Hot as Sin (Contemporary Romance Box Set)

by Katherine Lace

  “Have a seat.” He gestures toward a bench in the locker room.

  “I think I’ll stand.” I’m not giving him any chance at superiority, even if it’s just him standing while I’m sitting.

  Spada shrugs as if he doesn’t give a shit, and he takes a seat on the bench himself. I give Jess a quick look and go ahead and sit across from her dad. She takes a step back as if she just wants to disappear.

  Spada addresses me directly. Jess might as well not even be in the room. “Let’s get one thing straight right from the beginning, McAllister. I don’t like you. In fact, I detest you right now. You’ve sullied my daughter and insulted my family.” I start to protest, but he raises a finger. “But…” Finally he looks at Jess, if only briefly. “I understand there’s a baby on the way, and I have to respect that. And you threw the fight tonight, just as you were told, and I have to respect that as well.”

  He stops, and I get the impression it’s my turn to speak. I have no idea what he wants me to say. “So…” I finally venture, “you’re okay with me and Jess?”

  “Oh, I’m far from okay with it. But I’m not going to break up a family. You’re the father of my grandchild, apparently, or you will be. So you’re free and clear. For now.”

  I know what he wants me to say. He wants me to slaver and kowtow and be disgustingly grateful that he’s spared my life. That he’s commuted my sentence, in a way. I’m not going to give him the pleasure. Instead I just nod. He doesn’t deserve anything else from me.

  After a few long moments, he stands. “Well. I guess I’ll let you clean up while I talk to my daughter.”

  I glance at Jess. If she’s okay with that then I am, too. She gives me a nod. I’ll have to trust her at her word. Hoping I’m making the right decision, I head for the shower.

  With the sweat off me and my post-fight suit on me, I feel less like Spada’s trying to make me feel inferior when I meet him back outside the locker room. Jess is with him, and she looks more relaxed. I wonder what they talked about. Whatever it was, it doesn’t seem to have upset her, so I let it go. Instead I just slide up beside her and take her hand, squeezing it. I’m rewarded with her smile.

  We head out of the stadium. As we’re heading down the long flight of stairs, Jessica moves closer to me and I kiss her hair as I tuck her under my arm. The sun outside is bright, the sky is clear, and I finally feel like we’re ready to get started on our new beginning.

  I’m smiling as we hit the last step and move onto the sidewalk. I lean over to whisper something to Jess.

  And Carmine Romano steps out from behind a delivery truck parked near the entrance, points a gun right at my head, and fires.

  My first instinct is to protect Jess. I push her aside, seeing her stumble into the grass out of the corner of my eye. Is she hit? I don’t see any blood. I don’t feel anything either, so surely the bullet hasn’t ripped through me, even though it was basically point-blank range. Am I just not feeling it? I’ve heard that there’s a delayed pain reaction sometimes in situations like this. Or could Carmine have just missed, even at this close distance?

  Apparently he has. But I shift backward anyway, clutching at my shoulder as if the bullet caught me there. As I’d hoped, Romano takes a step toward me. He’s got a 9mm in his hand, and as I lurch back, he levels it right at me. Behind me I hear Spada shouting, demanding to know if Jess is okay, ordering Romano to put the gun down. Romano doesn’t put the gun down. He lines it up and prepares to pull the trigger again.

  Right then I throw myself at him. He’s not expecting it—as far as he knew, I just took a bullet and shouldn’t be able to jump him. But that’s exactly what I do. I hit his gun arm, and the gun flies out of his hand. I don’t know where it lands, and I don’t care. All I care about is that it doesn’t go off.

  “What the fuck, Romano?” I shout at him, and he’s shouting right back at me, “You piece of shit, she’s mine! How dare you take what’s mine?”

  I can hear Spada yelling, Jessica screaming, but I can’t make out what anyone is saying. More shouts are coming from the wide concrete stairs behind us, and in the distance I hear sirens.

  All I can think is that this asshole’s bullet damn near hit Jessica. My wife, who’s carrying my child. It doesn’t matter that he aimed the gun at me. The bullet missed me, and it easily could have hit Jess. Torn through her body, killed her or the baby or both.

