Текст книги "Torn"

Автор книги: Monica Murphy

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I also feel like an asshole. I want to buy property from her father for a steal, so I can turn it around and make a profit. Plus, I’m dating his daughter in the hopes I can get closer to him.

Though, really I like her. A lot. I’m not with her just so I can have an in with Scott Knight. I’m with Marina because I want to be.

“I’d love to see what remains of his collection some time.” I would. Not just because I could get an in with him, but I’m genuinely interested. What if he has my dream car in his shop? Not that I have a particular car I’m yearning for, but hey, it could happen.

“Um, yeah.” She fidgets in her seat, looking decidedly uncomfortable. “You know I still live at home, right?”

I’m shocked. I hadn’t a clue. “You do? How old are you?”

She glares at me. Uh oh. Here we go, right into “let’s-see-how-out-of-hand-we-can-get-before-we-start-calling-each-other-names.” “I’m twenty-three,” she sniffs, all haughty Italian princess-like. “How old are you?”

“Twenty-eight.”

“Really?” She sounds surprised. I glance at her to find she looks surprised too. “I thought you were older.”

“How much older?” Shit, do I look old? I’m tempted to check myself out in the rearview mirror, but I resist the urge.

“I don’t know.” She shrugs, glances out the window. “Early thirties?”

“You like older men?” I tease.

She turns to glare at me again. “Not at all. I usually date men more my age.” Her comment is pointed. Now she’s really making me feel like a dirty, lecherous old man.

“I’m not even thirty,” I mutter, shaking my head. Maybe we should quit talking. I never know what’s going on in Marina’s head. Our banter feels pretty comfortable at the moment, but we could slip into argument mode in a hot second. And I don’t want us fighting before we get to the restaurant. Ivy will pick up on the tension rumbling between us and want to know what’s going on. So would Archer probably, though he’s pretty damn oblivious when it comes to that stuff.

Marina remains quiet, too; her hands curled in her lap, her head turned away, so she can stare out the window and watch the passing scenery. So I remain silent, sneaking the occasional glance at her hair, loving the multiple shades of blonde and brown mixed, knowing without a doubt that she’s a natural blonde, now that I’ve seen her naked.

Thinking of her naked sends my thoughts into other directions. Dangerous, dirty, and unnecessary directions that I shouldn’t be focusing on at the moment. Thinking of the two of us together leaves me feeling needy. Vulnerable.

Hungry. Starving, more like it. All for her.

Fuck.

“Can I ask you a question?” I gotta break the tension and talk about something else before I lose it and attack her.

She turns to look at me. “Go for it,” she says warily.

“You’re a blonde.”

A smile teases the corner of her lips. “That’s not a question.”

“I thought Italians weren’t normally blonde,” I say lamely, feeling like a jackass. I’m trying to make conversation, and I feel like an idiot. This woman just makes me so damn . . . nervous. I can’t explain it.

“I’m not one hundred percent Italian, you know. My dad is what he calls a mutt,” she says, her voice light. She seems to like talking about her family, and I like it too. Any tidbit I can get on Scott Knight, I can turn around and use later.

But I also like learning more about her. I’m curious. I want to know. Usually I run the other direction when a woman wants to tell me her life story. So many of them do, going on and on about their past, their family, their friends. It all starts to sound like monotonous noise after a while.

Not with this woman. She offers these glimpses of her personal life so rarely, I cherish every tidbit I learn. Which is fucking crazy, truly. I shouldn’t be that wrapped up in her, wanting to learn more, everything about her, wanting to kiss her . . .

“A mutt, huh?” I don’t even know what to say to that for fear I’ll mistakenly insult her father and piss her off.

She offers me a secretive smile, the sight of it sending a zing straight to my heart—and my cock. This woman twists me up into such complete knots, I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to unwind myself from them—or her. “My mother is Sicilian. There are a lot of blonde, blue– and green-eyed Sicilians out there. I happen to be one of them.”

A beautiful one, too. She’s so beautiful just looking at her hurts.

Not having her in front of me to look at hurts too.

Which means at the mere age of twenty-eight, I am completely ruined for any other woman. And I don’t even care. I want to revel in the ruin.

