Wild Card (17 page)

over the roster. She was frowning, then she glanced in the direction of the mechanic Rory was

about to fire.

Before she could say anything he surprised her, and every-one else, by pulling the clipboard

from her hand, slapping it to the table, and pulling her back to the office.

"Have you lost your mind!" she yelled as the door closed behind them. "Why isn't Timmy's

name on the roster? He's standing out there twiddling his damned thumbs on my time and I

want to know why."

"Rory took him off." He took the easy way out. "He's firing him."

Her eyes narrowed. "Did Rory know he was doing this before you told him to?" Sweet

Southern rage brewed in her voice.

Noah crossed his arms over his chest and glared down at her.

"Rory agreed he's not doing his job and made the decision." Sort of.

"The hell he did." She was in his face, her gray eyes dark and thunderous, her face flushed, her little fists clenched at her side. "My garage. My employees. My decisions."

Her jaw was so tight he was afraid it was going to crack. Her lips tightened, moved, he could

see the fury burning hot and wild inside her. Fury and arousal. It burned in him too. It set a

spark to the darkness he tried to keep under control, to the hunger he fought not to reveal to her

too quickly.

"Rory has never done anything without asking me first," she bit out. "You made him do this."

Noah shrugged. "I merely made the suggestion."

"You bastard!"

"Call me another name, Sabella, and you're going to regret it," he warned her.

She had never cursed him during their marriage. She had rarely cursed.

She bared her teeth at him. "You arrogant damned misfit."

That was it.

He dipped his shoulder, threw her over it, and turned for the stairs mat led to the apartment.

He ignored the little fists beating at his back, the shrieks of rage, her attempts to kick out of his

hold.

Sabella didn't curse. She had never cursed. She had given him that haughty little good girl look

every time he said "damn" and asked him if he really wanted their future children to hear that

dirty word coming out of his mouth.

She had nearly broken him from cursing in two years. Now, if she wanted to handle the cursing

she could deal with the consequences. Because it made him hornier than he had been to begin

with and made him wonder what else he could convince her to say if he used just the right

persuasion.

He slammed the apartment door behind them, locked it, then let her slide to her feet. He caught

her fist as it slammed toward his face, then caught the other one and glared down at her.

"Enough!"

Something flickered in her gaze, some shred of trepidation as he released her wrists and

stepped away from her.

"You are not firing Timmy." She jerked that damned shirt around her like a shield.

"Rory is firing Timmy and as of today you'll be back in the office where you belong," he

snapped, turning back to her in time to catch the sudden, overwhelming hurt that flashed in her

face.

"No, I won't be." She squared her shoulders and faced him with a defiant lift of her chin and

rage burning in her eyes. "Neither you nor Rory can enforce that one, Noah. I'll burn this

garage to the ground before I'll let you take me out of it."

Her expression was fierce, furious, and reminded him of the night he tried to force her to stay

home rather than go out with her friends.

He frowned back at her. "Dammit, Sabella, you're killing yourself out there. It's hard, damned

dirty work. There's no sense in your having to labor like that. You could go to the spa. Get your

nails done. Wouldn't that be nice?"

Sabella fought to hold back the fury strangling her. She wanted to hit him. She wanted to

scream at him and slap that arrogant, condescending expression off his face. At that moment,

she could see where Duncan got the impression that Noah was just like Nathan. Superior.

Certain of his own strength and determined to have his way. Nathan had gotten away with it

simply because she hadn't matured enough in their marriage to put her foot down while he was

home. She had matured now. And this wasn't Nathan. Noah wasn't a SEAL who could be

called out at any minute on a mission, and he wasn't the man who had once claimed her soul, so

he could go to hell as far as she was concerned.

"If I wanted a manicure then I would have one. If I wanted to sit back and play receptionist all

day then that's what the hell I would do. If I wanted another man to decide how I should act,

dress, or present myself then I'd have one. That is not a part of your job description, Mr. Blake,

and if you think you can make it happen then you can take a flying leap into hell."

Noah stared back at her, shocked.

"Your husband dictated those things for you?" he asked her, feeling his guts ice over, because

he knew he hadn't.

She paused. He watched her expression soften, sadden. Her gray eyes flashed with arousal, and

suddenly, her slender body seemed softer, sexier with whatever memories poured through her.

"No," she finally admitted. "I dictated it, because it was what I thought he wanted. He liked his painted-up little wife. The nail polish and the pretty clothes and the helplessness." She shook

her head as he felt his chest clench at her sorrow. "He used to call me his little Southern Bella.

He died before he ever learned what a complete imposter I was. Before he ever knew that I was

just as knowledgeable about cars as any of his mechanics were. I loved Nathan. He was my

heart and I gave him what he needed while I had him with me." She flicked him a searing

glance then. "But you're not Nathan. And I don't give a damn if you have what you need or

not."

Did she think he had given a damn about the frigging nail polish? Anger tore through him, not

rage, not fury, but pure unbridled offense and male pride. Damn her, what pleased her had

pleased him, but had she thought he had needed her to be something she wasn't?

He tensed at the sexual, dominant surge of heat that filled his body. Before he could stop

himself he was stalking toward her, jerking her to him.

"And did you get what you needed from him?" he rasped. "You've eaten me alive every time

we've touched, Sabella. Did he fuck you like you needed or did you play the pretty little doll

for him then too?"

"He gave me everything I needed," she snarled back.

But he saw it. A little lie, just a little one. And he remembered the nights that she had tossed

restlessly in their bed beside him. How he had felt, sometimes, that his Sabella needed

something harder, something darker, than he had given her, but then thinking that it was only

his own fantasies and needs that drove him to sense that.

