Текст книги "After This Night"
Автор книги: Lauren Blakely
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Текущая страница: 5 (всего у книги 12 страниц)
CHAPTER EIGHT
It was almost too crazy to believe, but the truth was messy. Lies were ironclad. They added up too neatly. Lies were padded so thick they became airtight and couldn’t breathe. The truth was frayed, like the tattered end of a rope. The truth was full of holes that were evidence of its veracity. Still, he could tell proof was vitally important to her, so he pulled his own phone from his pocket and dialed Cam.
“Hey man, can you run a quick check on someone for me?”
“Abso-fucking-lutely for you,” his friend said in his gregarious voice.
Clay gave him the basic details. “Just let me know what kind of business he’s running. Doable?”
“This is easy. I’m in front of my laptop right now, and will run a few quick searches. That is, if my lady friend doesn’t come back and try to distract me.”
Clay smiled briefly. “Have fun with Tess. But take care of me too.”
“You bastard, you owe me so much. I love it when you owe me. I love running down shit for you because it gives me one more thing to add to my totals. There’s only one other person I do this for free for,” Cam said, his voice stretching across the country like a big old Texas-style hug.
“Who’s that?”
“I’m not saying but she’s a lot prettier than you.”
“I should hope so.”
He hung up, and returned to Julia. She looked different than she had before. She’d always been tough, strong, a woman of the world. Now she looked empty, as if she’d shed all her emotions and replaced them with cool blankness. He reached for her, gripping her arms gently but firmly as he kept his eyes fixed on her. “That story is crazy, and I hate what he did to you and I hate that anyone wants to hurt you, and here’s the thing—I won’t let them now. You know that, right? You’re with me, and that means I’m here to help you. You tried to protect me and that was the most adorable, sweetest, sexiest thing anyone has ever done, but you don’t have to because that’s my job. Got that?”
She said nothing, just stared hard at him. She was shutting down, and he was having none of that. Not after she’d finally opened up. “I’m not running,” he said firmly, refusing to let her look away. “I’m here for you. I’m here with you, and I want to help you. That’s what I do. That’s what I want to do for you.”
“Why?” She crossed her arms over her chest.
“Why?” he said, his voice louder. He was going to have to make this abundantly clear. “Because I flew here to see you. Because you are under my skin. Because this fucking bastard left you with a shit ton of problems and if I ever find him I will make sure he pays. And because you have the mafia after you.”
“That doesn’t scare you? Make you want to run?” She shot him a challenging stare, almost as if she were daring him to walk away.
“No,” he said crisply.
There wasn’t a chance in hell that was happening. He straightened his spine, planted his feet wide, making it clear in every way that he was staying. “It makes me want to stay.”
“Why do you want to help me?”
He shook his head in frustration, but deep down he understood why she was behaving like this. She’d admitted something terribly private, and self-preservation was familiar ground for her.
“May I remind you of your toast in there?” He tipped his chin to the reception. Through the glass, the guests were still spinning on the dance floor, the twinkling lights illuminating their steps. Waiters moved nimbly about, passing out appetizers. “Common interests and passion? Ring a bell?” he said, waiting for her to acknowledge what she’d said a mere hour ago. She nodded once. “I feel the same.”
She didn’t answer him, so he reached for her hands, unpeeled them from her chest, and drew them behind her back.
“Now, don’t go cold on me. If you do, I will have to tie your hands the next time I fuck you,” he said, fixing her with an intensely serious look.
Her lips quirked up, as if she were trying hard to hold in a smile. “That’s a promise, gorgeous,” he added.
“But that’s a promise I like,” she whispered, and her words were a straight shot to his groin. They had to have set some kind of record for most hours being near each other without tearing off clothes. He pressed his hips against hers, holding her in place, watching her eyes go hazy as she felt him.
“Now listen. I made the phone call you asked me to make. I don’t care right now about what Cam is doing, or finding out, or anything. I care about you, woman. And I haven’t fucked you in a month, so if I were you I’d be thinking about how you’re going to spend the rest of the reception without any underwear on because it’s about to come off.”
“Is that a promise too?” she asked, and the playfulness he knew and longed for had returned to her voice.
