Chapter 29
29
C ALLAN
Her hair bounces down her back before we reach the table.
I pull the chair for her, and she slides into her seat with a smile on her face.
My eyes move quickly over her before lingering on the swell of her chest.
I never thought someone like her would sit next to me.She looks stunning.
On the other hand, love has this kind of effect on a woman, and I’ve never seen a woman more in love with me.
The problem is…She knows very little about me.
Yes, she does know more tonight than she knew yesterday.
But she doesn’t know the real me. She doesn’t know what’s inside me and what I need to do to stay alive.
She has no idea that I put hits on people, and sometimes, I take them out myself.
She also doesn’t know that I’ve seen terrible things, and sometimes I do those things myself.
She knows I’m not one of the good guys, yet for her, I’m the best.
I love how she orbits around me, needs me, and fears that something might happen to me, her, or both of us.
Her instinct is right.
Everything she fears can happen to us.
And when I said I wouldn’t want to give her a taste of my real life, those were my fears talking.
Watching her lower her eyes, unfold her napkin, and slide it across her lap, her cheeks dusted with the faintest pink, I can’t help but imagine her living with me for the rest of my life.
Being exposed to the worst danger and surrounded by my people all the time so she can be protected even when I’m not there.
It’s a tough life, and it’s not for everyone.
And then there are the legal problems, the enemies, and the long arm of the law. The more she’d witness, the more she’d be harassed.
Again, this is not for everyone.
Things are great now as we sit at the table, talk about little nothings, enjoy our food, and fuck later in the other room.
But real life is different.
Yet, as I pour her a drink, and she talks about how she hasn’t planned to celebrate New Year’s Eve, let alone with me, I can’t stop imagining her at my arm, living better times with me.
Having my babies and building a family with me.
Maybe in a less stressful setting.
Sadly, I’ve been born into this life and can’t just simply walk away.
You have to live it, and sometimes, the ones you love pay the harshest price for being in your life.
My mother had no say in my father’s business, yet she was there on that fatal day.
Till death do us part.
Those words couldn’t ring truer that day.
Ewan and Duncan lost more than their parents that day, and their lives have never been the same.
Not that mine and my younger brother have.
At any rate, I shouldn’t get lost in a thicket of thoughts that do us no good.
We finish the main course and indulge in our desserts.
“So…” I say. “Where do you see me living?”
A smile tilts her lips.
“Hmm…” she murmurs before sighing, making me dip my stare to her chest.
I see my lips trailing down and biting the swell of her boobs before sucking on her nipples.
“Honestly…” she says, setting her dessert spoon down and leaning back, tossing a glance at me.
She catches me staring like I’ve never seen breasts in my life.
I lift my gaze, without flinching, and for a moment there, we’re not thinking about our conversation, the impression I have made on her, or what tomorrow might bring.
For a second there, all I see is her need to writhe under my body, and all I feel is my cock hardening.
Awaiting her response, I secretly slide a hand under the table and adjust myself.
Thankfully, she doesn’t notice me doing that.
“It’s hard to tell where I see you living. I still don’t know a lot about you,” she says, a cloud darkening her eyes, and my awareness sharpens.
I can still lose this woman over some faulty step.
We might not have a future together, but that doesn’t mean that we have to knowingly walk into a disaster.
“What would you like to know?” I ask, feeling generous tonight.
I could spill out a thing or two about my real life.
Nothing out of the ordinary.
“Where do you usually live?” she asks.
The room is silent for a few good moments.
“I live here a few days a week. Once in a while I spend time in Long Island.”
“So you’re living here on a regular basis?” she asks incredulously.
I nod.
“Yes, I do. I sleep here when I work.”
Her eyebrows shoot up.
“You work?” she murmurs.
I laugh.
“Of course I do. What do you think I’m doing for money?”
Her cheeks go aflame.
“What kind of work do you do?”
“I own a business. More than one, actually.”
She tilts her head to the side.
“You don’t believe me?” I say, amused.
“No, no. Of course I do,” she says, not believing me.
She shifts her focus to her dessert.
“What kind of companies do you own?” she murmurs before putting more food in her mouth.
“A construction company. A transportation company. And a few restaurants and hotels.”
She swallows hard and looks at me like she’s stubbed her toe.
Impressed and overwhelmed at the same time––not exactly what I’ve aimed for.
“That explains this,” she says, still having food in her mouth while gesturing with her dessert spoon to the walls.
“Pretty much,” I say dryly, ready to put an end to this particular conversation.
“What about…?” she goes on, and I see the question in her eyes.
What about the man I shot tonight?
“I think we only have a few moments left before midnight,” I say, checking the time on my watch and trying to derail our conversation and her train of thought.
“Champagne?” I say, rising out of my chair and using this opportunity to turn my back to her so she doesn’t see my face.
“Yes, sure.”
Sadness glimmers in her voice.
It’s only natural. She’s a smart woman.
She’s caught the nuance, but we still have to play this game, or we’ll have nothing in the end.
I pour two glasses of Champagne and turn to her.
