I burned for her, hotter than the force of a thousand suns, ever since that first moment when I saw she wasn’t just another dumb broad going with the flow. I’d fought it, changing the subject, creating distance, lying to myself—but none of it dul ed my desire. I’d buried myself in loose women since Katie, tel ing myself that I didn’t need anything more than a good fuck, and even if I did, I’d never find someone that made me feel the way she did. I didn’t think I’d ever find anyone that would be worth a damn. But I found that spark with Ebony. And it would never go out.
I couldn’t think or function with her around. Just the sight of her took my breath away.
But when my words came out, meeting hers, I found someone quick enough to keep up with my banter with aspirations beyond staying on top of the latest trends. I found friendship and a lover in Ebony. I found something dangerous—the root of the thing people search their entire lives for connection. Lo-
“No.” The word reverberated around the empty room, flexing its muscle. It wasn’t that, it was clearly something else…another word that began with an ‘L’.
From head to toe she was delicious. Her body—deep, chocolate skin--was satin and soft to the touch. Onyx eyes with flecks of gold that glittered when she got flustered. Lush lips that seemed to be made of pheromones, or something addictive, because pressed against them, one kiss, a thousand, would never be enough. A lean neck that begged to be kissed, right along with those breasts. Coupled with that pastel number she’d worn, just the sight of her made common sense fly out the window. Those hips and curvy thighs and the treasure between them made me salivate. A body like that was made for sex—and lots of it.
I walked to my couch, trying to convince myself it was purely lust. I was getting hard just thinking about it. I just wanted back inside her.
But alone with only my conscience taking up space I couldn’t fool myself. If she was nothing but a piece of ass, I wouldn’t have cared that she’d cal ed me out. It would have just rol ed right off. After al , I was supposed to be cold and uncaring. It was the thing that made people hold the door for me and women double take. It was the cover I was painstakingly building for Kournikova’s benefit and my own.
But I didn’t want her to lump me in with Max and Nikolai and Boris. For the love of God, don’t lump me in with those pricks—because I saw her as something so special, like a rose in the midst of destruction. I wanted her to see that while I talked the talk, that underneath, I was so much more.
Cal ing her weak didn’t do the whole mook with a heart of gold thing any favors, but my damn pride got me in trouble every time. I knew that she was trying to backtrack when she stood in my doorway. She wanted me to wave a white flag and give us another chance. I let her down. I let us both down.
Knock, knock.
I practical y jumped out of my bones. I moved at the speed of light, pul ing the door open without missing a beat.
“First off, let me-”
“Whoa!” Boris stood in my doorway, bug eyed.
“What the-” I slammed the door in his face and turned to the stool beside me. I slid the tshirt draped on the cushion over my head and cried out in surprise when my door burst open.
“What the hel do you think you’re doing?”
“Calm down, Princess,” he grumbled. He sludged in and kicked the door shut with his boot. He gave me an amused look. “Did I, uh, interrupt something?”
I wasn’t remotely in the mood for any of this. “What do you want, Boris?”
I scowled as he shambled onto a barstool and stuck his grubby hands into my bowl of peanuts.
"Please," I said sarcastical y. "Make yourself at home."
"Don't mind if I do," he chomped. He lifted a bottle of vodka on the countertop and gave me an obvious look. "A glass?"
I didn't move an inch. "What do you want, Boris?"
He let out a dramatic sigh. "Heard Nikolai gave you the day off and thought I'd come over. Since I was in the neighborhood."
It was a lie. I had his schedule memorized and after running shots for Nikolai in the AM, he usual y spent the day at Mel's diner, mooching off his permanent discount. When someone is a known associate of Kournikova's, their occupation is good as cash--or else.
I rushed to the bar and snatched the bottle of vodka from his paw. "Don't bul shit me."
He turned his massive nose up and frowned. I could tel he was fighting the urge to deck me. After al , smal er infractions, like looking at him the wrong way, had sent others to the ER.
I stared him down, a part of me wanting him to take a swing. I didn't expect to walk away from the scuffle unscathed, but every bruise would be worth the chance to knock the bastard down a peg or two.