“Yes. Now I’m going to deliver on it.” He grabbed her hand and linked his fingers through hers, guiding her across the lawn, past the reception hall, and to a back door that led down a carpeted hallway. This was the kind of place that had swank bathrooms, and that was what he needed right now. He walked quickly, scanning the area for an opening. When he spotted a bathroom, he knocked once, opened the elegant white door, and locked it quickly behind them.
The bathroom was small with marble floors and a sink that had just enough room for Julia to perch on. He lifted her up onto the edge of the vanity.
She was trembling.
Concern sliced through him. He lifted her chin gently. “You okay?”
She nodded, but didn’t speak.
“Julia, what is it?”
She shook her head, and seemed to swallow back a tear. “I’m sorry, I’m just super emotional today.”
He leaned into her, resting his forehead against hers. “It’s okay to be emotional. Your sister got married, and you shared something intense with me.”
She reached her arms around his waist, her hands gripping the back of his white shirt. She still wore his suit coat and looked unbelievably hot in it. “And I want you to make love to me right now,” she said in a breathless voice, her cheek pressed against his.
“Then I will make love to you,” he said, bringing his hands to her face. He cupped her cheeks, and raised her chin so she met his eyes. “You’re so fucking beautiful,” he said, the words spilling out without control. He had to say it, had to tell her over and over.
“So are you,” she said, and ran her hands down the buttons on his shirt, her fingers reaching his waistband. She unhooked his belt, then in seconds she was unzipping him, reaching a hand into his briefs.
His head fell back when she touched his cock for the first time in a month. He groaned as her soft, nimble fingers gripped him. She stroked him up and down, and he could almost stay like this because the feel of her hand on him was like a quick dive into a zone of white-hot pleasure. He rocked into her hand, and she gripped him tighter, making a fist that felt so fucking good wrapped around him.
Far too good.
Somehow, the part of his brain that wasn’t drugged out on her sent a message to his hand, and he wrapped it around hers, making her stop. He shook his head, narrowing his eyes at her. “Now, Julia. You’re not playing fair, and when you don’t play fair, it means I’m going to have to take matters into my hands.”
“What do you mean?”
“It means,” he said, sliding off his belt, watching her eyes widen with lust as he dangled it in front of her, “that you’re wearing this.”
A wicked grin played across her lips and she wriggled closer. “Where?” she said breathily and he loved how she went with it. She didn’t freak out. She wanted this kind of play. With his free hand he traced a line down her cheek, savoring her reaction as she shivered, leaning her face into his touch.
“Your hands,” he said, reaching for them and placing a kiss on the inside of each of her wrists before he ran the leather along the outside, wrapping it around once, twice, and carefully pulling the end through the buckle. He gave it a good tug to make sure it was secure, but not so tight that the leather would dig into her skin.
“Now what?” she asked, holding out her bound hands in front of her.
“Now this,” he said, gently pushing up the fabric of her dress, inch by inch, revealing more of her delicious skin. When he reached the apex of her thighs, he breathed in deep as a bolt of lust slammed into his body. “Keep your hands in your lap, Julia. Don’t move them,” he said, and kneeled down in front of her. “Do you understand?”
“Yes.”
“Don’t move your hands at all.”
“I won’t,” she said, and her soft voice was a promise.
“Open your legs for me.”
She parted her legs wider, spreading open for him as she sat perched on the sink, her immobile hands against her belly. He pushed the skirt to her waist, and ran his nose along the outside of her underwear, inhaling her, and letting her flood his senses completely. She gasped sharply. The sound of her pleasure tore through him like electricity.
He looked up at her to see her eyes floating shut. “Watch me,” he commanded, gripping her thighs in his hands. “Watch me as I make you come with your panties on.”
“What are you going to do to me?” she asked breathily.
“I just said what I’m going to do to you. Did you think I was joking?”
She shook her head, and he flicked his tongue across the panel of her panties, wet already with her heat. “I can taste you even with your underwear on,” he murmured, his mouth against her. “I can make you shudder and writhe without even touching your pussy.”
She moaned, a desperately needy whimper of desire. “You can. Yes, you can.”
“You are so hot for me right now, aren’t you?” he said, flicking his tongue against the swollen outline of her clit. She cried out a yes, and tried grabbing at his hair with her tied-up hands, managing to brush a few strands. He looked up at her. “Let me,” he growled. “Let me control your pleasure.”
