Lafayette, Louisiana
Nick Navarro had been out of prison exactly thirty-five hours. Long enough to get a good night’s sleep, stock up on a few necessities, and visit his old friends, the Santiago brothers. Then he’d started putting his P.I. skills to good use, methodically searching for the woman he hadn’t forgotten a single detail about during the fifteen months of his incarceration.
He intended to hunt down the bastards who had framed him and offed his childhood friend so he could repay them in spades.
Sasha Porter was the key.
At first glance, it looked as if she had disappeared off the face of the earth. She’d fled her house, quit her job, abandoned her car, maybe even changed her name. But his gut told him she was still alive. She had reasons to fight.
He would burn down the world until he found her.
Nick was forcing himself not to pace manically when his doorbell rang, sounding above the din of pounding rain. He zipped his gaze to the clock. Quarter ’til midnight. Obviously this wasn’t a social call. Had his late buddy’s enemy gotten wind of him shaking the trees for Sasha? Or had that corrupt son of a bitch just come back for another pound of flesh?
With every light in the living room on, Nick couldn’t pretend he wasn’t home. Besides, he refused to let this asshole think he was afraid. So he drew his weapon and jerked the door open, wearing a snarl.
Nick expected trouble, a gunfight, a battle for his life. Instead, Sasha Porter stood under his little portico, clinging near the door to avoid the deluge of November rain. Without a coat, she shivered. An exhausted little girl slept on her hip under a baby blanket, blond curls askew. A ragged duffel bag hung over her other arm. Rain had seeped through Sasha’s tattered blouse. Water ran down her cheek, which was marred with an unmistakable bruise. Dark circles discolored the skin under her hazel eyes, now wide with fear as she stared at his SIG. Cursing, Nick scrambled to holster his weapon.
This wasn’t the woman he remembered, and she wore the struggle for her survival all over her delicate face. The sight made Nick seethe, but he managed to blank his expression and open the door wider.
“Hi, Mr. Navarro, we met once about three years ago. You probably don’t remember me…” She drifted off nervously.
He ached to show her how wrong she was. Instead, he scanned her body. She’d lost weight, lost curves. He’d fix that. But as she had the first time he laid eyes on her, she incited a roaring lust in his blood that electrified every muscle, pore, and nerve ending. He didn’t just want this woman; having her felt necessary to his sanity. It didn’t matter that her honey hair straggled out of half a ponytail or that she wasn’t wearing a shred of makeup. Baggy jeans, plaid shirt…whatever. Sasha stood here in all her goodness. Despite everything she’d been through, radiance shone from her eyes. The brightest of angels tempting the devil himself.
Then he remembered she was his childhood friend’s beloved widow. He killed his smile.
“Mike Porter was my husband.” Her voice still shook. “You visited our house once. I’m—”
“Sasha,” he assured, determined not to frighten her. “Come in.”
* * * *
Blinking at Nick Navarro in surprise, Sasha inched inside his surprisingly posh house, hyperaware that she was dripping on his travertine floors. “You remember me?”
“I never forget a face.” He shut and locked the door behind her.
Because he’d once been a private investigator? She stared but his unreadable expression cloaked his thoughts.
Her late husband had called Nick a great friend…and a very dangerous man. Mike had made her promise to come to Nick if she ever needed help. Sasha was having second thoughts now.
Merely dangerous men could be reasoned with. Even they had limits. Staring at the six-foot-three mountain of muscle who holstered a gun he clearly wasn’t afraid to use, she feared no one could reason with Nick Navarro.
Dangerous seemed far too tame to describe him. It wasn’t just the harsh shave of his black hair down to mere stubble or the glimpse of new ink flirting with the edge of his gray V-neck. The T-shirt pulled across his chest and bunched around his thick biceps as if it strained to contain him. It molded so closely to his abs that Sasha could see his six-pack. Dark jeans cupped his bulge and tore a disreputable snag down his thigh. His black leather boots belonged on a biker.
Sasha swallowed.
Like the first time she’d met him, the air around him pinged with life. And violence. His conviction for rape certainly didn’t give her a warm fuzzy.
The closer he came on silent footsteps, the more wildly her heart beat. Every speech she’d rehearsed seemed silly now. God, would begging for his help even do any good?
Without it, she and her baby would probably be dead tomorrow, certainly within a week. She prayed Nick’s hatred of their common enemy was enough to persuade him to help her. She hoped Nick Navarro had a good side she could appeal to.