He let out a deep guffaw that cut through the tension like a knife. "Funny thing, bul shit."
He peeled off his jacket and draped it on the bar beside him, making himself at home.
"Apparently, you're ful of it." He reached behind his back to where he kept his piece and I stood stil as stone. I had a .45 stashed just behind the bar, taped to the cabinet. With luck on my side, I could deflect his shot, maybe take one to the back or shoulder and have a couple of seconds to retrieve it.
Immediately my mind went to Ebony. Someone must have been watching my place to make sure I was on the up and up. I'd been so stupid.
"I talked to the bitch. Did a real number on her."
Fury stil ed my nerves and I resolved to walk out of this in one piece. The thought of him, or anyone else, laying a finger on her turned everything to red. Fuck luck. I'd kil them al .
I moved to action, breezing behind the bar in a heartbeat, keeping it steady as I reached below the counter and gripped my gun. My eyes never left Boris. In his smug stare I saw her dark eyes swollen shut, patrician nose hanging at an unnatural angle. As much as Boris talked about how sexy she was, he wouldn’t kil her right off. No, he'd take his time. She was probably in a warehouse somewhere, bloodied and terrified. She’d only been gone an hour but it was more than enough time for a grab. More than enough time for him to hurt her. To rape her.
Enough of this cat and mouse shit. I'd make him regret the day his father fucked his whore mother and slice him into ribbons until he told me where she was. Al he had to do was make the first move.
"I don’t know what the fuck you're talking about,” I said behind clenched teeth.
He slowly brought his hand back out to the front. "You know exactly what I'm talking about.”
I held the hot metal steady and froze when I heard something ring. My muscles relaxed as he brought his cel out. It was his cel . He didn’t have a gun.
He brandished it, his thick lips spreading into a smile.
My stomach rol ed when I saw a shot of the black stripper from BRisque. It was just the top of her head, with Boris’ hands tight in her choppy hair. He’d taken a picture of her going down on him.
“You sick son of a bitch,” I said. And now I was feeling sick because I was relieved it wasn’t Ebony flashed back at me on the screen.
“Hey now,” Boris snapped, snatching the phone from my grasp. “No need for name cal ing. Unless we’re cal ing a spade a spade—and final y admitting you’re a motherfucking liar.”
He was a piece of work. He forced his way into my apartment like he owned the place and now he was hurling insults? “You know what? Fuck you!”
“No, fuck you,” he snarled back at me. “You come in here acting like you run things because Nikolai invited you to dinner. You’re nothing. Nobody!”
When his voice went up a couple of octaves, it hit me like a ton of bricks. Boris was jealous of my rise in the ranks. Now that I knew he was armed with a bruised ego and not bul ets, I tried to diffuse the situation.
I shrugged, giving into his earlier request and passing him a glass. "The stripper gave me some sob story about her son. I was just trying to do her a favor."
"Uh huh," he said, giving me side eye. He traced the rim of the glass, his voice as cold as ice. "Say what you want
to say, but I caught you in a lie. And you know what they say about little fibs." He dropped his hand to the girth of the glass and wrung it so tight I was surprised it didn’t explode into a mil ion pieces. This was for me. I was on his radar. He was just biding time until he got the chance to catch me in something big enough so he could choke the life out of me.
He slammed the glass on the bar before shooting it across to me like a hockey putt. I caught it, just barely. Just before it exploded in a mess at my feet. "You got any ice? I'm parched."
9
EBONY
When I saw the color block dress on the rack at the department store, I knew I had to have it. The color scheme was unique, with tangerine and violet, mixing for something fresh and vibrant. It stopped about mid-thigh and only had one sleeve. It fit me like sin and even though Max’s eyes nearly popped out of his head when he got a flash of it as he led me out to his convertible, his reaction wasn’t the one I craved. More than anything, I’d worn it, and something special underneath, for Demetrius.