He returned his mouth to her legs, tasting her once more through the cotton. She was so wet her panties were soaked through. The scent of her arousal washed over him, desire coursing thickly through his veins. He pressed his hands on the inside of her thighs, spreading her wider, lavishing fast, quick flicks against her wet center. It was as if the scrap of fabric was no longer there. He could taste her juices on his tongue, her desire so intense that she cried out loudly with every touch. Panting hard, she tried to grab at his hair again. He gently swatted her hands away. “Let go,” he said roughly. “Let go so I can bring you there.”
“Bring me there, Clay,” she groaned as she wriggled her hips into his face, trying to get closer to the source of her pleasure. “Please bring me there.”
“I will, gorgeous. I always will,” he said, his lips returning to her wet pussy that tasted so delicious even with her underwear still on. He reached his hands underneath her ass, holding onto her cheeks as he pressed his tongue harder against her clit, licking, kissing, tasting until she bucked against his mouth.
She cried out, her mouth falling open, her eyes squeezed shut, her body writhing into him.
Once her movements slowed, he rose and pulled off her panties, and brought them to his nose. “You smell so fucking good,” he said, then stuffed them into his pocket. “These truly are useless now.”
Her lips rose in a sweet smile. “What if you turn me on again? And I walk around the reception hot and dripping between my legs?”
He buzzed his lips against the column of her neck, traveling up to her ear. “Then tell me and I will slide my hand up your legs, coat my fingers in your wetness and suck it off.”
She breathed out hard, her reaction telling him she liked his idea.
“Now, I believe you wanted me to make love to you?”
She nodded, biting gently down on her lip. “So badly.”
“I’m going to,” he said, stroking her cheek, then running his fingers along the smooth skin of her collarbone. “And I want you to know that all this time I’ve been fucking you and making love to you. But this time, I’m only making love to you.”
“That’s what I want right now from you. That’s all I want,” she said, her voice layered with honesty and need as she leaned her face into his hand. Then held up her wrists in front of him. “But what about this?”
* * *
“Put your hands around my neck,” he instructed.
She shot him a quizzical look as she raised her bound hands. He offered his head, letting her slide her hands behind his neck. “Like that?”
“Yes. Now you can’t let go of me as I make love to you,” he told her as he reached inside his briefs, and freed his erection once more.
“But I don’t want to let go of you,” she said, and she felt like a new woman being able to say these things to him, speaking so freely, even if it was about sex. Saying all those other things, as hard and as harrowing as it had been, had lifted a terrible weight from her shoulders, and now she experienced a freedom she hadn’t known in a long time. She could say what she felt and not be afraid. And she could tell from the look in his eyes, so tender and hungry too, that he loved this side of her.
“Good. That’s how I want you to feel,” he said as he gripped his cock, and rubbed the head against her wet folds. She cried out again in pleasure.
“I want you so badly, Clay. Please.”
“I know you do,” he said, dragging his hard length along her. She wanted him to know how much she trusted him with everything. In this moment she was trusting him with her pleasure, so she opened her legs more.
“I’m yours,” she whispered, holding his gaze. “Take me how you want me.”
He breathed out hard, her words of submission clearly sending him soaring. “You are mine,” he said, his voice rough, but his touch so tender, as he slowly pushed inside her.
“Oh God,” she whimpered. “You feel so good.”
“It’s been too long,” he said, but still he took his time entering her, and she savored it, the feeling of being filled inch by delicious inch. He was so hard and so thick, and she could feel him stretching her once more.
“I don’t want to go without you again,” she whispered.
“Don’t go without me.” He buried himself in her, holding on hard to her hips as he sank deeper. She couldn’t move. She was under his control, from him holding her hips, to her hands locked around his head, but he took care of her, thrusting in that deliciously tantalizing way he had, rolling his hips, taking his time.
He rocked into her, and she moved with him, hitting an exquisite synch. He groaned against her neck, pushing the strap of her dress down her arm. “I love it like this,” he said, brushing his lips along her naked shoulder.
“Why do you like me tied up sometimes?”
“Because.” He cupped the back of her head in a strong hand. “Because the way I feel for you is so out of control that this is one way for me to feel in control again,” he said, his voice a low rasp in her ear.
