by Ella Miles
He puts his hand in his pocket, waiting for me to make the next move since I’m a strong, independent woman and all that. I like that he’s letting me make the next move. But sometimes, I want a man I can depend on. A man who will take care of me. A man who does things for me in spite of the fact that I can do it for myself—make my own money, get myself off, and fight my own battles. Sometimes, I want a man to do all those things.
Beckett smiles, shaking his head at me.
“What?” I ask, knowing he can read me well. I still don’t know what he does exactly, but he’s skilled at reading people.
“You’ll find that man someday; I’m just not him.”
“How did you read my mind?”
He shrugs. “People are easy to read.”
“Is that why you stick to herding cattle?”
He laughs. “Yes, cattle are way more interesting.”
I grab the collar of his shirt and pull him to me. “I think you’re interesting.”
And then I kiss him, because I need to make the first move. If he tried to kiss me, I’d probably slap him or something. He’s worried about that too, which is why he’s been keeping his distance. But now that our lips are pressed together, he’s not being so cautious.
His hand runs down my back over my ass, and then he squeezes as our lips press hard together, urgently. Our lips part and our tongues tangle in a familiar dance. It’s a great fucking kiss. Beckett knows how to part his lips, move his tongue, dip his head to deepen the kiss. He knows how to use his one hand to press our bodies together and send little chills down my back. I even get little butterflies in my stomach when he kisses me because I know what happens next. It’s exciting and new, but it’s not Zeke.
Fuck, it’s not Zeke.
I thought fucking him once was enough. But it’s clear now that once wasn’t enough to rid my feelings of him. I need to fuck Zeke until it’s boring, no longer new. Until we’ve done all the usual positions. Until there is nothing new to explore with each other. Until we crave someone else.
Beckett ends the kiss. “My place or yours?”
“Yours,” I say with a smile.
He wiggles his eyebrows behind him. Turns out, Beckett’s hotel is right behind us.
I grin as he pulls on my hand, but I feel familiar chills run down my body. The intense kind that only comes from one man—Zeke.
I turn my head and see him walking down the sidewalk alone. He saw the kiss, and he looks like Godzilla about to destroy an entire village.
Maybe it’s for the best. Zeke won’t want me after he saw me kiss another man. And even though my body craves Zeke, no one will get hurt this way.
Beckett pulls me through the lobby’s glass doors and then to the elevator bay. He’s a gentleman, holding my hand as we wait for the elevator doors to open, but once inside, he’s an animal.
He fists my ponytail as he pulls my head back to kiss me hard.
Focus on this kiss. Let the tingles I feel on my lips ignite a new fire—for any man other than Zeke.
Nothing. The tingles go nowhere. It’s nice, but not holy-fucking-hot. It’s just pleasant.
But when I look at Beckett, I know he’s feeling a lot more than just nice. He’s excited and happy about what comes next, and I play along with him.
We stumble back, groping each other, and stopping to kiss as we make our way to his hotel room. I take everything in as we walk. The escape route through the emergency stairs. The fire alarm. Then ten other rooms on this floor. The security camera in the corner. Even the stain two feet from Beckett’s room I purposefully step over because, ew.
And once we are in Beckett’s room, I realize one thing right away. He’s messy as hell.
“Sorry about the mess,” Beckett says.
“Ever hear of a hamper?” I ask against his lips, noticing all his clothes piled everywhere.
“Nope.” He kisses back, already grabbing at my shirt, trying to pull it up.
I laugh when he yanks my shirt up, but it gets stuck around my ears, and we both have to slow down. Finally, he gets my shirt off, and his eyes devour my black lace bra and cleavage.
“Damn,” he says.
I blush, biting my lip, liking the attention, even though I know how this night ends.
“Your turn,” I say, grabbing his shirt and unbuttoning the flannel. I’m not sure what I expect when I undress him, but I wasn’t expecting abs. So many abs.