But she wasn’t counting on it.
When he reached for her, Sasha stiffened. If he noticed her reaction, he said nothing. He merely lifted the heavy duffel bag from her drooping shoulder and slid it to the ground.
“You look tired, hungry, and cold.” His dark gaze drifted over Harper. “You can’t carry your daughter all night.”
His words surprised her. Why wasn’t he demanding to know the reason she’d rung his doorbell so late? Or why she’d come at all?
She wished she had the luxury of telling him that she and her baby would be fine, like she’d been saying to people since Mike’s murder. But she couldn’t afford polite lies anymore. Nick Navarro was her very last hope.
God help her.
“I’ll be fine. But Harper has been sick. If you have a blanket she could curl up with while we talk, I’d appreciate—”
As if on cue, the girl coughed, raspy and deep. Between one fit and the next, she drew rattling breaths into troubled lungs.
“She needs a bed, Sasha. I have four in this house. Pick one and put her down.” When she hesitated, he towered above her, eyes narrowed. “She needs sleep and a doctor. You need help. That’s why you came, isn’t it?”
It took everything Sasha had to stand her ground and nod.
“Do you have any clean clothes in there for her?” He gestured to the duffel.
“No.”
“I’ll take care of it. The bedrooms are down the hall. When she’s settled, come back and tell me what you’re after.”
Without another word, Nick turned his back, pulled out his cell phone, hit a few buttons, and paced out of the cavernous foyer. Who was he calling at dang near midnight? He hadn’t reacted at all like she’d expected when she’d rung his doorbell. But she couldn’t worry about him now. Harper needed her.
Sasha dragged herself out of the foyer and down the long hall, until she came to the first bedroom. Airy, with two twin beds—she could tell that much in the dark.
Flipping on the light, she saw two plain beige comforters with soft white sheets. Nothing frilly. But a real bed would be a blessing for her baby. It had been so long since she’d slept in one, and this looked like heaven.
Stopping, resting, indulging—Sasha couldn’t for long if they wanted to live.
As she eased off Harper’s clothes, the poor girl barely moved. Across the hall, Sasha found a powder bath and coaxed the little girl awake long enough to use the potty.
Naked except for Barbie underwear, Sasha tucked her daughter into bed. Harper sighed as her head hit the pillow and she fell back asleep. A fever heated the child’s brow. For over a week, Harper had been ill. It was getting worse. But she had no money, almost no medicine left. She feared going to a hospital and filling out paperwork would be like drawing a map of their location for the lethal man chasing them.
Fighting tears of exhaustion and worry, she kissed her daughter’s cherubic face, pushing the pale hair from her forehead, praying a good night’s rest would help cure her.
“Is she asleep?” Nick asked in low tones.
Sasha turned at the unexpected sound of his voice. He filled the doorframe completely, looking as solid and as massive as the door he replaced. She shivered.
“Yes. Thank you.”
“She’ll have new clothes tomorrow morning, size three-T. Everything in the duffel is in the washer now. A pediatrician will be here at nine.”
Again, he’d surprised her. Kindness? “I promise, we’ll get out of your hair immediately after the doctor leaves. And I’ll pay you back as soon as I’m able. I just came to see you about—”
Three electronic beeps resounding through the house startled her. Nick dragged his rough gaze down her body. At his inspection, Sasha shivered. She had no idea what he was thinking.
“Come with me.” Without waiting for her response, he turned and left down the hall.
Sasha hesitated.
He paused without turning back. “You came to talk to me about something. I’ll be in the kitchen.”
Dread and anxiety settled in her stomach. But she had no choice. With a backward glance at her sleeping daughter, she followed.
At the end of the hall and to the left, she crossed the foyer again, then passed under an archway. A thoroughly modern kitchen awaited on the other side. Hardwood floors and concrete countertops gleamed under recessed lighting, as did the dark, contemporary cabinets. A stainless refrigerator stood in one corner, perfectly matching the oven and microwave, which beeped again.
“Bobby Flay, I’m not,” he said, yanking open the microwave door and pulling out two pieces of pepperoni pizza. “Sit.”
She couldn’t remember the last time she’d had anything resembling a full belly, and this smelled scrumptious. Her stomach rumbled.
He set the slices in front of her, along with a napkin. “Eat.”
Sasha frowned at the plate. Nick meant to feed her? “For me?”
