Hot as Sin (Contemporary Romance Box Set)

by Katherine Lace

  He smiles and leans forward to kiss me. “Later is good,” he says just before his lips touch mine. The kiss is gentle but filled with promise. Not of affection or any sort of emotion, but of heat. His tongue traces the seam of my mouth, and every cell in my body knows he’s going to set me on fire.

  The kiss goes deeper, until he’s exploring my mouth with his tongue, claiming it in a way he hasn’t before. It’s like he knows he can do anything he wants now, so he’s not wasting time taking anything slow and easy. His hand moves down between my legs, fingers pressing against my thighs. That’s when I draw back a little.

  “No,” I tell him.

  “No?” His fingers slide farther between my legs, pressing hard against my crotch. “I’m not sure ‘no’ should be part of your vocabulary right now.”

  I give him a look. “Not here. Take me to bed.”

  His eyes narrow, then he smiles. “All right. I suppose it’s only fair.”

  He bends to pick me up and carries me toward the stairs. He’s conceding to my request, but he’s also reminding me of his strength, of the control he has over me. It’s fine, I tell myself. My stomach’s fluttering, but the anxiety is a turn-on. I don’t like to admit that, even to myself, but it’s true. I’m a little bit afraid of him, and not only is that not a problem for me, but it’s actually making me that much hotter.

  He starts kissing me again halfway up the stairs, his mouth fusing to mine. The way he’s holding me—he barely has to exert himself, or at least that’s what it feels like. He’s got me, and I’m not going to fall.

  Not this time.

  I get lost in his kissing, the movement of his tongue, the way he’s stroking the inside of my mouth. I’m so involved in it I barely notice when he moves through the door to his bedroom. Then he’s laying me down on the quilt, easing himself over me, all while still kissing me.

  He gets himself situated, and his mouth shifts, kissing my face, moving down my neck. His hands cup both my breasts, and then he starts easing my buttons open. I don’t have on a bra—I didn’t wear one here, after all—and it only takes a few buttons before he’s able to slide a hand under the shirt and cup one of my breasts. He plays the nipple with his thumb. I focus on the sensation, trying not to think about what I’m actually doing here. Because I’m selling myself, pure and simple. Yes, I did it once before, but this feels different. Maybe because this time I understand what I’m doing, much more deeply than when I succumbed to Sal’s demands.

  Just stop thinking. Yes, that would be best for both of us. I push all my thoughts to the back of my head and just focus on what Nick’s doing to my body. His hands are warm, his fingers spreading to clasp my breast then moving down my stomach to unbutton the jeans I lifted from his closet.

  “Where did you get these?” he asks as he slides the zipper down.

  “Found them in your closet.” I lift my hips so he can slide the jeans down off my hips.

  “Ah.” He frowns a little. “I wonder who they belonged to.”

  There’s a quick pang in the middle of my chest. Somebody stayed the night here, left their clothes here, and Nick doesn’t even know who it was. That’s the kind of man he is.

  I bite my lip and close my eyes for a second, getting myself back under control. By now he’s gotten my jeans off, sliding them down over my bare feet. I didn’t bother looking for shoes or socks. It seemed pointless.

  Now I’m glad, because it’s that much easier for him to undress me, one less thing for me to think about. Plus he strokes his thumb down the arch of my bare foot, firmly so it doesn’t tickle, and another wave of need passes through me. His lips touch my ankle, kissing me there, then up the inside of my calf, my knee, up to my thigh. His breath is warm against my skin. Softly he strokes his tongue along the inside of my thigh, then higher.

  I reach down to grab at his hair, but he meets my hand there and disentangles my fingers, trapping them in his and pressing my hand against the mattress. He also doesn’t finish the move I thought he was trying to make. Instead of burying his face between my thighs, he presses his mouth against my belly and then starts to kiss up the length of my body. He pauses between my breasts, and I take the opportunity to unbutton his shirt and push it back from his shoulders.

