Dirty Dealers Page 4

  Fuck, it’s like the least-fulfilling appetizer in the most expensive restaurant along the Avenue Princesse Grace.

  One restless night and one endless day later I’m on a motorcycle headed into the La Condamine as fast as the city traffic will allow.

  Her flat is in a series of converted warehouse buildings in the port district. My chest is tight, and fuck, I can’t wait to see her again. I park the bike outside the industrial-styled structure, prop my helmet on the seat, and exhale as I let my eyes travel up the colorful doors of the warehouse building. Out here in the alley, the hanging lights over the cafés are growing brighter as the sun starts to set.

  I have no idea how she feels. Hell, she could be seeing someone. That kiss last night was amazing. Our chemistry is something we never could deny, but it’s not a guarantee of anything. Six years is a long time.

  Glancing at my watch, I’m a few minutes early. I debate walking around the colorful block as I leave my bike beside the wooden tree-box. Just then, the door to her apartment starts to open. I jog forward to catch it, my eyes straining for her beautiful face, when I draw back quickly.

  “Tasses-toi de mon chemin!” A stocky little man in a grey driver’s cap pushes past me. His head is at my ribcage and he’s holding the leash for a grey terrier dressed in a plaid jacket.

  “Excusez-moi,” I say, catching the door over his head.

  I almost laugh at myself. This grumpy old man is not the vision of loveliness I was straining to see. Still, I’m here, holding the front door to her walkup apartment. A narrow flight of stairs leads to a landing above, and I step inside, letting the metal door close behind me with a slam. My humor is gone when I realize this is not safe at all. I could be anyone walking in off the street without her knowledge.

  The lighting is dim. I’ve only taken three steps up the narrow passage when another door opens at the top, and in a swirl of pale blonde and bright red, Kass jogs down the stairs toward me. I’m frozen, watching her slim hands fumble with the strap of her bag. She’s wearing a pair of dark sunglasses, and her pace doesn’t slow as she gets closer. She’s beautiful.

  “Hey,” I say, catching her arm, and she jumps, letting out a little yelp. I pull her closer, and her hands clutch my biceps before quickly moving up my shoulders and to my cheeks.

  “Logan!” she exhales, and I feel her body relax.

  “I’m sorry for scaring you.” My voice is low compared to hers. “It’s way too easy to get into this building. It isn’t safe.”

  “I’m always safe with you.” Her pink lips part, and she’s panting.

  Her scent of fresh linen and jasmine surrounds us, and the need I’ve been wrestling with heats my skin. I turn her so her back is against the wall. Her fingers move from my cheeks into the hair at the back of my neck.

  Every touch is electric. My eyes close, and I lean forward, claiming her mouth, pushing those lips apart and sliding my tongue inside to taste her fresh mint.

  Hesitation disappears as her fingers tighten in my hair. With a whimper, she kisses me back, molding her body to mine as she pulls us closer. Our mouths chase each other’s, lips grasping, tongues tasting, and my hands slide down her sides to her rounded ass. Shit, I want to lift her against the wall and fuck her right here in this stairwell. She cuts us short, releasing my hair and pulling back.

  “Aren’t we going out?” she says, still breathless.

  We’re both breathing faster, and I want to see her beautiful eyes hidden behind those enormous sunglasses.

  I touch them lightly. “What’s this? Jackie O?”

  “You said to bring a bathing suit. I thought we were going to the beach.” She glances down the stairwell, and I lean forward into her hair, grazing my lips over the top of her ear.

  I’m rewarded with a shiver, and I smile. That little erogenous zone is still intact. My mind travels to the other ones—all the ones I found that summer we were inseparable.

  “We’ll go to our beach.” I’m not hiding my desire, and she melts further into my arms. “Only, I changed my mind. Who needs a bathing suit?”

  Her sexy laugh is a sound I’ve missed more than I realized until this moment. Again, she steps out of my arms and starts down the stairs. “So where are we going?”

  Catching up, I reach down and pull her slim hand into the crook of my arm. “Do you have a helmet?”

