One Wicked Night Page 8

  "Are you scared for me?” Obsidian eyes bored deep into her. She held his gaze and nodded.

  "There's going to come a time when you'll regret the choices you've made, wish for something different,” she said. “You should have people around who love you to help you."

  He narrowed his eyes, then glanced away. “Are you psychic now, Myka?"

  "No. I just—I care what happens to you.” That tiny admission brought tears to her eyes and she blinked them away. She'd come to care in such a short time, but he couldn't feel the same, right? A job, that's what this was and soon as he found out who wanted her dead, he'd be leaving.

  "Will you be there?"

  "Hmm?” She jerked her gaze to his. Be where?

  "Will you be there to help me when the time comes for my regrets?” He cupped her cheek, brushed a thumb over her mouth. “Will you be with me, or are you already planning your escape?"

  Myka shook her head as her heartbeat sped up. What was he asking? She turned, pressing a kiss to his palm. “If you want me there, then I will be."

  He stared at her until she squirmed then his lips curved. “I feel like taking a bath, care to join me?"

  * * * *

  "Tell me about your friends.” Myka took a drag of the cigar and handed it back to him.

  Justice took it from her and bought time by taking a deep, slow drag himself. They sat in the overflowing bathtub, Myka on top of him with her back pressed to his front. The lights were dimmed, all remained silent except for the occasional splash. Oh, yeah, and his cock remained snuggled up in her tightness. Fuck no, he wasn't about to separate them anytime soon. He belonged up in that sweet pussy, in fact, he was seriously considering taking up permanent residence between her legs.

  Now, what to tell her about his crew? If he had his way— and he usually did—she'd get to meet everyone. Even Nutso. He'd give Myka the bare facts now—when she met everyone she'd get more in depth info. He realized he was beginning to make future plans. With Myka in them.

  "For the longest time it was just the three of us—me, Maysin and Niko.” Sliding a finger down the right side of her neck, Justice watched her skin break out in goose bumps. He smiled. “We bonded over our hatred for the man who'd killed my parents, and came up with a damn devious plan to kill him. Then one day a crazy chick showed up and blew those plans to hell."

  He dropped a kiss to the nape of her neck. Myka squirmed, sending ripples down the length of his cock. He gritted his teeth, tried not to thrust up into her. “Niko fell in love with the crazy chick, even though she was sent by our mutual enemy to steal from us. She's a pro."

  Myka sighed, pussy fluttering.

  Damn. He shook his head to clear it. “I named said crazy chick Nutso, cause she's nuts. During this time, my friend Maysin developed a major crush on an attorney we robbed. She's engaged so there's no hope, but he's pining away like a puppy for a bone."

  "Are all your friends criminals?” Myka rubbed a palm down his right leg and leaned her head back on his shoulder.

  "Uh, pretty much. Maysin's the one who takes the orders when you want a hit done. He has a large network of killers at his disposal.” Justice blew into Myka's ear. She jerked, her nails pricking his thigh. Inside her, his cock throbbed. “Niko was an enforcer for Johan Vicente, our mutual enemy. Then there's Nutso, her real name is Sasha, and her brother, who ran a gang of international thieves."

  "Wow.” She whistled. “The big leagues, huh?"

  "It's how I roll.” He chuckled in her ear. “Always with the best. The only one who isn't a criminal is Elina. She's Niko's ex, happens to be Sasha's best friend, and is the daughter of our mutual enemy."

  Myka rocked on him. “Man, you guys don't play."

  "Yeah. We're one huge, dysfunctional family.” All Sasha's fault really, she refused to leave them alone. Always gathering them together for Sunday dinners and game nights. He kept telling her she was fucking with his plans, but he secretly loved those nights. He could so easily envision Myka there with him.

  "What about the tattoo on your back?” Myka asked. “What language is it, and what does it mean?"

  Justice kissed the back of her neck. “It's Arabic and it's basically a promise to my family that I'd avenge their deaths. I had it put there as a reminder of what I lost and why I do...what I do.

  She nodded in understanding.

  "Your turn,” he said. “What about your friends?"

  "I don't have any, unless you count Stefan,” she murmured. “My father drives everyone around me away."

