Chapter Nine
Nic practically broke land speed records getting back to Constance’s home. The dead tone of her voice had his gut churning. What had happened?
He jumped out of the car and was at the front door in seconds. She was already there with it open. From the expression on her face, whatever had happened wasn’t good.
He stepped inside. “You got a call?” That was a given, or she wouldn’t have contacted him. Her eyes were red and her skin blotchy. She’d been crying.
“Your sister?” God, had Dent’s men killed her sister? He wrapped his hands over her shoulders.
She shook her head. “No.” She took a deep, shaky breath. “Mario. They killed Mario.”
“Oh, honey.” He pulled her against him. “I’m so sorry.”
Constance clutched his shirt and buried her face against his chest. “They didn’t have to do that.” She gave a small hiccup. “He would never have told anyone, would never have done anything to hurt us.”
Yet he had. Unwittingly, Mario had brought the Knights of the Dragon into Constance’s life, and she and her sister were paying the price. But Nic knew the older man never would have intentionally hurt them. From his dealing with Mario, he knew the man liked to wheel and deal and push the boundaries, but he’d been honest and a decent enough sort. He would never have viewed contacting two sellers as a betrayal. It was just good business.
Nic eased them into the living room with her still attached to him like a barnacle. He didn’t like seeing her this way. He hadn’t known her long, but he was already used to her damn-the-torpedo attitude. She’d been ready to physically take him on, hadn’t hesitated to go to the meeting with Dent’s men. This wasn’t like her at all.
His dragon was rumbling inside him, wanting out. Right now, his dragon wanted to go Godzilla all over Las Vegas until it found and freed Constance’s sister. He managed to control the more primal side of his nature, but it wasn’t easy. He wanted to destroy the men who’d hurt her, who’d killed her friend and threatened her life.
There was a time and place for the creature that dwelled inside him, and it would have the chance for revenge. But right now, he needed to comfort the woman in his arms.
He sat on the sofa and lifted her so she was sitting sideways on his lap. She smelled good, like fresh lavender. She was light in his arms. He nuzzled her head, reveling in the softness of her hair. He’d love to have those silky locks trailing over his skin.
Not now, he warned himself. Constance was vulnerable and scared. She needed a friend not a lover. He ignored the familiar tightening of his body and the suddenly snug fit of his jeans.
“What exactly happened?” He needed to know.
“Dent called.”
“He’s in the city?” Tarrant had said Dent was on his way to Vegas. He must already be here.
She nodded and sniffed before raising her head. It killed him to see the fear in her eyes. “I figured that out from his call.”
He tucked several strands of her hair behind her ear. “What did he say?” Nic needed to know everything.
She shrugged. “He wasn’t happy about what happened earlier.”
Nic imagined he wasn’t. Losing men wasn’t in Dent’s plan.
“He let me talk to Abigail for about five seconds. I heard her voice. She’s scared. And they hurt her.” Anger was making her voice stronger. There was the woman he’d come to know, the fighter, the one who would do anything to get her sister back.
And don’t forget that, the voice in the back of his head reminded him. He couldn’t forget that, not for one second. He shifted the position of his arm so he could see her face better.
“He knows about you.” Nic tensed, but Constance continued. “He knows you’re a gambler and that you buy and sell.” She patted his chest. “And you obviously do well.”
He frowned. “How would you know that?” Just how much did she know about him?
She chuckled and swiped her hands over her face. “I only have to look at the car you drive and the clothes you wear to know that.” She tapped her temple. “I’ve got eyes, and I know quality when I see it.”
Of course she did. If she didn’t, she’d never be able to make a living doing what she did.
She sighed and rested her head on his shoulder. The trust she showed him was staggering. Of course, she was upset about her sister and her friend and was just reaching out for some comfort. Best to not read too much into it.
She ran her fingers up and down his T-shirt. He wished it was his bare flesh she was stroking. It was getting more difficult to concentrate. No other woman he’d ever met got him as hard as fast as Constance.
“What else did Dent say?” Better to keep focused on the problem at hand. His dick flexed, a not so subtle reminder that it also wanted attention.
“He’s going to call later with instructions. I think he wanted to scare me, to make me take him very seriously.” She tilted her head back and peered into his eyes. “And it’s working.” She ran her fingers over his jaw. “Nic.”
This was so not a good idea, not with her being vulnerable. She trailed her fingertips over his cheekbone. Shit, he was going to do it anyway.
He lowered his head, giving her plenty of time to pull away or stop him. She did the exact opposite, rising up to meet him. Nic was lost.
…
His jaw was as hard as steel, and a muscle in his cheek jumped beneath her fingers. God, she was torn. She wanted to kiss him but knew it was the beginning of a betrayal. Constance was being pulled in a million different directions while knowing there was only one path she could take.