“Yeah.” He gave her a self-deprecating smile as he put a can of beer in front of her. “I only have necessities here right now. Sorry.”
“Beer and pizza?”
“Damn straight.”
His reply seemed so…typical guy. So unlike the violent rapist his trial had painted him to be. She hid her surprise behind her napkin. Just who was she dealing with?
“Look, I appreciate the bed, the medical attention for Harper, and the food—”
“I’m not listening to you until you’ve swallowed every last bite of that. Chow down.”
Sasha didn’t have to be told twice. She devoured the pizza, conscious of Nick watching her every move with dark, intent eyes. What the heck was he thinking when he looked at her that way?
If they’d been in a different situation, she would have been ridiculously attracted to him. He had a rugged face dusted with dark stubble and bold male features. His mouth was a wide slash of full lips that looked totally equipped to provide hours of sin. That, coupled with his air of mystery, screamed danger. Not that he’d be interested in her. She hardly possessed the centerfold beauty he’d once been used to, according to Mike. She was completely safe. In fact, the way she looked now, he wouldn’t touch her, even if she were the last female on earth.
It didn’t matter. Sasha had stopped caring about superficial stuff long ago. And however tempting he looked on the outside, Nick Navarro’s blood was ice, according to his rape victim’s testimony. Even at his trial, he’d never said a word in his defense, simply accepted his conviction with a blank stare.
Sasha again questioned the wisdom of putting herself in his path. If Mike hadn’t been murdered, she would have been a suburban soccer mom—not homeless and broke and running for her life, sleeping with one eye open to make sure her daughter stayed safe. Not at the mercy of a man society labeled a violent offender. But he knew how to play hardball with the people who threatened her and Harper. He alone knew how to end this nightmare.
Damn it, if only she had some bargaining chip to offer him…
Once her plate was empty, he set it in the stainless steel sink. Cautiously, Sasha sipped her beer, observing his crisp, watchful movements.
“Thank you for the food. I was hungry,” she admitted.
“Has your daughter eaten?”
Sasha nodded. “We stopped at a diner down the road a while ago.”
“And you didn’t eat.”
He didn’t ask; he knew.
Sasha paused. She didn’t want to voice the truth, but lying to him seemed counterproductive when she wanted his help. “I didn’t have enough money for both of us to eat.”
“Then you walked here in the rain?”
“Yes.”
“Carrying her?”
The edge of censure in his tone frustrated her. “I didn’t have any other options.”
At her confession, he sat back in his chair. “And now you’re going to tell me why you’re here and how you came to be in this state.”
It was a command as much as a question. Sasha took a deep breath and tried to remember the words she’d rehearsed. “You probably don’t recall, but when you visited Mike at our house, Harper was a newborn.”
“I remember.”
Did he really? “About a year later, Mike’s behavior changed. He turned anxious, secretive. For months, I didn’t know he’d fallen into dicey political waters at work. He never gave me details, but I gathered his difficulty had something to do with his boss, Walter Clifford, the Orleans Parish district attorney. Then I overheard Mike talking to you on the phone a few weeks before…” She didn’t want to finish that sentence and relive her husband’s death again. “He told you that Clifford was dirty.”
“As sin. He’s responsible for Mike’s murder.”
“I know. Apparently, the man suspects Mike left behind some evidence that proves his corruption. In the last fifteen months, I’ve tried to figure out where he might have hidden it, to no avail. But I knew my husband. If he’d been about to blow a whistle, he had solid proof.”
“Meanwhile, Clifford has had thugs and hit men chasing you, right? He’s told you to hand your evidence over or he’s going to turn you into fish bait.”
“Harper first.” Her voice broke. “If I don’t produce the proof three days after her murder, then me.”
Something terrible flickered across Nick’s face quickly, then it was gone. Sasha couldn’t decipher the expression, but resisted the urge to back away from him.
“Why do you assume I’m any better than Clifford?”
Sasha’s heart stopped. Why had she? “I—I just thought…”
“That since Mike was my childhood friend, I’d want vengeance for him? That I’d help you out of the goodness of my heart?” He shrugged. “C’mon, I knew Porter well. He told you to steer clear of me unless it was a dire emergency. But you assumed that since I’m a convicted rapist, I didn’t have many boundaries to cross, and murder wouldn’t bother me. How do you know I have a conscience at all? How do you know I can’t be bought by the other side?”
Had she been so desperate, so sure Mike would have steered her in the right direction, that she’d rationalized the very real risks of coming here?