She shuddered from his words. “Then control me,” she whispered, arching her back, showing him that she could give in to this need he had. “Because,” she began, echoing his word as hot molten sparks shot through her body, “I love everything you do to me.”
“And do you love this?” he said, holding on tight, driving into her so she could feel him deep and hard inside her. “You like when I make love to you like this? Because that’s what I’m doing right now.”
“I know,” she said breathlessly, and after a night of revealing her secrets, she could no longer keep the truth hidden. “You are, and I love it because I feel everything. I feel everything for you,” she said, coming as close to saying those three words as she could.
He hitched in a breath. “God, Julia. I feel everything for you. Every single thing. And I want your pleasure again. I want to feel you come on me. Show me that I can do this to you over and over, and make you feel everything.”
Pleasure spun through her body on a wild ride, racing through every corner, touching down in her belly, in her breasts, along her thighs. Even in her toes. “You can do anything to me,” she cried out, as she felt herself reaching the brink. She tightened her arms around him trying to tug him as close as he could be. He held onto her, his cock buried inside of her, his lovemaking touching her so deep with its intensity that she was in another world, another realm, where she was bathed solely in the never-ending bliss of a climax that promised to rocket through her body.
Her head leaning back, her mouth falling open, she tried desperately to keep her noises to a minimum but it was futile as waves of pleasure slammed into her, and she came hard on him. He followed her there, his body shuddering, his chest heaving, as he thrust one final time. She felt as if she could never be close enough to him.
Never.
“I’m going to help you,” he said, his voice strong as he promised her something she knew would be tough to give. “This is a promise. I’m going to find a way to help you out of this, and then I’m going to find your ex.”
She didn’t know that he could do either, but the fact that he wanted to was one more reason to fall into him.
CHAPTER NINE
The bride sat on the groom’s lap, and his arms were wrapped around her waist. Julia held a glass of champagne and laughed at something Chris said. Jill reached across to punch Chris on the shoulder, and he rubbed the spot where she swatted him, clearly pretending it hurt. Then they all laughed, and Clay made up the words they were saying in his head.
He stood outside, watching the reception unfold through the windows. His phone was pressed to his ear.
“So what did you learn?”
“That Charlie Stravinski loves greenbacks more than anything in the world,” Cam said.
“How so?” Clay turned away from the scene, and walked down the hill.
“He’s got his fingers in all sorts of pies. He runs this limo company, right? Charlie’s Limos. Totally legit, but it’s his Bada Bing,” Cam said.
“The strip club in The Sopranos.”
“Yep. It’s a clean business, and everything flows under that. He’s got the market locked up in San Fran on sports betting. That’s his big cash cow. He does concert tickets too—steals them and resells them at scalper prices. His growth market, though, is in poker. He runs a lot of big executive games in the Valley. He just started running some games in New York too,” Cam said, and Clay stopped at a tree, setting his palm against the trunk.
“He’s working out of the Big Apple now?”
“Seems he is. And he’s a big-ass loan shark too.”
“Oh well, of course,” Clay said sarcastically, because Charlie was growing more conniving with every new detail. “Did you get the story behind Mr. Pong’s?”
“You bet your ass I did. Used to belong to good old Mr. Pong himself. But Mr. Pong needed money to pay off an investment that went belly up, so Charlie loaned him the dough, putting up his restaurant as collateral.”
“Let me guess. He never came up with the money.”
“Bingo,” he said enunciating every syllable. “Charlie took over, and word on the street is Mr. Pong is living on the street.”
“He’s homeless?” Clay said, his voice thick with shock.
“That’s what I hear. His restaurant was all he had, and it’s all Stravinski’s now. Tons of VCs in the city eat there. Charlie runs his games above the restaurant and he has lunch there every day at twelve-thirty. Those fuckers love their routines, don’t they?”
He steeled himself for the next question. “What about drugs?”
“Nope. He’s as squeaky clean as they come in that regard. But . . .” Cam said, his voice trailing off into a territory that Clay wasn’t so sure he wanted to go. But he had to.
“But what?” he asked wearily, as a cold gust of wind snapped. The night cooled off quickly by the bay.
“My sources say he might be making a move into the world’s oldest profession, so there’s that.”