She had to seduce Nic. She had to find out whether he had that tattoo Dent wanted to know about. Why did it matter? Lots of people had tattoos. There was so much about this situation, about these people, that she didn’t understand. Although ignorance could be bliss, it was a detriment now that she’d been dragged into their world.
It took only a split second to think all this, to feel myriad emotions rocketing through her. Then Nic’s lips were on hers, and it all slipped away.
She needed this. Nic was strong and dependable. He was life when death was only a breath away. She tried not to think about Abigail. They wouldn’t kill her sister until they had the statues. That was a given. They needed to have something to hold over her.
But they’d killed Mario. They’d brutally killed an old man whose only crime was trying to make a living. He hadn’t done anything illegal or anything to hurt Dent, but the man had had him killed to send a message, to make a point.
What kind of people were the Knights of the Dragon?
“Constance?” Nic started to pull away.
Crap, she’d let her mind wander. That couldn’t happen. She dug her fingers into his broad shoulders and kissed him, pouring every ounce of the tumultuous emotions swirling inside her into the kiss.
He groaned deep in his chest, sounding as if he were in pain. Then he plunged his tongue into her mouth. Yes, this was what she wanted. She wanted to taste life, to experience something good before her entire world fell apart.
She honestly didn’t expect to live.
A deep calm came over her as she accepted that likely outcome. She was going to save her sister and Nic. She’d have to betray him first, and he might never forgive her. But she could handle that as long as he survived. Since she most likely wouldn’t, she wouldn’t have to live with the guilt for very long.
Their tongues tangled and their breath mingled. Her toes curled in her sneakers, and shivers radiated down her spine. Nic certainly knew how to kiss. He took her mouth again and again, sometimes hard and sometimes their lips barely brushing, leaving her gasping for air and wanting more.
If she lived another sixty years, she’d never get enough of him.
The clock was ticking. Their time together was limited, and she didn’t want to miss a single second worrying about what would come. That was the future. All she had was now.
She hauled herself up and maneuvered around until she was kneeling on the sofa facing him, straddling his lap. And she did it without breaking their kiss. She shoved her hands beneath the shoulders of his jacket and pushed. He resisted for all of two seconds and then helped her drag the buttery-soft fabric down his arms and off.
She kept her eyes closed, not wanting to see whether there was a tattoo on his arm. Tattoos were common. But one covering half of his body would be unique. She prayed she wouldn’t find it.
She could always lie.
Nic cupped her face in his incredibly large, strong hands. She reluctantly opened her eyes. He was staring at her, his gaze dark, so very dark and smoldering with unspoken emotion. His inky-black hair brushed against his shoulders. The T-shirt he wore looked as if it had been painted on.
“This probably isn’t wise.”
She shook her head in disagreement. “If not now, when?” She slid her hands down his hard stomach and pushed them beneath the hem of the shirt. Her fingers found firm, male flesh. He was so warm. Almost hot. And she was chilled to her very core.
“Are you sure?” God, why did he have to be such an honorable man? Nic was one of the good guys, and she was going to give him up to Dent.
“Positive.” No matter what might happen, she wasn’t lying when she said she wanted him. Nic pulled at her soul. Something about him spoke to her, made her senses hum. He was a treasure. There was more to him than met the eye. Her instincts were never wrong.
Why hadn’t they met in another time and under different circumstances? Why now, with both their lives and the life of her sister on the line?
She pushed the shirt up, all the while keeping her gaze on his face, delaying the inevitable as long as possible.
Dragging her feet wasn’t helping. Treating it like yanking a bandage off a wound, she pulled the shirt up. Nic helped, grabbing a handful of fabric and tugging it over his head.
What seemed like an acre of hard male flesh came into view. His shoulders were so incredibly broad, his chest wide. His abs looked like something out of a men’s fitness magazine, and his waist tapered in. His skin was olive-toned and smooth. He was absolute male perfection.
And there was a tattoo bisecting the left half of his body. It started at the base of his neck and ran down his left arm and chest, disappearing into the waistband of his jeans. The red swirls formed an intricate pattern and were outlined in black. It was stark and incredibly beautiful and must have taken hours and hours, days, maybe weeks, to have done.
“Constance?”
The worry in Nic’s voice had her stripping off her long-sleeved shirt. His eyes widened and grew even darker when he caught his first glimpse of her stretchy white lace bra. He sucked in a breath and then covered her breasts with his hands. They were so big and covered her completely. The contrast between her pale skin and his much darker tone made her stomach flutter.
“You are so incredibly beautiful.” The sincerity in his voice almost made her break down, but she sucked it up. Tears wouldn’t change anything, nor would they bring her sister back alive.
She’d save Nic. She would.
She wouldn’t be able to live with herself if she didn’t.
Constance kissed him. The passion bubbling between them was real. Their bodies knew they were meant to be together. She leaned inward until he was forced to remove his hands. Then she pressed her breasts against his chest. With only a light covering of lace separating them, the sensation was exquisite.
