“What if I’m not a biter?”
What are you doing, Cat?
Honestly… Qué!
Luka’s eyes squeezed shut as he released an anguished groan. “Some men can’t handle the pain.” His eyes popped back open. “And some men can.”
I stared at his parted lips when his breathing accelerated. “Which man are you, Luka?”
“No amount of pain has managed to take me down yet.”
His hips began to rock in the smallest of movements. Small, but purposeful. His hard bulge ground right over the dampened middle of my panties.
The arousal bonfire had just escalated into a blazing wildfire.
“You’re saying I shouldn’t let a man like you get the drop on me?”
His gaze flitted down my body and back up. “I think I’ve already gotten the drop on you.”
I sucked in a breath when his hard shaft pulsed against me. “And now that you have, what do you plan to do with me?”
“I’ve been asking myself that for the last two weeks, and I still have no fucking idea.”
His rocking was becoming less subtle and more deliberate. My breathing shallowed when his hips moved faster, harder. Our gazes held as we both realized what was happening…and we weren’t stopping it.
“For now, maybe I’ll just dry fuck you. That sound good to you, baby?”
Holy—Was he kidding?
I nodded, my sanity beginning to unravel. I hadn’t had any sexual contact with anyone besides myself in years. Aside from the other times Luka and I had touched.
At my permission, he let go of my wrists and pushed himself up on his hands, allowing better leverage for his thrusts. He wasn’t kidding about the fucking part either. With the frenetic pace of his pistoning hips, you’d think he was fucking me if not for our clothes being in the way. He grunted every time his cock hit my clit, knowing precisely when contact was made because I whimpered each time. I was chasing after my orgasm with mindless abandon and a wild urgency.
“Ah, Cat. You’re gonna make me pull it out and stick it in you if you keep that up.”
Then I’ll keep it up.
“What do you expect me to do?” I breathed. “Lie still and let you do all the work?”
His mouth twisted in a devilish grin. “I never said I had a problem with being inside you right now. I just want to make sure you’re ready for it.”
It felt like I was.
I mean, really ready.
Probably the most ready I’d ever been in my life.
But I’d already told myself I couldn’t have sex with Luka. He said earlier that hooking up with his gym members would get dicey? Hooking up with his employee/tenant would be a fucking disaster. It wasn’t smart. Staying in his apartment meant no lease, no direct deposit, no records. I needed to stay here in order to continue my search for Luciana.
And in order to stay off the radar.
“That wasn’t me complaining, baby girl,” Luka said. “That was me saying keep fucking going. Make those sounds for me. Writhe that pussy for me. Do more of everything. If you think I’ll hesitate for a second if you tell me to bury my cock in you, right in the middle of my own goddamn ring, you’ve obviously got more to learn.” He lowered his mouth to my ear. “That would be my wildest fantasy come true.”
Clearly, egging him on would get me exactly what I wanted.
And everything I didn’t need.
Indulging in this fleeting pleasure from each other was fine for now. But going further would blur the lines beyond repair, and that was something I couldn’t risk. I wanted to kiss him so incredibly bad. But…
That would just make it worse.
So, I kept my mouth to myself and bucked my hips against his.
He nodded, even though his face was mottled with pain. “I read you loud and clear. Don’t worry, I’ll still rub that sweet pussy off. All you have to do is tell me when, and my cock is all yours. Hell, it’s been yours since the first time you shook your ass in my face.”
I flung my head back just as the first wave of my climax crashed over me. My mouth fell open as everything below my waist seized. Blissfully, I rode the crest of that wave for so long, it felt like I blacked out for a moment.
“Fuck,” Luka growled. “Your tiny little panties are gonna be soaked in your cum now. I didn’t even have to touch you to make you cream like that. Do you have any idea what knowing that does to me?”
As my wave receded, he sped up in pursuit of his ride.
“You know you’re not changing your clothes now, right? I want you to walk around here, wearing those tight ass pants with my smell all over you. I want to know that when you’re teaching your classes and swinging around that pole, you’re wearing the damp panties that I made wet.”
Those words had my center throbbing one final time, making me moan. He jackknifed his hips so violently that it scooted me across the mat a few inches. Then he spent himself with a vicious roar of my name that sounded so basest, so animal.
So primal.
Once he caught his breath, I was shocked to see that none of the lust in his eyes had banked. “I was serious. Don’t change before your first class.”
I glanced down at the waistband of his shorts. Shorts he just spilled inside. “I won’t if you won’t.”
He dropped his head in a defeated manner. “I think I was wrong about no amount of pain taking me down yet.” He shook his head. “I think you’re that pain, Cat.”
I couldn’t tell if he meant that as a good or bad thing.
Either way, I didn’t want to take Luka Rossetti down. But I most certainly would if I didn’t put an end to whatever was going on between us.
I was toxic. Poisonous.
I already had a predator on my trail. The worst kind of monster.
And if I wasn’t careful, I would lead him straight to Luka.
It wasn’t until two days later that I was able to get to Cat’s leaky showerhead. I’d say it was because I’d gotten slammed with work as soon as the gym opened after our “lesson” in the ring. And that would have been true.