  I grab Romano by his collar and shake him. I’m so angry I can barely see. “You motherfucking son of a bitch!” I’m spitting in Romano’s face. His fist lashes out and strikes the side of my face, where I’ve already got stitches from the fight. It hurts like shit, but that’s nothing compared to the sheer fury tearing through me. “You could have killed her!”

  “Better if I had!” he spits back. “Better if she was dead than letting you touch her.”

  “Fuck you, Romano. Fuck. You.” I hit him again. I feel his nose break, shatter, under my fist, and he falls backward. There’s a dead-sounding thump as his head hits the stairs, and then everything around me falls silent.

  I take a step forward, ready to grab him again if he gets up, but he doesn’t get up. He just lies there, a pool of blood spreading across the concrete under his head. His eyes are open. Blood starts to run from his nose, the corner of his mouth.

  “Cain.” It’s Jess, behind me, and her hands slide around my arm. Her voice is so quiet, but it’s steady, careful. “It’s over.”

  I turn to her, hardly able to believe she’s okay. My brain spins around what just happened, how close I came to losing her forever. I grab her and pull her to me, cradling her against my chest. “Jess, are you okay?”

  “I’m fine. Really, I’m fine.” I clutch her closer and then ease back, afraid I might be hurting her. My hand curls over the curve of her stomach. She laughs softly. “She’s fine, too. We’re both fine.”

  “She?” I ask, and she just shrugs, a little sheepish.

  “You…” She stops, gathers herself, and I realize she’s on the verge of tears, too. “You saved me, Cain.” She strokes my stomach, my chest, as if reassuring herself that I’m all in one piece. “I thought he shot you.”

  “He damn near did. And he could have shot you.”

  “But he didn’t.” To my surprise, Spada has come up to join us. His face is ashen; I’ve never seen him look like that. He draws Jess out of my embrace but not harshly. His hands are shaking. “Are you sure you’re all right, baby girl?”

  “I’m fine. Really.” She takes his hand and lays it on her belly. “And so is your grandbaby.”

  I fight my urge to grab her and drag her back to me. This is between the two of them. And while I’m standing there watching, I see something I never thought I’d see.

  There are tears in Phil Spada’s eyes.

  He chokes back a sob, and I take a step back, letting him have the moment with Jess. I can’t hear what they’re saying, but by the time they’re done, Jess has let her father press his forehead against hers, and they’re both crying.

  After a few minutes, Spada turns to me. “I’ll take care of…this mess.” He tips his head toward Romano’s body, sprawled on the stairs. “And I’ll take care of the cops. Don’t you worry about it. You just take my little girl home and keep her safe.”

  For once he’s given me an order I’m more than happy to follow.

  I can’t get Jess home fast enough. In spite of the evidence, I’m still not convinced she’s all right. I won’t be convinced until I can examine every inch of her, make sure there aren’t any bullet wounds, no scratches, no cuts. Nothing.

  She seems to be thinking the same thing, because the minute we get in the door, she’s pulling my jacket off, jerking at my buttons—a couple of them fly off—and spreading her hands over my chest, my ribs.

  I wince, and she freezes. “Cain…”

  “No, no,” I reassure her. “That’s from the fight. There was a fight, remember? Before the bullets started flying?”

  She laughs, but it�
��s more a sob, and suddenly she has both hands over her mouth and her eyes are brimming over. I grab her wrists.

  “Hush, Jess. It’s okay. It’s okay. Really, it is. I’m not hurt. You’re not hurt…right? You’re not hurt?”

  She nods and then moves her hands so she can clarify. “No, I’m not hurt. Maybe I skinned my elbow when you pushed me out of the way. That’s all.”

  “Then get that shirt off. I need to kiss it better.” I say it sternly, firmly, because I know she won’t question me. As ordered, she starts to unbutton her blouse.

  And no, she’s not hurt, not really. But when I see the long scrape on the outside of her elbow, I draw a quick breath. “Fuck, I’m sorry.”

  She looks at her arm. “For this? God, Cain, you probably saved my life. I’m okay with a few scrapes and bruises.” Moving a little closer, she puts her arms around my waist. “I’m just glad he didn’t hit you.” Pressing up onto her tiptoes, she kisses me gently. “I don’t know what I would have done if he’d…” She stops.