Nic made another one of those deep, rumbling sounds she was quickly coming to associate with him before he pushed her away. When she raised an eyebrow in question, he gave her a slow, sexy smile. “I want to look at you.”
He trailed his fingers over the edge of her bra, his strong, rough skin caressing her. She sucked in a breath. Goose bumps raced down her arms.
He slipped his fingers beneath the strap and stroked his way to her shoulders. Then he slowly pulled the straps down her arms until the cups of her bra lowered to reveal her breasts. She wasn’t overly large, her shape more athletic than curvy, but they were firm and well-shaped.
Nic’s eyes were black as night. “You are perfect.”
She wasn’t anywhere close, but she didn’t contradict him. She wrapped her hands around his wrists and guided him back to her breasts. She hissed out a breath when his palms covered her. Her nipples were standing at attention and stabbed the centers of his hands.
He leaned forward and nuzzled her neck. Everything inside her squeezed tight. When he dragged his tongue over her collarbone, her sex clenched with growing desire. Her panties were already damp.
He worked his way downward, leaving a trail of kisses across her bare flesh. He nuzzled the valley between her breasts. She speared her fingers through his hair and pulled him to the side until his mouth was right over one of her nipples.
His breath was warm, and the anticipation had every cell in her body quivering in expectation. When he closed his lips around the taut bud and sucked, her entire body jerked.
“Yes,” she whispered. This was what she wanted, what she needed. She’d never wanted a man’s hands on her this badly before. She wanted him to touch her, to taste her. Everywhere. Her emotions were running high, but at the very core of them was a deep yearning to make love with him.
Nic was so big. There was so much of him to touch and explore. She ran her hands over his shoulders and down his arms, ignoring the tattoo that stood out like a beacon, a reminder of what was to come.
He flicked her nipple with his tongue. Constance cried out, wanting more. As good as his mouth felt on her, she was aching and empty inside. And she was so cold. Only Nic could warm her, could drive away the despair threatening to drown her.
She ran her hands over his firm abs, marveling at the way the muscles created bands across his stomach. She was stopped by the waistband of his jeans. Fumbling a little, she managed to get the button undone and the zipper lowered.
He wasn’t wearing any underwear.
His erection sprang forward right into her hand. He was in perfect proportion to his body, which meant he was larger than any lover she’d ever had. His shaft was warm and pulsed with life. The left side of it was also tattooed. She winced at the thought of him having that done. What had possessed him to do such a thing when it had to have been incredibly painful?
“Fuck.” He raised his head and looked down at her hand gripping him. The sight of her smaller, feminine hand wrapped around his large shaft gave her a sense of power. For now, he was hers. “Harder, honey.”
She responded by squeezing more firmly. He closed his eyes and shuddered. “We should go to your bedroom.” His brow furrowed as if he was in intense pain.
She shook her head. It was too far away. “Here.” She didn’t want to wait. “Now.”
Nic paused, and she wondered whether he was going to stop. His eyes popped open. For a brief second, she thought she could see flames in his eyes. Then he was standing with her held easily in his arms. She grabbed onto his shoulders and found herself flat on her back on the couch before she knew what was happening.
She’d woken the sleeping tiger. Or maybe dragon was more apt all things considered. The mythical creatures were exotic and rare, and he was both of those things. He was big and strong and powerful.
He had her shoes and socks off in a heartbeat and then reached for the fastener of her jeans. He paused but a brief second, but then shoved his hands inside and pulled her pants down and off, taking her underwear with them.
She was totally naked except for her bra, which was still hooked under her bare breasts. She reached around and undid it before pulling it away.
Nic stared down at her. “You take my breath away.”
He did the same to her. His hair was tousled from where she’d dragged her fingers through it. His pants were open and his cock was hard and ready. The blue veins pulsed against the darker flesh. He was big and strong, and she wanted him.
She opened her arms, and he came down on top of her. He was much too big for the couch to be comfortable. He braced one arm across the back and knelt over her.
She should feel exposed and uncomfortable, but there was no place for those sentiments between them. From the first moment they’d touched, he’d gotten past the emotional armor she wore like a jacket.
She’d had lovers before, but always on her own terms. She liked men who would be monogamous while they were together but who weren’t looking for something long term. That had been easy enough to find considering she was helping to raise a younger sibling. Most men, in her experience, didn’t want that kind of obligation.
But Nic was different. He’d jumped right into the heart of her problem, trying to help her. Yes, he wanted the statues, but it would have been better for him if he’d just walked away from her and taken care of himself.
And how was she going to repay him for that? With betrayal. Because with his jeans hanging low on his hips, she could see that his tattoo continued down his body in the same mesmerizing but beautiful pattern of red outlined with black.
How had Dent known, and what did it mean?
It didn’t matter. Not now, not with Nic leaning over her.