Dirty Little Promise

by Kendall Ryan

  “I need you,” she whimpered, and I licked her long and deep again before pushing two fingers into her waiting heat, moving in and out as she continued to roll her hips. “Fuck me, Gavin.”

  She was close—I could feel it in the tightness of her walls, the neediness of her thrusts. She moved faster now and I gripped my cock even harder, working myself in long strokes.

  She lifted to her elbows, her gaze drawn to my mouth, then to where my hand fisted my shaft.

  “So hot, watching you touch yourself,” she murmured, her gaze soft and pleading. “Are you going to make yourself come?”

  “After you,” I said, my tongue lapping at her in lazy circles.

  I bit down on her inner thigh in a soft nibble, still fucking her with my fingers. When I brought my lips to her sensitive bundle and sucked—hard—her body pulsed and shook, clutching my fingers.

  This was the moment. She let out a low, deep moan and I closed my eyes, savoring the greed in her tone as she bucked into me over and over again. I sucked her clit hard, wanting to squeeze out every last drop of her pleasure. When she lay back, breathless and trembling, I straightened, my hard length still in my hand.

  She licked her lips, watching me with hooded eyes as I stroked myself. “Do you want me to—”

  “No,” I ground out. “Just watch. And make sure I can still see your pretty little pussy.”

  She spread her legs wider for me and I took in her body, remembering the feel of her as she shook around me. The pace of my strokes increased, my dick so hard it hurt.

  When I drew my thumb across her wet clit, she shuddered, sensitive and sated.

  And that was it. My balls drew up, and all the tension in my body loosened like a tight cord that had finally frayed and broken apart. My whole body felt like it shattered as hot semen spewed out of me in needy spurts onto the flat of her belly.

  I shuddered, loving the rush of release as I looked down at her, my seed on her skin, her hair a wild tangle on the pillow. But when I looked up, she wasn’t looking at my cock, wasn’t even looking at the mess I’d made on her stomach. She was looking deep into my eyes with complete wonder and adoration.

  In that moment, her quiet gaze said more than a mouthful of words ever could. She accepted me just as I was.

  God, she’s perfect.

  When had she become my everything?

  Chapter Fourteen

  Emma

  Placing my hand on the doorknob outside my office, I held my breath, bracing myself for what I knew was waiting for me on the other side. Ignoring the slight ache in my ribs, I pushed the door open and instantly gasped at the sight of my desk.

  It was clean—spotless, even. The last time I’d been here, there was a pile of paperwork the size of an algebra textbook in the middle of my desk. I quickly walked behind the desk and started opening drawers, rummaging through each one to see if the cleaning staff had accidentally moved the pile and forgotten to put it back when they were done.

  Just as I was starting to get frantic, a soft knock at the door broke me out of my panic. I turned to find Bethany standing there, giving me that mischievous smile I’d come to expect from her.

  “Missing something?” she asked, batting her eyelashes.

  “Listen, Bethany, if this is some kind of practical joke, I’m really not in the mood. We’re still waiting on a shipment from New York, and if those books don’t get here soon, I’ll have some really angry old ladies to deal with,” I said, rubbing the back of my neck in a mix of worry and frustration.

  “I took care of it,” Bethany chirped, her eyes brightening even more.

  I stared at her for a moment and then looked back at my empty desk. “All of it? But that pile was so huge—”

  “It’s all been handled,” she replied, waving her hands in the air as if she were brushing the paperwork away. “Once I knew you’d be okay, I couldn’t stand the idea of you defying death by hit-and-run only to drown in a sea of paperwork.”

  “That was really sweet, but you really didn’t have to—”

  Bethany cut me off with a hug so tight, I had to keep myself from wincing. “Oh God, your ribs. I’m so sorry!”

  She quickly released me and patted my shoulder instead. I smiled and shook my head, taking in a deep breath to ignore the pain in my side.

  “I’m just so happy you’re back.” She smiled at me so big, you’d think I’d just survived a shark attack.

