Nate

“Ohhh.” I started to fall back, my eyes closing.

“No. You keep them open.”

I did, but they were lidded, and I rested my head against the mirror. I was gone. Nate was moving in and out of me, and I gasped as he hit a deeper angle inside me. But he wasn’t done. His hand went up, and he pushed my sweatshirt over and off me. He tossed it on the counter, then he leaned down, moving my leotard aside.

His mouth found my nipple, and he closed around it, sucking on it hard.

“Nate!”

I went to slide my hands through his hair. I wanted to touch him. I needed to touch him.

“No.” He caught my wrist, his face lifting. He slid two fingers inside me as he pinned my other wrist to the mirror behind me. He let me go, only to grab both of my wrists together, and he breathed into my ear. “Don’t move.”

He held me in place.

I was starting to shake.

I needed to touch him. Now.

His fingers continued to move—thrusting, sliding, building—while his mouth moved back to my breast. Then my other. He was sucking, tasting.

I couldn’t touch him back.

I tried, and he growled. “No.”

That growl hit me between my legs, making me throb even more.

I was so wet, and I was starting to pulsate.

He brought both my arms down behind me. He adjusted me so he was half leaning over me, his hand still working me.

I felt a scream building.

From my stomach, my chest, my throat, my neck, and it burst out of me as he pushed me over the edge. My whole body tightened around him. The waves were pulsating in me.

I gasped. I had no bones in me anymore. He had melted all of them.

“Holy crap.”

He chuckled, his body holding me in place as he moved his mouth to my shoulder. “Now you can touch me.”

I looked at him, rueful. “Now I can?”

His smile was triumphant. “Fuck yeah, you can.”

“Put me in the water.”

“Oh shit!” He’d forgotten the water. He turned, seeing it was at the top, but the grate had kept it from spilling over. He turned it off, checking the temperature. “It’s too hot. It needs to cool off.”

Good.

I slid off the counter, taking both straps of my leotard, and I tugged it off.

He was watching, his eyes dark and primal.

I went over to him and slid down to my knees.

“What are you doing?”

I grabbed for his belt. “You think only one can play at that game?”

I undid his belt, reaching for his zipper.

He was looking down, his eyes almost molten. “Apparently not.”

I pulled his zipper down, undid his top button, and then I reached inside for him. “You’re definitely not the only one.” I wrapped my hand around his dick and paused with a small smile on my face. “Now remember, no touching.”

A low growl came from him, but then I moved forward and took him in my mouth.

He groaned. “Oh, dear God. I’m really loving this game of ours. We need to play it every day.”

Yes. Yes, we most definitely did.

40

Nate

The call came in this morning, after I was getting in from leaving the hotel. Quincey went back in for more rehearsals, and that call—it was burned in my memory. I’d been feeling good, happy with how things were with Q and I and then that fucking call came through.

The phone rang, and seeing it was a blocked number, I went to my phone.

Hitting accept, I said, “This is Monson.”

“You don’t know me, but I’m Nico Mancini.”

I froze, mid step. “Why the fuck are you calling me?”

He laughed. “Maybe you do know me.”

A growl ripped from me. “You got two seconds to explain this call, or I’m hanging up and contacting police I know.”

A second laugh. “You can’t touch me.”

“You misheard me. I didn’t say the police. I said police that I know.”

He was quiet now, because we both knew there was a difference. You call the police, they’re supposed to follow protocol. You call you police you know, that protocol was really fucking iffy and after Royas’ police visit he called in for me, I made sure to reach out and get to know a couple. Just because I’m not dumb.

“Talk.”

He bit out, “Fine. I’m calling you as a favor. Don’t forget that.”

“I doubt that.”

He sniffed. “Whatever, man. I figured you should know that my lawyer made me take a deal. My time’s been shortened, and I don’t want anything to come back and bite me in the ass. So because of that, I’m letting you in on the know about a call I got last week.”

“What call?”

“Royas.”

I froze for the second time, before another growl was working its way up from my stomach. It was burning a path on its way, and it hurt to fucking talk around that burn. “And?”