But no.
Of course not.
The universe had a messed up sense of humor.
Let's just keep dangling him in front of her like a delicious piece of man meat while she slowly starves to death. That'll be fun.
I did fifteen laps, stopping only when my arms started to feel numb from the strokes, my belly aching from the exertion, my lungs burning, and my ears a little clogged from the water. I pulled myself up to where I had hung one of the complimentary towels on a rail that led into the pool, water cascading downward, exposing my body to the air that felt suddenly much colder than it had before I had jumped in.
"Did you burn off that sexual frustration?" a voice asked, making me jerk hard enough that I almost flew backward into the shallow end again. My hand flew out, grabbing the railing while simultaneously dropping the damn towel into the water and leaving me without anything to cover my very near nakedness.
It was right about then that I was pretty unhappy with myself for choosing a pink sports bra. Because, let's face it, you nipped like crazy in a bra like that and black would have hidden that situation better.
"Jesus," I snapped, looking off to the side to see him leaning back against the side wall, leg propped back on it, arms over his chest, face looking way too amused at my current towellessness. "Were you watching me, you creep?" I asked, forcing my legs to carry me out of the water when every instinct in me was telling me to jump back in, that it was safer there.
"I did announce myself when I came in. You were in a zone."
"Which was, of course, an invitation to stare at me."
"Was just waiting for you, Scotti. You can retract the claws."
Of course he was perched directly beside the damn towel cabinet. It was like he knew I would drop my own. With a deep breath, deciding I wasn't going to stand there almost fully naked, freezing, and dripping everywhere, I moved toward him, grabbing a towel, and trying to ignore him as I wrapped myself in it.
I mostly succeeded until I got the towel tucked by my breast and felt a strong, wide-palmed, calloused hand grab me around the bicep and pull slightly.
My eyes fell there for a second, seeing all the criss-crosses of scars across his fingers and the top of his hand, many aged, just as many new. In fact, I think there were more scars than there was unharmed skin. Somehow, that was almost unbelievably sexy to me. His fingers weren't all perfectly straight either. They weren't deformed or anything, but a few showed telltale signs of having been broken more than once, of being allowed to heal themselves instead of being splinted which might have kept them perfect.
But who wanted perfect anyway?
I liked the flaws.
I liked the rough edges.
"Scotti," his voice rumbled, a low, deep, sexy sound that seemed to move through my veins then settle inside my belly, managing to turn it into mush somehow. When I could finally move my eyes from his hand, which I was pretty sure was about twenty minutes later, I found him watching me with those unreadable light eyes, something intense there that I couldn't name for whatever it was.
"What?" I managed to get out though speaking was proving as hard as swallowing with a mouth as dry as mine was right then.
"You done playing your games?" he asked in that same, way too sexy, way to effective tone.
"I'm not playing..."
"Really?" he asked, pulling slightly, making my stupidly cooperative feet follow as he dragged me into his little corner, right up into his personal space. "Because you want this every bit as much as I do, and yet you're trying to act like you don't. That's a game. I get it. But I'm asking if you're done or not. So we can move on."
"Move on to what?" I asked.
Before I could even finish speaking, I felt myself turned as he moved outward, putting me against the cold wall and him blocking me in.
"To this."
And with that, I got what I had needed since the day at the shack. Hell, since the day of the holdup at the store.
His hands moved to frame my face, both gentle but possessive at the same time, just enough pressure to show dominance, but not enough to hurt.
And his lips crushed into mine.
And this time, I got to really experience it.
There was nothing hesitant, nothing uncertain about him. His lips seared into mine, hot enough that I would swear he was leaving a brand, like he was claiming me for all to see after he was done with me. Somehow, I was even okay with that.
His hands slid from my face, moving down the sides of my neck, my shoulders, the sides of my breasts, then around to close around my lower back, dragging me forward, crushing my whole body to his, completely unconcerned with me soaking him through.
And at the second of impact, a low, unexpected, needy whimper escaped my lips as my hands slid up the corded muscles of his arms to close around his solid shoulders.
My breasts- already crushed to his chest- felt weighted, heavy. My cold-hardened nipples seemed to tweak even further, almost to the point of pain as a rush of need started between my thighs and spread outward until it seemed to uncurl through my whole system, until it was a fire in my very veins, burning me up from the inside out.
A low, rumbling growling sound reverberated through Mark's chest and into me, bringing with it another rush of desire. His teeth snagged my lower lip, pulling hard for a second before he released it, his lips moving downward over my throat. The pressure lessened as his arms unfolded me, moved to my sides then pressed upward over my belly, in the exact opposite direction of where I so desperately needed him.
His fingers snagged my towel pull. But before I could even process his intention, his hands went to the straps of my exercise bra, grabbing and yanking the wet material until I heard ripping as the too-tight material meant to keep women with large ta-tas from getting black eyes while jumping around was pulled downward further than it was intended to go.
Then there was a rush of air on my bare breasts as he exposed them completely, again making that growling noise that sent a shiver across my skin as he slowly started lowering down, his tongue tracing down the center of my chest slowly.
"Mark, we're..."