  “No...” Her pretty brows clutch together.

  We stop outside beside my bike, and I smooth the line in her forehead with my finger. “It’s okay.” Reaching to the side, I take my helmet off the seat and gently slide it on her head.

  “Oh!” She ducks at first before reaching up to hold the sides, positioning it behind her ears. The sunglasses are replaced by the tinted visor over her eyes, and her chin and mouth are exposed. She gives me a cute grin. “But what will you wear?”

  “If those were aviators, I’d wear them.” I point to the sunglasses now tucked in her shirt. “As it is, I’ll be okay for the short drive.”

  Her hands immediately fly to the shiny helmet. “You should wear this! I’ll be behind you.”

  “You forget,” I say with a smile. “Protection is my job.”

  I can tell she wants to argue, but I climb on the bike before she has a chance, kicking it to life with a loud roar.

  “Get on!” I shout, and she reaches out hesitantly for my arm. “Trust me.”

  Her fingers tighten on my sleeve and she carefully gathers her dress up her long, silky legs. I don’t even try to hide that I’m watching the hem of her skirt rise, but she doesn’t seem to notice. In a swift move her leg is across the seat and her body is pressed against my back. The heat between us is undeniable.

  “I wish you’d warned me.” Her lips just graze the skin of my neck as she speaks, and tightness crosses my fly. I want her. “I would’ve worn something more appropriate.”

  “You look amazing,” I say, twisting back to steal a kiss, another hit of my favorite drug. “Now hold on.”

  Slim arms hug my waist so tightly, and I’m pretty sure this is the greatest feeling in the world. Easing into the speed of the chopper, we head off into the late afternoon climbing the mountains, following the winding, narrow roads of the countryside.

  The salt air is at my face, and the sun is going down in a blaze of pinks and oranges and burning yellows. Kass’s head is on my shoulder; her arms hold my waist. Her body is pressed to mine, and I wonder how long it would take to get to Paris. Too long.

  Instead, I turn in at the Robie House restaurant, a Frank Lloyd Wright-style establishment on the cliffs overlooking the ocean. Naturally, we sit outside, and the way it’s built, the patio juts out from the mountain. It’s like we’re on the edge of a cliff, and a light breeze surrounds us.

  “And here I thought you wanted to apricate,” she says with a little smile.

  Taking my seat across from her, I grin at her old hobby. “Still collecting unusual words? What would I be doing if I were to apricate?”

  She leans toward the table and wrinkles her nose. “You’d be basking in the sun.”

  “Good one,” I take the roll of silverware off the table and place the utensils beside my charger, the napkin in my lap. “I’d like to see you apricating in one of those string bikinis you used to wear. How about tomorrow?”

  “You’re very sure of yourself.”

  “I’d say I’m optimistic.”

  That earns me a laugh. She places her own napkin in her lap, sliding her fingers back and forth on the fabric. “These linens are very soft. What expensive taste you’ve acquired, Mr. Hunt.”

  “Only the best,” I say with a wink. One benefit of working nonstop and keeping a studio apartment is my bank account is ridiculously full. I want to empty it on her.

  We’re quiet a moment, and I don’t want us to be awkward. I want to see her beautiful blue eyes. Those dark glasses are back in place on her nose, and I’m just about to say something when the waitress appears to take our drink orders. I ask for a bottle of
champagne and the young woman disappears. Kass slides her fingers over the menu.

  “Are we celebrating?” she asks.

  “I’m feeling lucky this evening.”

  That gets me another laugh from behind her menu. She lifts her chin in my direction. “Tell me what to order.”

  “You want me to order for you?”

  “Sure,” she wrinkles her nose and puts the heavy folder aside. “You know what I like. Save me the guesswork.”

  I love this playful side of her. “Do you still hate salads?”

  “Ugh!” She pretends to cough. “Lettuce is what my food eats.”

  “Still like clams?”

  “Les fruits de mer!” she exclaims, and I decide.

  The waitress returns, and I order us both the linguini aux vongoles. Kass’s eyebrows rise behind those dark shades, and a smart little grin curves her lips.

