Drea sputtered, coughed, then began retching, seriously compromising the stitches in her wounds.
I guided her forward, my hand on her back, rubbing, but my message to Theo was urgent. “She needs a hospital. Now.”
“One more question,” Theo said when Drea’s coughs subsided. “Did he say where he was coming from? What he’d been doing before he was at the pub?”
“P-possibly,” Drea said, her inhales turning quick. “I can’t—remember it all, due to it being a blur now, but … he shouted, kept yelling. Accused me of forcing him to spend all his money in order to get into my…” Her mouth wrenched. “I won’t say the word. It’s foul.”
She took some time to think, and hopefully relax, her lungs likely straining from the effort of providing both voice and oxygen to this small, battered body.
“A game of some sort,” Drea said, coming up for air. “We bantered about winnings at the pub, which is how he was paying for our drinks. Stated how he was running low, but I was worth the additional risk.”
“Okay.” Theo looked to his shoulder and I jolted, my hand lifting off it in the same action. “Thank you.”
He rose. I took his proffered hand before thinking. The dry warmth had me clutching firmer as I stood, my fingers disappearing in his steady grip.
At full height, I almost didn’t want to let him go. But released his hand all the same.
Before I could remind Theo—“Bo, call the doctor,” he said. “Make Drea comfortable immediately.”
“‘Course boss,” Bo said, stepping forward. I’d forgotten he was in the room.
“Come,” Theo said to me.
“I’m not your dog,” I replied, but it was to his back. I said to Drea, “You did well.”
“Did I?” she asked. “It doesn’t seem so, the way your friend rushed out of here—oh.”
Drea succumbed to more coughs.
“Sax is scampering away because you gave him something.” I reassured with a quick hand-squeeze. “Believe me. I know.”
“Good,” she said, then, more fiercely, “Good.”
“I’ll tell you the instant we have him,” I promised. And I meant it.
“Thank you … wait.”
I paused in the entryway.
“I … I never got your name.”
“Scarlet. But you”—I thought a moment, took a breath—“you can call me Letty.”
“Letty,” she repeated.
There was no time for second guessing. I smiled my good-bye, then hurried out of there.
14 Caramel Coated Words
“Trace is playing cards,” I said to Theo once I caught up to him outside.
“That he is.” Theo opened the driver’s side door and curved himself in, the motor emitting a throaty growl before I reached my side.
“There’s gotta be a million poker rooms around here,” I said as I clipped into my seatbelt.
I could admit, I was intrigued and looking forward to infiltrating England’s version of the poker underground.
“There’s only one person whose House would allow Trace in,” Theo said. He took a corner, glanced at me, then let the wheel spin smoothly against his palms onto the straight roadway.
“You think Trace is playing these games himself?”
“I don’t know.” Theo tapped his index finger against the taut leather. “So much of that man alludes me, despite our blood ties.”
“But that’s about all you have,” I said, and despite the urge to, I didn’t take my eyes off his profile. “I remember, too.”
The tapping stopped. “We were close once.”
I faced the front window, but my thoughts remained with Theo. He was never one to offer up some history. Despite becoming so close to him and tracing the mold of his body—the line of his shoulders, the veins in his arms, his very sinew and licking my tongue across the border of muscle on his stomach, shivering each time I was able to touch his skin. His physical essence was forever imprinted into the rest of my life. But mentally, he was a deliberate ingenue. Hearing a word regarding his Before was a treasure. This tiny moment was no different.
I still wanted to know him.
“When you were kids?” I asked.
His brows came down as he thought. “I’m not even sure we could ever call ourselves children.”
The Saxon brothers’ father was known for brutality outside his family, earning his title from intimidation, cheating, and death. Trace was close to becoming the next Gordon Saxon. Vicious, prideful, uncaring of infamy and ideally craving it. His overt exertions made that clear, the one child to lay claim to the Saxon throne with the drive to maintain it just how it is.
Sometimes, I wondered if Theo worried he had the same temptations inside him.
Trace, Theo, and Ward, Gordon Saxon’s three sons, are like a sliding scale in aggressiveness, Trace being the worst. If they were treated the same growing up, how could Theo possibly come out clean?
“What happened back then?” I dared to ask.
His throat bobbed.
The feel of his fingers, his calloused skin whisking against the small blonde hairs on my thighs, had my hand slamming on top of his to stop the shivers.
He still drove as if he were ferrying Miss Daisy over the London Bridge. Eyes straight ahead, one hand relaxed on the wheel.
“I know what you’re doing,” I said, but inwardly cursed at how unsteady I sounded. “Stop trying to distract me.”
His palm pressed harder into my skin, the pads of his fingers dancing their way up. “Tell me to stop, and I will.”
My front teeth dug into the soft flesh of my lips as I curved them in to stop the groan threatening to unleash. He traced, so lightly, my inner thigh.
“Answer the question,” I said.
“Answer mine.”
“You didn’t ask me anything.”
“Do I have to?”
He braked at a light, using the physics of the stop to come closer to the denim cutoff of my shorts. He played with the threads.
“You promised,” I whispered.