“Impressive,” I say, kissing the first ab. Zeke is big, thick, bulk muscle. While Beckett has thin, sleek muscles. The two men couldn’t be more different.
I grab the hair tie holding my hair up in a sleek ponytail and let my hair down. He watches my hair fall with large eyes.
And then I push his bare chest, and he walks back until he hits the bed. He scoots up the bed, leaning back against the headboard while I climb up his body, putting one leg on each side of his, straddling him. His hand rests on my hip as I lean forward and kiss him, forcefully and deliciously. I kiss him to distract him, to make him forget with hopes that if I kiss him hard enough, I’ll forget too. Not him, but Zeke.
But no amount of kissing can erase Zeke’s kisses from my mind.
I reach into my back pocket, pull out a syringe, and then jab it into Beckett’s neck.
“Sorry,” I say as he slumps down. The drugs will knock him out for a bit until Zeke gets here and we can go through his stuff and decide what to do with him. I grab a shirt from the floor and tie his arm to the headboard. It won’t hold him for long if he wakes up, but it will be one more obstacle to keep him from attacking us straight away.
I glance around the room that is going to take us hours to go through. There is way too much crap. I could start now, but I decide to help myself to Beckett’s whiskey while I wait for Zeke.
But I don’t have to wait long because a pound on the door tells me Zeke is here, and he isn’t happy.
20
Zeke
I should have turned around. I should have walked to my own hotel and forgot what I saw. Maybe drank my misery away? Or fucked Nora after all?
But I couldn’t.
When I saw Siren kiss Beckett, my world ended. At first, I thought I was dreaming. It was all a nightmare. But soon I realized that it was real. I was standing on the sidewalk watching Siren kiss a man who is most likely the devil—a man who deserves to be killed, not fucked by an angel like Siren.
And in that moment, watching her kiss another man, I know that my life will forever be intertwined with hers. I will never be able to kiss another woman without thinking about Siren. I will never be able to watch a woman who looks like Siren kiss a man without needing a drink to wash her memory from my mind. I will never be able to kiss enough women to rid my brain of her kisses.
Why?
I don’t know.
It’s not love I’m feeling. Even though I’ve never loved a woman before, I know that isn’t what this is. If I was in love with her, I wouldn’t have been able to watch her walk into that hotel room with him. I wouldn’t have been able to pause outside for even a minute without chasing after and shooting him dead.
If it’s not love, then what is it?
Lust?
Desire?
My claim that Siren is mine?
Fuck, I don’t know.
I don’t want love. I don’t want some romantic fairytale that will never exist between us. The romantic gestures are just that—gestures. I’m a nice guy who likes taking care of others. I like flowering Siren with pretty things and then watching her squirm in discomfort, just like she likes kissing other men and watching the turmoil on my face.
I try to force myself to turn around. Let her fuck Beckett and kill him. Then I don’t have to worry about him. I’ll have accomplished Julian’s sin without having to do anything.
I turn away.
I take a step.
And then I spin on a dime and run in the other direction.
I head into the hotel lobby, knowing it’s too late to find out whi
ch room they are in by stalking them. My choices are to ask the hotel receptionist or hack the security system.
I stare at the hotel receptionist—a woman in her mid-twenties, already eating me up in my suit.
Flirting with the hotel receptionist it is.
“May I help you?” she asks in a too-sweet voice.
“Yes,” I walk over and give her my best worried, puppy dog eyes. “My sister is diabetic. She left the bar with a date. She texted me this address and told me to bring her medicine, but her phone’s dead, so I don’t know which room to bring it to.”
She smiles. “You are such a good big brother.”
I lean on the counter until my hand just touches hers. She shivers like a thrill just shot through her. “I am.”
“What’s her last name?” she asks.
“I think the hotel is listed under her date’s name, but I don’t know his name. She probably got here five, maybe ten minutes before I did,” I ask, hopeful she saw them enter together and knows who I’m talking about. I don’t bother giving his name since I doubt he rented a room under it.