  “Me too,” I said, looking back at my computer.

  “I do have some bad news, though.”

  A serious look swept over her face. My stomach sank, and I steeled myself for whatever came next.

  “Code Brown.” She winked. “And it’s your turn to handle it.”

  I sighed and used the rubber band around my wrist to pull my hair back into a ponytail. This wasn’t exactly my vision for my triumphant return to work, but hey, at least it was business as usual.

  Well, sort of.

  Since the death threat and the hit-and-run, Gavin had been more protective than ever. And honestly? It was fucking hot that he’d hired a private investigator to figure out who was behind it all, as well as a driver to take me everywhere I needed to go.

  I’d told him that he was overreacting, that I didn’t need so much of his time and energy focused on making sure I was safe. The first part was true. Sure, the death threat and the accident were suspiciously timed, but I hardly thought I was important enough for someone to really be out to kill me. The second part, on the other hand, about not needing so much of his time and energy?

  That was a dirty lie.

  I loved seeing this new side of him, the one that answered my every beck and call, that made me feel like the most important person on the entire planet. Knowing he had this kind of affectionate side to him made me realize there could be a future for us. A real future. If business Gavin wasn’t already sexy enough—even despite his need for control—then this new Gavin with a soft side was a freaking fairy tale.

  Once I’d finished up the last of my work for the day, I closed up my office and made my way to the parking lot. The private car Gavin arranged for me still felt a little excessive, but it was nice to get home so quickly after a long day at work.

  When we arrived at my place, I thanked my driver, nodding as he reminded me that he’d be by in the morning to pick me up. At the door of my beloved brownstone, I reached for the doorknob and was shocked when the door immediately swung open.

  Standing inside was a woman about my height, her wavy salt-and-pepper hair just long enough to brush the bottom of her earlobes. She smiled broadly at me, her eyes crinkling softly in the corners, and held her arms out wide to pull me in for a hug.

  Oh shit.

  “Mom?”

  “Hi, sweetie!” My mother squealed, wrapping her arms around me and squeezing so tight, I had to bite my lip to keep from yelping out loud. “I’m so happy to see you.”

  Gingerly, I hugged her back, patting the space between her shoulders. “Yeah, me too,” I said, doing my best to match the enthusiasm in her voice.

  After a solid minute, she finally released me, moving her hands to my upper arms and gripping tightly, scanning me like a book she’d just pulled off the shelf. I smiled awkwardly and waited for her to be done searching for any sign of unhappiness or lack of well-being.

  “You cut your hair,” she said, still giving me that same broad smile.

  “I got a trim a few weeks ago, yeah.” I nodded, still unsure if she’d ever let me go. “You know, Mom, I always love seeing you. I just wish you would have—” I began, but the crestfallen look on her face cut me off.

  “You forgot,” she said, dropping her hands to her sides.

  Shit, shit, shit.

  With all the craziness that had happened in the past few days, I completely forgot that my mom was coming over for dinner tonight. I felt stupid for forgetting, and then frustrated that all that silliness in the hospital had thrown me off so much.

  There was no way I could t

ell her I’d just been in the hospital. If being her only child wasn’t bad enough, everything that had happened with Nathan had made her somehow even more protective. My only option was to lie and pretend that things were just crazy at work. Knowing her only daughter had forgotten about their monthly dinner date would hurt my mother, but finding out that someone had hit me with their car? That would just about kill her.

  “No, Mom, of course I didn’t forget. Things have just been so insane at work, and what with the restorations going on here, I just . . . It slipped my mind, that’s all,” I said, fumbling my way through the lie.

  My mother stared at me for a moment, squinting like she was searching for a diamond earring in a shag carpet. She could tell something was off—I could feel it in her stare—so I smiled and slipped my arm around her waist to lead her to the kitchen.

  “Lucky for you,” I said, flipping on the light and heading straight for the fridge, “I have all the ingredients for personal pizzas, if you’re up for that.”