Yes, and obviously she’d been naïve. She had to leave now.
Darting to her feet, Sasha charged out of the kitchen and to the hall. Harper. She had to reach her little girl, pluck her out of bed, and escape—somehow—before Nick Navarro stopped her. Would he turn her over to the people wanting to kill her baby? Or did he have some nefarious plan of his own?
In seconds, she heard pounding footsteps hunting her from behind. Oh, God. Oh, God! He was going to catch her before she and Harper could escape.
Suddenly, he clamped hard fingers around her wrist and yanked her around to face him. She nearly tripped and fell. Nick stopped her by bracing her against the solid width of his chest.
Before he could get a tight grip on her, she started fighting, clawing and kicking, aiming for his genitals. He dodged her, clamping his thighs around hers and capturing both wrists in his hands.
Then he took her to the carpet in the narrow hallway and lowered himself on top of her.
Sasha fought him with every bit of her strength. She was nearly a foot shorter and a hundred pounds lighter, and he had gravity on his side. Panic clawed her. She couldn’t breathe.
No!
She’d failed Harper. Her baby didn’t deserve to die because her father hadn’t been sneaky enough to sidestep criminals and her mother hadn’t been worldly enough to escape them.
Sasha kept fighting long after Nick had her contained. She tried not to sob. Crying would do no good.
“Stop!” With strong arms and long legs, Nick clamped down harder, finally holding her immobile.
Panting, her breath quivering, Sasha looked up into his endless inky eyes. She expected to see laughter, triumph, anticipation.
She saw regret.
So he wasn’t looking forward to killing her and Harper. She doubted that would stop him.
Sasha wasn’t above begging, not if it would save Harper. “Please, she’s just a baby…”
“Shh. You and your daughter are safe with me. And I won’t let Clifford’s hit men near you.”
No words could have shocked her more. “How do I know you’re telling the truth?”
“You don’t, not any more than I know if you’re telling me the truth about whatever evidence Mike may have found. But you want protection from Clifford’s hit squad. I want revenge against the asshole. Looks like we have to trust each other.”
Could she? What other option did she really have? In this case, the devil she didn’t know had to be better than the one she did. At least she hoped.
Sasha gave him a shaky nod. “I need help. I can’t run anymore. They’re getting closer. Harper is sick…”
“And you’re exhausted.”
“I don’t have any money to offer you…”
He hesitated. “That’s not what I want.”
Then what was he after?
Even as Sasha’s mind raced, she became aware of the inferno of heat Nick put off. It sank through her damp clothes, under her skin. For the first time in weeks, she felt warm.
“Um…I could clean your house.”
“That service comes with the rental.”
“I’ll do your laundry.”
Nick shook his head. “I know how to use the washer and dryer just fine.”
“I-I can cook…”
For a quick second, he looked as if that intrigued him, then he scowled. “Takeout works for me.”
Now what? Besides housework, her only other talent lay in scrapbooking, and she seriously doubted he’d want a personalized album commemorating the time he’d spent in prison. But she had to give him something. Relying purely on his good favor would be too dangerous.
“Then what do you want in return for your help?”
Above her, he shifted, grimaced. Confusion buzzed through her brain…until she felt his erection, lengthening and hardening between her legs.
Sasha sucked in a breath. Even through her jeans and his, she could tell he was large. She hadn’t had sex—or any contact with a man—since the night before Mike’s murder, and her neglected body didn’t fail to notice that he was all male. The mixture of fear and desire confused her, even as his scent hung musky in her nose, dizzying her head. His stare melted with heat, pouring over her like liquid seduction.
The truth—the price he intended to extract from her—was in his eyes.
“Me?” Sasha breathed.
He stilled for a moment, studying her. Then, as if he couldn’t resist anymore, he notched against her, his erection now like steel. He nudged her right where it counted, against that bundle of nerves that sent a streak of heat racing up her belly and down her legs.
Sasha closed her eyes. She had to be insane. He was a convicted rapist. Mike had told her that while Nick was one of his best friends, he didn’t trust the guy with women.
Her body was just responding to stress, to her long abstinence. How many times had she fantasized about finding some way—any way—to forget the mess of her life for a few stolen minutes? Too many to count. But the heat simmering in her veins now couldn’t have anything to do with Nick Navarro himself.
“You’re kidding.” She shook her head. He must be.
“Do I feel like I’m kidding?”
