Chapter 5

Cain

“It’s a hotel room.” Margot stood in the center of it, her arms folded across those luscious breasts, still trapped beneath her tight work shirt. She scanned the suite, the king-sized bed, the open-plan living area adjoined to it, with the glass coffee table and those puffy leather chairs my father had been obsessed with.

“Told you,” I replied. “This is somewhere you’ve never been. My bedroom.”

She pursed her lips, and fuck, it was so adorable I wanted to wrap her into a ball, stick her in my pocket, and carry her around in there. Adorable? Fuck off. Sexy. Edible. Delectable. You’ll take her and break her like you do everything else.

But I couldn’t do that to Margot.

“Have a seat,” I said, and gestured to one of those fruity chairs. Fuck, I hated the style of this place. I’d chosen it for the panorama of Lakeview it provided. The massive windows looked out on the city.

It reminded me of what was out there. That there might be a chance I’d find something that stopped the constant need to do something crazier, bigger, better.

Margot walked to one of the armchairs and lowered herself into it like it’d bite her ass off. “We’re here to talk.”

“And eat,” I said. “Since you missed out on your mother’s lasagna. I’ll call room service.”

“That won’t be necessary,” Margot replied, and touched two fingers to the piercing in her ear. “The last thing I want is people seeing me with you.”

“Nobody cares who we are.”

“That will change,” Margot said. “When the TV show starts.”

And there was our segue. She was set on this outcome, and I’d been set on the opposite, but second thoughts were a bitch. “I’m not interested in having my life scrutinized by a bunch of assholes with remote controls.”

“But you’re perfectly OK with walking into a room of people totally naked, cock out?” Margot blushed at the word “cock,” and I immediately pictured putting mine in her mouth.

Fuck it, how many times had I pictured that over the years? The first time I’d jacked off it’d been to thoughts of her sucking my dick. And here she was, in my room, her body hot and ready, her mind sharp.

That was what I’d enjoyed about Margot from the start. Her intelligence. She was sharp as a tack and, frankly, there was nothing sexier. Apart from her peach-shaped ass, of course.

Did she have a nipple piercing?

“Uh, hello?” Margot rapped her knuckles on the glass table. “You’ve been staring at me like you’re going to murder me for the past two minutes.”

“That’s not what I was thinking about,” I replied.

The blush deepened.

“Can I ask you a question?” Margot’s tone was low.

“You just did.”

She clicked her tongue. “Why?”

“Why what?” I studied her, constantly, traced the line of her jaw, down her throat, admired her breasts, that tiny waist, down to her thighs, squished against the sides of that armchair.

“Why are you back? Why did you come back to the shop?”

“What does it matter?” I asked. “I’m back. I own half of it. That’s what’s up.” She didn’t need to know all the rest. The chest hole and the charity and Mom… Fuck, nobody needed that information.

“But Cain, you never wanted the shop. You never seemed to care. I mean, you worked there, and you were good at the artistry of it, but the actual functioning of the business was not your thing. If you really wanted to work at Get Ink’d, you could have. Why own it?”

“I don’t do well with authority. I don’t take orders,” I said. “And this is wildly off-topic. Focus, Margot.”

“Don’t you tell me to focus.” Margot rose. “I’m the one who’s been focused on making this business work for the past three months. The only thing you’re focused on is the next rush. Or the next fuck.”

Anger hurdled through me, and I stormed across the room, knocked a chair out my path, and took hold of her arms. “What do you know about it?” I asked. “Nothing. You know nothing about what I am or what I want.”

“Then tell me,” she grated out.

“I need to maintain a good image,” I replied. “At least for a couple months until things have calmed down.”

“You? A good image? You can’t go a minute without doing something crazy. You’d probably base jump off this building given the chance.”

“I already have.” I grinned.

“You’re incorrigible. Don’t you think about what that might do to people who care about you? What if you died or broke your back or—”

I placed my finger against her lips. Had to be my hands-down favorite thing to do with her. To silence her for a few minutes and watch waves of desire shudder outward from the point of contact. “Nobody cares about me,” I said. Not since my mother had passed when I was a kid.

“That’s not true,” she whispered.

I let go of her and turned, walked over to the mini-bar in the corner, dragged open the door, and reached for a beer. “We can do the TV Show,” I said. And it was already too much of a concession. She’d think it was a little victory in her Margot world. The one where everything fit into safe little boxes.

“What?” The joy in that question almost made the concession worth it. “Are you serious? Cain, you’re serious?”

“You can’t make the decision without me, so I’m giving this one to you,” I said. “We can do the show.”

“Why?”

I straightened and cracked the beer, then offered it to her. She shook her head, so I slurped some instead, enjoyed the fizz down the back of my throat. “Nobody ever tell you not to look a gift horse in the mouth?”

“Cain.”

“Because if I do this, and do it well, everyone will see what a good boy I am at heart,” I said, and fluttered my eyelashes at her theatrically. I downed the rest of the beer, then crushed the can in my fist, aimed at the trashcan next to the fridge, and tossed it in with a clang.

“So, that’s what’s in it for you.”

“If you think there are any selfless acts left, you’re wrong.” I grinned at her. It was a risk—if I fucked it up, everyone would see. But if I played nice, I’d score major brownie points with Begay.

“When it comes to you, I don’t doubt it,” Margot replied.

“You happy now, Margot?” I asked. I walked across the space that separated us, then closed in because feeling her body heat was an addiction. “You’ve got what you want. You get to have your TV show. Maybe you’ll see that executive again. He’s your type, isn’t he? That tie-wearing motherfucker with the suits and the cute hairstyle. Pretty boy.”