  “We always wanted to go to Campania,” she says once the woman has gone. “Spaghetti alle vongole is one of the most popular dishes there.”

  “Did you ever go?”

  A little head shake. “We only talked about going there together. Remember?”

  I want to say I remember everything we dreamed of doing together, but I don’t. Instead, I say what’s been on my mind since the stairwell. “Do you have to wear those sunglasses?”

  “Oh…” Her lips part, and she hesitates before continuing. “I-um… They’re prescription.”

  My eyebrows rise. “Something new.” Thinking back, I remember last night at the casino and the slim glasses perched on her nose.

  Shifting in her seat, now she does a little shrug. “Apparently, I always needed them. I never knew.”

  “So you’re Monet?”

  I watch as her fingers slide over the tablecloth until they collide with the stem of her champagne flute. She spreads them over the base before lifting the glass to her lips.

  “Something like that.” Her smile is sad again. “If only my world were as beautiful as his.”

  “I thought it was his myopia that created the beauty.”

  “Myopia…” Her white teeth press together in a smile. “That’s an unusual word.”

  Sitting forward in my chair, I slide my hand across the table to cover her slim one. She flinches slightly before relaxing, threading her fingers through mine. I love the sight of her slim, pale hand captured by my larger, darker one. It’s like she glows.

  “Myopia isn’t so unusual,” I say gently, watching her pink lips press together. I wonder if she’s thinking of our kiss in the stairwell like I am. I wonder if she’ll let me have her tonight.

  A young man with a large tray of our food appears at the table, breaking our moment. Small plates are set in front of each of us containing the flat noodles with opened clams, red sauce, and slivers of zucchini garnish. I assure him we need nothing more, and he disappears.

  Kass leans forward, a conspiratorial smile on her face. “It smells delicious. I might eat every bite!”

  I don’t stop my laugh. It’s been a while since I’ve felt happy. “I hope you do. God knows you can afford it.” She’s as thin as she always was.

  Her soft laugh surrounds me, and I watch as she slides her fingers over the silverware before lifting her knife and fork and digging in. I don’t waste time following suit. The sooner we eat, the sooner I can decide whether I want to take her to the ocean or back to my apartment.

  Floodgates

  Kass

  My mind is still on Cam when I grab my dark shades and slide them over my eyes. I instantly regret my decision when I dash out into the stairwell. I might as well have shut off the lights altogether. Stifling a swear, I make my way fast down the stairs, knowing the sun will still be blasting full force once I get outside.

  Blix’s text from last night is on my mind. He didn’t say much, but I know he’s watching. He’s always watching. I’m lost in thought when a pair of massive arms closes around me, stopping my heart.

  “Where are you going so fast?” The deep voice is right in my ear, and I almost faint from relief.

  “Logan!” I gasp. My body instantly responds to him. Heat floods my panties as his scent surrounds me. It’s warm cedar and fires burning. Even in this darkness, I can see his lips curling in that grin I love. “You startled me.”

  His warm breath skates over my cheek, and I want him to kiss me again. I trace my fingers up his massive biceps to his broad shoulders. Shit, I can only imagine him naked. He’s so familiar, but at the same time, he’s different, bigger.

  Threading my fingers in his soft hair, my wish is granted when he leans in and covers my mouth with his. Our tongues collide, and it’s hot and luscious. The soft brush of his beard moves against my cheek, and my fingers tighten, pulling him closer as my body melts into his.

  Nothing has changed between us. He could fuck me right here in this stairwell, and I wouldn’t stop him. Only, I have to stop him. I’m not going there with him, especially not now, not with all I’ve done and what’s hanging over my head.

  Reluctantly, and with a final pull on his warm lips, I step back, putting a little space between us, trying to regain control.

  He makes a comment about my building not being safe before leading me the rest of the way down to his waiting motorcycle. I almost laugh at the irony. A helmet is on my head, and he’s roaring the engine before I can even protest. I’m on the back, holding his firm body against mine.