Sasha swallowed against the uptick of her heartbeat. “Why?”
“I’ve been in prison for over a year. You have to ask?”
He thrust his hips against her again. Like before, he hit the perfect spot, the one that still hadn’t recovered from his last nudge. Fresh heat zipped through her, more intense than before. An ache began to pulse between her legs.
What was wrong with her?
“I meant why me?” Sasha heard the quiver in her voice. “I’m sure you know women who are younger, who don’t have stretch marks and a C-section scar. Who—”
“I know a dozen Barbie dolls I could call now if I just wanted to fuck. You’re real.” He unclamped one of his hands from her wrist…then glided onto her breast. “This is real.”
He sank his fingers into her giving flesh, dragging his thumb over her nipple. Sasha sucked in a breath. Despite her damp shirt and bra, she felt his touch all the way to her toes. Tingles skittered through her system. Her nipples puckered, beaded. Under his broad palm, he teased one of the buds with another slow caress. His rough breath rent the silence between them. She shut her eyes—and bit back a moan.
She had to be totally out of her mind. Why wasn’t she fighting, screaming her lack of consent?
Her brain told her she’d lose any chance of persuading him to protect her and Harper. Loneliness reminded her how badly she’d missed human comfort. Her touch-starved body shouted the fact that there was something about Nick Navarro that lit up the long-suppressed woman inside her that had fantasized about silken satisfaction with a very capable man.
She was still trying to comprehend the moment—the caress of his talented fingers—when he dipped his head to torment the tight bud of her nipple through the fabric separating them. A pull. A nip. Pleasure seized her. Shivers racked her. So sudden. So shocking.
It terrified her.
“I won’t be forced.” Her voice sounded shaky, splintered.
Above her, Nick tensed and raised a brow. They both knew her body wanted him. Heat rushed through her veins, up her cheeks. But she made herself meet his stare. What was he thinking? What would he do? Had she just made a dreadful mistake?
Slowly, he withdrew his hand, then pushed himself away from her. He sat against the wall. Sasha felt the withdrawal of his heat instantly. Cold seeped into her body again, her damp shirt making her tremble. The guarded, slightly mocking expression on his face wasn’t helping her nerves, either.
“I’ve never raped anyone in my life, including Fiona Normand.”
Sasha backed away to the other wall and drew her knees into her chest. She almost thanked him for lying to her. His false words were a slap of reality, erasing the quick rise of her desire and her loss of sanity.
“You don’t have to deny what happened. I read the testimony. I merely wanted you to understand—”
“I’m not denying a damn thing,” he growled. “I’m telling you flat out that I didn’t rape her. You need to know that. I don’t want you fighting once I have you naked and under me.”
He sounded awfully sure of himself. Of course he is, idiot. He stands between your daughter and death. He’s got you and he knows it.
Sasha didn’t see any way to avoid becoming his lover. She’d do anything to keep her baby alive.
“The expert testimony of the doctors at your trial found your skin under her nails and your semen in her…”
“I never denied fucking her, but I didn’t force her to do anything she wasn’t willing to do with me and hadn’t done before.”
A million thoughts spun through her head. Her stomach tightened. “It doesn’t matter.”
“It does. And I’m telling you the truth.”
“Why would Fiona Normand lie?”
He shrugged. “The town princess told the policemen that the bad man lured her into opening her front door, then he raped her. How else was she going to explain being tied to her bed? Certainly not by admitting that she begged someone like me to bind her to it. It’s all smoke and mirrors to prevent me from investigating her uncle, the very crooked Mr. Clifford.”
Sasha felt her eyes widen. “Fiona is his niece?”
“Through marriage, but notice how the press didn’t mention that? You can thank the cops and reporters he has stashed in his back pocket for neglecting to include that info.”
The press didn’t surprise her so much but… “Clifford is bribing the police?”
“You look shocked to find out the good guys can be bought.” He smirked. “Yeah, he’s paid them to disregard his shit for years.”
“So…” She grappled to comprehend the depth of seedy corruption. “Fiona lied about everything that happened between you to protect her uncle? Why? I’d never protect anyone doing such awful things.”
“If she let her Uncle Walter go down, where would her meal ticket be? So Fiona told him I was pumping her for information about Mike’s disappearance.” Nick smiled grimly. “Clifford set up the rest. Crying rape served the added bonus of preserving Fiona’s precious reputation. She wasn’t willingly having sex with a P.I. who had a record. No, I forced her.” He cut her a mocking glare. “Of course.”