  There’s a moment of shifting and moving as he works the shirt the rest of the way off himself. I pull and tug where I can, but the angles make it hard to provide any real assistance. Since there’s no point trying to help much more with the shirt, I reach for his fly instead and start working on his trousers. He’s in dress clothes from the morning’s meeting, so the fly has an extra button. That doesn’t slow me down much, and it’s only a few seconds before his pants are halfway down his thighs and his shirt is completely off.

  He’s hard—very much so—and I reach down to cup my fingers around the length of his erection. The heat soaks through the cotton underwear and into my hand. My pussy’s heating up, too, and I can feel moisture on the insides of my thighs.

  Nick shoves his pants off along with his dress shoes and socks, and now we’re both naked, hot skin against hot skin. His cock throbs against my lower belly. As he lowers himself over me again, catching my mouth with his, the hard jut of his erection presses into my skin almost painfully. It can’t be a good angle for him, either, but he doesn’t seem to notice, focused now on kissing me again. His mouth is hard and demanding now, searching and exploring but not gentle or easy by any means.

  My breath is speeding up, and I can feel my heartbeat in the base of my throat. There’s no denying I want this, no matter how much I’d like to do just that. He draws back from the kiss and studies my face a moment then bends his head to bury his mouth in the curve of my shoulder. He bites me there, and I whimper. It hurts just enough to make my whole body shiver, wanting more.

  But when he shifts his hips, easing between my legs, I clench, suddenly realizing what he’s doing.

  “Nick,” I manage. I grab at his shoulders, trying to push him back, but it’s like trying to move a slab of granite. He’s heavy and solid and determined. “Nick… Condom?”

  His gaze finds mine again. He’s smiling a little. “Why?”

  “Um…for the obvious reasons.” He’s not trying to force his way past my protesting hands, but he’s not pulling back, either.

  “You agreed to the deal, am I right?” He strokes my hair back from my face as he says it. The action makes is clear that, no matter how hard I think I’m pushing against him, pushing him away, he’s not under control by any means. He’s in a position where he could do anything he wants to me, and there wouldn’t be a damn thing I could do about it.

  I want to tell him no, I did no such thing, or no, I changed my mind, but it’s way too late for that. “Well…” I can’t bring myself to actually say yes.

  He shrugs. “Then we might as well get started, right? The sooner I fuck that baby into you, the happier I’ll be.”

  It’s such a crude way to say it. I should slap him right across his not-quite-smug face. Fucking asshole. But I don’t. I just look at him, feeling the hardness of his cock against my thigh. I want him. I want him inside me. Right now. And the idea of his seed inside me, finding its way to my womb—it should scare me, but it doesn’t. It’s more than just his promise of protection. It’s my body answering his. My mind isn’t quite there yet, and neither is my heart, but my body—dammit, my body wants everything he has to give me.

  He shifts just a little, the head of his cock almost against my entrance. I hold his gaze, saying nothing. He just waits. It’s when I realize he’s not going to do anything without my agreement that I finally relax under him. I nod. “Okay.”

  Bending forward, he kisses my forehead then my face. I’m surprised he doesn’t go straight for the prize. He strokes my hair a few more times, his hips shifting between my legs, then he’s right there. I let my thighs relax, and he slides inside. I close my eyes.

  It’s slow and hot, and, God… I’ve never, ever had a man inside me like this bef
ore. I’ve always demanded a condom. Not that I’ve been with a huge number of men, but I was always careful. Even Sal never told me no—in fact, he almost never had to be reminded. But this, with Nick…

  It’s not so much the physical sensation, though I’m sure it feels different to him. Maybe he’s a little hotter, and maybe I can feel the vague pulsing in his shaft just a bit better. It’s more the surrender, the acknowledgement that we’re doing something that could create another life. I thought it would scare me, but instead it seems like some kind of primitive instincts are coming to life as he thrusts into me, deeper and harder, the movements smooth and holding an even rhythm. I tuck my knees up under his arms, grab at his shoulders, pulling him toward me now instead of pushing him away.