It wasn't. He saw it in her eyes. He recalled the torrential lust of last week when she had

marked his shoulders with her sharp little nails, then his memories of their life together before

hell, and he knew. He knew Sabella had longed for a hell of a lot more than he had allowed

himself to give her. Pure lust.

A tight, hard smile twisted his lips as her gaze finally flickered in awareness of the animal she

had just let loose inside him.

"You're a liar," he breathed, knowledge searing him, dominance rising inside him. "Tell me, Sabella. Did you ache? Did you dream of being taken hard and rough? Of getting wild and

dirty with your husband? Were you too afraid to be the little wildcat you wanted to be?"

There was the truth. The flush leached from her face, her eyes darkened. He could see the lust

filling her, pure, unbridled, but tinged with an emotion that tightened the heart in his chest.

Sabella wanted more than just sex. She wanted more than just the wild loving. She wanted

everything he had ever dreamed of giving her. And he was going to give it to her right now.

She'd hidden things from him; well, there were damned sure things he had hidden from her as

well. And the need to hear his sweet Southern Bella get nasty had been an all-consuming need.

"You can get wild with me, baby." He jerked her harder against him, let her feel the erection

pounding beneath his jeans. "Come on, I dare you. I'm a stranger, Sabella. Nothing to you.

Nothing to that paragon of a husband you knew. Get wild with me. And I'll show you how I

can get wild right back."

Get wild with him? Pour everything into him that she had fantasized about pouring into

Nathan? She stared up at Noah, her body so sensitive, so highly excited, she couldn't deny her

need.

She could barely breathe for it. It was tearing through her veins, the temptation burning through

her sex.

"You want to be taken hard and wild, Sabella." His voice deepened, darkened, as his hands

speared into her hair, fingers clenching, pulling at it.

Sabella felt the shocking sensations unravel inside her. Her lashes fluttered, her knees

weakened.

"You want to pull my hair, baby? Come on, Sabella, I dare you. You don't have to give me

anything he had. Give me what he didn't have."

She jerked against him as she felt his lips on hers, whispering over them. Her eyes opened, and

wild dark blue eyes held her trapped.

"I carried your scratches last week like other men carry a medal," he growled, then nipped her

lips. "I jacked off remembering how hot you were in my arms. And then I imagined your

mouth. Watching your eyes. Seeing how hungry you could get."

He tapped into her fantasy.

Sabella licked her lips, unconsciously imagining it. Feeling his hands in her hair, imagining

him holding her in place, straining against her, demanding she take him, suck him.

Noah watched her eyes, saw the need, and his cock felt tighter, harder, thicker than it ever had.

Keeping one hand in her hair, he used the other to jerk his shirt off her shoulders. She wore his

clothes like a defense against the world. He wasn't going to allow her a defense against him any

longer.

Below it was the sleeveless T-shirt she wore tucked into her jeans.

"I don't think—"

"Don't think," he urged her, keeping his voice low, his eyes on her. "Unless you want to think about me fucking your mouth. I'm going to do that, Sabella. I'm going to watch those pretty

pink lips open, watch my cock sink inside your mouth."

She'd gone down on him before. She'd teased, licked, sucked playfully, she'd even taken his

release and licked her lips like a little cat. But that wasn't what she wanted now, it wasn't what

she needed.

"Take the boots off." He held her gaze as he moved her and pushed her onto the couch. "Take them off now, Sabella, or you'll be wearing your jeans around your ankles while I slide deep

and hard inside you. Wouldn't you rather use those pretty legs around my back, holding me

inside you?"

She licked her lips again as he moved back and sat on the heavy coffee table to untie his own

boots. He got them untied, then looked up when she moved.

But she didn't move to take off her boots. She came over to him. Noah went back on the table,

catching her, his hand burying in her hair again as her lips were on his, a cry of need and

hunger filling the air.

"Ah hell. Yes!" She flowed over him, straddled his hips. Her hands buried in his hair as he

shoved his tongue in her mouth and fought to dominate the kiss.

She was wild. As she writhed above him, her back arched, her pussy bore down on the thick

erection beneath his jeans and her hands tore at his shirt.

he managed to get it off. Managed to get her shirt and bra above her breasts while she sucked

and bit at his neck, leaving a mark he knew the world would see and he didn't give a damn.

And it wasn't the only mark she would leave. Her lips moved to his chest, his hard, male

nipples.

She had never done that before. Sucked and licked at the flat, hard discs, and it made him

wilder than he swore even the whore's dust had.

"Damn you, yes," he growled as she moved lower, her hands falling to his jeans, jerking his

belt loose, scrambling to loosen his jeans. "Take it, Sabella. You little wildcat. I'm going to

fuck your mouth until you're begging for me to come. Begging to taste it. To feel it. To fuck

me with every breath in your body."

He was snarling the words. Hands in her hair, controlling her, pushing her down until she

straddled his bent knee and pulled the fully erect, throbbing shaft of his dick from the parted

material of his jeans.

She looked up at him and the expression on her face was one he knew he would remember

forever. Pure, undiluted hunger.

Her hand tried to wrap around the width, but her fingers didn't quite meet. She stroked up, over

the violently sensitive head, and stared back at him with drowsy lust as she breathed in and out,

each panting breath lifting those hard, flushed breasts.

"Make me," she whispered then.

The demand seared his brain, his imagination, his fantasies.

He gripped the shaft of his cock with one hand, and with the other he forced her head down, his

eyes locked with hers, watching as her lips flowered open over the bulging crest.

Sabella was lost in the lust. She ground her sex against his knee, feeling the exquisite

sensations of cloth rasping against her swollen clit as the heat and hardness of his cock head

pushed inside her mouth.

God, his taste. It was hot and male. Earthy and filled with lust. She licked over the blunted