My brain on overload, I drive the rest of the way to the restaurant in silence, taking the curves at high speed, enjoying the way the tires stick to the road, the squeal of rubber on asphalt making me smile. I downshift, the whine of the engine like music to my ears, and the faster I drive, the more I get into it.

“You’re crazy,” she whispers as I gain speed, going close to one hundred on a straightaway a few miles from the restaurant.

I roll down the windows, let the cool night air wash over my heated skin. Her hair blows everywhere, even restrained by the ponytail, and a long blonde strand hits me in the face, causing me to push it away. I chance a look at her, see that she’s gripping the edge of her seat, her body on edge, her expression full of . . . excitement?

Really?

“You like it,” I say, my tone practically a dare. “You’re literally sitting on the edge of your seat.”

“I do like it,” she quietly admits, her wild eyes meeting mine. A shaky exhalation leaves her, and she nods toward me. “Go faster.”

My foot presses on the gas pedal, picking up speed. She’s watching me; I can feel her gaze on me, and I reach toward her, pushing all that sexy, wind-blown hair away from her face. Before I can drop my hand, she leans her cheek into my palm, then turns and presses a hot, wet kiss to my flesh, her tongue darting out for a quick lick.

I swear.

Ah, hell. I grow instantly hard, letting my hand fall from her cheek, but she wraps her fingers around my wrist, bringing my hand to her mouth and drawing my index finger deep inside her mouth, dragging her wet, lush lips along the length before she releases it, her eyes never leaving mine.

Easing my foot off the gas, I swallow hard. She’s going to kill me. I tear my gaze from hers, keeping my attention on the road. It’s dark, it feels like we’re virtually alone, and I’m tempted. So tempted to pull over, kiss her until she’s gasping my name, and then fuck her in the back seat just like I first envisioned.

I chance a glance at her, see the flushed cheeks, the parted lips. I recognize that look from last night. She’s aroused.

Hell, yeah. So am I.

Downshifting, I pull over. I throw the car into park and lean over the center console at the exact time she moves toward me. We attack each other, lips searching, hands wandering, clinging, fighting to draw our bodies closer, but the awkward space makes it difficult.

“I want you,” she whispers against my mouth before she sucks my lower lip between hers. “Please.”

“Seriously?” I’m in absolute shock. She acted like having sex with me was the biggest mistake of her life. But here she is leaning into my hands as I curve them around her breasts, her breaths coming out in sharp pants as she rests her hands over mine, making me squeeze her breasts together.

Damn, she’s hot.

“Seriously.” Her voice tinged with amusement, she withdraws from my touch, moving closer to the passenger side door. Slowly she reaches for the hem of her shirt and tugs it up, then off, tossing it onto the back seat. Her bra is black, smooth satin and my mouth waters as she reaches behind her, unclasping it and tearing it off so it falls from her fingertips onto the floorboard.

I can’t form words. She strips off each article of clothing until she’s completely naked, coming at me like a woman possessed. I feel like a man possessed, obsessed with the feel of her soft skin beneath my palms, the taste of her. She climbs on top of me, pressing all that hot, wet deliciousness against my denim-covered cock, grinding against me like she’s trying to get off.

Shit. Maybe she is trying to get off.

But no. She wants to involve me in the action too. Her nimble fingers undo my button fly and she’s reaching inside my boxer briefs, sure fingers curling around the length of my cock. Knowing I’m about to blow, I lightly slap her hand away, reaching behind me to pull out my wallet and the condom nestled within.

I packed extra in the glove compartment earlier. I’m not an idiot.

“You make me crazy,” she whispers, snatching it out of my fingers. She tears into it, rolling the condom onto my cock and then she’s on top of me, slowly sinking until I’m completely imbedded inside her.

A car drives by, the bright white lights flashing across her, offering me a glimpse of her swaying breasts, her hips as they slowly move up and down. I grasp her there, steadying her, keeping her slow, afraid I’ll ruin it by coming too fast.

Because holy shit, I’m ready to explode. I’m still fully clothed save for my open jeans and she’s deliciously naked. All that fragrant, soft skin is wrapped around me, her breasts in my face, nipples teasing my lips. I draw one in deep, sucking, tonguing, teasing her until she’s tossing her head back, riding me relentlessly. I shift away from her, wanting to watch. She’s beautiful in her abandon, so lost as she races toward that delicious moment, and I want to mark this moment permanently in my brain.

