Dirty Wicked (Wicked Lovers 11.5)

force me to spread my legs for you and give you everything between them. You can’t force me to share everything under my skin.”

With a jolt, Nick realized that’s exactly what he wanted—her thoughts, her consideration, her heart—and he was never going to get them.

“Until you can give me all that, don’t offer me your body again,” he said softly.

“I’ll never share those deep parts of myself with another man. I loved Mike.”

Nick had known that, but hearing her say the words still stabbed him deep. “Then we have nothing else to say. Go to bed.”

Another outburst sat on the tip of her tongue. It was all over her face, but she stifled it, jerking down to lay on her side, back to him, and yanked the covers to her neck.

“Fine.” She reached up and turned off the dingy lamp on her nightstand, killing the bit of glow in the room. “But how are we possibly going to convince anyone tomorrow that we’re in love?”

Because she couldn’t pretend that she didn’t loathe him. Message received loud and clear. He’d gotten what he wanted—for her to think he was a douchebag and to keep her distance—so he shouldn’t pout like a bitch about it now.

That didn’t mean he liked the corner he’d wedged himself into one bit.

Nick turned off his own lamp. “Sasha?”

“What?”

The parking lot lamp outside their window lit the room just well enough to see her outline in the bed beside him. He grabbed her wrist and tugged her onto her back. An instant later, he was on her, sinking his fingers into her hair, breathing her name against her lips as he captured her mouth with his own.

Chapter Four

Sasha was already suffering from a soft ache between her legs when Nick began asking pointed questions in sexual growls. When his long fingers scorched their way around her wrist, her blood had caught fire. Then suddenly, she’d found herself lying flat on her back, staring breathlessly into his midnight eyes as he silently dismantled her defenses.

You ever wanted a man so much you begged him to fuck you until your throat felt raw?

Was he saying he could do that to her?

She was still wondering the answer to that question when he dragged her beneath him. With a fist in her hair, he tilted her head until his mouth loomed right above her own. She knew what he intended. Nick Navarro was going to kiss her.

She gasped, part surprise, part protest. He didn’t worry, pause, or care why she squeaked out the sound. He ignored everything but her mouth as his lips seized hers unerringly in the dark. No fumbling. No hesitation. No lack of confidence. And absolutely no lack of skill. Just the thorough caress of his shockingly soft lips, proving without any doubt that he was determined to take and taste her, to lay claim to her until she surrendered every bit of herself to him and his will.

Oh, my goodness gracious…

He didn’t bother to hold in his groan as he shifted closer and nudged her lips apart. It wasn’t a polite request that she let him in but a demand, pure and simple. His kiss lit a passion she’d not only thought dead, but roared into a sizzling torch she’d never even known existed.

He delved in with his tongue, taking command. Owning her. Slowly, shyly, she curled her fingers around his steely shoulders and parted her mouth to invite him deeper.

You ever come so hard you weren’t sure you had any bones left in your thoroughly melted body?

No. Not once. But when he asked the question that way, she’d sure like to feel it.

His fingers tightened in her hair. His lips crushed hers. He possessed her. She couldn’t move a muscle beneath Nick without him sensing her every nuance and positioning her so he could open her wider, take more, coax her completely.

Her heartbeat filled her head. Even lying flat, a dizzy thrill she’d never experienced utterly overwhelmed her. She couldn’t speak a word, catch a single breath, process a whole thought. God, it was wonderful.

His musky scent filled her nose, expanded into her head, crowded out reason. And she didn’t care. Pleasure had her floating yet anchored to him. His kiss melted her like chocolate, addicted her like drugs.

Sasha lifted to him, closer, now whimpering not in surprise but entreaty as her blood sizzled under her skin and scorched through her veins.

When he eased back, she panicked, clawed at his shoulders. That couldn’t be it. She wasn’t ready to give up these sensations, couldn’t let him go. Desperate, she felt her way up the strong column of his neck, squeezing, panting, aching.

“Nick…” She didn’t even know what she was asking for. Harder. Sweeter. Faster. Deeper. Softer. Wilder. More of him and everything his dirty, rough, pointed questions had insinuated he could give her.

He didn’t answer, just slanted her another dominant stare that vowed untold pleasure and ruined her for abstinence. His breath heaved in and out of his wide chest as he yanked loose the next three buttons of her eyelet lace nightie.

“Baby, one taste…I knew it would never be enough. Give me more. I want those pretty nipples.”

She’d barely comprehended Nick’s words when his fingers slid under the fabric—right toward her peaked tip. Everything in her body tensed in expectation. He was going to touch the bare flesh only Mike ever had. He was going to make her mindless with need.

