Well, that was so much easier than he thought it would be. This would take care of his Croft situation.
Mission accomplished.
The paranoid were about to really make one hell of a mess.
Chapter Nine
Private Gym
Penthouse Floor
Tuesday Late
Afternoon
H e was burning off a lot of sexual tension. Heath was stirred up, edgy, and craving something Russian to eat. Oh, not Borscht. He wanted something lean, lanky, and deadly. Being around Nikita was hard.
Since that lap dance…
Yeah, she’d pretty much turned him on. A few times—okay, more than a few times. Honestly, he’d contemplated going back to that dive club just to see her.
He craved that intimate touch.
Don’t get him wrong.
Heath was good at getting attention.
He was decent at getting the ladies to focus on him. Maybe it was his size, maybe it was his smile, or maybe it was that you simply couldn’t miss him in a room.
Yeah, he was a brick shithouse.
Only, women had to be something special to get his attention. His last girlfriend, bless her soul, had been a school teacher.
They’d lived in the same apartment building back in DC where they met.
He found her sweet.
Gentle.
Kind.
Cute.
They’d had their romance, and it had been fun. She’d refused to move in with him—stating some crazy reason that she didn’t want to cohabit with a man until she was married to him.
Well, that turned him right off.
Why?
Because all day long, Heath protected. He babysat powerful men, kept them safe and alive, and he didn’t want that at home. When he was done working, he needed someone who didn’t want a babysitter.
It got old.
Meek.
Mild.
Sweet…
That didn’t cut it for him.
After a few more weeks, his relationship with the sweet school teacher began fizzling out—and it had nothing to do with her wanting to get married. It had hit the skids, and he knew why.
He simply couldn’t find the energy to protect her in another apartment on a different floor. At home, he wanted to shutdown and be just one more person in a sea of normalcy.
He wanted what everyone else had.
He needed that fire.
Heat.
Blaze.
Heath wasn’t a Marine because he’d been bored one day and opted to sign up.
No.
He liked action, fighting, and most importantly, balancing the scales of justice—HIS WAY.
So, he did what he did, and relationships always came last in his life.
The last woman who piqued his interest, and not in a sexual way, had been Elizabeth Blackhawk.
He loved how badass she was, and how she wasn’t afraid to do what it took to get the job done. On top of that, there was something outrageously funny about her.
He enjoyed her sarcasm.
He found her intriguing.
THAT was the kind of woman he needed in his life—someone to challenge him. He needed someone who could make him work for it.
When you were handed the goal, it didn’t sit well with him. If you didn’t earn it, there was less value. Everything Heath had to earn in his life had been a battle.
Survival of the fittest.
Meek and mild couldn’t fit into rough and deadly.
They just didn’t.
He craved more.
He craved all.
So, as he stood in the gym, working out, he wanted so much more in his life than what the cards had dealt him. From poor kid on a ghetto street—he’d begun the battle.
Poverty.
Parental indifference.
Teacher irrelevance.
Soldier glory.
It was what made him who he was, and what gave him all he had in life. When he’d left the Blackhawks to play bodyguard for the Crofts, he had hoped Vegas would give him something more.
Fun.
Excitement.
A chance at life.
He’d hoped it would show him something special. Like coming here was planting roots and digging up a new kind of…HIM.
So far, nothing.
Then Nikita rolled into their lives.
First as a stripper, strutting herself on that stage as Danger, and now as the ex-CIA operative, who was someone he couldn’t help but be fascinated with.
Here was the challenge.
Maybe it was her eyes.
Maybe her wit.
Definitely that ass in leather pants.
All Heath knew was he would like the way she’d look riding his body early into the morning.
He could picture it.
He needed it.
Only, she’d simply flirted.
This led him right back to that sweet girl in DC. She was good, but she wasn’t enough. Now Nikita wasn’t upping the ante, and Heath was frustrated as hell.
And it sucked.
Heath, while big, was smart. He also knew that if a woman wanted you, she’d make it known. The flirting was step one, but as of yet, Nikita didn’t deliver.
He didn’t want to rock the boat and cause an issue with his boss and Dimitri.
The Crofts gave him a damn good life. He was paid a lot more than he’d been paid in DC, they gave him a sleek pad downstairs in a luxury building, and he didn’t want to kiss that goodbye.
Tangling with Nikita could do that.
Until he saw her make that definitive move, he wasn’t going to go there. Risk had to come with reward or it wasn’t worth it in the first place.
He loved his new life.
He couldn’t throw it away.
Flirting was one thing, but breaking through that boundary, and crossing a line was dangerous.
Was it worth losing it all?
He wasn’t sure.
Time would tell.
So, as he worked his big body hard, kicking the hell out of a bag, he was thinking about her.
Her body.
Her sexy mouth.
Her long fingers.