“You’re right, I did.” But he didn’t stop dancing. The flash of blue in my periphery told me what he was looking at. The strip of white that followed had me anticipating his next words. “No kissing. I’m not kissing you, am I?”
God—“No,” I breathed out.
“Undo your top button.”
His fingers came closer to the seams.
“I…” Chin tilting up, I stared through the skylight into clear azure, exactly like Theo’s eyes.
“Slide your zipper down.”
“But…”
His warm palm slid against my underwear, the lace but a textured prelude to the performance laying underneath.
“You drive me insane,” he said, looking straight ahead. “Make me crazy. I lose my focus when I’m around you, because all I want to do is make you crazy right back. Take my frustrations out on your through pure, pleasure-ridden torture. Am I torturing you enough, I wonder?”
Without any warning, my subconscious had me unzipping my shorts before the light turned green.
At Theo’s acceleration, his fingers hit home.
“Oh.”
I moaned, my hand finding his wrist, gripping it, bringing him deeper. I lifted off the seat, staring sky-high, groaning his name and trembling against his mercy.
You can’t fall for it, Letty. You can’t be beholden to him again. Don’t. DON’T.
Shut. Up.
It felt too good to listen, and since it was my subconscious that got me into this predicament in the first place, I labeled it confused and would rather give into ecstasy than logic. It had been so long, since Theo’s fingers had last laid their claim hundreds of nights ago.
“Don’t stop,” I said, panting.
A purr sounded to my right, and at first I believed it to be the car, its multiple engines or horsepower or whatever the fuck was vibrating the bottoms of my legs, causing increasing sensations, coupling with Theo’s intricate weaves and heavi
ng me off the edge of a cliff I hadn’t seen in years—
“Scarlet, you’re making this impossible.”
The purrs, the rumbles—they weren’t from the car. They were from Theo.
I reached over with my other hand, spreading my fingers across the hardness of him through his jeans.
“Fuck—” He rocked against me, and with a sharp jerk of the wheels, brought us to a stop at the side of the road.
I said with a smile, despite my heated breaths, “Now you know how it feels.”
In a smooth swipe, Theo had me unbelted. “Take your shorts off.”
“N—” The denial almost left my lips, until he took his hand away and left me aching, empty, wanting.
I pulled my shorts and underwear off without utterance.
With a surprising amount of strength, he hooked me around the waist and arced me on top of him, bringing his seat down in the same manner.
Sex did that to a man.
There wasn’t even a tangle of my legs. No awkward moment with the gearshift. This man was as flawless in action as I remembered him to be.
And now we were face-to-face.
“I’m following your rules,” he said, grinding against my core. I mewled, the effort at containing myself causing our noses to touch. “I think it’s time you follow mine.”
He reached down, and I braced myself on either side of his seat. His dick released and I didn’t have to look down to remember the gorgeousness, how the size fit me perfectly and filled every empty corner I possessed.
“Yes,” I said into his ear. “Yes.”
In one heave, he was in, my cry of finally being complete again filling the car’s interior. I pushed onto his shoulders, becoming the driver this time, and rocked, rolled, swayed, until he hit every part that sang with pleasure.
Eyes up, then closed, I gave myself to this man. His hands centered on my hips, relinquishing control. Our breaths went in sync with our movements, my chin lowering, lips brushing against his temple, his cheek.
This is wrong. So very hurtful. But God, I want it. I can’t stop.
I moaned, our pace quickening, the slide of him, in and out, pounding, thickening, pumping, until sweat turned to dew on my arms and his became a sheen across his cheekbones, his mouth delectable, made for me to bite down on.
I couldn’t.
I cried out once more, this one drawn out and timbering into a whisper as I sagged against him, my face burying into the cologne on his neck.
“Scarlet…”
He rubbed my back, his caress gentle. Kind.
Dangerous.
I reared up. “Fuck.”
His hands immediately left, the warmth of him trickling away as I lifted and slammed back into my seat.
I felt around the floor until I found my shorts and shimmied into my underwear while he buttoned up his pants, but his face was unreadable.
“That was a mistake,” I said.
“Admit we both needed it,” he said, then turned on the engine. He moved into traffic as if we’d just made a minor pit stop for snacks. No hitch in his breath, no heaving of his chest, a complete absence of trembling in his fingers.
That was all coming from me.
“The amount of tension between us, it needed to be fixed in order to keep what’s important at the forefront,” he said.
“We’ve just complicated everything,” I said, close to tears, but I swallowed them back.
“You and I haven’t seen each other for years, and when we left each other, it wasn’t because of lack of sexual attraction.”
“You left,” I corrected. “You.”
“I’ve wanted you this entire time,” he admitted.
“And what? You think you left me aching, vulnerable, ready to ride you the instant I saw you?”
He flicked his attention over to me, then back to the road. “No, the instant you saw me, you slapped me in the face.”
I barked out my frustration, my shoulder blades burying into the buttery leather of the seat.
“Don’t punish yourself so much,” he said softly. “And give yourself more credit. I didn’t take you right now because I knew I could. I did it because the instant you walked within my horizon again, all of me responded. I couldn’t stand being so close to you and not knowing you again. Not touching you.”
Me, too.