Clay clenched a fist, his fingers digging hard into his palm. He could slam it against the tree, bang it hard and unleash this coiled ball of anger eating up his chest, but that wouldn’t do him a lick of good. He gritted his teeth, and turned away from his temptation.
“‘Course, if it were up to me, I’d advise him to stay out of that racket,” Cam continued.
“Thanks for looking into all that, man,” he said. Then he stopped in his tracks. “Wait. There’s someone else I need you to look into.”
“Who’s that?”
But Clay didn’t know Dillon’s last name. “I need to get more info. Let me get back to you on that.”
“You know where to find me. And I’ll see you Saturday for our game?”
Clay nodded. “I’ll be there,” he said, and as soon as the words were spoken, something started to click.
He ended the call, but he didn’t head back inside. Instead, he watched from a distance, rubbing a hand across his jaw as he began to hatch a plan.
* * *
A few glasses of champagne later, Julia was feeling like the drink herself—bubbly and effervescent. Though that might simply be due to the gorgeous man with his arm draped possessively around her. He’d been by her side since he returned from making his phone call, and she loved that he found ways to touch her all night, whether he brushed her fingertips accidentally when he took her glass to refill, or when he absently traced a soft line along her hipbone as the cake was being served.
Having him here with her almost made her forget about the troubles that awaited her. He had that effect, as if he were a magic elixir that erased all the bad. Or maybe that was the magic of falling, the way it was the ideal blend of intoxication, and could blot out all but the tingling in her shoulders, the flip in her belly, the thump of her heart when he looked at her. His gaze was filled with intensity and passion, with desire and tenderness. That was how his eyes roamed her as he held open the door to a taxi after they’d said goodbye to the few remaining guests, the bride and groom having been sent on their way already.
The second the door closed, she leaned into him and sighed happily as she grazed her fingers along his collar. “You’re coming home with me,” she said.
“That I am, gorgeous. That I am,” he said, and removed her hand from his shirt. She shot him a curious look as he knotted his fingers through hers. The cab sped out of the parking lot and down the twisty, hilly roads. He grasped her hand harder as if he were about to make a point. “I have a plan.”
“Already?” she said, arching an eyebrow.
He brushed a finger against that taunting eyebrow, sending it back into place. “Yes, already. What do you think clients pay me the big bucks for? To sit on my ass and not think quickly?”
She laughed. “Fine. You got me there. But let me make one thing clear, Mr. Big Bucks, you are not paying it off for me.”
He held up his hands as if in surrender.
“You were going to try to, weren’t you?”
“Actually no,” he said firmly.
“Because there’s no way I’m taking it. I haven’t asked anyone for money. I meant what I said—if I were going to ask for help, McKenna would be the first person I’d turn to, and I haven’t breathed a word to her, so don’t even think about it.”
“You considering letting me get a word in edgewise?” he asked as the cab slowed to a stop at a light.
“Maybe. But if you even think about offering, I will do this,” she said, putting her hands over her ears and singing, “La la la, I am not listening.”
He pulled her hands off her ears. “You think I don’t know you? You think I don’t listen? That I can’t figure out already from knowing you the way I do that you’d never ever take money from me or another man?”
She narrowed her eyes at him playfully. The fizzy effect of the champagne was still rolling through her bloodstream.
“I know you, woman,” he continued. “You are independent and stubborn and fiery. Give me some goddamn credit. I would not make you an offer I know you’d walk away from.”
“Ooh, you’re going to make me an offer,” she said, tap dancing her fingertips along his arm. “I. Can’t. Wait.”
He rolled his eyes. “You are red-hot trouble.”
“Tell me about it,” she fired back. “And now you know exactly how much trouble you have gotten yourself into,” she said and laughed, the kind that vibrated through her whole body and made her clutch her belly. It felt so damn good, because she hadn’t laughed about her situation in ages. Never, come to think about it. Now she could because she was no longer in it alone.
“And yet, I’m not walking away, am I?” He grabbed hold of her arms and pulled her close for a hard, fierce kiss that made her feel giddy and wanted at the same time. She was no longer living with armor on. She’d shucked off the heavy metal layers, making herself vulnerable, but lighter too. Something that felt disturbingly like joy raced through her veins as they kissed, and though their kisses had always rattled and hummed like a rock concert, this one was poetry too. It was bliss and beauty as the world shined bright in her heart.