She raised her chin. “Maybe he is.” But a tiny laugh escaped her lips. “No, he’s not. No one is.”

“Except for me.” It wasn’t a question. It was a simple fact.

We’d had nothing but a friendship growing up, and even that had been on the rocks, but only because all the tension between us that was definitely not “friendly” had boiled over into anger.

We couldn’t fuck so we fought. Simple.

And why couldn’t we fuck? Because doing that would risk something much worse.

“No.” Margot shook her head, and that bun loosened a little, a few strands of hair fell free.

“No, what?” I asked.

“No one’s my type. My type is the tattoo parlor. That’s it.”

“Interesting fetish.”

“It’s not—”

I reached up and loosened her hair. It fell around her heart-shaped face, framing it for me.

“I don’t do love. That’s what I’m saying,” she whispered, eyes flicking back and forth in her skull.

“Who said anything about love?” I asked, and ran my fingers over her collarbone, up her throat. I cupped her cheek.

She squeezed her eyes shut and tensed up. “Cain,” she said. “Cain, I’m not interested in anything with anyone. I have responsibilities.”

“You have a life too.” I brought my nose to her cheek and ran it back and forth over that soft-as-silk skin. Pale, smelling lightly of coconut. A little island of paradise. What would it be like to have her at last?

She’d resisted my charms for long enough. Growing up, she’d wanted me so bad she’d avoided me. She’d ignored me every chance she’d gotten until I’d started working at the shop, and all the heat in her eyes had tortured me day after day.

Margot let out a minuscule whimper and leaned in to my touch.

“Careful,” I growled. “You don’t know what you’re going to get, sweetheart. I’ll change your fucking life forever.”

She stepped back immediately, and I let my hand fall. “I’m not your sweetheart, Cain. I’m your business partner.”

My gaze dropped to her shirt, to the nipples pricking at the fabric, begging for release. Begging for my lips. “I know,” I said.

She crossed her arms. “I’m leaving.”

“You’d better,” I replied, and flicked my fingers toward the exit.

“Excuse me?” Tell Margot what to do, and she did the opposite. We were alike in that sense, at least.

I gestured to my crotch, to the length of pipe pressing against the jeans, demanding attention, and she dropped her gaze to it, gasped, and went that lovely rosy pink—as pink as her pussy lips would be.

“I need some alone time,” I said and flashed a grin at her.

She didn’t move a muscle. Margot bit her lip and stared at me.

“Off you go,” I said and gestured to the door.

She took a faltering step in my direction instead, then put her hands out as if she’d met a physical barrier. Her focus shifted up and down, from my dick to my lips and back again.

I let out a low laugh. If she thought this was how we’d do it for the first time, she was sorely mistaken.

Here? In a hotel room? After talking business?

“Margot, what are you still doing here?” I unbuttoned the top button of my jeans. Why not fuck with her mind a little, while we were at it? “I told you to leave. When I speak, you listen.”

She grunted. A flash of defiance, but the color stayed in her cheeks.

“What do you want?” I asked, though I knew exactly what she wanted. Of course, I did. I had since the day she’d first seen me pick up the tattoo gun. “Me.”

She flinched.

“That’s what you want. Me. Isn’t it, Margot?” I didn’t unzip further, just tilted my head to one side. Fuck, it was cruel to tease, but after the way she’d teased me for fucking years, by her mere existence, goddamn, it was fun. “You want to watch me come? Is that it? You know I’ll be thinking of you while I do it. Watching you, imagining how you taste, how your tight cunt would feel wrapped around me. Pulsing as you climax. Squeezing me for every last drop. Hungry for me. Desperate.”

Margot let out a tiny squeak. How long had it been for her?

I’d heard through the grapevine she’d had some low-life boyfriend a year back, but not any of the details. Doubtlessly, he hadn’t given her what she deserved in any sense. Certainly, not one night that would change her fucking perspective on life as she knew it.

“You want a choice, gorgeous? Fine,” I said. “Stay or go.” It was yet another impulsive decision on my part, but this… I wouldn’t have done something like this with anyone else. I wouldn’t have teased like this. Usually, I took and gave what was needed. “Do you want to see my thick cock? I’m hard for you, Margot. Just for you.”

“Oh god,” she groaned, and shivered, focus glued to the front of my jeans.

She needed to see it. She needed it like she’d never needed anything else.

“All you’ve got to do is say the word. Tell me you want me. Tell me exactly how you want it, and I’ll give it you.”

Margot bit down so hard on that luscious bottom lip, it paled beneath the pressure. She held back hard. If she thought it would change everything, she was absolutely right.

I buttoned up my jeans.

“What are you doing?” Margot asked, her voice cracking.

“Time’s up,” I said and walked back to the fridge, still sporting the biggest boner I’d had in my entire life. “You took too long to decide. Next time you want something, step out of your comfort zone. You’ve got to seize your fucking opportunities, Margot. Excuse the pun, ha.” I braced a palm on top of the minibar and eyed her.

The redness that spread up her throat had nothing to do with nerves now. “Good night, Cain,” she said, through gritted teeth, then marched past me and toward the door.

“So civilized,” I called out, without watching her leave. Fuck, that peach-shaped ass was too much—I’d explode if I caught a glimpse now. “I’ll be thinking of you, Margot.”

The door clicked closed behind her.

I gripped my cock through my jeans and growled low.

This woman would be the death of me. Holding back would be the death of me.

But Margot deserved more than a quick fuck in a hotel room.

She’d always had, and it’d always been more than I could give her, simply because I had nothing left inside to give.