  The helmet only covers the top and back of my head, and my nose is at his collar. I smell his rich, masculine scent. The heat of our torsos is electric, and I rest my cheek on his shoulder blade. It’s the most amazing feeling of speed and power and freedom and Logan’s body against mine. I allow myself to dream we could keep going forever, run away from everything, never look back. It’s only a dream, but it’s so seductive.

  Once we’ve slowed down enough to talk, I can’t help teasing him. “You’re a bad boy now.”

  I feel his body vibrate with laughter, and a thrill moves through me. I love that I can make him laugh. “I’m actually pretty good at some things.”

  A sigh, and I remember how good he is at those things. The memories rush back on the strength of the sea breeze surrounding us as he takes off again.

  He’d been my first. I’d wanted it to be him the moment I laid eyes on him under that boardwalk where I sat reading my silly book. It was so unlike me. I’d always been focused on books and music, and honestly, I was a little nervous around guys—especially big, masculine guys like Logan.

  Still, he walked by, and all I could think was Quatopygia: The enticing movement of a man’s rear end…

  “What’s that you’re reading?” he’d said, dropping to sit beside me on the sand.

  The sea air pushed his glossy, dark hair around his face, around his straight nose and dark brow. His easy manner relaxed me, and I didn’t care he was a bit older than me. I’d been a year out of high school, nineteen and unsure whether to work or try to continue with college. He turned those gorgeous blue eyes on me, that perfectly square jaw, and I would have given him anything. Then he smiled, and my last shred of resistance disappeared.

  After our first time, we were insatiable. He explored my body with all the enthusiasm of a modern-day pioneer—anywhere and everywhere—and it was thrilling and sexy and so incredible. I’ve never been the way I was with him that summer. I was wild and free. It was the best summer of my life, a dream. I had no idea everything would come crashing down shortly after he left.

  Still, those memories are a blissful imprint on my brain. The bike starts to slow as we arrive at our destination, and I regret the loss of his heat when he gets off the bike. I take his hand, allowing him to lead me inside to a table covered with thick, fine linens and the most delicious smells of tomato and cheese and basil.

  He orders champagne, and I can’t resist a tease. “Are we celebrating?”

  My dark glasses still cover my face like a mask. I can’t help wondering if I take them off, if I show him every
thing, if he’ll see all the awful things I’ve done since he left me. He went away to become an honored member of the elite guard, and I stayed behind to slowly devolve into this thing I hate, my debts far outweighing my ability to pay.

  “I feel lucky,” his low voice moves thorough my insides in a sizzling vibration that makes me laugh.

  He’d ordered for me, and I’d been thrilled that he remembered Campania—the pastel-hued district in the shadows of Mt. Vesuvius. Naples is there, the ruins of Pompeii… We’d always dreamed of visiting its dreamy coastline, lost in time and so romantic.

  We’d finished, and as if in a trance, I’d taken his hand, followed him through the busy restaurant to the bike.

  Now, walking on our beach, all I can think of are the hours we spent here telling each other everything, sharing everything. Holding my arms tight around his waist, I rest my cheek again on his shoulder. I remember how he’d wanted to travel, too. It had been why he’d entered the military.

  “Italy, Morocco, the desert…” I can still see him lying on the sand, long and bronze in the sun, telling me his hopes and ambitions. I’d wanted to stretch my body along the length of his and soak up his warmth like a cat.

  “Go to exotic locations, meet the natives, and kill them?” I teased, quoting something I’d read and not really meaning it. I didn’t expect his defensive response.

  “It’s not like that, Sass. I’d be protecting our leaders. Guarding our country’s existence.”

  “I’m sorry,” I’d said quietly, wishing I could die. “I didn’t mean it.”

  He’d touched my face and smiled, catching the wild strands of my hair blowing in the ocean breeze. “I know.”

  Sitting beside him, I’d leaned my head on his shoulder. “You could be killed. Doesn’t that bother you?”

  His answer was thoughtful, serious. “It’s who I am. Protection, keeping people safe, these things just seem to come out of me. It’s what I feel when I look at you.”