  “He didn’t.” I stroke her eyebrows, kiss her forehead. “What even made you come?”

  She shakes her head a little. She’s stopped crying, and there’s a kind of peace on her face now. “I didn’t want to live the rest of my life wondering what would have happened if I had.”

  It’s all I need to know. She came because she wasn’t ready to let go. Neither was I. And I’m sure not going to let her go now, not after everything.

  “You’re staying here,” I tell her. “You’re my wife—you belong here in my house.”

  “No, I don’t.”

  I lift an eyebrow at the response. That’s not what I wanted to hear. But then she grins. “I belong in your bed, big guy. Hurry up and get me there.”

  There’s an invitation I can’t refuse. I lean down to swing her into my arms. She’s small and light in my arms, and I’m reminded again of how close I came to losing her.

  I get a firmer grip on her and head for the bedroom. Once we’re there I spread her out on top of the quilt and start easing her clothes off her, one piece at a time. “I need to check,” I tell her as I examine each exposed stretch of skin. “Be sure you really aren’t hurt anywhere.”

  “You can’t just take my word?”

  I slide my hand up her bare belly. “Would that be anywhere near as fun?”

  “Point taken,” she says, and spreads her thighs so I can pull her pants off her.

  It’s more than just the scrapes on her elbow. She’s got scrapes on her knees, too, and blood on her shin. I stare down at her. The sight of the injuries makes my stomach clench up. Instead of continuing my quest to undress her, I go to the bathroom to get a washcloth and some antibiotic ointment. It takes me a minute to find bandages.

  She’s curled her legs up closer to her when I come back, as if she was afraid I was planning to abandon her. As I sit back down on the bed next to her, I stroke a hand up her inner thigh. She’s still got her panties on; I’ll take care of that in a minute.

  “I guess it’s my turn to patch you up,” I say softly.

  She reaches toward me, brushing her fingers against my arm. “You don’t have to. I’m all right, really.”

  “Shhh. Just let me do this.” I use the washcloth to gently clean her scraped knees and then daub ointment on them. “Better,” I tell her, and as I tape on a big, square Band-Aid, I lean over and kiss her thigh, right where the skin is softest, so close I can smell her musky sex.

  She makes a soft noise and reaches for me, but I duck back. “Not yet. You have another knee, you know.”

  I tend to that knee, kiss her other thigh—a little higher this time, because why not?—then move on to her banged-up elbows. It’s really not bad, but I still feel awful. Granted, my pushing her out of the way might have put her out of harm’s way as far as Romano was concerned, but I hate it that I hurt her.

  I sort out her elbows, then I lie on top of her, supporting my weight so I don’t squash her. “Jess.” I kiss her. “Jess.”

  “Yes?”

  “Jess… I love you. Don’t leave me. Not ever.”

  She smiles up at me and draws my face down for a kiss. “You can count on that, McAllister.”

  We just kiss for a while then, and I reacquaint myself with her flavor. It’s been…what? I can’t even remember. A few days? A week? I can’t believe I let her disappear on me like that. It sure as hell won’t ever happen again. I stroke her tongue, explore the inside of her mouth. It’s lazy and slow, nothing like the urgent sex we’ve indulged in in the past. I’m going to make love to her, I decide. No more fucking.

  Well, maybe some fucking. There’s something to be said, after all, for that hot, dirty, up-against-the-wall thing.

  My hand starts to drift down her body, my rough fingertips tracing over her smooth skin. My dick’s gone rock hard—it’s in favor of the fucking, but I overrule it—and everything is starting to smell like sex. Jess lifts her knees, pressing her thighs on either side of my hips while she pulses softly under me.

  I brush down her belly, headed for her pussy, and then—

  I jerk back. “Jess?”

  “What?” She sounds taken by surprise, but also a little irritated.

  “Is it okay if we fuck? With the baby and all?”

  She grabs my face and holds it steady so she can look directly into my eyes. “Yes. It’s okay. Don’t be silly.”

  “Well, I don’t know this shit. I’m a guy.”