Partially.
But I’d also been keeping my distance out of fear. Fear that if I pushed too hard or too fast with her she’d skip out on me. I’d literally been having nightmares where I showed up at the gym apartment, only to find the bed stripped clean and all of her stuff gone. With no one in this city to ask after her whereabouts, Cat could disappear very easily, and I’d never see or hear from her again.
I couldn’t let that fucking happen.
After knocking on her door, I remained on edge until the moment it swung open. Three more seconds and I would have been tempted to kick it down, just to make sure she hadn’t looked through the peephole, seen me, and then climbed out the bathroom window.
Wait, was that a…ball of yarn in her hands?
Her eyes widened as her fingers tightened around the tangles of yarn. “Hi.”
Fuck, she was adorable.
It was a completely different look from the sex pot vixen I’d become accustomed to. The loose pajama pants and tank top made her appear even younger than her twenty-three years.
“Hey.” I dragged my eyes up from her pink-painted toenails and held up my toolbox. “I came to fix the showerhead. Sorry I didn’t call first.”
Tucking her hair behind her ear, she stepped aside. “No, it’s fine. But I told you not to put this at the top of your to-do list.”
Did this woman not realize that she was the only thing on my to-do list?
“Seriously, you’re doing me a favor by saving me from more paperwork.” I jiggled my toolbox. “Be a pal and give me an excuse to avoid it?”
Fighting a smile, she waved me through. “Come on in.”
The first thing I noticed when I stepped through the door was the piles of multicolored yarn strewn all over the couch and coffee table. That, coupled with the crochet needles I saw poking out of the ball in her hands, raised some interesting questions.
She winced. “Sorry abou
t the mess. I wasn’t expecting company.”
“You hosting a knitting bee in here?”
She choked out a mirthless laugh and attempted to organize the yarn chaos. “Not quite. It’s just sort of how I relax. Bet you don’t see that every day, huh? A crocheting stripper?”
I sent her a disapproving look. “Is that really how you see yourself? Just a stripper who crochets?”
She froze with an armful of yarn, her gaze still downcast. “No…I guess I don’t.”
“Then don’t give anyone else permission to say it either.”
Eventually nodding, she resumed her cleaning. “Crocheting just forces you to be still and busy at the same time, you know?” She waved me off. “That probably doesn’t make any sense.”
“Actually, it does.” More than she knew.
Sometimes your body is demanding you to do one thing, and your mind is coaxing you to do another, insisting it’s good for you, but you don’t know how to satisfy both while keeping yourself sane at the same time.
When her gaze lifted, I quickly averted mine. I was letting too much show on my face, I could feel it.
I looked around the room again, noting all the personal touches she’d made to the place. Her finished and unfinished crochet projects scattered across the furniture. An empty bottle of her favorite brand of vitamin water. A pair of small Nike tennis shoes in the corner.
“Here.” She bypassed me into the bathroom. “Let me show you the problem with the shower.”
I followed her into the small bathroom.
And stopped dead in my tracks the second I crossed the threshold.
Christ in Heaven.
My jaw hit the fucking floor.
I couldn’t help but wonder how cruel and merciless God really was if he was willing to orchestrate this. Cat’s lacy bras and delicate panties were hanging up all over the damn place. Flung over the curtain rod, dangling from the towel rack, thrown haphazardly over the sink. Satin and silk in all colors of the goddamn rainbow were being shoved in my face.
And every one of those pieces of lingerie had touched Cat’s delectable body.
Those bras had hugged her luscious tits.
Those panties had cupped her pussy.
She had come in one of those panties, because of me.
Her exotic hazel eyes widened to the size of basketballs. “Mierda.” She frantically started ripping down all the items. “I’m so sorry.”
I nearly shouted in outrage as she took them all away from me. “I’ve seen underwear before, Cat. Hell, I’ve seen your underwear before.” And what half of your body looks like without any underwear on at all.
She swallowed thickly.
I could have almost found the situation humorous if it wasn’t for my monstrous—and increasingly problematic—boner.
Saving her from having to respond to that, I lightly nudged her out the door. “It shouldn’t take me long. I’ll let you know when I’m done.”
The bras and panties were just the beginning. Because I never once stopped to consider how the entire shower would smell like Cat. Her shampoo, her body wash. The loofah she used to scrub every inch of her caramel skin. The images of her running her soapy hands over her perfect body made my chest constrict. Tracing her nipples. Skimming down her stomach. Lingering over her center. The pads of her fingers grazing her swollen pussy lips—
I should have just called a damn plumber.
Shelling out a couple hundred bucks for a job I could easily do myself would have been infinitely less painful than enduring this torture.
It only took me about ten minutes to identify the source of the leak. Another ten to block the hole with some plumber’s tape. By the time I was finished, there were some heavenly fragrances wafting out from the kitchenette area.
Cat was standing in front of the stove messing with something in a skillet when I came out. Hearing me enter the room, she looked over her shoulder, her hair now loosely held up with one of her crochet needles.
“I got the leak to stop for now,” I told her. “But I’ll need to come back and install a new showerhead.” Thankfully, it wasn’t an issue with the pipes. “That should hold you until I can get one ordered.”