  Justice wrapped his arms around her, pulled her firmly to him. “Tell me about your store."

  She shrugged. “I like fashion, so I decided to open a store. I took some of the money I inherited from my mother and used it for start up.” She giggled. “My father nearly died when I told him, he hates the store. He hates that I don't want anything to do with his political ambitions."

  "But does it make you happy, the store?"

  Myka nodded, linked their fingers. “It keeps me on my toes and I love it. The plan is to open a Risque in every major US city. It'll happen, but I'm in no rush."

  Justice grabbed her chin, turned her to face him. “It'll happen. I have faith in you.” He kissed her. Soft at first, then deeper, more insistent as her pussy sucked at him, stroked him to the edge.

  "I'm trying to hold myself back,” he confessed against her lips. “I don't want to hurt you."

  Her pussy clenched, a painful grip that had him biting the inside of his cheek. “You holding back is hurting me.” Myka arched her back, brought their linked fingers to cup her tits. “Never hold back."

  He rolled his hips at the green light, her cunt responded with rapid ripples. He groaned, squeezing her breasts as he thrust up. Water sloshed over the sides of the tub as Myka grabbed it and held on. One of her legs draped over the side to rest on the toilet seat nearby.

  Her slippery ass rose out the water as she bounced on the tip of him. Justice growled and licked his lips. He couldn't wait to sink into that tight ass of hers. He reached in front and flicked the pad of his finger over her erect clit.

  Myka shuddered, her honeyed walls spasmed. Heat centered in his balls then spread. His eyesight dimmed as his blood slowed to a crawl.

  "I can't get enough of you,” he rasped. He bit her neck, scraping his teeth on her tendons there. She cried out, flooding his cock with slick juices. “You're my drug.” He rammed up into her hard and deep, trying to burrow to her heart. Her nails dug into his thigh as she rocked on him. He rubbed her clit, faster and faster, as he thrust.

  He felt the climax as it hit her, starting in tiny waves, then growing bigger and wider, triggering his. Myka panted in his ear. Justice pounded into her as she milked him, taking every drop he had to give. They rode out the waves together, their hands clasped tight, her head on his shoulder. His heart in her hands.

  He waited until their bodies stopped shuddering before standing with Myka in his arms. He quickly dried them both off with a towel before lifting her back into his arms. Shuffling to the bedroom, he laid her on the bed and climbed in beside her.

  For only the second time, the first being Toronto, he'd go to sleep with a woman in his arms.

  * * * *

  He couldn't do it. Maysin sat in the back of the restaurant, eyes on the front door, and shook his head. He couldn't go through with the date. Whatever made him say yes when Sasha proposed the idea?

  Harper.

  He'd do anything to get her out of his head, and foolishly he'd grasped the chance to use another woman to do it. No matter what he did, Harper remained in his heart. To use—um, Annie, was it? To use anyone else wouldn't be right. Rubbing his jaw, he sat back and waited for the woman to arrive. Once she did, he'd apologize—explain why anything happening between them would be a mistake.

  The Italian eatery was practically empty. It was, after all, only Wednesday night. Sasha picked the perfect place for a first date. Not too bustling, it would give them the perfect opportuni
ty to talk. Get to know each other. It's what people did on first dates, right? Maysin wouldn't know—he didn't date.

  "Care for a refill, sir?"

  He nodded at the young man dressed in a crisp white shirt and dark slacks hovering over his table. The man picked up the glass and disappeared, only to return in a blink with a fresh Gin and Tonic.

  'Thanks.” Maysin wrapped a damp palm around the glass and brought it to his lips as the waiter nodded and walked away. Nerves. He dealt with the most ruthless of killers on a daily basis, not to mention Sasha, but the idea of a blind date had him sweating. How fucked up was that?

  And he had Harper Royce to thank.

  The restaurant door opened. A blast of cool October air rushed in, rustling the hair on his shoulders. He glanced up, stared. The glass in his hand slipped, only his reflexes kept it from falling.

  She stood in the doorway and brushed the hair out of her eyes. No, not the fucking date he'd expected.

  Harper.