“So good,” she breathes, tipping her head back down so she can press her forehead to mine. I tip my chin up, brush her mouth with mine and she devours me. The kiss hot, wet. Deep. I grip the end of her ponytail, tugging hard and she gasps.

Damn. She likes that too. If we didn’t hate each other so much, I’d believe she was made just for me.

“Harder, Gage,” she encourages, her hands gripping my shoulders. “Make me come.”

Ah, fuck. I can’t resist that. I increase my pace, thrusting hard, filling her again and again until she’s crying out my name, her body quivering, sobs falling from her lips as she collapses against me.

I hold her close, tracing circles on her back with my fingertips, making her shiver. Her grip around my neck is like a vice, her face buried into my neck. I feel her warm lips press sweet kisses to my flesh, and I squeeze her closer, our racing hearts in complete and total sync.

“You haven’t come yet,” she whispers against my throat, her tongue licking.

My cock twitches. It’s more than aware of that. “I know.”

She lifts her head up, her arms loosely resting around my neck, her expression slumberous and full of satisfaction. “Let me make that up to you,” she murmurs as she slowly starts to grind against me.

I wrap my hands around her waist, guiding her, my gaze locked where our bodies meet. She’s moving on me slow and sure, little murmurs of pleasure escaping her, and I can’t look away. I’m entranced by the way she moves, the words she says, the way she looks at me.

What am I doing? What is she doing to me? I feel lost . . . gloriously, deliciously lost in my need to have her.

Only her.

I’m closer to the edge, unable to hold back, when she reaches between us and touches my cock, then her clit. The sight of her slender fingers playing down there sends me right over the edge, making me gasp as my hips buck against her. She smiles her encouragement, murmuring my name, and I grab hold of her ponytail pulling her face to mine so I can drown in her kiss.

Fuck. I’m wrecked. All because of this woman.

Chapter Nine

Marina

I ENTER THE building with my head held high, pretending I have everything completely under control, while inside I’m a confused mass of jumbled nerves and rapidly growing insecurities. Smoothing my hair back from my face, I glance toward Gage as he stops just beside me, tall and commanding, earning plenty of appreciative glances from the various women sitting in the lobby and waiting to be seated.

He finds me watching him and flashes me a dazzling smile, making my heart race. I remember what he looked like only minutes ago, dazed and fascinated with me as I rose above him, naked and greedy and crazed with wanting him. Riding his thick cock straight into oblivion.

I don’t know what came over me. Watching him drive that powerful, outrageously expensive car, his big hand shifting the gears, his thighs flexing as he pressed the pedals, sent me into a sexual tizzy. Just like that, I wanted him. Had to have him at that very moment or felt like I was going to die. I’ve never reacted like that to a man.

Ever.

“Do I look okay?” I whisper, leaning into him as I tuck yet another tendril behind my ear. I’d slicked on fresh lipstick while still in the car, pulling my clothes into place as best I could. He’d barely done anything, just tucked himself back into his jeans, tugged on his sweater, and he was good to go.

Men. They’re disgustingly easy sometimes.

“Truth?” He smiles, and I sort of want to punch him for being so ridiculously good looking. I feel like a frazzled mess while he looks amazing. His hair is a little messy—from my eager fingers, I might add—but it’s a good look for him.

Everything’s a good look for him.

“Of course, tell me the truth,” I mutter, irritated. Great, I must look a complete mess if he feels the need to tell me the “truth.” I wonder if I have time to dash into the bathroom and put myself back together before we have to go sit down with Archer and his fiancé.

I really hope I like his fiancé. I’m more nervous meeting her than talking with Archer. Women hold such a strong influence on their men and their decisions. I know Archer’s a respected businessman, but from what I understand, he’s so far gone over this new and very steady woman in his life, I’m sure he listens to her opinion.

So what if she hates me? She could tell Archer how she feels and bam. My chance is over.

Gage grabs hold of my elbow and tugs me closer to him, his mouth right at my ear, hot breath fanning against my skin and making me shiver before he whispers, “You look . . . freshly fucked. And beautiful with it.”