He cupped a blistering palm around her breast, his thumb razing a fiery path across her nipple. She dragged in a stuttered, shocked breath, her stare fixed on him. His touch felt suffused with a magic she didn’t understand. If it was an illusion, she didn’t want to know the trick, just experience his sleight-of-hand over and over.

“Fuck,” he muttered against her lips, then dipped in for another taste as if he couldn’t stay away. “Every time I look at you, I want to touch you. Now that I have my hands on you, I don’t know how I’ll stop.”

Right now, she didn’t care if he ever did.

Sasha arched into his hand. He squeezed her nipple between his thumb and forefinger. A jolt of sensation zipped between her legs. She pressed her thighs together, aching for something she suspected only Nick could give her.

He undid another button at the front of her gown and dragged it off one shoulder, exposing her left breast. He folded the oversized garment down to expose the other. Her peaks beaded up even more, and she couldn’t strictly blame the chill.

Could he see? Did he know how much her body yearned for him right now?

With a guttural moan, he cradled her right breast in his hand and dipped his head. He wasn’t going to merely kiss her; he intended to put her nipple in his mouth.

Her heart pounded against her ribs as his lips closed around her engorged nub. Another shock of pleasure zapped her. She rose to him, wrapping her seeking hands around his head and dragging him closer. She didn’t dare speak. Heck, she barely dared to breathe.

Then his tongue… Oh, my. Yes, he flicked her nipple with that wickedly soft blade. Tingles scattered, swirled, gathered, and pooled right between her legs, adding to the gnawing ache throbbing there in a way Sasha had never really experienced.

She and Mike had loved each other, and their sex had reflected their sweet, comforting relationship. The way Nick Navarro touched her was raw, dirty, urgent…compelling.

Restlessly, his tongue wandered over her flesh again, licking his way up the valley between her breasts, nipping at her neck before he stole his way into her mouth, then drifted back down to lave her left nipple and drown her in more mind-numbing bliss.

Sasha couldn’t be still. Her legs moved restlessly beneath the covers, her hips lifting involuntarily, silently pleading for something she was afraid to name. Her fingertips glided over his massive shoulders, the power evident under his suede-soft skin potent. She followed her touch with soft kisses, spreading them across his hard shoulder and bulging biceps. He lifted his head and devoured her mouth again like he might starve to death if she didn’t feed him her passion.

Then his hand skated between her cleavage, scored down her abdomen…then disappea

red under the elastic of her panties.

The instant his fingers pried her folds apart and made contact with the most sensitive button on her body, she cried out, gripped him tight, and nearly fell apart.

“Jesus, you’re wet.” He panted every word, sending his harsh breath skittering over her skin.

She was. She could feel her moisture coating his exploring fingers. He glided his way down soft, sensitive skin before sinking a pair of fingers deep inside her and settling his thumb over her nubbin with soft, unrelenting strokes.

Sasha dug her nails into his arm. “Oh!”

“That’s your clit, baby. I want to get so up-close and personal with it. Touch it.” He circled the bundle of nerve endings with teasing slips of his fingers that had her spreading her legs, writhing for more, and feeling the blood flush her body with more desire. “Taste it. Make you plead. Make you scream. Make you come.”

“Please.” The word slipped from her lips.

Not once during the three years of her marriage to Mike had she ever begged him to give her pleasure. Barely twenty-four hours with Nick and she suddenly felt sure she would say or do most anything to purge the need brewing inside her, roiling just under his deft touch. She couldn’t even pause to be shocked by her own response, by the fact that he seemed so capable of giving her the orgasm that had frequently eluded her in the past.

“I want to make you feel so good, baby. I took one look at you and I burned. I fucking fantasized about touching all that pristine skin, kissing you until you couldn’t think, and feeling you come all over me.”

“Nick…”

“Don’t say my name now. Scream it when I send you over. That feel good? Yeah. You’re close. I can tell.”

He dragged his fingertips slowly over the pearl she could feel growing harder with every moment. Sensations built, gathering, heavy, pressing onto her resistance until it began crumbling. The ache in her body converged, morphing tingles and feel-good sensations into a craving that had her grabbing the sheets in her fists, panting wildly, and burning in need as she tossed her head back.

“Nick!” she shouted as her entire body pulsed and jerked. Liquid ecstasy jetted through her veins in surges that never seemed to end. She climbed even higher with his next stroke. Higher again with the one following. He always had his fingers exactly where she needed them, always petting her with the perfect pressure. God, the man already knew her body far better than she did. She hadn’t even finished this mammoth orgasm and already she feared she’d sell her soul for more.