She frowns, trying to rack her brain.
“She was wearing tight jeans and a black shirt. He was in flannel and only has one arm.”
“Oh, yes. I think he’s on the eighth floor. But I’m not sure which room. Without his last name, I can’t look him up.”
I sigh. “Thanks.”
I knock on five doors before I find the right one.
Siren answers the door, holding a glass of whiskey in her hand. Her pants are still on, but her shirt is off, giving me a perfect view of her black lace bra, pushing her boobs up.
“Going to accuse me of being a whore?” she asks, putting her hand on her hip clearly annoyed with me, when I should be the one annoyed with her.
I push past her and go inside; I’m not going to argue with her with the door open and Beckett inside.
I don’t know what I expected when I walked inside, but what I find isn’t it. Beckett is lying on the bed, slumped over, with his arm tied to the bedpost. His flannel shirt is open, but otherwise, he’s completely dressed.
“Or accuse me of being into BDSM?” she asks, slamming the hotel room door.
I turn, and Siren runs into my body, the glass swaying in her hands.
“No, I was just going to say I was wrong.”
She blinks rapidly, her mouth falling open slightly. “What do you mean, you were wrong?”
I take the glass from her hands, down it, and set it on the nightstand.
She frowns, crossing her arms, which only pushes her boobs up higher, distracting me.
“I’m waiting,” she says when I don’t answer.
“I was wrong when I said I don’t want to be with you. When I said you were a whore. Or at least, implied it. I don’t care who you are. I don’t care what you’ve done. Or what the consequences are. I need to fuck you again.”
Her tongue sticks out between her teeth at my words. And I can see so much happening behind her long eyelashes. Emotions I can’t even begin to understand.
“You don’t get to fuck me again. You had your one time.”
“Liar,” I say, stepping forward into her space.
She doesn’t yield. She holds her ground and stares at Beckett instead of me.
I grab her chin, forcing her to look at me. “Don’t look at him; look at me.”
She exhales slowly as she looks at me.
“You’ve had us both. Tasted us both with your lips.”
She nods.
“Who was better?”
“You,” she whispers.
Heaven, it sounds like heaven hearing her confirm what I already know. Because she can’t fake a kiss like ours. I know how incredibly rare it is. She doesn’t kiss every man like that. I saw how she kissed Beckett. It was nothing compared to our kisses.
“You tasted his abs. Whose are better?” I ask, after I saw her red lipstick smeared on his chest.
She bites her teeth, holding back a sassy grin. “His.”
I step further into her space. “I’m going to make you pay for that. Was that the first lie you ever told?”
She laughs gently, still on edge about what is happening between us. “It wasn’t a lie; he has clearly spent more time on his abs than you have. But your arms…”
I growl, my arms definitely win as does another body part.
“Truth or sin? Who do you want to fuck? Him or me?”
She holds her breath, trying to figure a way out of this mess. The only way she ends this is to choose him. But that would be a lie, and she doesn’t have it in her to lie, not with her words.
“You first. Truth or sin? Did you lie in our game earlier when you said you want to fuck Nora?”
I grab her wrists, and then I slam them high over her head as I push her body against the wall until she’s trapped by my body. She can deny not liking giving up control all she wants, but I can read the signs. When it comes to sex, she wants to be controlled, dominated. She doesn’t want nice. And good thing, because in the bedroom, I’m anything but nice.
“I didn’t lie,” I say.
Her eyes fall closed, and I can feel the pain emanating off her.
“But I didn’t tell the complete truth either,” I say.
Her eyes fly open.
“Yes, my cock would love to fuck Nora in the same way it wants to fuck any good looking woman. But not nearly as bad as I want to fuck you. If given the choice between fucking a hundred women or only you, I’d always choose you.”
Her eyes heat, and her thoughts swirl in her head. She doesn’t speak. She pants as she takes in every word I say.
