Over the Line (12 page)

There’s an ache in my belly that tells me I would have followed through if he’d taken me to his bedroom. But the ache in my heart tells me I would have regretted it later. I climb off him and gain my feet, slipping the shoulder of my dress into place and smoothing it over my hips with my palms. “A true Southern gentleman.”

Half a cocky smile curves his mouth. “There’s nothing gentle about me. Hopefully you’ll have occasion to find that out eventually.”

My breath catches at the sex rush that contracts my inner muscles. I don’t need to sleep with him yet. I just have to know that my body
wants
to. Oliver Savoca is not the only man who can make me feel this way.

Wes walks me to my car with his hand on my back. “I need to see you again.”

I decide to be as straight as I can with him. “I really like you, Wes, but there are some things I need to work out before anything can happen between us.”

He nods slowly. “Is it anything I can help with?”

I think again about telling him about Oliver. He’s the
only
person who can help. Wes may have a solution that doesn’t involve Oliver going to jail or uprooting my family. But almost the second I think it, I know it’s not true. I need to think this through a little more thoroughly before I do anything. “Thanks, but not really.”

He tips his head and gives me a slow smile. “I really think we can make this work, Lee. I hope you’ll give it a chance.”

“I just need some time,” I say, resisting the overpowering need to kiss him again. Sending him mixed signals isn’t going to help.

His gaze burns into mine as he opens my door and I lower myself into the car. “I’ll wait for your call.”

Once I’m safely in my car, I kick off my shoes and toss them onto the passenger seat before starting the engine and pulling away. Wes leans against a parking meter and watches me go. I watch his form vanish into the distance in my rearview as I accelerate up the street . . . on my way home . . . to Oliver.

I am so screwed.

When I get home, I sit in the driveway for a long time, looking at myself in the mirror. I’m a mess, but I don’t do anything to straighten up. I want Oliver to see the aftermath of me with another man. We both need to understand that whatever we were doing in Chicago wasn’t real.
I
need to understand that so I can do what I need to do.

Tomorrow, Rob and I are going to have a talk, and I hope when it’s over, Oliver is still alive. But he’s the one who came here. He knew the risks. So, in the end, whatever happens is on him.

I will not feel guilty.

Oliver

The house has been quiet for hours—long enough for me to imagine Lee fucking her date in every imaginable position.

Watching her dress for this asshole was excruciating. She looked hotter than I’ve ever seen her. When she left, I rolled my face into the pillow and yelled into it with every ounce of angst I felt at the prospect of her screwing another man.

Rob sent Sherm up to bed a few hours ago. For an hour after that, there was the low murmur of an intimate conversation wafting up with the salt air from the porch below. Rob and a woman, as best as I could tell. I heard their good nights; long silences in which I’d bet their lips were locked; the pound of his heavy footfalls on the stairs. There was the fleeting urge to do something to draw his attention as he passed my door, but that would undo any trust I might be building with Lee. I came here for the code. I never really believed there could be more. But the way Lee kissed me, the way her body fell right back into old patterns, gives her away. Despite all our innate distrust of each other, she still feels this as much as I do.

I need the code. But I need Lee too.

If all else fails, I’ll use my leverage to get the code out of her, but until then, I’ll play this any way she needs for her to feel in control. So, instead of making any noise, I listened to Rob in the bathroom, preparing for bed. Then the house went still.

For fucking ever.

I’m watching the white curtain rise and fall with gusts of sea breeze, jonesing for a smoke, when I hear a car in the driveway. I forget all about my nicotine withdrawal and listen.

Every sound carries up to me: the muffled blare of her radio cutting out with the engine; the car door creaking open and slamming shut; the whine of the front door hinges and the faint click of the latch as it’s gently pulled shut a second later.

She shuffles around quietly downstairs for a minute, then I hear the soft pad of bare feet on the stairs. I remember how her shoes never lasted long on her feet. By the time I brought her home from wherever we were, they were always dangling from her fingertips by the heels.

There’s a rush to my groin with the image and I realize that’s another trigger. Just one more way she lights my fire.

The bedroom door clicks open and I feign sleep when she slips into the dark of the room. She sets a plate on the dresser on her way by and the scent of oregano and tomato sauce permeates the smell of seaweed on the damp night air. As she moves through a slant of moonlight on her way to the closet, I see she looks totally ravaged, her hair wrecked and her dress disheveled.

I discover my line when my gut reaction is to find the prick she was with and put a bullet between his eyes. Organized crime might be a business that needs to be cleaned up, but this is personal. When it comes to Lee, I’m still willing to kill.