"Cameras don't cover this corner," he informed me, making genuine wonder break through the heady layer of desire blanketing me. How would he know such a thing? "And that door squeaks when you open it."
That was the last thing he said, the final piece of comfort he gave me the second before his mouth closed around my hardened nipple, sucking it hard into his mouth, making my entire body lurch at the unexpected contact. One of my hands slammed down on his shoulder, mostly to allow me to keep my own two feet; the other landed on the back of his neck, holding him to me, silently begging for more of the beautiful torment. Which he gladly gave me, working his tongue over the peak in torturously slow circles. Then, just as the exquisite pain of his teeth on the sensitive flesh started to explode through my system, over the sound of my thundering heartbeat, I somehow heard a squeak.
It literally happened in a blink.
One second he was biting my nipple.
The next, my bra was back in place, I was collapsed back against the wall, desperately holding onto my towel, and Mark was standing up straight, hands on his hips, looking into the pool.
"I don't know, Angela," he said, shaking his head. "It is the mystery of the sunken towel. I'll have to tell Shane..."
"Tell Shane what?" the voice asked from the direction of the door, drawing my attention to one of his brothers, the bigger one, standing there, brow raised, lips curved into a devilish little smirk. "That you really appreciate the camera blank spots?" he asked, making me painfully aware how guilty I likely looked right then in my sports bra and panties, dripping water everywhere, skin flushed, eyes heated.
"Yeah," Mark said, nodding at me. "I forgot to mention, this is my brother's gym."
Of course it was.
"And he also owns that apartment complex across from Third Street."
Yep.
So his family just own
ed everything I was associated with apparently.
"And since this fuck forgot his manners, I'll introduce myself. I'm Shane," Shane offered, not coming closer, but giving me a nod as I pulled my towel into place.
"S... Angela," I immediately tried to cover, eyes big, heart frantic. Jesus. I was losing my touch. What the hell was wrong with me? I never screwed up a cover. We paid small fortunes for them. It would be foolish to do that.
"Nice to meet you, S... Angela," he said, giving me a smile that said that he knew I was up to no good, but not calling me out on it. "I have a feeling I'll be seeing you again," he said as way of parting, giving his brother a look I was familiar with because my brothers and I had similar ones- unspoken communication you could only interpret if you had been fluent in it all your life.
As soon as the door was closed, I let out the breath I hadn't been aware I had been holding, feeling my lungs burn when I took a deep breath in again, leaning back against the wall, eyes closed, trying to get a handle on not only my wayward thoughts, but the constant throbbing need between my thighs. It was literally painful. I didn't know desire could hurt before. But it hurt to not get fulfillment right then.
But that being said, it wasn't going to go any further. We were in a freaking public place. We had almost been caught in the act.
I might have had a job that made me seem like a bit of an adrenaline junkie, but that really wasn't how I was wired.
"Sweetheart," Mark's voice said, closer though I hadn't heard him move toward me. That was one downfall to him not wearing those clomping boots of his. His tone was low, soft almost, and just the slightest bit pleading. "Scotti," he tried when I didn't open my eyes. I might have been fighting, and losing, an internal battle, but my pride wouldn't let me hide. My eyes fluttered open slowly, finding him watching me, no teasing there, no more of his jocular lightness. He was all seriousness right then. "How about we hit pause on your game and play mine for a while?"
"What's your game?" I asked, taking slow, deep, deliberate breaths that were managing to help my mind focus past the desire that was still sparking like a live wire through me.
"My game is giving this a shot."
"This?" I repeated, brows together. "There can be no this. I'm leaving, Mark. I'm out of here in a couple of days."
"So spend those couple of days with me," he offered, shrugging. And, God, I was so, so tempted. But, being in the somewhat fragile, needy emotional state I was in lately, I had a feeling that a couple of days were not going to feel like enough. I was running the risk of getting attached. I couldn't have that. "Fine," he said as if reading my train of thought. "Just commit to one."
"One what?"
"One day. That's all I'm going to ask. One day where you aren't doing your 'I want you, but no' thing. Give it a shot for the one day. See where it goes. You want more after that, then we'll go from there." When I didn't answer, both wanting that more than I could say, but also terrified of it as well, his head ducked slightly, getting closer to me. "Say yes, Scotti."
I took a deep, steadying breath.
Because I knew what the answer was going to be.
Really, there was only one answer to a sexy Mallick brother asking you to give him one day of your time. Especially when that one day likely offered at least one world-class orgasm that you were desperately in need of.
"Yes."
"Tomorrow. Noon."
With that, he turned to walk away.
"Wait... whoa... noon?" I asked, confused. Since when was noon a date hour?
"Yeah, babe. If I only get one day with you, I'm taking up the whole fucking thing," he said with his boyish smile in place again, before turning and leaving.
It was maybe a full two minutes later when the stupid girly smile left my face that I realized one thing.
He was going to pick me up.
At the shack.
Where my brothers all were.
That, well, that was not going to be good.
Wonderful.
FIVE
Scotti
"Whoa, wait," Nixon said, looking at me like I sprouted another head and it was speaking in tongues. "What the fuck do you mean you have a date with the only guy around here who could pick you out of a lineup as an armed fucking robber?"