“Truth or sin? Who do you want to fuck? Beckett or me?”
“Sin,” she answers.
And I push up against her until she can feel every part of my hardness pushed up against her softness. Until I already know what sin she is planning on committing. She may not have chosen me with her words, but she’s going to choose me with every other fiber of her being.
I lower my lips to hers, needing to taste her more than I need to breathe. Her lips part, ready for the kiss, wanting it desperately. But just before our lips touch, she says, “You, I don’t want to fuck anyone but you.”
Together we close the gap between us. Fuck, this kiss is better than I remember. The softness of her lips, the slickness of her tongue, the way she demands everything from me. I’ve never felt anything like her. I can’t control my body, my thoughts, my wicked desires. She consumes everything within my body when she kisses me.
I trail my kisses down her neck, needing to taste every inch of her. She arches her back as I kiss, moaning as I continue to hold her against the wall. I can’t let her go. I’ll take her right here against the wall.
I grab her leg, pulling it up as I press between her.
“If you keep that up, I’m going to come before we get undressed,” she moans.
“Good, I want to hear you scream my name a hundred times tonight.”
My cock pushes up against her again, telling her exactly what I want from her, and what I plan on giving her.
“Fuck,” she moans.
I smirk, pushing her bra down and finding her nipple to devour in my mouth. I’m rewarded with a delicious moan, and her twisting in my grasp, needing to get free and feel more of me.
“Are you going to fuck me against this wall?” Siren asks, raising an eyebrow at me.
“No, I want to fuck you in a bed.” I grab her around the waist, pulling her from the wall and moving toward the bed when I suddenly remember Beckett is on the bed.
I howl.
She whimpers. “Zeke, I need—”
I devour her mouth again; I can’t fuck her on the bed or even in this room, not with Beckett passed out on the bed. I should be focused on him. I should be searching his room and interrogating him before killing him and figuring out how to dispose of his body. Instead, all I can think about is Siren.
“Should we sneak into another hotel roo
m?” I ask, not able to wait until after we get rid of Beckett to have her.
She gasps. “I can’t wait that long.”
Our hands move all over each other’s bodies. Our tongues continue dancing and exploring each other’s mouths, but it’s not enough. We both want more. And I’m not going to let the fact that Beckett is lying on the only bed in the room stop us.
We both get the idea at the same time. We push through the bathroom door—my desire burning in my eyes, and Siren’s need looming on her face.
I sweep the contents off the sink and counter in one swoop, and then I grab Siren and sit her up on the ledge.
My head dips back to her breasts, finding her nipple and teasing each peak as she unbuttons her pants. I grab them and yank them off her body before I kneel down and kiss the folds between her legs, pushing her panties aside. She’s so wet, so sweet, so everything I want but have denied myself for too long. Once was never going to be enough when it came to Siren.
She grabs onto my hair, like she needs to hold onto me for balance, to stay grounded here in this moment as I bring her closer to the brink of her orgasm. Just as I know she’s about to explode, she yanks my hair hard. And my lips fall away from Siren’s body.
“What?” I growl, needing to hear her come, to taste her sweetness spill onto my tongue.
“I don’t want to come until you’re inside me. I want to save all my orgasms for when I can feel you, all of you.”
Fuck. Yes.
She grins, her eyes heavy and seductive as she grabs onto the collar of my shirt. “Now, it’s time I get you out of these ridiculous clothes.”
“Ridiculous?” I nibble on her bottom lip as she starts undoing the buttons of my shirt. “Because from the attention you have been giving me all night, I figured you quite liked me in a suit.”
She pushes the jacket off, then rips the rest of the buttons off as she tears my shirt open.
“I like you every way, but my preferred way is naked,” she says before she sinks her nails into my chest, feeling every ripple of muscle on my chest and stomach.
I grab her hand, kissing her palm gently. “I thought you didn’t like my abs? My abs aren’t good enough?”