I pull away to meet his gaze, utterly speechless.

He grins. “It’s a good look on you. One I suggest you wear as often as possible.”

I smile and follow through with my earlier instinct, giving him a slug on the arm. He smirks, leans in once more and kisses my cheek, his lips lingering, warm and soft and so comforting I want to melt. “I can keep you in that look all night if you want.”

“Stop.” I shove him away from me, noticing the strange looks we’re receiving from those waiting for a table. Great.

I so don’t want to draw attention to the two of us together. What if someone recognizes us and it gets back to my dad that I’m out on a date with Gage? From what Gage told me, he’s tried to get in contact with my father numerous times since our first encounter. And I know he’s tried to talk to him prior to our meeting too.

I’m basically hanging out with the enemy. My dad would be furious, though I haven’t talked to him about Gage. I’m too scared. It’s bad enough I told my mom his name. It didn’t dawn on me at the time since I was too busy looking for something to wear and not thinking with all cylinders firing. I’d been a little brain-warped after our night together, and now? After the incident in the car?

I’m toast. Done.

“Considering I know just how much you enjoyed getting that particular look, I wanted to make the offer,” he says from over his shoulder as he moves away from me, approaching the hostess’s counter and asking if our other party has already been seated. He flicks his head for me to follow and I do so like a good little girlfriend, letting him take my hand, loving the way he entwines my fingers with his as he leads me through the restaurant.

I can’t believe I’ve fallen into this role so easily. I shouldn’t want to. I shouldn’t do it at all. I’m not his girlfriend and he’s not my boyfriend. We’re not even in a real relationship.

We’re at one of the most expensive and revered restaurants in Napa Valley. Gage and Archer have exquisite taste, I’ll give them that. The place is overflowing with beautiful people, all of them dressed to perfection. I can’t see anything but a sea of suits and finely cut dresses. They all look like they just came out of work.

I look like I’m ready to hang out for the night and go clubbin’. Or worse, I have the freshly fucked look, according to Gage. Can everyone see we just had wild and crazy sex in his car?

God, I hope not.

My fingers tremble, and I feel him squeeze my hand. He comes to a stop, turning to look at me, his face etched with concern. “You okay?”

I shouldn’t let it touch me that he’s being so sweet. But it does. I want to melt at the concern I see reflected in his eyes. “A little nervous,” I admit.

“Archer won’t bite. You’re going to be fine.” He kisses me on the lips, right there in the middle of the freaking restaurant, and I want to both disappear and scream with glee that this man . . . this very fine man standing right here, is mine.

But he’s not. Not really. We’re . . . huh. I don’t know what we’re doing. He wants my family’s property. He’d probably fall to my feet in gratitude if I introduced him to my father, which I so don’t want to do. Helping him get that much closer to what he wants would be idiotic on my part. It would be the end of the bakery.

Besides, I want an opportunity to grow my business. Instead of pushing him away, I’m selfishly spending time with him. And we’re gaining something from each other while we have wild passionate sex on the side. A totally unexpected bonus in this bargain we made.

It’s so strange, so unlike anything I’ve ever done before. There is no definition for what I’m experiencing with Gage.

I just need to approach it day by day.

“What about Archer’s fiancé?” I ignore the pointed stare the hostess is shooting us when she discovers we’re not following behind her any longer. Just how big is this stupid restaurant?

“Yeah. Uh. She’s great.” He smiles and fidgets, releasing my hand so he can run his through his tousled dark hair. “I have a confession to make.”

Dread fills my stomach. “What is it?”

“Sir? Miss? Your table is this way,” the hostess calls, her voice full of hostility that we’re not obeying her command.

We ignore her. “Tell me,” I say when he still hasn’t answered.

Shrugging, he reaches out, trails his index finger down my cheek. “She’s my sister.”

I frown. “Who? Do you mean Archer’s fiancé?”

“Yeah.” He winces. “My best friend is marrying my baby sister.”

“Oh.” I’m sort of offended that he didn’t tell me from the first. Why keep it such a secret? I don’t get it.

Sometimes, I really don’t get him.

“Mister Emerson!” The hostess is practically shouting at us. “Please, follow me!”

