Warren wouldn’t quit bouncing his leg. His movements shook the car. We were alone, just him and me. When the bus pulled into the lot in L.A., a huge white limo was waiting. To the hoots and hollers of the rest of the band, Warren had ushered me into the sleek car. He’d nearly come to blows with Kelly when my murse tried to follow us into the vehicle. He was my security detail, after all. Warren begrudgingly gave him his address but commanded he not show up until morning. I didn’t know if Kelly was going to do as Warren directed. I hoped for his own sake he did.
Warren was in a strange mood. As soon as the limo door shut his knee had started bouncing and the lip-chewing had started. If I didn’t know him so well, I’d say he was nervous. But nervousness wasn’t in his genetic code. Not possible. “My house isn’t far from here,” he told me. “We’ll be there in twenty minutes or so.”
I wondered if he was worried that I was going to back out of our deal. “I’m not going to renege,” I said.
Warren grimaced. “It’s that bad, huh? Being married to me.”
The conversation suddenly turned serious. “We weren’t good together.”
“You didn’t even give us a chance,” he said, jaw unyielding.
I bit back all my vicious retorts, all my hurt. I didn’t want to open this door with Warren, the one where I admitted to hearing every vile thing he’d said about my father and me. I could still hear his words as clear as day, feel them slicing into me as real as any knife. And maybe there was a part of me, a very small part, that didn’t want him to know what I knew. I was sure he’d refute it. Make up some excuse. I was weak when it came to Warren. He’d apologize, and I would accept. But then where would we be—in the same situation as before, in a secret relationship that was better in bed than out? No, best to get the divorce and walk away, my heart shredded but still intact. “We can’t even get through a day without fighting.” I was sure I looked as frustrated as I felt.
His chin jerked. “I don’t want to fight with you.”
Then don’t, I wanted to say. Sign the papers and we’ll both be on our merry way. I decided to throw him a bone and agree with him. “It is exhausting.”
Warren glanced away. “Let’s agree not to fight this week.”
I smirked. “Another deal?”
He leveled me with a look. “No fighting this week. No matter what happens, we agree to talk it out. I’ll tell you what I’m feeling and you tell me what you’re feeling.”
No fighting? Communicating like adults. How very mature of him. Too mature. I had doubts. “Warren—”
“Addison.”
“Are you making this part of our deal?”
“Yeah. I am.” He made it sound like a dare, as if I was the one incapable of being civil.
“Fine.” I decided to take his challenge, let the most mature person win.
He leaned forward, hand extended for me to shake. I took it. He yanked me forward. Somehow, I landed straddling him. In this position, he was still a smidge taller than me. Damn him. His head descended, lips hovering a hair’s breadth from mine. “I think we should seal it with a kiss.” He didn’t give me a chance to pull away. He dragged my ass forward, pushing me into his hardness. His nose brushed mine. He pressed his lips against the corner of my mouth, shifted then did the same to the opposite corner. Then he placed a single kiss against my bottom lip. “I’ve missed kissing you, Addy. Missed it a whole fucking lot.”
I couldn’t speak, too caught up in a tidal wave of emotions. Sweet, sweet Warren. I wanted to stay in this moment forever, where I felt loved and protected and cherished, where none of the real world could encroach. He flicked the seam of my lips with his tongue. “Open your mouth for me, baby,” he said. His eyes were dazed, the pupils dilated. “Let me back in.” His hands slid up, kneading my hips. I leaned in. Our mouths touched, parted, tongues exploring, getting to know each other again. The kiss grew rough, more urgent.
I moaned low in my throat.
In answer, Warren shifted, laying me down on the bench seat. He hovered above me, hips between my legs, hardness pressed against me.
Warren’s mouth moved to my neck, leaving a hot trail of kisses from my ear to my collarbone. “Baby, I don’t think I can wait. I need to taste you.” He cupped my cheeks and placed a gentle kiss on my lips. His hands skirted down my sides until they reached the waistband of my sweats. He tugged, taking my panties and sweats off in one effortless motion. My pulse raced. And liquid pooled at my core.
I was wet.
I wanted him.
It had been so long since someone had touched me down there. I was desperate for Warren.
He moved lower, nose skimming my belly, across my inner thigh. “Fuck, baby, you smell good,” he groaned. His mouth was at my center. When his tongue darted out and licked my clit, I nearly arched off the seat. A few minutes, that was all it would take. I was primed and ready and it had been so long. Sooo long. Warren seemed to sense this. I guessed he decided to torture me. His tongue was lazy, taking long, heated strokes against my center.
“Please,” I moaned, begging.
“Please.” His gruff voice spoken against the most intimate part of me sent shivers up my spine. I threaded my fingers through his hair. “That’s all I’ve ever wanted to do, baby, please you.” He slipped a single digit inside me. If it was possible for a human to disintegrate or go up in flames, I would have. I was scorched earth and Warren was the destroyer. “So wet, and it’s all for me.” He blew on my clit and then added another finger, plunging them in and out in a delicious pace that left me frenzied. “Say my name, baby. Say it like a good girl and I’ll let you come.”
“Fuuu—” My belly clenched in anticipation.
His palm landed on the underside of my butt cheek, slapping me hard enough to sting but not hard enough to hurt. “Bad girl,” he said. The limo was slowing. I started to wiggle away from him. Warren withdrew his fingers from me but his hands went to my hips, stilling my motions. “We’re not finished.”
“Warren,” I said uneasily, my eyes going to the tinted windows. I could barely see out.
“Ah,” he said with a wicked smile. “That’s what I’ve been waiting for, my name on those perfect lips.” He bent his head down. His tongue licked once, twice and then thrust inside of me. White spots danced in my vision. I writhed as the orgasm built.
“Warren.” I said his name again. The tempo of his tongue increased. My hands went from his hair to the seat. I might have punctured the leather with my nails. His fingers entered me again and my orgasm detonated, my sex squeezed and pulsed. My back arched. My legs twitched. I moaned or screamed. Whatever the sound was, it left my throat raw, parched.
I lay there on the bench seat, my body slick with sweat, my eyes heavy-lidded. Warren sat up, his big body still between my legs. He wiped wetness, my wetness, from his mouth with the back of his hand. The tattoos on his forearms swirled in my vision. My cheeks flushed hot as I got a flashback of moments before, of watching that tattooed arm move as his fingers worked in and out of me. Warren’s smile was self-satisfied and smug. It felt like he was boasting, like he’d won something.
I arched a brow at him. “If we’re all done here, I’d like to get dressed.” In the wild, creatures often hissed when they were injured or cornered, a last desperate attempt at self-preservation. I’d learned this on safari with Billy years ago.
Warren’s smile fell. Had I hurt his feelings? Impossible, Warren didn’t have feelings. He was bulletproof. He flashed me a cutting smile. “Yeah, we’re all done.”
He waited for me to dress and as soon as I was covered, he left the limo. I put my head in my hands and basked in the now empty space. The scent of our recent intimacy hung in the air.
My chin trembled. Was I going to cry? Shit, I was going to cry. I was totally exposed. I was stupid. So stupid. Why had I thought I’d be able to separate sex from emotion with Warren? I’d lied to myself. Warren Price still had some of my heart. If I wasn’t careful, he would take it all.