Heath could picture her all over him, and it was the best thing he’d thought about that day. Don’t get him wrong. He loved guns and action, but the silky soft skin of a sexy woman?
Oh, yeah, that’s where it was at.
He was sure she’d be as delicious as a Georgia peach, and as sultry as a Southern night.
He could taste her now.
With each punch to the bag, his body sang.
Not in pain.
In lust.
The whole workout was getting him nowhere. While he did it for his body—to stay in shape—he was actually there to forget about the woman he craved.
God!
What wouldn’t he give to have her once?
Then, he got his wish.
As he turned around, she was right there. Somehow, she’d crept up on him.
He didn’t jump—even though her presence startled him. As a Marine, he was better than that.
Truthfully, Heath didn’t scare easily. He’d been in foxholes and firefights. A person creeping up on him—without a gun or knife—wasn’t something that scared him.
Ever.
Yet, this woman did frighten him.
What if she wasn’t enough to keep him satiated? What if she didn’t want him like he wanted her? That rejection…it was the fear. It was what worried him.
Finally, after staring at each other a good three seconds, she spoke, breaking the silence.
“What are you doing?” she asked, smiling at him with a look that had always intrigued the opposite sex.
Heath focused on her, and only her.
“I’m working out,” he stated, praying she didn’t stare down at his erection. He’d been thinking about her.
Clearly.
It was large and in charge.
He’d been thinking ab
out all of the places he’d love to put it in her body, as she gave him one more lap dance.
Sue him.
He was a man.
A horny one at that.
Plus, he’d been abstaining from sex for months in a city fraught with hookers, bad girls, and easy women. Whacking it, while thinking about that lap dance, was not enough for a man to sustain himself.
Heath had a dangerous job, and that meant running on adrenaline and testosterone for hours at a time.
Like now.
He was jacked on hormones—and they needed an outlet. Those hormones were driving the bus, and they were the ones which repeatedly told him to throw her on the ground and mount Nikita.
To.
Make.
Her.
His.
Had he had more time in the strip club, he would have fucked her. Unabashedly, and without any type of regret. He wasn’t a stranger to strip clubs and a plentitude of dirty deeds. His mother had been a whore. He knew what cash could buy, and what it could bring.
He was no saint.
The best part was that he knew neither was she. There was no way, that during that five-minute lap dance, she didn’t realize what she did to his body.
NO.
FREAKING.
WAY.
“I came down to do the same,” she offered. “Room for one more on that mat?” she asked.
It took him a second to get her words to register. Was she flirting or was she really there to work out?
With her, you didn’t know.
Nikita looked all innocent, but she didn’t have a scorpion tattoo on her inner arm for shits and giggles. It was apropos and it had meaning. He’d done battle with soldiers before who carried that mark.
Dimitri had one too.
Like the beast in question, Nikita was like that dangerous critter. From the back, she was safe. In front of her, she could strike and kill you.
“I can share some of the equipment,” he stated, holding the bag for her. “Give it a shot,” he stated.
She was in shorts, sneakers, and a sports bra.
Nothing else.
He could tell from the way her shorts sat tightly on her body that there was nothing there to hide.
She was commando.
It made the heat in the room go up to levels that threatened to melt him to the mat.
Jesus.
He prayed for control. He had impulse control issues, and this was going to test them.
Heath could tell.
Nikita laughed at his offer, that Russian purr in her voice. That wasn’t what she had in mind.
At all.
“I don’t beat on a bag. I need a partner.”
Heath was intrigued.
“Okay, so me?”
She smiled that wicked little grin that turned his insides to liquid heat.
Jesus.
He wanted her to beat on him in the worst way.
“Is that an offer?”
“Yes.”
Yeah, that worked for her. When she heard him in there, and checked him out on the security monitors, she knew what she wanted for dinner.
BIG.
MEATY.
MAN.
She was hungry, and not for intellectual conversation either. She wanted to burn off some adrenaline, have some fun, and get laid.
BY HIM.
Only, it was clear that Heath was not going to make the first move, so that left her doing the dirty work.
Not that she minded.
Dirty was her middle name.
She handled the things no one else wanted to, or thought was too dangerous to go there. Well, she was willing and able to do the job.
To do him.
“Hand-to-hand?” he asked, his heart thumping in his chest. “I promise not to hurt you.”
She smiled at him.
Nikita couldn’t make the same promise. She wanted to hurt him so good.
“Oh, thank you,” she stated, not sure he got it. She was trained by the KGB to lie and hide, the US to kill and fight, and a few militant groups along the way.
She wasn’t a pretty flower.
She was a deadly predator.
“Get ready, Heath,” she said, sweetly as she stretched out her body in preparation for what was to come.
Them.
Hopefully.
Heath watched her, tracking her like a gazelle on the Serengeti. She was moving like water—fluid and smooth. Yeah, he was suddenly thirsty.
Heath licked his lips.
