* * *
I drained my glass of rum and refilled it straight away. My third one for the night. I’d needed something to take the edge off and I couldn’t wait for Nitro to arrive for that to happen. So, alcohol it was.
It had been a rough day. Both at work and with my head. My damn emotions had put me through the wringer. Seeing the therapist stirred too much shit up that I’d rather forget. I’d forgotten it for so long that it was surprising me as we dug for it. And not in a good way.
I jumped at the sound of someone banging on my front door.
Nitro.
I placed my glass down and walked the short distance to the door. Opening it, I found him standing with his forearms resting on the door jamb.
“Vegas,” he murmured as his eyes slowly travelled my body. Nitro’s attention on me like that was addictive. I’d only just begun sampling it, but I wanted more.
He dropped his arms, stepped inside and scooped me around the waist as he kicked the door shut. His mouth landed on mine and he kissed me for a long time. When he ended the kiss, he said, “You got any of that rum left?”
I pulled my thoughts together after that kiss and nodded. “Yeah.”
He followed me into the kitchen and I poured him a drink, noticing the exhaustion that lined his face. I knew Storm and Silver Hell had called a truce, so I wondered why he looked so worn out.
I added some ice and then passed him the glass as he asked, “What’s running through that head of yours?”
“You look tired. Exhausted, actually.”
“Got a lot going on.” Such a man of few words.
“You know what I can’t figure out?”
“What?”
“Why King gave in so easily after everything that fucking club did to yours.”
He clenched his jaw and threw half his rum down his throat. “He had his reasons.”
“Fuck, do you ever say more than a few words at a time, Nitro?”
He closed the distance between us, the vein in his temple pulsing. “I don’t want to waste time with words tonight. I didn’t come here to fucking talk.”
It was true. My pussy clenched at his words, but at the same time something odd happened. I wanted him to fuck me—no denying that—but a tiny part of me wanted to have this conversation. Wanted to know his thoughts. I pushed all that aside, though, because I didn’t want to deal with those feelings. I just wanted him to wipe my mind of everything for a few hours.
He looked at me like he wanted to eat me. Then, he reached for the glass of rum he’d placed on the counter and pulled a cube of ice from it. A second later, he skimmed it across my collarbone and down to my breasts. The fingers of his free hand curled over the edge of my tank and he pulled it down a little so he could run the ice over my breast.
His mouth met the ice and he licked the melting liquid over my skin. Backing me against the kitchen counter, he let my tank go so he could reach under it and caress my stomach, then my waist and up to my breasts. His hand covered me perfectly when he slid it into my bra, and I arched into him as he rubbed my nipple between his fingers.
The ice melted while he massaged my boob, right before his mouth latched onto my nipple. I gripped his biceps and moaned as his teeth nipped at me and his fingers worked their magic. The way he started sex all slow and intimate turned me on so damn much. I knew what was coming, and I wanted it, but this, this I could take for fucking hours.
He lifted his head and met my gaze. His eyes were glazed, full of need, the kind that made me want him sooner, faster. Fuck, I was needy for him. Grinding against me, he rasped, “These tight pants you wear get me hot as fuck, but I gotta tell you, it’s a lot fucking easier to get to you when you wear a dress.”
I slid my arms over his shoulder and around his neck so my fingers were in his hair. Gripping him hard, I said, “I’m sure you’ll find a way to get them off fast.”
His eyes darkened and he dropped his head. Sucking in a few harsh breaths, he looked back up at me. Pained. “You test me, Tatum.”
I had no idea what he meant. “How?”
He took hold of my waist, his fingers digging into me. “You make me want things,” he bit out, his voice a dark warning.
My heart banged against my chest. Red flags would be flying all over the place for most women at that moment, but not for me. My whole body lit up at what I’d heard in his voice. I leaned closer to him. “Tell me.”
He hissed and swore. “Fuck.” But I knew I had him when he spun me around, slid his arm around my waist and pushed his erection against my ass. “You sure about that?”
I gripped the kitchen counter, breathless. I hadn’t been more sure of anything in a long time. “Yes.”
He took a moment and then he produced a pocketknife, pressing the tip of it to my chest. Not hard, but with enough pressure to send my pulse racing. “You ever played with knives, Vegas?”
I stared at the blade against my skin. It both excited the hell out of me and scared the ever-loving shit out of me. “No,” I panted out, lightheaded at the thought of what he wanted to do with the knife.
He ran the tip of the blade across my skin, not drawing blood, just lightly pressing against me. His breathing grew ragged and his body dominated me in a way it hadn’t yet. Nitro wanted this bad. Even though I couldn’t see him, I sensed how turned on he was.
Placing the knife on the counter, he turned me so I faced him, and wrapped his hand around the back of my neck. My scalp burned from the grip he held me with and my breathing slowed at the fierce energy vibrating off him. “I never fuck a woman in any way she doesn’t want. Let’s just get that out of the way.” He licked a line from the base of my throat up to my mouth. He then consumed me with a kiss that he poured all his need into. When he finally let my mouth go, he said, “I want to cut those pants off you. I want to slice your underwear in half. And I want to run that blade all over your skin, but I won’t do any of that if you don’t want me to.” His eyes bored into mine, waiting for my answer.
My heart stuttered. My whole body tensed. What he asked was too much. The danger thrilled me, but my common sense kicked in and prevented me from saying yes to all of that. He might have saved my life a couple of times, but no way in hell did I trust a man I’d just met with a knife anywhere near me.
“I can’t. No.” I shook my head as the words fell out of my mouth.