Everything for Us (The Bad Boys 3)

“Come on,” Nash says, sliding from the booth and offering me his hand. “I think that’s our cue to leave.” His smile is a wry twist of his lips that makes him even more handsome, even sexier than he usually is.

Personally, I didn’t think that was possible.

FIFTEEN

Nash

I don’t know what Marissa’s thinking and I’m not the kind of man who really cares or feels it’s overly important to find out. She’s quiet, but I figure if she’s uncomfortable or she’s got something to say, she’ll say it. She’s an adult. She doesn’t need me to pry it out of her. And if she does, tough shit.

Surely she knows where this is going. I think I’ve made it pretty plain that I have every intention of sleeping in her bed tonight. Not that either of us will be getting much sleep. The one thing I’m certain of is the only thing that matters. She’s game. I know she is. She wants me every bit as much as I want her. That’s the only thing that would stop me tonight—if she said no. I’m no rapist. But that won’t be a problem. She won’t say no. I’d bet my life on it.

I press a little harder on the accelerator. It’s been a few weeks since I’ve been with a woman, so my need is at fever pitch. Add to that Marissa’s response to me and I’m fighting not to find an empty parking lot. I’d pull her into my lap, rip her damp panties off her, and watch her ride me until she comes so hard she can’t breathe. I’m throbbing just thinking about it.

I resituate in my seat, trying to ease some of the pressure off my stiff dick. I can’t help but wonder what Marissa would do if I were to suggest that. Or, better yet, just do it. I know she’s never had a man like me, and I know I intrigue her. I’m sure there’s some part of her that knows about us, that remembers. Maybe that’s a factor. Either way, she’s willing to go with it, to go with me. Knowing that it goes against the grain for her, that she’s feeling wild and reckless, is a very potent cocktail. Makes me want to show her things she’s never seen. Or done. Or felt.

Yeah, Marissa’s unique. I’ve never met a woman with her particular . . . blend before—classy, reserved, but willing to let the tiger off the leash when I’m around—and I’m anxious to savor this time with her. I’m sure it won’t last long, which is perfect for me. We can just tear into each other and slake this hunger until it’s gone. We’ll both be satisfied and then it’ll be over. We’ll move on, go our separate ways. Clean and neat, cut and dried. No fuss, no muss. Just the way I like it.

I park the car at the curb and cut off the engine. I glance over at Marissa. She’s watching me with those sultry blue eyes. For a few seconds, I say nothing. Neither does she.

“I’ll be sleeping in your bed tonight,” I finally say, matter-of-fact.

“Yes,” she answers simply, confirming what I already knew.

Without another word, I slide out from behind the wheel and walk around the hood to her side. I help her out and put my hand at the small of her back to guide her up the sidewalk. My fingers itch to sink into that round, perfect ass of hers.

When we get to the door, she takes out her keys. I grab them from her fingers and unlock the door. She precedes me and stops just inside the entry. I shut and lock the door behind us, then turn to her. Without a word, I take her purse from her hand and lay it on the table by the door. It holds nothing now, not until she gets a new lamp.

Bending, I sweep her into my arms and carry her back to her bedroom. I set her on her feet at the end of the bed. She watches me as I lower myself onto the mattress and lie back, propping myself on my elbow.

In silence, I stare at her. She stands perfectly still as I let my eyes roam her from the top of her platinum head to the tips of the toes I can see poking out of her sexy, strappy shoes.

I’m gonna enjoy bringing the hellcat out in this one. She wants to be free of her past, free of who she was, but she has to be free of control first. So I’m going to take it from her.

SIXTEEN

Marissa

“I’m gonna give you something you’ve never had before. And you’re gonna give me what I want,” he states. It’s as though I have no choice in the matter.

A little thrill races through me. I’ve always been in control. And before, I would never have let a man talk to me that way. But with Nash it’s different. He’s different. He’s wild. He’s dangerous. And I’m ready for that. All that. I need it, crave it. I know it can never be anything more than this, but for one small space in time, he’s mine. And I’m his.