-- The modest factory had been turned into a beautiful beast. The iron walls were covered with regal banners with gold swirls and filigrees. Spotlights dipped and swayed, dotting the sky like hazy stars. A red carpet stretched from the arched doorway to the road where we pul ed up and local reporters stood like sentries, their bulbs flashing as dignitaries filed into the building.
Max nudged me as our driver walked around to the rear of the car to open our door.
"Bet you feel like royalty," he said brightly. His hand ran up and down my leg. "You certainly look the part."
I gulped as the door swung open and lively chatter whooshed into the cabin. I scanned the crowd, past the flashing lights and sighed when I came up wanting. "Thanks."
Max stepped out, buttoning his jacket. I looked at his extended hand with surprise. He lived for nights like this where he was the center of attention. I'd expected him to dash onto the carpet and ham it up for the cameras.
I accepted his hand and eased out of the car. His breath tickled my neck as he brought me in close, whispering in my ear. "I want you beside me."
I bit back the guilt and smiled instead, looping my arm in his. We stood together as the bulbs burned and I flashed an obedient smile as we slowly moved to the entrance.
The couples ahead of us had to flash their invitations, but when we reached the doorman, he promptly bowed his head and let us past, giving an effusive welcome, molars and al .
Inside, the first floor had been transformed into a banquet hal . In the expanse before two iron staircases that weaved up to the manufacturing floor, circular tables with white linen cloths sat circled by people in elegant gowns and tuxedos. Waiters presented tray of h our duerves. Up on a stage off to the left, a smal quartet plunked out a soothing melody.
“Maxhew!”
I cringed and smiled so big that the sides of my mouth hurt. The high pitched voice belonged to none other than Mrs. Kournikova. She wore a slinky ice blue number that was as brittle as the forced grin she gave me.
“Oh Ebony,” she gasped, giving me a once over. “You look absolutely lovely!”
She leaned in, close enough that onlookers thought she was pleased as punch by me, but her pale cheek didn’t touch mine. She probably didn’t want to be contaminated.
“And you as wel , Mrs. Kournikova,” I said placidly. “It looks real y amazing in here.”
“Wel ,” she said with an exhausted sigh like she’d personal y decorated the place, “We didn’t have much to work with, but we did our best!”
She turned to Max and cupped his cheek. “You should go say hel o to your father. Take a couple of pictures.” She placed her blood red polished nails on my forearm. “I’l keep your guest company.”
I let out a nervous giggle that was cut off at the knees when Max snatched me into his arms and planted a kiss that stained my cheeks red. It would have been romantic, sexy even, if it hadn’t been so obvious that it was for his mother’s benefit—not mine.
He pul ed away and gave her a smug grin before marching away to find his dad. Mrs.
Kournikova gripped my elbow and steered me toward a cluster of tables. Based on the way al the waitstaff seemed to revolve around them like the sun, I guessed these were VIPs.
“I real y am glad you decided to come, dear.”
Uh huh. “I’m glad Max invited me.” I let her lead me around to numerous tables, not even flinching when she introduced me as Max’s friend.
As we stepped closer to a huddle near Mr. Kournikova, I went rigid. Demetrius.
He was decked in a sleek black suit that made his skin look like caramel beneath the dim light. His wavy hair was slicked back, turning his daring appeal into something more sophisticated and poised. He’d shaved his usual shadow and his jaw seemed even stronger and more defined.
He was scanning the room when his eyes rested on me. The world stopped spinning and I opened my mouth up slightly, mouthing the word hel o. I saw myself in the way his lips curled up at the corners. I wanted to go to him, peel back his formal layers and get to the heart of him. I wanted to show him how sorry I was. How much I missed him, even though only a few days had passed since we’d been together. From the way I yearned for him, it may as well have been years.
I took a smal step forward and smiled back, a hint on my lips that burned in my eyes.
“Did you hear me, Ebony?”
I shook from my stupor and turned begrudgingly to Mrs. Kournikova. She was talking about design or caviar or something ridiculous. She was costing me precious moments.
“I’m sorry,” I cut in, “Could you excuse me for a moment?”