  I let my eyes open, not hiding from him anymore. He’s looking straight into my face, and I can’t read his expression at all. Maybe he’s lost in his own feelings, or maybe he’s just concentrating on what he’s doing. I can’t tell. From here, his face looks like a mask. There’s no smile, no warmth on his mouth or in his eyes. But when he thrusts, pushing harder now, a little faster, his jaw clenches.

  “Nick.” It’s a whisper, not even a whisper. So soft I’m not sure he hears it at all. I don’t know why I say it. I want him with me, though, focused on me, not with his thoughts a million miles away. He seems to come back a little bit, his eyes a bit less distant. He reaches between us, working his hand down toward my clit.

  His fingers find me, dragging through the slickness where I’m damn near dripping around his dick. It’s like setting a match to my body. The sensation spears straight up into my chest, and suddenly everything inside me explodes. I’m clenching on his bare cock, and I hear him make a strangled noise. He doesn’t come yet, though.

  I’m coming, whether he’s ready to dive over the edge with me yet or not. It’s so intense my eyes go hot, as if I’m crying. I can’t even scream, or whimper, or do anything but stiffen, my mouth open and silent, staring at the ceiling as a giant fist of intense pleasure closes on my womb, my belly.

  I can feel my thighs quivering. His fingers press hard against my clit, until it hurts, but he eases back then. He braces his hands on the mattress, and then he’s letting go. I can feel the heat as his come pours into me. His cock pulses inside me, and I clench down on it, making him gasp. I want to feel every pulsation, every explosion as he fills me.

  His eyes fall closed. Reaching up, I grab his hair. “Look at me.” I’m not sure where the words come from; it just seems suddenly vital that he acknowledge me. “Look at me, dammit, Nick.”

  He does. There’s haziness in his eyes, like he’s so consumed by his orgasm that he can’t quite focus. Then he comes back to himself a bit, and a vague smile curves his mouth. It’s that not-quite smirk that seems to be his natural expression. His head dips, and he kisses me. Thrusting again, his hips press hard against me. I can’t tell if he’s still shooting into me or not, but he stays there for a few long seconds before he finally lets the arch in his back relax with a slow release of breath.

  “There,” he murmurs against my ear. “Now we wait.”

  The zinging thrill of pleasure is fading from my skin, and again I remember exactly what I’ve promised him. And, very clearly, I realize it’s too late to change my mind.

  “Where are you going?”

  “I need to get some things for you.”

  I decide not to argue with that. Hopefully by “things” he means clothes and such. I’d prefer not to spend the next week or whatever in Nick’s too-big shirt and these jeans that used to belong to somebody he doesn’t remember.

  When he leaves, I walk around the room for a while and then go to the bathroom. It’s strange, feeling his come slide down my thighs when I get up. I feel almost guilty trying to get rid of it. Not that anything I’ve done will stop any particularly motivated sperm from doing their thing.

  That’s not something I want to think about. I go back to the bed and lie back down, still naked. It occurs to me that I actually feel safe for the first time in a long time.

  I drift off at some point then wake abruptly with the strong sense somebody’s looking at me. Somebody is. It’s Nick. He’s standing over the bed, watching me.

  “That’s not creepy at all,” I tell him.

  He smiles. “I was just taking you in.”

  I push myself to a seated position, suddenly self-conscious about my lack of clothes. I grope for a blanket, but Nick shakes his head. “No. Let me look at you.”

  My face goes hot, and I can’t look back at him. “What did you go to get?”

  “Some clothes for you. We’re going out to dinner.”

  My gaze jerks to his. “We are?”

  “Yes.”

  “Won’t…won’t somebody see us?”

  “Yep. That’s the point.” He reaches down and slaps my ass. Not hard, but enough to make a sharp noise. “Get up. Let’s go. I’ve got reservations at Lloyd’s.”

  Lloyd’s. Great. It’s the place everybody in Spada’s organization hangs out when they’re not in the mood for Italian. I’ve been there a couple of times with Sal, and I know it’ll be crawling with syndicate people. It’s also hella expensive and requires formal attire.