“Take your hair down,” he orders. Reaching for the pins that hold my hair in place over one shoulder, I remove them, without question doing as he asks. There’s something exciting and a little naughty about being subservient to him in this sexual way. Warmth gathers in the lowest part of my belly.

Part of my hair cascades down my back. I shake my head so the rest of it follows.

“Unzip your dress.”

I’ve never done a striptease before. I wouldn’t even know how to do a sexy one, so I don’t even try.

For a moment I feel lost. Maybe even a little shy, which is new for me.

I turn to the side, in profile to him, and I reach behind me to unzip my dress. The strap on my shoulder slips off and I hold the bodice in place, hugging it to me in modesty.

I glance over at Nash where he’s reclining on the bed, watching me. His eyes are throwing flames so hot, I feel my skin flush. And I like it.

“Let it fall.”

I let my shaking arms fall away from my body, and the dress slips to my h*ps and stops, revealing my entire torso, covered in nothing but a lacy strapless bra.

“Now the bra.”

I unhook my bra, taking a deep breath as the air hits the sensitive skin of my erect nipples. Nash’s eyes are on them. I can feel it as though it’s a physical touch.

“Now the rest.”

I run my palms down my hips, dragging the dress with them until it falls into a heap on the floor, pooling around my ankles. From beneath my lashes, I glance at Nash again. His eyes are on my butt.

“And the panties.”

My heart is slamming against my ribs as I hook my thumbs under the lace band of my panties and pull them down my legs. I don’t stop until they’re lying at my feet with my dress. I stay bent over, ready to work open the strap of my shoe, when Nash stops me.

“No. Leave them on.” I straighten, but remain turned, still in profile to Nash. “Now face me,” he murmurs, his voice low and deep. I take a breath and hold it as I pivot toward him, clad in nothing but a blush and my five-hundred-dollar stilettos.

His eyes burn fiery holes into mine before they drop and travel the length of my body. Slowly, they make their way back up again. I’ve never been more self-conscious of my thin frame or my small breasts. Nevertheless, I stand confidently and let him look his fill, even though I’m quaking inside.

When his gaze locks onto mine again, it’s even hotter than before.

“You’re perfect,” he says simply. Relief floods me, followed quickly by a rush of blood, pouring hotly into all the right places at once. “Pink ni**les that beg to be sucked,” he whispers, “a tight stomach that begs to be kissed, and long legs that beg to be spread.”

His words are delicious fingers that tickle my skin. Chills spread across my chest and down my abdomen. I feel my ni**les tingle as if he were actually doing what he said. Hot, sticky honey gushes to the apex of my thighs.

“I want to know what you like, how you like to be touched. And you’re going to show me. Bring your hands to your breasts. And touch them.”

I’m long past being embarrassed. It’s either go big or go home. And I’m already here. So I’m going big.

Raising my hands, I cup my breasts. His eyes follow my movements.

“Squeeze them,” he commands, so I do, massaging them in a slow, gentle knead. “Now the nipples,” he says. “Pinch them, make them hard.” Taking the pebbles between my thumb and forefinger, I roll them until they are like firm buttons. “That’s right, baby. Now put one hand between your legs.”

My face burns, but I’m only vaguely aware of it. I’m transfixed by Nash’s hot gaze. His eyes are black as sin and heavy lidded as he watches me. They follow one of my hands as it travels down my stomach to the achy spot between my thighs. When I move my palm over my damp flesh, his tongue sneaks out to wet his lips. My pulse speeds up in direct correlation. “Mmm, I love watching you make yourself feel good.”

It’s incredibly erotic, listening to his words, touching myself with him watching, knowing he’s enjoying it.

“Come lie down on the bed with me.”

I’m so ready to feel his hands on me, I don’t even ask any questions. I simply walk to the bed and sit beside him.

“Lie back,” he commands softly, his eyes never leaving mine. They’re dark and forbidden. Just like Nash himself. He’s inaccessible, unattainable. He’s everything that I shouldn’t want, yet I do. So I’ll take what he’s willing to give me.

I lie back and I wait while his eyes rove over me again. “Bend your knees and put your feet on the bed.”