So they weren't taking the news well.
Which was expected.
Honestly, their reaction was even valid.
"Yes, I, a grown ass woman, have a date with a man who has known our crash pad for over a week and hasn't called the cops on us. Which might have something to do with the fact that he is a criminal himself and doesn't do shit like turn other criminals in."
"Christ, Scott, I know you're hard-up for a guy lately," Atlas piped in, always the least delicate of all my brothers, "but this is a shit where you eat kind of situation, don't you think?"
Again, a somewhat fair point.
See, I knew they would flip.
Because if the tables were turned, I would have flipped too. Actually, my fit would be a lot more dramatic to be sure.
Though, on the other hand, a part of me didn't want to hear it. Because as misguided as it may have been to feel this way, I was so excited that I felt like I was buzzing. Which was silly, but I was going on a real, live date. I hadn't had a date in years.
"Look, what do you want from me here?" I tried, going for trying to trick them with reason. "You want me to turn him down and piss him off? We don't know him. For all we know, he has a huge ego and wouldn't tolerate that."
"So, what?" Atlas asked, looking almost offended. "You're going to whore yourself out to keep him from maybe, possibly going to the cops about us? Scott, we'd never let that happen. We would rather leave."
Damn him for being so level-headed.
"Oh, for God's sake. I wasn't going to sleep with him to keep him from turning us in. Jesus. Do you really think that low of me?"
"So what, then?" Nixon asked. "You're just going to lead him on? Because that will end so well."
"Okay. I've had about enough of this," I declared, standing, putting my coffee cup into the deep sink. It was about ten in the morning. I had kept the news to myself mostly because they had been out late and I had pretended to be asleep when they got in to avoid telling them, knowing it would go this way. And I had wanted to hold onto my excitement as long as possible. "I need to go get done. He's going to be here at noon. If you want to give him the third degree or chain him up in the garage, that's up to you. But I need to get myself together in case you decide it might just be the smartest decision to let me spend the afternoon with him and get a feel for where he's at."
If all went to plan, there would definitely be some feeling. And I needed to do a good exfoliating and shaving and lotioning session in preparation for it. While I wasn't going to whore out myself for anonymity, I was more than willing to whore myself out for my own damn enjoyment.
Twenty minutes later, there was a soft knock at the bathroom door. This knock was followed by a pause. Which told me exactly which brother it was. Because Nixon, Atlas, and Rush would have just charged in after the knock, completely negating the social customs following a knock.
Kingston always tried to make sure he gave his only sister the privacy she always desperately wanted in a sea full of men.
"Come in, King," I offered, wiping the condensation off the mirror as he came in, closing the door, then leaning back against it. His chest expanded wide as he took a deep breath, head ducking to the side, watching my reflection.
See, the thing about Kingston was, he could see right through me. It was something that insured I never got away with shit once I was fully in his care. No sneaking out. No skipping school. No dates with boys. Nothing.
Even as I aged up, I never could figure out how to keep him out.
"Level with me, kid."
"King, I don't want to keep..."
"Look, I get it, okay? Trust me, Scott," he said with a smile, "I fucking get it. This life has had some good times, but it has just as muc
h, if not more, sacrifice and disappointment. I think, in a lot of ways, you have been the one who has needed to give up more. These fucks," he said, waving a hand out to indicate the living room where our brothers were still talking loudly, likely hyping each other up about the upcoming interrogation of Mark Mallick. "They don't want things like picket fences and wives and kids. Yet. They're young guys. They like the action, the connection-less sex, the ability to up and leave when life gets stagnant. They're not there yet, but you are. And you have been for a while. And it sucks that you haven't been able to have it yet."
"King, no one is forcing me to..."
"No, not forcing. No one is forcing any of us. But I think you, like all of us, have this need to see it through. And there's nothing wrong with that. But it's taking longer than any of us has ever planned. And you have been putting everything you want on a back burner and it's been there long enough that it's starting to finally fucking burn. You think you've been hiding it well, kid, but I've been watching those smiles become harder, the laughs become forced, and the frowns become more prominent. And it's been fucking eating at me."
"Kings..."
He shook his head at me, watching my eyes carefully in the mirror. "A couple minutes ago, that was the first real light I've seen in your eyes in months, Scott. I don't know this Mallick guy, though I think you know me well enough to know that I will be getting to know him and well..."
He wasn't wrong.
Kingston put most dads to shame with his 'scaring away the guys' game. It wasn't that he didn't want me to date. He was progressive enough to understand that I was going to date, that it was healthy for me to date. But that being said, I was his little sister, and he wanted to make sure that I was safe in the hands of whatever man I left with.
"I get that, King."
"But I know that he put some life back into you with this offer. That means something to me. And I am not going to try to deny you something that has you excited. I'm not going to tell you that it's risky. You're not stupid. You know what the risks may or may not be. I'm not even going to say that it is dangerous because if you're this excited this early on, that you might get over your head only to have to leave. You know that. Instead, I'm going to say this instead," he went on, giving me a small smile, "I want you to have a good time. And I hope he's even the least bit worthy of you, kid."
Mark (The Mallick Brothers #3) Page 6