  Reluctant, but knowing I don’t have much choice, I get out of the bed, pulling a sheet along with me and wrapping myself in it. Nick shakes his head a little, disapproving, but doesn’t make me take it off. “C’mon,” he says, and leads me out of his bedroom and to a room across the hall.

  I go in when he gestures for me to precede him. It’s a nice bedroom, smaller than Nick’s room, which we just left, but it’s got a queen-size bed, what looks like a walk-in closet, and a big window that looks out over the city.

  “This will be your room,” Nick tells me. “You can sleep here when I don’t need you in my room.”

  I nod. It’s nice he wants me to have my own space, but… “Isn’t that a little weird? I mean, if we’re going to get married or whatever?”

  “I figure it’ll take some time for us to get used to each other. If you have your own room, you can hide out when you need to be alone.”

  Crossing the room, I take a seat on the bed. “That’s nice. Thank you.”

  “Of course. Now…” He heads for the closet door. “I needed to get you something for tonight, so I went ahead and picked up some other things, too. I’ll take you out shopping later, so you can get whatever I forgot, or replace anything I got that you don’t like. C’mon.”

  I get up, holding the sheet tight, and join him by the closet. It’s deep and big enough it could almost fit another bed. It’s looking a little sparse at the moment, but there are clothes hanging here and there and shoes in the shoe racks along the floor. I see two dresses, one of which is the one I wore yesterday. The other is bright red. There are also several shirts, a couple pairs of jeans, and two cardigans.

  “That should get you started,” Nick tells me. “For tonight, I’d like you to wear the red dress.”

  I nod. “What about underwear? Socks? That kind of thing?”

  “There’s some in the chest of drawers. I didn’t get very many—I wanted to be sure I got the right size.”

  “Thank you.” I actually mean it. There are so many ways he could have gone about this. This almost feels…homey. I can live with it. At least so far. “I’ll go ahead and get dressed, then.”

  “Good. Let me know if anything doesn’t fit right.” He comes to me and takes my shoulders in his hands, kissing me gently. “I’ll be downstairs.”

  He leaves, closing the door behind him. I go to take the red dress down from its spot in the closet. It’s similar to the dress I wore to my birthday party, but a bit more daring, the neckline plunging nearly to the waist. I slide carefully into it, adjusting as I go. It’s body hugging and sleek and, to my surprise, it’s exactly the right size.

  Settled in the dress, I take a long look at myself in the full-length mirror on the back of the closet door. I look good, I have to admit, but a
t the same time I don’t want to leave the house in this. Because I can tell it’s all part of Nick’s agenda.

  He wants us to be noticed.

  And we are, from about five seconds after we walk in the front door of Lloyd’s. Nick hands a few bills to the maître d’, and we’re led to a table that’s far too centrally located for my tastes. There’s no way anybody will overlook us, here smack in the middle of the dining room, me in my bright-red dress and Nick smirking like he’s the cat that ate all the canaries.

  I can feel attention shifting to us almost before we get seated. I stare fixedly at the menu, not daring to look up to see who might be watching, not even daring to look up at Nick.

  Nick pulls the top of my menu down with one finger, smiling at me. “Don’t worry, Sarah. It’ll be all right. Trust me.”

  Right. Trust him. What the hell was I thinking, letting him talk me into this craziness? I slide my eyes sidelong and see a couple of guys I’ve seen before at Sal’s place. They’re muttering to each other, then one of them pulls his phone out and starts poking buttons. It’s only a matter of time before everybody knows.

  Including Sal.

  “Do you know what you want?” Nick asks, pulling my attention back to him. “Or would you like me to order for both of us?”

  I can barely see the words on the menu, I’m getting so worked up. I feel like I’m starting to hyperventilate. “You can pick.”

  “All right, then. Steak or fish?”

  “Fish.” I don’t think I could stomach a steak right now. I’m not even sure I can manage fish.

  The waiter joins us, and Nick orders wine and some kind of appetizer. I’m not really listening. Every inch of my skin feels like it’s just waiting for Sal to walk in the door. I’m queasy, bile burning at the back of my throat. The slightest movement anywhere near the door makes adrenaline soak through me.