She smiled brilliantly. “I really appreciate it. Do you want some dinner?”
Stay? In her space? With her scent clinging to everything? Where her body would be only feet away?
Hell fucking yeah.
I set down my toolbox and fell into one of the chairs at the table that was five sizes too small for my body. “What d’ya got?”
“Mexican tacos.”
“Aren’t all tacos Mexican?”
Her frown was chastising. “Such blasphemy. Sorry, but no. Those fast-food tacos you Americans get from a drive-thru at three o’clock in the morning when you’re drunk are not Mexican tacos.”
I rubbed my chin as I watched her cook. “I prefer a bacon cheeseburger that early in the morning. But go ahead and educate me. Where are Americans going wrong?”
She held up a pair of tongs that clutched a folded taco, letting the grease drain from the bottom, before placing it on an empty plate. “This is how tacos are meant to be eaten. The key is the seasoning of the meat—lots of paprika—and then cooking the meat inside the tortilla while you fry it up.”
“Flour or corn tortillas?”
“Only corn and only corn oil for frying.” She winked at me. “I hope you’ve got an iron stomach because they’re greasy but so good.”
“I’ve eaten Sardinian casu marzu, so I think I can handle your tacos.”
“What’s casu marzu?”
“Maggot cheese.”
Her face contorted into complete disgust as she pretended to wretch. “How are you even still alive?”
I patted my stomach. “Like you said, iron stomach.”
“We’ll definitely see, won’t we?”
“Is that a challenge?”
She smiled like she had a secret as she set two small bowls on the table, one in front of me and one in front of the opposite chair.
I looked up at her questioningly.
“My Má’s homemade hot sauce,” she explained. “Dipping your tacos into the hot sauce is the best way to eat them. Let’s see how tough you really are, fighter.”
I shoved up my sleeves to my elbows, prepared to dig in. “Give me all you got, woman.”
I was a pansy ass.
Calling that shit hot sauce was gross false advertising. It was blistering, smoking, white hot lava. I had broken out in a sweat, and was squirming around in my chair like a toddler that had to pee. At one point, I’d nearly shed tears.
Cat just sat there, calmly munching on mouthfuls of the red fire. Watching me with unbridled satisfaction. “You need some milk over there, baby boy?”
I glowered. “Do you even have any taste buds left? Eating this stuff your whole life should have burned them all off by now.”
She tipped her head back, exposing her delicate neck, and sighed contentedly. “I’m actually impressed. You ate your entire helping and haven’t gone to the bathroom once. You weren’t kidding about being able to handle pain.”
“They teach you how to withstand torture in special ops training,” I grumbled.
The way she burst into laughter in such an unpracticed manner made you think she’d never done it before in her life.
That bothered me on an indescribable level. The fact that I cared how much this girl laughed in her everyday life was galaxies away from my normal behavior. It made absolutely no sense that I wanted to be the one responsible for making her laugh, making her smile.
Making her happy.
“I can see why they awarded you the Medal of Honor,” she mused. “Such bravery.”
I had never told her that. “Asking around about me, Cat?”
Her expression sobered. “With a fascinating man like you, Luka, people volunteer that kind of information.”
“You find me fascinating?”
She canted her head. “That see
ms like too tame of a word. Maybe compelling.”
I leaned back in my chair, studying her closely. “I could say the same about you. Only I might use the word alluring. Or bewitching.”
She flinched, as if hearing that bothered her. “I don’t mean to be.”
“Which is exactly why you are.”
Silence draped over us like a warm blanket, and neither of us moved. It was the most still I could remember my body being in a long time. I battled daily with exerting all the excess energy inside me in a healthy, rather than hostile, way. I had to constantly keep moving because the moment I stopped was when everything went silent.
And silence was where the pain thrived.
Strangely, though, nothing hurt as I stared at Cat. Everything was still around us, but there was no screaming. No flashbacks. No shadows creeping out from the recesses of my splintered conscious.
With her, everything was quiet. Hushed. Almost…tranquil.
What the fuck is this magic?
“My turn to ask about you now.”
Her eyes flew to mine, wariness shining in them. “There isn’t much to know.”
Not only were those words an all-out lie, they were an attempt at deflection if I’d ever heard one. But I wasn’t hearing it. My determination to learn more about this woman was going to be satisfied, one way or another.
“Where in Mexico are you from?”
She hesitated for several breaths, her attention focused on the tortilla crumbs on her plate. “A small village outside Mexico City. You wouldn’t know it.”
“Try me.”
Quite a few of my missions had taken me to various parts of Mexico.
When she told me the name of her village in a whisper-soft voice, my lungs deflated. She came from a rough region. For as poverty-stricken as many of those tiny Mexican villages were, I knew hers to practically be a third world country. I had briefly passed through the area years ago, and it might as well have been a ghost town. Barren, dusty land that couldn’t yield decent crops, and nothing but poor water sources for miles. If not for the ramshackle dwellings dotting the landscape, you would think the area uninhabitable.
Glitter and Greed (Brooklyn Brothers #4) Page 12