We hurry after her, my mind awhirl after his confession. She leads us to the very back of the restaurant, where the private dining rooms are, and I blow out a slow, cleansing breath, trying to calm my agitated nerves.

I thought having sex with Gage in his car would take the edge off, but no, I couldn’t have been more wrong. I feel edgier, more amped up than ever. He’s not helping matters with how sweet he’s being. You’d think I’d like his attitude and want more of it, after all the fighting and the arguing between us.

But I need the distance. I need to focus and think about what exactly I want to say to Archer. Now that I know he’s with Gage’s sister, that Archer is Gage’s best friend, it puts a new spin on their relationship. Puts a new spin on the entire dynamic that’s about to happen once we sit down with them. I knew he and Archer were good friends, but I guess I didn’t realize they were best friends. They’re practically family.

“Here you go.” The hostess stops at an open door that leads to a small dining room, the interior done in cool greens and blues. Gage lets me walk in first, and I spot them sitting at the table. I smile nervously at Archer and his fiancé. Gage’s freaking sister.

God help me, I hope I don’t make a fool of myself in front of her. I want her to like me.

It doesn’t matter if she likes you or not. You’re not looking for a relationship with Gage. You’re having dirty, awesome sex with him. Nothing more, nothing less.

I really wish I could believe that.

Plus, I need to focus on what I really want out of this dinner. A chance to gain exposure for the bakery and my aunt’s desserts by having them featured at his hotel. That’s what matters tonight.

Gage rests his hand at the small of my back, his simple touch making my heart hammer. I watch helplessly as Archer stands and approaches us, a warm smile on his handsome face as he stops in front of me. He’s wearing a suit, just like everyone else in this restaurant save for me and Gage, and he’s intimidating despite the friendly expression.

“Marina, it’s wonderful to see you.” Leaning in, he presses the requisite society kiss to my cheek. “You’re looking ravishing tonight.”

Oh. God. I want to die. He is so close to the truth it’s embarrassing. Does he know Gage ravished me? Can he tell? Am I wearing a flashing sign on my forehead that screams freshly fucked?

Gage’s low chuckle doesn’t help matters either. If he doesn’t watch it, he’s going to end up with an elbow in the ribs.

“Thank you,” I say, my voice shaky, and I clear my throat. “So glad you’re able to have dinner tonight with us, Archer. I know it was last minute.”

“Anything for Gage.” He flashes him a quick, smug smile. “I may think he’s a complete asshole, but considering he’s going to be my brother-in-law in less than a year, I guess I need to start thinking of him as part of my family.”

“Oh, stop being so rude.” His fiancé approaches us as well, her expression open. Friendly. Curious. “I’m Ivy. Gage’s sister. You must be Marina.” She extends her hand toward me.

“Nice to meet you,” I offer weakly, overwhelmed as she takes my hand and shakes it. I don’t want to screw this up, and I’m going to if I don’t watch it. I can barely keep my crap together as I stand before these two people.

I need to chill out.

Ivy’s wearing a red wrap-style dress, looking effortless and elegant, and again I feel like an idiot in my jeans. I blame working at the bakery for my lack of dressy clothes. I have them, I just don’t bother wearing them much anymore. I’m always in jeans.

Though Gage doesn’t seem to mind me in jeans . . .

We all sit at the table, Archer and Ivy resuming the spots they occupied and Gage and I sitting across from them. The table is small, the setting intimate, and I keep my gaze on the place setting in front of me, trying to calm my racing heart.

Gage settles his hand on my back, reaching up to tickle at the sensitive skin of my nape. I jerk my gaze toward him, giving him a look I hope he can interpret: one that says stop touching me.

He doesn’t seem to get it. Clueless bastard. Instead he’s smiling at me, as if he enjoys my slight discomfort, and I grimace at him, my breath catching in my throat when he laughs at me.

“Why are you so worked up?” he asks after the waiter sweeps out of the room with our drink orders. “You seem upset.”

“I’m not upset.” I glance toward Archer and Ivy, who are arguing over what to order for dinner. God, they’re cute. “I feel woefully underdressed compared to everyone else in this stupid restaurant.”