  At that, my mother’s eyes lit up. Personal pizzas had been a family tradition since I was old enough to sprinkle cheese, and it was the perfect way to smooth things over. I hope.

  I turned the oven on and pulled out all the ingredients, smiling as my mom opened a can of black olives, her favorite topping. After popping open the jar of sauce, I sliced up mushrooms, another classic topping on the Bells’ famous pizzas. The air between us calmed as my mom and I fell into our familiar routine, and we got right to chatting about everything going on in our lives.

  After talking about her new “rosé and romance” book club for a solid ten minutes, my mom turned to give me a quizzical look, raising her eyebrow and suppressing a smile. Before she even said it, I knew what was coming.

  “So, sweetie,” she said, grating the fresh mozzarella, “what’s going on with you? Any new flames I should know about?” Before things had gone south with Nathan, she’d spent months pressing me for grandkids. Apparently, it had been long enough since the end of that relationship for her to start pressing me again.

  “Um . . .” I hesitated, unsure how to explain what I had with Gavin—or if I even wanted to.

  It was one thing to tell Bethany about every twist and turn in my new roller-coaster relationship. She was worried for me, to be sure, but in the end, she was always supportive of what I wanted. My mom, on the other hand? She had absolutely no qualms about letting me know when she thought I was making a huge mistake.

  In that moment, I wished I’d had more time to prepare for this conversation, to practice what I wanted to say. Because, dear God, how did you explain someone like Gavin to your mom?

  “Oh, there is someone, isn’t there? I can see it on your face. Who’s the lucky guy, sweetheart? Where did you two meet?” My mom put the mozzarella down at that point, preparing herself for the prospect of grandchildren.

  Shit, shit, shit.

  “Uh . . . yeah. We, uh, met at a coffee shop,” I mumbled, eager to get through this conversation as quickly and painlessly as possible.

  “A coffee shop? Wow, how romantic. Did they have some jazz playing on the radio? That stuff always puts me in the mood.”

  “Oh my God, Mom, ew. Please don’t make this about your sex life.”

  “I’m just saying. And stop changing the subject. Who is he? What’s his name? What does he do for a living?”

  My mom’s incessant questions and the heat from the oven had started to make me sweat. I fanned myself for a moment before deciding to pull my sweater over my head, grateful for the tank top I had on underneath. As I raised my arms, the hem of my tank top got caught on the fabric of the sweater, exposing my abdomen for a moment before I quickly pulled my tank back down.

  I sighed. “His name is Gavin, and before you say anything, I want you to know that I really—”

  But before I could finish, my mom was rushing to my side and lifting the hem of my tank top. “What is this?” she whispered, running her fingertips lightly over the bruises on my side.

  Shit.

  “I’m okay, really,” I said, but it was already too late.

  With her brows knit closely together, she examined my bruises further, ignoring my efforts to cover them back up with my shirt. She pressed her fingers a little more firmly on one, causing me to step back and wince in pain.

  Mom looked at me, her eyes wide and angry, and shook her head slightly. “Who did this to you?” she murmured, searching my face for answers.

  “No one, Mom. I, uh . . . I don’t know.”

  “You don’t know? How could you not know?”

  “Really, Mom, it’s not a big deal.”

  “Not a big deal? How can you say that to me? After what that monster did to you . . . I thought we were done with this. I thought we’d moved on from men who hit us and hurt us and treat us like nothing.” She was pacing now, rubbing her hands over her forearms, her face pinched.

  “Mom, what? No, Gavin’s not like that.”

  “Not like that? Sweetheart, look at you. Look at your ribs! I swear, I don’t know how you keep finding these men. Your father and I raised you to respect yourself more than this, Emma. We paid for your therapist. I can’t believe this is happening again.”

  “Gavin is nothing like Nathan, Mom,” I said, raising my voice more than I meant to.