  She untied the strap of a white pea coat, allowing the coat to fall off her shoulders. A tight red blouse with a plunging neckline hugged her breasts, molded to her flat stomach. His mouth watered, her taste was something he'd never forget. Snug jeans looked painted on her legs and thighs. The black heels on her feet made those long legs go on for miles. He remembered the silky feel of them as they wrapped around his shoulders, squeezing his head as she climaxed on his face.

  Harper draped the coat over her left arm and searched the room.

  Maysin got to his feet and took a hesitant step forward.

  "Excuse me.” Harper waved at a waitress. “Hi, I'm supposed to meet a client here. My name's Harper Royce, did anyone leave me a message?"

  "Sorry. No, ma'am.” The waitress shook her head. “Would you like a table while you wait?"

  Harper held up a finger. “Ah, one second please.” She fumbled in her handbag before pulling out a cell phone, then punched in some numbers. Maysin crept closer, his gaze glued to her face. “Sasha. Hey, it's Harper. I thought we were meeting tonight? Did I miss you, or are you late? Call me back, please.” She hung up and turned to the waitress. “I'll take a table and a glass of Pinot, thanks."

  "Sure thing, ma'am. Follow me.” The woman led Harper away from the door and right in Maysin's direction. He knew the instant she saw him, recognized him. Everything around her stilled. Chocolate brown eyes widened as she stood planted to the floor.

  "Hello, Harper.” Not much else to say.

  Her mouth opened, closed. Then she turned and fled.

  "Harper, wait!” Maysin pulled some money from his pocket, threw them at the waitress and raced after Harper. He exited the restaurant as she hopped into a black Mercedes coupe and started the engine. “Harper.” Leaping off the curb, he landed in the path of her car. If she wanted to leave bad enough, she could always run him over.

  She blasted the horn, but he shook his head. There was no way in hell he'd leave without talking to her. Sasha set them up, he knew it. He didn't know whether to be glad or pissed—he'd sort that out later. Right now, Harper rolled down her driver side window and poked her head out.

  "Get out of the way, Maysin."

  Like that night not too long ago, his pulse sped up at the sound of his name on her lips. “So you remember my name.” Her lips parted, eyelids drooped. Around them people stopped and stared, but he paid them no mind. This was about him and Harper, no one else. “Let me in, Harper.” Into the car? Her heart?

  "I can't.” Her bottom lip quivered. “Please, Maysin, don't do this to me."

  "We're in public, Harper,” he reminded her. “People are staring. Let me in the car so we can talk.” Anything to get close, anything to touch her.

  She shook her head, but fear flashed bright in her eyes. “There's nothing to talk about."

  "If you don't unlock the car, I'll shout what we did to everyone willing to listen.” A cold and callous threat he'd never follow through on, but she didn't know that. A pop signaled the doors opening. He ran around to the passenger side and jumped in before she changed her mind.

  Her scent—Vanilla and honey—enveloped him like a warm blanket as he sank into the soft leather seat.

  "Maysin—"

  "Drive.” The word came out harsher than he intended. Being this close to her, fighting the need to haul her into his arms, fucked with his head. She didn't look at him, just heaved a sigh and peeled away from the curb.

  "Why are you marrying that pompous prick Mertzier?” Buckling his seat belt, he took a deep breath to rein in his temper. He didn't want to scare her...more than he already had. There had to be a damn good reason why she'd tie herself permanently to a man she could barely stand.

  She opened her mouth and he cut her off. “Don't tell me you love him. That shit doesn't fly when I can see the way you behave toward him in public. You can't bear to look at him."

  "My business is my own,” she said softly. “You have no say in what I do, or who I do it with. I don't even know who you are."

  "No, but it doesn't stop you from wanting me, does it?” Maysin kept his eyes on her profile, as her features turned ashen. The car jerked to a stop in an alley near the Pike Street Market.

  "Get out.” Harper gripped the steering wheel with both hands, her gaze remained focused in front of her. “I want you out of my car."

  "And I want you out of my heart,” he shot back. She flinched as a single tear made a slow trek down her cheek. Agony beat along with the traitorous heart in his chest. “Harper, why are you doing this? You're not happy, I can see it. Let me help."

  "My happiness—” She sniffed, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand. “My happiness is my responsibility, not yours."