His smile turns wicked as he leans in closer, his voice lowering. “Baby, when we were in my car just a few minutes ago? Now that was woefully underdressed.”

His words set my cheeks on fire, and he chuckles, shaking his head. “One minute you’re the sexiest, most naked thing I’ve ever seen, and now you’re blushing like a sweet schoolgirl.”

“There’s no such thing as ‘most naked,’ Gage,” I say irritably, earning a bigger grin for my effort. “You’re either naked or you’re not.”

“Well. You were very naked.” He kisses my cheek. Again. It’s like he can’t stop touching me, not that I’m protesting. “And right now? You look amazing.”

I feel my cheeks heat further, which is silly. Three simple words and my heart is hammering. He touches my elbow, my back, tucks my hair behind my ear, and I want him to touch me more. I think he sees it too. His knowing smile—which I should find completely annoying—instead sends a shivery little thrill down my spine.

“You don’t think I should be wearing a dress?” Why am I acting like a simpering, self-conscious girlfriend? I need to stop.

His gaze roves over me, taking me all in, and my skin heats as if he’s physically touched me. “I think you look perfect,” he says when his eyes finally meet mine, dark and serious and so intense I can hardly look away.

Oh. My. What is happening between us? I don’t . . . don’t know what comes over me when I’m with him. He’s acting like he’s truly interested in me and I . . . just don’t think that’s possible. Sexually, we’re compatible. But two people can be in a sexual relationship that doesn’t go beyond that point, right? Not that I’ve ever experienced anything like that, but I know people do it all the time.

So why is he looking at me like that? Saying such deliciously wonderful things to me? What in the world are we doing? This is supposed to be temporary between us.

Yet it already feels all too real. It shouldn’t though. Not at all.

Someone clears their throat, and I tear my gaze away from Gage to find Archer studying us, his expression full of amusement. Ivy’s studying us as well, her delicate brow furrowed in confusion.

I can’t blame her. I’m confused too.

“So Marina, I hear you’ve been spending time with Gage,” Archer says, one brow lifting.

I want to squirm in my seat. Are Gage and I that obvious? Of course we are. We’re hanging all over each other like we’re together. He can’t keep his hands off me. We just had sex in his car on the side of the road, for the love of God. The pheromones or whatever between us are probably off the charts.

And if they’re best friends like Gage said, then surely Archer must know all about Gage’s romantic past. Maybe I’m not Gage’s normal type, and he’s confused as well?

“Have you met Ivy before?” Archer asks me before he studies his fiancé with unabashed love in his eyes.

He knows the answer to this question. Is Archer trying to make this evening more awkward? What should I say?

Oh hey, Ivy. I know we haven’t met and all but I’ve known your brother for a few days and we’re having the wildest sex of my life. How do you do?

“This is the first time. I’ve only known Gage for a short time so . . .” I smile at her and she smiles warmly in return. “I had no idea Gage had a sister, so it’s wonderful to meet you.”

“I had no idea Gage was seeing someone, so the feeling’s mutual.” Her smile fades as her gaze turns assessing. “I don’t believe I’ve heard my brother mention you before. How did you two meet exactly?”

“Um . . .” My voice trails off and I feel silly. I sought him out that night. I wanted to meet the man who’s trying to buy out my family.

But I can’t tell Ivy that. I’d sound like a cold, callous bitch.

“I’m so curious. Gage never lets me meet any of the women that he dates.” Ivy’s just about as determined as her brother. Scary.

And have there been a lot of women? There had to have been. He’s charming, sexy, rich, and influential. What woman wouldn’t find him a catch?

You, maybe?

“At that wine– and beer-tasting event I went to in Archer’s place,” Gage answers for me.

“That was only a few nights ago,” Ivy says, frowning.

Gage shrugs. “Right. That’s what I said. We met, and I asked her out. Now here we are.” He sends Archer a pointed look, who just smirks at him in return, and I don’t know what to think.

There’s an undercurrent flowing between these three, unspoken messages, and I’m the one left out. I knew this would happen. I have no idea what’s going on, and I don’t like it. I wish we could go back to the car, where it’s just the two of us. Wrapped up in our own little bubble, touching each other, kissing each other . . .

Getting lost in one another.