I do.

My skin is damp and dewy with desire, with the need for him to take me places I’ve never been before. I would almost beg for him to touch me as he watches. But he doesn’t. Instead, he gets to his feet and moves to stand at the foot of the bed, his eyes meeting mine from over my knees.

“Spread your legs,” he whispers. I move my feet apart. “More.” I let my knees fall open a little more. “Mmm, perfect. Now show me where you want me to touch you.”

A small part of me feels flustered and self-conscious, but if it will bring him to me, bring him into me faster, I’m willing to give him what he wants.

I close my eyes and imagine that Nash is touching me. I slide one hand down my stomach and over the short hair between my legs. I pause there, a moment of insecurity overwhelming me. My eyes pop open and I see Nash watching my hand. In my stillness, his gaze rises to meet mine. It’s flashing and fiery and, without a word, it urges me on.

Slowly, I move one finger down and push it inside me. Nash’s eyes drop to my hand again. I pull my finger out and massage my clitoris with it. I jerk against the contact. I’m so ready for him, if he doesn’t hurry, I’ll finish before we even get started.

Desperation spurs me on. My fingers move in a mindless rhythm that pleases my body as my other hand finds my tight nipple again. The stimulation coupled with his eyes on me is sensory overload. I moan, unable to help myself. I see the muscle in his jaw tic as he grits his teeth. That’s when I realize that, in playing his little game, the victor has become the victim. He’s torturing himself.

I grow bolder. I let my legs fall farther apart and I rub myself, my body writhing under my touch and his watchful stare. I slip another finger in alongside the first and I move them together, in and out.

Nash’s lips part the tiniest bit and I hear his breath huffing between them. He’s just as excited as I am. That knowledge sends an electric pang of desire zipping through my body to land right beneath my moving fingers.

With lightning speed, Nash moves forward and grabs my wrist, his fingers winding around it like bands of steel, stopping my movement. His eyes never leave mine as he tugs my fingers out of my body and raises my hand to his mouth. He rubs my fingertips back and forth across his bottom lip, leaving a streak of moisture there. I catch my breath when his tongue sneaks out to taste it. “God, you taste good,” he groans before he sucks my fingers into his mouth.

I feel the slick heat of his tongue rasping along my sensitive fingertips as he licks them. I feel the sensation all the way down to my core. I gasp in delicious surprise when I feel his teeth nip my fingertip. The muscles between my legs clench in wanton anticipation.

“That just makes me want more,” he whispers. “And something tells me you want me to take more.” As he speaks, he moves to put one knee on the bed, insinuating his h*ps between my legs. Still holding my wrist, I feel his free hand work its way down the inside of my thigh to the unbearable heat at my center.

He pushes one long finger inside me, stealing my breath. He moves it farther into me as he thrusts his h*ps forward. “Unzip my pants,” he commands gruffly, finally releasing my wrist. He moves another finger inside me, crooking them both as he pulls them out. “Right now.” My comprehension is slow, his words barely penetrating the sensual web that his fingers are weaving over me.

Bending slightly at my waist, I reach for his zipper. The button is already undone and I can feel his hardness straining against the backs of my fingers as I pull the little gold tongue down.

The material parts to reveal his long, thick shaft. Without even thinking, I reach inside and wrap my fingers around it—soft skin over warm steel. I hear the hiss of air through his teeth just before he pushes a third finger inside me. Hard and deep, he penetrates me as I squeeze his length.

“I don’t have a condom, but I’m clean. I assume you’re . . . protected?”

I can only manage a nod as my thumb slides over the moistened tip of him and he arches into my hand.

He groans. “You’re gonna come for me, come like you’ve never come before. Then I’m gonna lick you until you come again. With my tongue inside you.”

Removing his fingers from me, he widens his stance as he slides both hands under my h*ps and lifts them off the bed. Guiding his thick head to my entrance, he looks up to meet my eyes just before he pulls me roughly toward him, my body sliding wetly over his. With my legs wrapped around his waist and my back arched sharply off the bed, he plunges into me over and over again until I feel the dam break.