“I know I’m ready,” she said, moving toward him and going into a handstand.
He laughed at the absurdity of the move—until she scissored his neck and flipped him over her body and onto the mat like a ton of bricks.
He landed with an ‘UFF’ and stared up at her from his back.
She moved to stand over him.
“Don’t insult me by taking it easy on me or thinking I can’t handle you, big guy. I’ve fought bigger, meaner men, but you do look good on your back.”
He flushed red.
He knew better.
Only, he’d been thinking about how he liked her above him in that position.
Well, he knew better.
Heath flipped and was up. He was off of his back and onto his feet without even exerting any energy.
“Okay, pretty girl. Let’s see what you’ve been taught. No holds barred?”
“Da.”
He was ready. As she moved in front of him, moving almost as hypnotically as a cobra, he was ready when she lashed out. As her fist came for his face, he blocked and went to throw her. Only, she flipped backward out of his reach.
“Princess, if you want to fight, let’s fight. If you want to ballet around the room like a pussy, go elsewhere.”
He saw the rage under the beauty. It was there, seething, ready to strike. He’d seen it before.
Okay, Nikita had something to prove.
Well, so did he.
“Winner takes all,” he said, knowing what, or who, he was going to take.
Her.
She was down with that.
“Bring it.”
As he moved at her, she blocked, leg locked him, and tried to move him.
Only, he was forcing her center of gravity. She took the blow to her abs and stumbled back.
“I pulled that, princess. I don’t want to hurt you.”
She moved at him, swinging, connecting, and stunning him with a barrage of fists that she didn’t pull. When she drop-kicked him, Heath went down but didn’t stay down. In fact, he grabbed her foot and flipped her so she landed face down on the mat beside him.
Then he attacked.
Pinning her, he went to lock her legs into a figure four, only, she headbutted him.
Right in the damn face.
He saw stars.
And set her free.
Then it really began.
The barrage of fists were brutal. He blocked as many to his face as he could, but she landed some good ones. It was when he swung out, backhanding her that he stunned her.
It gave him a second.
It was enough time to attack, forcing her to her back and onto the mat.
See, she couldn’t fight if she couldn’t move.
He weighed more.
He was bigger.
She was trapped with his legs on hers, and his upper body pinning hers.
She was breathing heavily.
Neither spoke.
Finally, Heath broke the silence.
“Winner takes all, Nikita,” he said, taking that chance. He hoped it was wanted. If not, he was aroused and going to be damn cranky.
His mouth found hers, and that heat nearly did him in. Instead of fighting, she opened for him, her body going lax beneath his.
Oh, he was still doing battle.
Only this time with his mouth.
She softened for him. Nikita offered kiss for kiss in the war that raged between them.
That fire couldn’t be put out any way b
ut hot, out of control, sex.
He wanted her.
Heath needed her.
“Nikita,” he whispered, as he slowly set her mouth free.
“Heath.”
He opened his eyes and she was watching him. She was waiting, and it heated his blood.
Then, he got off of her.
She looked surprised.
Until he reached down, pulled her up, and tossed her over his big, broad shoulders.
Out of the gym, he strode, heading toward the elevator to take them down.
He wasn’t taking her on a gym mat.
He’d won, and he was going to make the most of this. In his condo, with her, naked. This was going to take hours to get out of his system, and he’d be damned if he was walking back to his condo buck-naked.
He wasn’t an animal.
“Where are we going?” she asked, her heart thumping in her chest. She could escape, but she didn’t want to.
This sexy big man made her insane.
“Bed.”
That was all he said, and the way he said it told the tale. This was going to be part two in their war.
She was down with that.
At his condo door, he entered the code, and she saw it. She memorized it for later, hoping she’d be able to use it again. Hopefully, this wouldn’t be a one-time thing.
Nikita never wanted anyone—until him. There was something so innately sexy about the man that he lit that fuse in her. It was something no one had been able to do before.
He was carrying her around like he owned her, and that got her wet. The man knew how to play this one, and it was checkmate.
She was trapped.
Inside, Heath carried her past the living room, past the kitchen, and into his bedroom.
The bed alone was huge.
Then again, so was he.
When he tossed her onto the monstrous bed, he stared down at her. Heath didn’t want to give her a choice, so he wouldn’t.
“If you want out, now is the time to leave. I won’t stop, and I won’t let you go later.”
The huskiness of his voice, the lack of humor in his eyes, and the way his body tensely vibrated before her said it all.
Fuck no.
She wasn’t going anywhere.
“I’m not running.”
Then it was done.
Heath pulled off his sweaty shirt and tossed it. Then he shoved his shorts down his hips, his boxer briefs going with them.
His dick sprang free.
She reacted.
It was hard not to.
He was a big man and she couldn’t wait to have some fun. This was going to be a wild ride.
No Justice_A Croft Mob Family Book Page 33