  “Really, Emma? Nothing? Then, please, paint me a picture. What does he do? How does he spend his time? Or is that not something he’d want you to tell me?” My mother threw her hands in the air with each question.

  “He . . . he runs his own business,” I stammered, rubbing my hand over the back of my neck.

  “His own business, huh? And what is he selling with this business?”

  Damn. How did she always know just the right question to make everything unravel? Maybe it was mother’s intuition, but whatever it was, I wasn’t comfortable with explaining his company to her.

  “He and his brothers . . . they run a, uh, an escort service of sorts,” I said, and my mother scoffed and rolled her eyes. “But it’s not what you think, Mom, it’s not like that. He’s not like that.”

  “Oh, so he’s a pimp? What, is he your sugar daddy, or whatever you call it? Is that how you’ve been able to afford all these renovations?” She gestured around her wildly, pointing at all the work I’d done like I’d sacrificed my soul to do it. “I don’t know how you got yourself into another one of these messes. Your father and I have tried so hard to help you. I don’t know if I can handle standing by and watching you get hurt again.” She started gathering her things, sliding her arms through the sleeves of her coat and throwing her purse over her shoulder.

  “Mom, please, just let me explain,” I begged, tears stinging my eyes.

  “Maybe another time. This is just . . . too familiar at the moment,” she said, pausing at the front door. “I just want you to be safe, Emma.” With that, she left, closing the door quietly behind her.

  The oven chimed to signal it was adequately preheated, but I wasn’t hungry anymore.

  I struggled to keep my tears from streaming down my cheeks, and the lump in my throat was getting harder to swallow. I turned the oven off and decided to get some more restoration work done, whether my mom approved of how I got the money for it or not.

  Polishing the pewter sconce with an old rag, I pushed a strand of hair out of my face and huffed out a deep breath. I was torn between feeling grateful for the distraction the work provided, and feeling overwhelmed at all the repairs my old brownstone needed. Moving from one stressful issue to the next used to be the kind of thing that centered me, reminded me of how small one problem was in relation to the rest of my life.

  But now? Almost everything in my life was stressful, and focusing on a different problem every hour really wasn’t helping.

  I was already dreading the call I would get from my father the next day, demanding an explanation for my mother’s early return home. I had to find a way to calm my parents down so I could explain who Gavin was and how important he was quickly becoming to me. It would be a tricky conversation, made even harder by the unanswered questions even I still had. Maybe if my parents could just meet him, they would see how wrong my mother’s assumptions about him were. I knew it. I felt it.

  On the surface, sure, the two men seemed to share some alpha-male tendencies. But if you dug a little deeper?

  Gavin and Nathan couldn’t be more different.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Gavin

  The minute Emma was granted a clean bill of health, Cooper packed up his things and left. It was an unceremonious departure—he didn’t even bother to stop by my door before he’d gone. But when the door shut behind him, there was no doubting things were different around the office.

  Quinn never said a word about the change, never chastised me for my actions or accused me of pushing Cooper out, but I still felt a twinge of guilt every time I thought of my younger brother. For Emma, sacrifices had had to be made. It was just unfortunate that Cooper was one of them.

  Now, though, I couldn’t help but wonder if it was for the best. There was a new weight on my shoulders, one I had no idea how to lift. It made me wonder if it might be beneficial for everyone I loved to stay as far away from them as possible. But he wasn’t gone for good, he’d made that clear—he was just scouting out some possible locations. A decision on where he’d end up would come later.

  I pushed the thought away, determined to deal with that another day. Tonight wasn’t about Cooper or my problems. Now that Emma was well again, I wanted to take her out to celebrate.

  I’d already pulled out all my favorite stops with her before. The vineyard, the helicopter, whisking her away to a beach getaway—well, sort of. That trip was actually for work. Everything I’d planned for her so far had been an invitation into my world, so this date had to be about hers.

  What the fuck do bookworms like to do besides read? I racked my brain for options.

  Take her to a nice bookstore? She works in a damn library.

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