatever else had seeped into the leather the several times I'd dropped it on Bourbon Street during our crazy dash through the storm to Nathan's.
There was no help for it—the purse would be consigned to the trash bin, far beyond any hope of salvaging it. I grabbed it and moved over to the sink, pulling the few items out and setting them to the side.
Wallet. Compact. Lip balm and a tube of lip gloss. A small atomizer of my favorite perfume. A gaudy keyring holding two keys.
I upended the empty purse over the sink, my nose wrinkling in distaste as brackish water drained out of it. Seeing that, I was even more amazed my phone had survived.
Part of me wished it hadn't.
"Who's Quinn?"
The quiet question caught me off-guard and I turned, surprised to see Nathan lounging against the counter, his arms folded in front of his bare chest, the water bottle hanging loosely from one hand. I lowered my gaze then quickly looked away, heat washing over my face.
"Nobody."
"Didn't sound like nobody to me."
"He doesn't concern you." Or me, I silently added. At least, not if I had anything to say about it.
"Is it that guy you were with last night?"
"I wasn't with anyone."
"Didn't look that way to me."
"I wasn't with him. I want nothing to do with him."
"But Daddy thinks otherwise, doesn't he?"
I turned toward him, as surprised by the bitterness in his voice as I was by the hint of jealousy I detected. "Were you eavesdropping on my conversation?"
"No." He shrugged and took a long swallow of water, his gaze never leaving mine. He swiped the back of one hand over his mouth and tossed the empty bottle into the nearby trashcan. "But I heard enough to figure it out."
"It doesn't matter. Quinn is an ass. A slimy little snake I'd rather stomp on than spend a single second with."
A single dark brow quirked in my direction and I couldn't tell if Nathan was smiling at my little outburst. I thought maybe he was but he turned his head away before I could decide if what I saw was really a smile or just an illusion from the tiny scar at the corner of his mouth.
"Don't hold back, Addy. Tell me how you really feel."
"I'm not trying to amuse you."
"Didn't think you were."
A bubble of frustration popped in my chest and I quickly shoved it back, not understanding where it came from or why. I stomped past him on my way to the laundry room but he caught my arm and pulled me against him. I pushed against his chest, the motion nothing more than a half-hearted attempt to get away when all I wanted to do was press myself closer.
"I need to get my clothes and go home."
"They aren't dry yet."
"I still need to go."
Nathan's hands drifted down my back, sliding lower until they dipped under the hem of the oversized t-shirt and curled around my bare ass. His fingers dug into my flesh, pulling me flush against his body as the hard length of his erection pressed against my stomach. He dipped his head and nuzzled my neck, his breath warm against my skin.
"Stay with me."
I closed my eyes, my head tilting back as he ran his mouth along my jaw. A shiver danced across my flesh, enticing me with visions of what I wanted him to do, of everything I wanted to do to him. A ragged breath fell from my lips and I shook my head. "I—I can't. I need to get home."
Teeth scraped the sensitive skin just below my ear, playfully nipped the fleshy lobe before his deep voice and warm breath washed over me. "Just for a little while. I'll take you home later."
I should say no. I needed to say no. But Nathan's hands, so large and strong and warm, were already gliding over my body. Squeezing my ass. Tracing the line of my spine. Cupping the weight of one breast. Pinching the hard point of one tight nipple. Then one hand dipped between us, his fingers teasing my sensitive folds, spreading them and stroking my clit until I turned to putty in his hands. I clung to him, my hips already seeking more of his touch, my body already anticipating the promise of release.
His mouth brushed against mine, his voice so soft I almost didn't hear him.
"Please. Just for a little while."
I nodded, my answer lost in the scalding heat of his mouth as it closed over mine with a desperation I didn't quite understand and a neediness I didn't think to question.
Chapter Thirteen
Addy
"He's one of your father's players? That means he works for your father."
"I guess. I mean, technically, yes. Didn't I just tell you that?" I had, at least three times already, but Jacqui kept going back to the same question and I wondered if there was a point she wanted to make but didn't know how to go about doing it—which didn't make sense, not for Jacqui. I glanced over at her, noticed the frown on her flawlessly made-up face and the way she was paying entirely too much attention to the shipment of hats that had just arrived. The stylish top hats were gorgeous, made of crushed velvet and thick felt and adorned with intricate satin bows and delicate trailing lace in all different colors, from deep burgundy to bright violet. I had my own eye on one—the same one Jacqui was carefully shaping—and was fairly certain I'd end up buying it because it was simply eye-catching.
Just not that eye-catching, not enough to warrant the complete attention Jacqui was lavishing on it right now. She had something on her mind but I had no idea what. And there was something about that frown she wore that made me think I didn't want to know.
But what other people thought or wanted had never concerned Jacqui and now was no exception. She turned to me, her hazel eyes a mix of shadow and light as she caught my gaze.
"Did he know who you were when you first met?"
"Know? You mean, did he know Daddy was the Bourdons' owner? Of course not."
"And you're sure about that?"
"Of course, I'm sure." Heat filled my face as a small smile of memory teased my mouth. "We didn't really spend a lot of time talking about family when we
first met."
"Hmm. I would guess not." Jacqui gave the hat a final brush then placed it on one of the mannequin heads before reaching for another. "And you never mentioned your family afterward? Not even in a casual passing?"
"No, of course not. Nathan had no idea who I was until he saw me at Daddy's silly party."
"A party I feel the need to point out that I wasn't invited to."
"You wouldn't have enjoyed it."
"No?" Jacqui lifted one sculpted brow. "A party attended by thirty-plus handsome, eligible athletes. Can't imagine why I wouldn't have enjoyed myself."
"It wasn't as much fun as you'd think."
"Hm." Her long fingers straightened and fluffed the bow of the hat balanced in one hand. The motion made the bangles on her wrist jingle together, the tinkling sound almost loud enough to hide her sigh. "And you're so sure Nathan had no idea who you were?"
"There's no way he could have known."
"You sure about that, cher?"
"Positive." I rolled my eyes and reached into the box for a hat. That's what Jacqui was paying me for, after all: to work in the small boutique, not stand around gossiping all day. Although we did do our fair share of gossip while working, especially when it was slow, like now. "Why can't I help thinking there's a point you're trying to make?"
"Not a specific point so much as pointing out how big a coincidence you two meeting is."
"It's not really a coincidence at all. He lives in the Quarter. It would make perfect sense for him to be out drinking on Bourbon Street. Thousands of other people do it every day."
"Yet he happens to run into you. How convenient."
"It was the other way around, if you remember. I ran into him. Quite literally."
"Hmm." Jacqui absently flicked a piece of lint from the hat, her gaze focused on something I couldn't see. "'Of all the gin joints in all the towns in all the world...'"
A small laugh escaped me at her reference to the old movie. "It wasn't a lone nightclub in Morocco—it was a crowded bar on Bourbon Street. And it certainly wasn't quite as sweeping or dramatic as that."
Rule Breaker (New Orleans Bourdons Book 1) Page 8