I refused to answer. The rest of the drive, I said nothing, and Theo, never one to ignore hints, didn’t prod me into conversation. We’d done it. Both of us. And hell if I didn’t want to do it again. Inexplicably, I felt swollen heat between my legs as soon as he spoke, the caramel of his words melting against my body, priming me for more.
“That’s it,” I said as we rolled to a stop in front of a very expensive townhouse.
Theo didn’t comment at the sudden use of my vocal cords. “Trace isn’t in there, no. But the person who runs the underground house is.”
I shook my head. “Not what I meant. Us. We’re not doing that again. That was the only time.”
His eyes contained feral sparkle in the fading light. “Whatever you wish. You’re in control.”
“I may need to be more specific in the rules, I agree.”
Theo hadn’t argued, yet I still felt the need to put him in his place. “No kissing will now become no skin-on-skin contact.”
“Understood,” he said, then pulled himself out of the vehicle.
“Where are we?” I asked after exiting.
The double doors above the stone staircase opened, their beveled glass revealing a curvaceous shadow.
“I think you’ll remember her when you see her,” Theo said.
She stepped onto the terrace, her hands on her hips, the rest of her voluptuous in a black, silky thin fabric.
I took a step back, my butt hitting the car. Instantly, the alarm began shrieking. I shot forward, tap-dancing my apology.
Theo clicked a button on his keys, bringing silence to the night once again.
It seemed no matter where I was, what country I happened to stumble in or what year it was, this woman would always be better, more charming, more calmly seductive, than I would ever be capable of.
“Rada Khalaji,” I said.
15 A Duchess’s Estate
“Don’t you hate her?” I asked Theo through the side of my mouth as we took the staircase, where Rada awaited.
“The transaction you’re remembering from two years go, Rada and I have long since come to a truce,” Theo said in answer.
“I’m sorry I’m not up to date on the Saxon profit-and-loss sheet, but maybe you could give me a little more than that before we hit the last step.”
It was exhausting, entering into situations I wasn’t prepared for. Granted, I failed to utilize our car ride to elicit more information like I should’ve and instead jumped on top of Theo like a spider monkey, but I was determined to change. In the end, I had to remember one crucial detail: Betrayal.
Once I turned he and his brother in, Theo was never going to forgive me. To add sex to that, to mix his feelings, if any remained, with mine, would be such a brutal, irreparable mistake. Which I’d already made.
I tripped over a step and Theo steadied me. I’d gripped his helping hand too hard and let go as soon as I had balance.
“Are you all right?” he asked. Rada was now a few feet away.
“Yeah, fine. Might’ve just … pulled a muscle.”
It was clear, by the tightening of his face, what I’d caused him to reflect on. What we’d done in the car, me writhing on top of him, our mouths so close we could taste each other’s orgasms. His expression went hard with dark promise.
My pulse ricocheted in more directions than one, as my words had the dual effect of putting me in the same flashback, but I schooled my expression into dark threat.
“Don’t even think about it,” I said to him.
“About what?” Rada interjected, her accent light, unplaceable. She’d lived in so many countries, I surmised, and originally from Pakistan, that it w
as hard to root her anywhere based on her vocabulary alone.
The years between us hadn’t aged her in the slightest. Her black hair remained flat and shiny as a placid river, flowing down her back when she moved. Her wide, brown doe-eyes, while showcasing innocence, disguised the calculated reflection going on underneath. She was a head taller than me without heels, a gorgeous tower with them on.
“Sax here wants to prevent me from joining in on a game,” I said to Rada. Then added, “How nice to see you again.”
Theo proved his displeasure by gripping my elbow. Not so tight as to leave bruises but included enough of a squeeze to let me know that I was approaching restricted airspace by daring to speak first.
I turned to him briefly, my smile saying, If you don’t include me in your plans, I’ll just do the talking myself, and left it at that.
Rada did a double-take, her gaze turning sharp. “My goodness. I never thought I’d see you again.”
She looked to Theo, curious for clarification. Was I still Theo’s girlfriend, she might be wondering. What other possible reason would there be for me to be accompanying him again?
I also wondered if Theo kept in contact with Rada, took protection from her and entered this house, maybe even her arms. He knew where she lived without searching for her address or picking up his phone. They greeted each other like they’d only seen each other last week and that had been much too long.
Rada lingered when she kissed both his cheeks hello, her eyes steady on mine.
I hoped she could smell me on him.
“Come in,” she said, sweeping her arm out.
I could tell by her careful blankness, for the life of her she couldn’t remember what the hell my name was.
“Take a right into the drawing room,” she said behind me.
Theo, wearing chivalry like he would a top-hat that he could take on and off, stepped aside so I could enter first, then Rada.
I followed her directions and turned left into a minimalistic environment in various shades of gray, with thick-cushioned suede couches and tufted upholstered leather ottomans framing a gray, wood-bordered glass coffee table. Heavy smoke-colored drapes framed the three floor-to-ceiling windows facing the front, and the most ornate piece was a fireplace, the mantle seemingly beveled straight from the wall. The only hint of color was a close-up painting of ocean waves above one of the couches. The whole space exuded the word CALM.
WIN THE GAME Page 11