I didn’t wait for a response. I had to force myself to move slowly, weaving in and out of the tables instead of running to him. I wanted to bridge the distance between us and throw my arms around his neck, but it would crucify us both.
I stopped at the edge of the makeshift hardwood floor, turned toward the back corridor where the lockers and back room was housed. I cast a glance over my shoulder and tried to not squeal with delight when I saw he was fol owing me.
I pushed into the darkened locker room, nerves making my heart go a mil ion miles a minute. I smoothed the front of my dress, trying to stop my fingers from quaking against the soft fabric. I had to keep it together.
When I heard the door squeak open, I slowly turned to face him. He closed the door behind him and I couldn’t see his expression with the scarce light that filtered in from the hal , but I could smel him—earth tones fil ing me until I exhaled with happiness.
I stepped forward. ‘I’m so sorry’ became “Imsosorry.” My whole body shook with the fear that he’d tel me that he’d just come to tel me that he got my numerous cal s and texts and just wanted me to cut it out and accept that whatever was going on between us was done.
But if that was true, why did he smile when he saw me?
I wringed my hands and tried again. “Demetrius…what I said…I didn’t mean it.”
“Neither did I.”
Al the worry that made my muscles tighten when I thought about his denial of me relaxed as he stepped forward and slowly threaded his fingers in my thick braids as he pul ed me to his chest.
“You look so beautiful,” he said softly.
His words made me beam from head to toe and I leaned in, wrapping my arms around his waist. “You don’t look too shabby yourself.”
We stood like that for a moment, just rocking slowly from side to side to the silent music of our attraction. I felt it in the way he held me. He’d missed me just as much.
“You’re not weak,” he said as he pul ed back for a second. He stroked my cheek. “I was just pissed off and frustrated. I shouldn’t have taken that out on you.”
I just stood there, gazing up at him in awe. It was almost anticlimactic. With Max there was screaming and tantrums before I final y conceded and backed down. Was this how it was supposed to be? Drama-less? Easy? With actual talking and communicating? Things had been so fucked
for so long that hearing sorry from any other mouth than my own seemed foreign.
I ran my fingers up his forearm, up over his tight biceps and firm shoulders, continuing to his jawline, tracing it gently. “And you’re not scum.”
He let out a chuckle. “I’m no angel, either.”
I ached at his words. I wasn’t either, not that Max would know it. I was as vanil a as could be, but I had desires too. I had a sex kitten, urges deep inside that Demetrius ignited. And now I was ready to give him his surprise.
I took a step backward and pul ed the side zipper on my dress until it shrugged off my shoulder and melted down to my feet. Beneath, I’d worn a black corset, the intricate threads hugging my ample curves and leading down to a midnight colored lace thong. Black garters hooked to my stockings. I felt like pure sin in it.
I stood before him, feeling the silver moon on my back. When I saw his eyes go wide and his mouth fal open, I knew it had his stamp of approval.
“Oh my,” he squeaked out. He pul ed me back in and ran his hands over my body, nice and slow, skating over my breasts, down my sides, and curving my hips before cupping my ass.
His hold was tight and firm and when I kissed his lips, I moaned my endorsement. I wanted this.
I needed it. My breathing accelerated to a lusty, staccato tap as he took his lips and trailed them to my neck.
“You wore this for me?” he whispered, his voice as thick as syrup.
I nodded, heat flaring between my legs. “For you.” Al for you.
Our lips reunited, hot and urgent. I was never a big fan of frenching, finding it messy—
swapping spit was serious. Intimate. But I thrust my tongue into his mouth hungrily. I found his, dancing with it, swirling wildly.
Our bodies acted out our deepest desires. His was pressed up against my lower abdomen, the curve of his erection growing stiffer by the minute. I clasped him tighter, my nipples stiff and hard beneath my lingerie. My sex craved for him inside.
I pul ed away, only to make a request. It was a risky one, considering we were in an unsecured room with my boyfriend and his boss just outside. But he’d gotten under my skin and in my head. I wouldn’t be able to breathe until I had him again. I knew what I was gonna ask was insane, but I didn’t care.
After the Kiss Page 9