She wasn’t finished with Charlie; but for the first time, she could see a way through because she had a teammate.
She broke the kiss as the cab turned a corner into her neighborhood, and still she was smiling. She wanted to know Clay’s plan, but she was also enjoying this newfound freedom from releasing all her own secrets she’d clutched tightly to her chest. “No, you’re not walking away. You’re driving away with me. Like we’re in a getaway car. Or cab, really,” she said, gesturing to the driver.
He shook his head, clapped his hand down on her thigh. “Let’s focus now, Julia. You know how you said Charlie took the fun out of playing? How he perverted your love of the game?”
She nodded. “Yep. He sure did.”
“I know how to get it back,” he said, as the cab swerved around a bus onto her street. She jerked sideways, her shoulder bumping hard against his.
“Ouch,” she said, rubbing her shoulder.
“You okay?”
She nodded. “You just have a really hard shoulder.”
The car pulled up to the curb. “Hard shoulders are good things,” he said, and reached for his wallet. “I got this.”
“Thank you,” she said, and opened the door and stepped out of the cab. She lifted her face to the night sky, breathing in the cool air and the starlight until she heard a voice.
“Hey.”
She swiveled around and saw Max stalking towards her from the front stoop of her apartment. Tension roared back into her body in a heartbeat as Skunk’s goon-in-training with the baby face and the barrel body stared coldly at her. She glanced over at the cab where Clay was busy handing the driver a credit card.
“Charlie sent me to find you.”
“It’s Saturday. I’m not playing tonight.”
“Yeah, but he wants you to know you’re going to New York next weekend for a game. He has some new blood in the city from the startups there, and he wants you to hustle them.”
She straightened her spine, liquid courage coursing through her. “What if I don’t want to?”
His eyes widened with anger, and in seconds his hand was on the back of her neck. “You think you can talk to me that way?”
He grappled at her skin, digging in. She swatted at his arm, trying to knock him away, but he was more than double her size. “Let go of me,” she spat out.
“Let go of her,” Clay said in a cool, cold voice.
Max shifted his focus to Clay, who was now by her side. “Who the fuck are you?”
“I’m the guy who’s going to make you let go of her,” he said, and before Julia could process what was happening his elbow came down hard on Max’s arm, freeing her from his grip. Then Clay’s fist connected with Max’s jawline with a loud crunch. Julia cringed, the sharp snap echoing down the street.
Max grunted, his eyes nearly popping out from surprise. His gaze darted down at his ankle, and fear flashed hard and fast before her eyes. Oh God, did he have a gun?
“No!” she screamed, but the sound was cut short when Clay slammed a fist into Max’s belly, and the man unleashed a loud grunt as he doubled over. He was fast for his size though, and quickly straightened up. Clay cocked his fist to swing again, but this time Max was faster, landing a punishing jab on Clay’s cheekbone, his hairy knuckles cracking hard against his temple. She swore she could hear bones crunching as Clay stumbled, the back of his head smacking hard against the brick wall of her apartment building. He grunted loudly from the pain, and all her instincts told her to run to him and comfort him.
“Stop! Please stop,” she shouted, and she wasn’t sure if she was talking to Clay or Max, or just praying to the universe for an end to this fistfight. But when she looked around, the street was empty, and she knew this was going to be between the two of them.
Clay lunged forward quickly, brushing off the double-blow like it was nothing, but Max went after him again, raising his fist and swinging hard. Clay dodged that blow, then Max threw another, landing one on Clay’s shoulder that barely seemed to bother him. Especially since he grabbed Max’s hand, twisted it around his back and yanked hard.
“Don’t ever touch her again,” he seethed, jerking the arm higher. Then he let go and reacquainted his fist once more with Max’s jaw, sending the big man stumbling backward and landing flat on his ass on the sidewalk. Max was helpless, huffing in a heavy pile, staring up with wide-open eyes at the man who’d landed the final blow. With fists clenched at his sides and anger radiating off him in hot waves, Clay bent over him. “Now I’m giving you five seconds to get up and run the hell away.”
Max nodded once, scurried to his feet, and took off down the street. When Clay turned to Julia, he was breathing hard and blood streaked from his temple down his cheek.