Sasha wasn’t sure what to believe. “How did you meet her?”
“I heard she and Clifford were close, so I picked her up in a bar. I suspected she knew all the dirty dealings her uncle was up to. I gave her whatever she wanted so she’d talk.”
Even sex?
“Oh, my…” Sasha sat stunned. Nick had tried to work Fiona over, and in the end she’d worked him?
“I should have seen the con coming. I won’t be played again.” Self-recrimination filled his bitter tone. “Look, I never said I was a Boy Scout. I only said I didn’t rape her.”
Did she dare believe that or did she simply want to because she couldn’t stomach the thought of giving her body to the kind of man who would hold a woman down and force his way inside her?
It didn’t matter. It was felicity for her that Nick had been released from prison early for good behavior. Without him, she and Harper might be dead soon.
She drew in a deep breath. “You want sex in exchange for your help and protection. I understand. What are your exact terms?”
“Four weeks. It will take me that long to figure out how to play this, whether I should fake your deaths, find or fabricate evidence to discredit Clifford, or just kill the son of a bitch.”
Kill? Her conscience balked. Logic reminded her quickly that the Orleans Parish DA had no such qualms about murder. He’d threatened to smother the life from her daughter. High-minded morals wouldn’t keep her and Harper alive.
“Sasha.” He snapped, bringing her attention back to him. “Hear me well. In those four weeks, the word ‘no’ never falls from your lips. Whatever I want, whatever I ask, you comply.”
“You mean if you want us to hide at three in the morning, we do it? That’s okay. We’ve been doing that for…it seems like forever.”
“I mean that, too. But I’m also telling you that I expect perfect willingness in bed.”
Shock knocked the air from her lungs. “You’d want someone giving you whatever just because you commanded it?”
“The commands are for your psyche, sweetheart. That way, you can tell yourself that you didn’t have a choice, that of course you didn’t like bedding down with a rapist. But honestly, I’m not going to do a damn thing to you until your body is good and wet and ready.”
She digested his words in a panic and shook her head. “That may never happen.”
His jaw tightened. “If I can’t get you hot, I don’t have any business between your legs. If you can’t let go because you’re afraid I’ll hurt you, I’ll persuade your body otherwise. That’s a promise.”
How was she supposed to respond to that? “Um, I’m sure you’re perfectly capable of…arousing a woman. I meant that I may disappoint you if you’re expecting some vixen. I—I’m not very sexual.”
Nick stilled, then a smile quirked up the side of his mouth. “You will be.”
Those words filled her with part dread—and if she was honest—part anticipation. Always, she’d been the good girl. She’d been a virgin on her wedding night, done her best to be a lady, even in the bedroom. Somehow, she didn’t think Nick would appreciate her circumspect nature or accept her lying back and sorting through her mental to-do list during sex.
Then again, what choice did she have? Faking a few moans would be much easier than actually orgasming with a virtual—and very dangerous—stranger.
Sasha thought back to his touch on her breast, the way he’d rocked his hips against her. She’d felt something, far more than she expected. Maybe it would be enough to see her through.
“I—I’ll do my best not to disappoint you,” she murmured finally.
A laugh played across Nick’s wide mouth. “Don’t worry. I plan to be thoroughly satisfied.”
She bit her lip, feeling a violent flush rush up her cheeks. Then silence ensued. What was left to say? For the next four weeks, she’d agreed to whore herself to a ruthless criminal fresh from prison. She had a full belly, her daughter was tucked safely into a bed, and a doctor would see Harper in the morning. Sasha really had no excuse to delay the inevitable.
She stood. Nick did the same. Their stares met. She ignored the jolt of awareness pinging through her body. Instead, she reached for her blouse, unbuttoned it, and slid it off her shoulders before dropping it on the floor.
Nick watched, nothing on his face giving away his thoughts. His gaze flicked over her shoulders, her breasts covered by a utilitarian white bra. Was he totally underwhelmed? Lowering her gaze, she saw he had a reaction to the fact she was nearly topless. He was undeniably hard, his bulge trying to burst through his jeans.
What was she supposed to do now? But she knew. She’d read books, watched a porn movie at a bachelorette party once, listened to Mike go on and on. Sasha knew what all men wanted.
Uncertainty quaking in her belly, she closed the distance between them and stopped in front of Nick. Then she dropped to her knees.