  "That's it?” He grabbed her shoulder, turned her to face him fully. “You just give up what you want?"

  Her eyes filled, glittered as she stared at him. “What I want doesn't count.” She caressed his face with a trembling hand.

  Maysin groaned, pressing closer. “If what you want is the same as what I want, then it counts. Harper.” His voice broke. “It counts."

  "It can't.” She moved to withdraw her hand, but he grabbed it, linking their fingers.

  "Let me touch you.” Fuck. He was begging, but he couldn't help it. “I need to touch you.” He cupped her cheek with his other hand, touched her eyelids and brushed her lips. Her breath hitched, making his cock come to life. Was that fucking bastard touching her? Giving her what she needed? Maysin closed his eyes. He didn't want to think about Mertzier touching her.

  "Since that night, I haven't allowed him to touch me.” His eyes flew open, gaze colliding with hers. “He's not you,” she whispered. Leaning forward, she pressed her lips to his.

  Maysin growled low in his throat. He grabbed her hair, tried to haul her into his arms, but the seatbelt around her waist stayed her movements. Her lips parted and he thrust his tongue inside her warmth, sank deep. She moaned. He tightened the fingers in her hair. Reaching between them with his free hand, he fumbled with her seatbelt, finally unbuckling the damn thing. He wrapped his hand around her waist and she scrambled over the armrest, onto his lap.

  He palmed her ass, rubbing her heat on his jean covered crotch, as her head bumped the roof of the car. Her hips undulated, sending ribbons of fire to his balls. “God, Harper.” Breaking the kiss, he buried his face in the heated valley between her breasts as his body shook. The legs on either side of his body tightened, her hips rolled faster.

  "Maysin...” Her fingers sank into his shoulders. Maysin lifted a knee, pressed it to her center. She gasped and rocked on him with her head thrown back.

  "Yes,” he urged her on. “Take what you need."

  He lifted his head to watch her face as she panted. Her nostrils flared and breath shuddered between her moist lips.

  "Oh, God. Maysin.” His name left her mouth on a wail. Her body convulsed, the back of her head banged the windshield as her body arched. “Maysin.” She clutched his head, leaned forward to kiss him. He dove in
to her, kissing her feverishly as her musk scented the air. A ringing phone interrupted their indulgence, broke them apart. Hers.

  Harper reached behind her back for the handbag he'd dropped to the floor. He brushed her hand away, picked up the phone and read the name on the display lit up in red. Isaiah. As in Isaiah Mertzier, fiance.

  He pursed his lips and handed the phone to Harper without looking at her.

  "Yeah?” Her voice was hesitant and scratchy from her aroused cries. “Alright, I'll be there in twenty minutes.” She snapped the phone shut. “Maysin, look at me."

  He did, because he couldn't refuse the woman who held his heart. She was gorgeous. A hint of her passion still shone in her eyes. “What's up?"

  "There are things you don't know about me, things you won't understand.” She leaned forward, pressed her forehead to his. “I have to do what needs to be done, and one of those things is to say goodbye to you."

  He closed his eyes, swallowing over the sound of his heart breaking. “If that's what you want, then I'll accept it.” The bitter tasting words were forced out of him. The pain was excruciating. His whole body trembled as he wrapped his arms around her and held her tight. She kissed his head, as her slim fingers stroked his hair.

  They remained in that embrace for a minute then she pulled away, inching off his lap. Maysin watched as she fixed her hair and righted her clothes. He shifted to ease the ache in his cock, then opened the car door. Harper buckled her seat belt and started the car.

  Climbing from the car, he leaned his elbow on the window and bent to look at her. “Goodbye, Harper."

  "Maysin, this isn't what I want,” she said. “It's what I have to do. If I had my way, I'd be with you. Loving you.” She pulled off into the night, leaving him with his mouth open. His heart hopeful.

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  Chapter Eleven

  * * * *

  Justice awoke with a sneeze. Myka's hair tickled his nose. She lay half on, half off him, her head on his chest, arms wrapped around his waist. Brushing her hair out of his face, he dropped a kiss to her head, and just breathed her in. He'd slept through the night with a woman in his arms. Usually he woke before the sun, the nightmares haunting him, keeping him up.