  She reaches down and curls her fingers around my dick. “Oh really? I had no idea.” Then she tugs on me, and I close my eyes, the better to get myself back under control.

  Lunging up again, she bites at my lip, and then we’re kissing again, harder now, and her mouth deep into mine while her hand starts to work my cock. God, it feels good. I’ve missed this so much. Not only the sex, but just being with her.

  Also definitely the sex.

  She’s rubbing my dick against her thigh, and her thigh is getting wetter and wetter, my cock moving more and more easily against her soft skin. I want to be inside her, but I also want this to last. If I could stay here forever, feeling the lust build inside me, feeling my balls start to draw up and the base of my spine start to tingle, I’d be a happy man.

  My dick begs to differ. Apparently it has more explicit needs in life.

  Jess has different ideas, too, but they’re not the ideas I expected. She clasps my ass and pulls at me, easing me up and over her rather than inside her. After a moment of tussling, I realize what she’s up to and let her do it.

  I shift up, and she squirms down, and a moment later she’s got my dick in her mouth. Her tongue swirls around the head, her hand clasping the shaft. I can feel her fingertips exploring the ridges of the big veins then tracing down until she’s cupping my balls. She rolls them between her fingers. I stiffen and begin a slow thrust into her mouth.

  Jess seems to have no problem with this. In fact she shifts so I can get a bit deeper, and when I press against the back of her throat, she swallows. The pressure makes me crazy. God, what did I ever do to deserve this woman? It must have been good. Which makes me think it must have been in a previous life, because I know for a fact I never did anything worthy enough on this trip through mortality.

  She’s digging into my ass now with her fingers, and I can feel the nails biting into my skin. I thrust harder, barely able to control the speed anymore. She makes a slight nodding motion, which I take as a signal that it’s okay for me to keep doing what I’m doing.

  My balls are tight and my dick feels like it’s about to explode when she suddenly pulls back. “I want you inside me when you come,” she murmurs.

  “Fuck that,” I answer, but I don’t really mean it. I want to be inside her, too. I swallow and get myself back under control.

  “Hey,” she answers, squeezing my dick. I think she’s reminding me I need to behave myself while she’s got my most delicate areas under her control. “Who’s in charge here?”

  “Ha!” I grab
her and flip so she’s on top of me. “I think I am.”

  “That’s why you put me on top?” She seems a little flustered, but that’s okay. I like it when she’s off balance.

  “Exactly.” To demonstrate my motives, I grab her hips and push her forward, positioning her over my mouth, and shove my tongue inside her.

  “Cain… Jesus.”

  “Just Cain is fine,” I tell her, speaking the words right against the slick-smooth skin of the inside of her cunt.

  “Smartass,” she shoots back, and then I do my best to make sure she can’t focus enough to talk at all.

  It seems to be working as I stroke my tongue all over her, rolling it around her clit, feeling it swell even as I touch it. I put my whole face between her thighs, nose against her clit, and tongue inside her as far as it can go. I start thrusting into her with my tongue, rolling her clit with my fingers. She’s shaking under me, shivering while she pants in short, sharp breaths.

  Suddenly those short breaths turn into a keening, and she starts to pulse on me. I pinch her clit, gentle but firm, and she screams.

  There we go. That’s more like it.

  I can barely hold her down on the mattress while she comes. She bucks under me like a wild mustang, and I have to wrap an arm around her waist to keep my mouth in contact with her pussy. The thick wetness floods my tongue, and I hum my pleasure against her.

  Finally she shoves my forehead with the heel of her hand, and I relent, letting her go. But the second my face is free from between her thighs, she starts to crawl back down my body.

  “Fuck. Me,” she orders.

  Funny. As much as I hate being bossed around by her father, I seem to not mind it at all coming from her. I do exactly what she says. Not that it’s difficult; she’s on top, so she’s doing most of the work.

  I grab her hips as soon as they move into range and position her over my hot, hard dick. She reaches down to point it in the right direction and lowers herself on me. She’s hot and wet and so, so open as I slide into her, all the way in a single, decisive movement. There’s no need for the condom this time, obviously. I’ve done about as much damage in that regard as I can. Not that I regret it. Not anymore. I stroke a hand down her belly as I thrust into her.