I watch through hooded eyes as she undresses near the closet. She stands with her back to me and slowly slips her dress off her shoulders and shimmies it over her hips. It falls in a dark puddle at her feet. She sheds her bra and her thumbs hook into the delicate black lace of her thong. My heart thuds against my ribs as she slips it off. And then she’s standing naked in the moonlight, making my body react in ways it hasn’t responded to anyone else in all the months she’s been gone. She turns toward me and pulls open her dresser. A hand brushes up her stomach and over a breast as she pulls a fresh pair of panties from her drawer. Just the way she moves is enough to make my breathing erratic.

I’m hard as stone for her.

She straightens the lace over an ass that is a true masterpiece. I know from experience those globes are perfect handles as I drive myself into her to the root. She tugs a T-shirt over her head and I fight to resume breathing. I want to drag my fingers over her perfect C-cups. I want all that silky skin pressed against mine.

When she starts toward me, I close my eyes in earnest. The mattress next to my hip depresses and I brace myself for the loaded gun of her touch. I realize I’m holding my breath in anticipation when it doesn’t come right away. Finally, it does; the faintest brush of her fingers through my hair. Electricity crackles under my skin and I swallow the groan it tries to force out of me. Her fingertips trail like a whisper across my cheek, down my neck and over my pec. I can’t stop the shudder when her forefinger circles my nipple. Her fingers trail lower and she gently pries the tape loose and peels back the bandages.

About halfway through, I pretend to wake up. I squint up at her, wishing more than anything she’d untie my hands so I could demonstrate to her how much better I can satisfy her than the asshole she just fucked.

She flips the switch for the lamp on the nightstand and presses a finger to her kiss-swollen lips in a be-quiet gesture.

I give her a nod, getting a closer look at the devastation in the light. Her lipstick is smudged and her hair is tangled where he fisted his hands into it. At the image of him on top of her, inside her, rage like I’ve never known rears up inside me and takes control.

She starts cleaning my wounds and I focus on the sting. It helps to clear my mind. I can’t go all Neanderthal right now and blow this whole thing. Business first.

She rips the tape off my mouth once she’s got me bandaged back up. “Hungry?” she whispers.

“Ravaged.” I don’t hide the insinuation as I look her over. “You? Or did you just eat?”

I don’t know why I feel the need to push the point, but I have to know.

The hint of a smug smile tugs at her mouth. “I did. He was delicious.”

I can’t tell if she’s yanking my chain or if she’s serious. Either way, when I literally see red, the blood I hear rushing through my ears pulsing in my vision, I know I shouldn’t have asked.

She gets the plate and sets it on the nightstand. “Ulie’s leftovers.” She starts on my ties, undoing the scarf on my wrists first, then my ankles, so I can sit on the side of the bed.

It feels good to move. I slowly swing my legs over and rub my wrists. The sheets slide down my body and I see her eyes flick to the bulge in my boxers and stick there. There’s some satisfaction when a wispy breath escapes her parted lips. She sits next to me and sifts her fingers through her hair, separating out a strand. She wraps it around her finger as she decides whether to pounce, making my already hard dick throb.

This woman owns me, pure and simple.

But then she seems to snap out of the spell, reaching for the plate.

“How long are we going to do this, Cheetah?”

She scowls and presses her finger to her lips again, less
be quiet
and more
shut up
this time.

I lower my voice. “At some point you’re going to have to decide what to do with me.”

“I have,” she says, holding out the plate. “Manicotti. It actually passes.”

“What is it, then? Turning me into the authorities, or burying me in the backyard? The way I see it, those are your only options.”

Her eyes lift to mine, full of scorn. “You’re not going to beg me to let you go? Promise you won’t say anything?”

I shake my head. “Letting me go would be foolish. You’re not a fool.”

“I’m going to tell Rob you’re here tomorrow, which means you’ll probably end up in the backyard,” she says, shoving the plate at me. “But the consolation is it’s a great view. There are worse places to spend eternity.”

I take a minute to inhale the manicotti. I’d been so preoccupied with the images of Lee with another guy that I hadn’t realized I was starving until I take the first bite. When the plate is empty, she hands me the bottle of water from the nightstand and two pills. I suck the water down with the antibiotics.

“Think about this,” I say as I hand the bottle back to her. “Rob is going to want to know why you’ve kept me here without telling him. What are you going to tell him?”

Her jaw tightens. “I’ll think of something.”

“And when he finds out the truth, do you think he’ll ever trust you again?”

Her glare cuts me in half. “He’s not going to know the truth.”

“Then you better kill me now, Cheetah, because otherwise there’s no way he’s not going to figure out that I’m in love with you.”

She barks out an incredulous laugh. “Nice try.”

I hold her gaze. “It’s true. And what’s more, you’re still in love with me too.”

Her eyes narrow before she lowers them from mine. “You expect me to believe that? You’re not even capable, Oliver.”

“That’s fair, and it would have been accurate before I met you. But you know as well as I do that things changed for both of us back in Chicago. I don’t trust anyone, but if I hadn’t trusted you, you never could have gotten near enough to my business to sabotage it. I trusted you because I loved you, and I knew you loved me.”