When the climax finally tapered off, her throat actually hurt from crying out his name. Languid euphoria rolled heavy satisfaction through her veins. Perspiration dampened her hairline. Her body hummed. Heck, she wouldn’t be surprised if she was glowing.

Sasha smiled at him. “Nick…”

“Like that, huh?”

Somehow, she still blushed. “Couldn’t you tell?”

“Yeah.” He sat up, elbows braced on his knees, gripping his head in his hands, then sent her a pointed glance. “That was exactly what I wanted. Glad making you respond was easy. That’s how we convince people we’re in love.”

He’d given her ecstasy to…what? Prove she wasn’t immune to him? That he had power over her? Or to boost his ego? Manipulate her? He stared through her and shrugged, like nothing they’d done tonight had been out of the ordinary or meant a thing to him.

Sasha felt as if he’d slapped her.

“You bastard.” She rolled away, putting her back to him. Shame stung as she buttoned her nightgown. Her fingers shook in anger.

“Bastard? I know it didn’t take you this long to figure that out.”

No. She had always suspected he was dangerous to a woman’s sanity. Mike had warned her; Sasha wished she’d listened. Instead, she’d let her desperation to keep Harper alive mix dangerously with her attraction to Nick. Hope, loneliness, and need had run away with her.

Never again.

Feeling both violated and angry with herself for wanting him so badly, she curled into a self-protective ball. “Not at all.”

“Good. You knew I was a bastard when you knocked on my door. I’m just living up to your expectation. After an orgasm like that, you ought to sleep good. ’Night.”

* * * *

After six restless hours of dick-hardened hell, Nick rose with a groan. Sure, touching Sasha last night had been a fantasy come true, but everything afterward had been an utter clusterfuck. He had to stop wanting her so badly. If he couldn’t, he’d have to continue behaving like an ass. Earning her contempt sucked. Worse, her nearness just kept wearing his resistance down. He was caught in an endless loop of shit, and his only way out was to find Mike’s evidence or fuck her blind.

After Sasha’s angry snit last night, he could guess which choice she would vote for.

It was a little after eight when he showered and self-pleasured again. Lamenting the frequent workout his hand was getting, he shoved on his underwear and tiptoed out of the bathroom to see if this rattrap had anything that made coffee.

Sasha stood beside the bed, looking both embarrassed and pissed as hell. He hated the former, but the latter would keep her the fuck away. Right now, he needed that because the way he’d pounced on her last night proved he couldn’t rely on his own self-control.

“Need help with the hair dye?”

She hesitated, glaring at him for such a long time, he wondered if she was even speaking to him. “What do you know about coloring someone’s hair?”

“Nothing. But I can read a box.”

She pressed that rosy bow of a mouth into a straight line. “Fine. I’ll talk you through the rest. Just don’t touch me anywhere else.”

Oh, feisty. She looked beautiful with flushed cheeks and sparks in her hazel eyes. Nick kept that to himself.

“Let’s get to it. I want to blow this place quickly so we can grab some breakfast and be at the park by ten.”

Sasha pried open the box, then removed two bottles and a tube. The last item she took to the shower. Then she unfolded the instructions, peeled off a pair of flimsy, clear gloves, and shoved them into his chest. “Put these on.”

He barely had time to stare at the small plastic trappings and wonder how he was going to get his hands inside them when she brushed past him and started digging through her bag. A moment later, she came back with some claw-like clips. With the new brush, she sectioned off her hair into four quadrants, secured three of them in knots on her head, then mixed the two bottles together.

“I’m going to start with my hairline and the parts I just made. Watch. I’ll squeeze the bottle gently. After that, you have to do the same all over to cover my roots and scalp. Once we’ve used all this up, I’ll mix the other box so we can coat my hair all the way to my ends.”

Nick really didn’t understand much of what she said, but he shrugged as he wedged his hands into the gloves. He’d figure it out as he went along. “Sure.”

Wordlessly, she pulled the other pair from the matching box and began applying the dark mixture at her widow’s peak, working her way around her head and smoothing the dye back into her hair. When she reached her nape, she handed him the bottle with a sigh. “You’ll have to get the back.”

Wouldn’t all the inmates back at the big house get a good laugh out of him playing hairdresser? Not that he gave a shit. He hadn’t been there to make lifelong friends. He could do without a sliver of his man card for the morning if it avenged Mike and helped Sasha stay alive.

He did exactly as she asked, grabbing a hand towel when some of the goop ran down her neck. “Got it.”

“Now you have to cover the majority of the roots and scalp.” She demonstrated with the unbound section of her hair, taking small rows, applying a line of dye, working it in, then moving onto the next.

“That’s it?”

She nodded. “It’s easy. I used to do this for my mother. Even a kid can manage it.”