I lift a hand, trace the line of her jaw. “You know why I really came here.”

She closes her eyes and her breath stalls as my fingertip trails lower, down her long neck. I pause at the hollow of her throat, waiting for some cue that she wants me to keep going. When she tips her head back slightly, I glide my fingers lower, tracing the curve of her full breast. Her nipple tightens, straining against the thin cotton of her T-shirt, and I roll it between my thumb and finger.

Her head tips back farther and she leans into my hand.

My fractured rib grinds as I grab her by the hips and pull her to straddle me. My fingers continue to work her nipple as, with my other hand, I thumb her bead of ultimate pleasure through the cotton of her thong.

She rewards me with a long, low moan, setting my blood on fire. When she looks down at me, her skin is flushed and her eyes hooded. It’s her fuck-me look and it sends me over the edge.

Her panties are in shreds in my fist the next second. I toss them aside and my fingers plunge deep into her wet heat. It’s the most intense sense of needing to possess something I’ve ever experienced. She shaved herself smooth for that cocksucker, but it’s me who’s going to fuck her senseless.

She yanks my boxer-briefs over my raging hard-on and sheathes it in both fists, stroking my length. I breathe, in and out, to keep from growling. When she lifts her hips and sinks onto my cock, I can’t contain it any longer. A satisfied groan rumbles up from my chest. Her lips part as her head drops back, and her walls squeeze tight around my cock.

But the intense pleasure only lasts a second.

Before I can react, she springs off me. Her fists bunch at her sides as she cuts me with her glare.

“You bastard,” she hisses under her breath. “I’m not going to play your game.”

I lock her in my gaze. “This isn’t a game, Cheetah.”

She shakes her head hard, as if trying to dislodge something. “Everything is a game to you.”

I lunge and grab her wrist. The searing pain in my ribs as I yank her back to the bed nearly blinds me. I roll her under me and support myself on my arms, so that the only place we’re touching is where my rock-solid erection presses against the pulsing bud between her legs. “Did you fuck him?”

There’s a long pause as she glares up at me, but she doesn’t push me off. Finally, she opts for the truth. “Yes.”

My cock is still wet with her juices and I roll my hips, gliding from tip to root along her sweet spot. “And you don’t want to fuck me?”

“No.” But as she says it, her eyes flutter closed and she grinds herself harder against me.

I increase the pressure on her clit as I draw slowly back to the tip, and she hisses out her pleasure.

“So,” I say, grinding against her again, “you don’t want me to sink my cock into that dripping wet pussy.”

“No,” she breathes, arching against me.

I pull back again, keeping the pressure firm. “And if I did, you’d push me away.”

“Yes,” she gasps, spreading her legs wider and digging her heels into my ass.

I seal my mouth over hers and kiss her to her soul. I want her to feel me from the top of her head to the tips of her toes. I want her to need me like oxygen—the way I need her.

I want her to forget that asshole.

“Then I won’t fuck you,” I say, lowering more of my weight onto her and grinding my cock harder against her clit.

Her mouth opens in an O of pleasure. She grabs my ass and thrusts upward, pressing herself harder against me. I tune in to her subtle cues and go with her rhythm, giving her everything but penetration.

Her hand snakes between us and her fingers circle the root of my dick and squeeze as I grind up against her clit again. The next thrust, she turns her fingers on herself and sinks them into her pussy. She draws her wet fingers out and strokes me, then herself again, jacking us both up and bringing us to the edge. She’s trying so hard to be quiet, but as a long mewl forces its way up her throat, she turns her head and grabs the corner of the pillow in her teeth to muffle it.

I give her every ounce of myself and she responds in kind. When she arches into me and cries out into the pillow, I give one last thrust and unload onto her stomach.

I collapse onto her and we lay like this, limbs tangled and panting, glued together by the river of cum between us. The breeze wafting through the window cools my burning skin and dries the beads of sweat rolling down my back and sides.

After a few minutes she finds her breath and whispers, “I hate you,” from underneath me.

I lift my face out of the pillow and press my forehead to hers. “Which explains the bullet hole in my chest.”

She closes her eyes and blows out a breath. “Did you come here to kill me?”

There’s a thread of desperation in her voice that gives her away. She doesn’t want it to be true.

When I don’t answer, she opens her eyes and locks me in her heated gaze.

“You are going to admit you love me, Cheetah,” I say. “And then you are going to give me the code to save my sorry ass.”

Her glare cuts me in two. I suck in a breath against the stabbing pain in my chest as she shoves me off and sits up.

She’s still glistening with sweat as she snatches a wad of tissues from the box on the nightstand and blots the cum decorating her perfect golden skin. “I’m going to let Rob kill you.”

“Wouldn’t you get more satisfaction doing it yourself?”