“The fireworks look better from the bedroom. Let’s go there.”
Smiling, she takes the flute dripping with condensation before we make a beeline for the bedroom.
MACKENZIE
My focus is split.
A part of me is in awe with the fireworks, while a part of me is smitten with the man standing next to me. And it’s partly because he is off limits.
Despite trying to behave like all options are on the table, we know they’re not.
Not to mention the big trouble I am in.
I wouldn’t have had people chase me down the street if it wasn’t for him.And I wouldn’t be here with him if it wasn’t for him.
He can be the greatest thing to me, but he can also ruin me.
“Happy New Year, Mackenzie,” he says, clinking his glass to mine and giving me a soft smile as we watch the fireworks from behind the patio doors.
“Happy New Year,” I say, my voice fading, my smile failing to show up.
“Is something wrong?” he asks before sipping his Champagne.
“No. Nothing’s wrong.”
A lot is wrong, but this is neither the time nor the place to overanalyze things to death.
I want this man.
I want him tonight more than ever.
I wouldn’t have been at the park had I not thought about our first moments together in his car.
I drink Champagne and eventually smile before he takes my almost empty glass and sets it on the window sill next to his own.
His focus comes swiftly back to me.
“We don’t have much time,” he says, smiling apologetically, his need to have me as intense as mine.
Without wasting another moment––as if this has been the sole purpose of this meeting––he slides his hands down my neck and slinks his fingers inside my jacket.
Goosebumps spread across my skin.
I wish I could say something in response, but his lips come to mine, rushed and hungry, not allowing me to form words.
Heat rams through my blood when his hand travels to the front of my jacket, undoes the only button, and straightly makes a go for my chest.
He must’ve wanted to do this the entire evening as he scoops my breasts out of my bra and kneads them while kissing me with even more passion.
A tornado barrels through me, fueling my need for him. I move my hands to my sides while he peels my jacket off.
Next, he undoes my waistband button before inviting me to step out of my pants.
Our lips briefly tear away from each other while my pants slide down, and I step out of them.
We’re still in front of the patio doors, barely lit by the lighting behind us, when he slides his fingers inside the straps of my panties and pulls them down.
The second I straighten is the second I stand in front of him naked with only my heels on.
He takes my hand, steps back, and studies my body with a wolfish smile as if I’m the highlight of his evening.
The best dish on the menu.
When our eyes meet again, my insides flutter from the intensity of his stare.
He comes to me with a blazing need to crush me against his chest, his arms winding around me, his hands threading through my hair. His mouth claims mine as I get wet between my thighs, and my nipples poke at the smooth fabric of his suit jacket.
He runs his hand down my back before grabbing my butt cheeks and sinking his teeth into my lip with fervor.
A crying sound crawls up my chest, and he laughs against my lips.
“You’ve seen nothing yet,” he says, shedding his jacket and tossing it onto the only chair in the room before clutching my hand and walking me to the bed.
His free hand already undoes his buckle and unzips his fly.
“On all fours, baby. And leave your heels on.”
Fingers of heat grab at my face while my gaze instinctively moves to the view outside.
Although I doubt anyone’s watching with a long-range lens, I can’t say I’m not a little shy about the wall of windows giving a perfect view of us.
“Don’t worry about the windows. No one’s looking at us,” he says, opening his shirt and peeling it off.
He tilts his chin to the bed while reaching inside his pants and running his hand down my back, nudging me to do what I’ve been told.
“This is better than getting fucked against the wall,” he says before I turn around and slide onto the bed.
“You’re perfect,” he says in a hoarse voice while I peek at him over my shoulder.
His attention is on his hard length as he presses it against my center. His other hand moves to my slit before parting my folds and circling my clit.He slides himself in just as I experience the first soft pulsations.
With me filled up, he slowly circles my clit until my hips begin to slowly rock, meeting his.
“That will do,” he says, a smile in his voice as he rolls his hips, no longer stroking my clit.
Hard, deep moves make my body stiff, the tension only soaring. Holding me against him, he rams into me, feeding his need to feel me wet around his hard flesh.
Forget about the skyscrapers with twinkling eyes rising to the sky not far from us. My thoughts are laser-focused on his erection sliding smoothly into my body.
And nothing else matters.
Not my regular life and not his regular life.
Not celebrating the New Year’s Eve.
Not what’s happened this evening.
Standing next to the bed and thrusting into me, he doesn’t spare my frame. He reaches between my legs and strokes my clit again while pumping into me.
It takes me very little to make it to the highest point as I’ve been on the last leg of my journey for the past few moments, and he fucks me fast, dragging me straight to a satisfying orgasm.
Despite my rocking hips, crying moans, mumbling of his name, and raggedy, clipped breaths, he restrains himself, and while I’m still experiencing bliss, he nudges me around, and my back hits the pillows.
One by one, my heels meet the floor before he loses the rest of his clothes and his shoes, loops his arms around my thighs, and brings his lips against my opening.
“Oh…”
My sensitive flesh throbs while he moves his tongue around my center, my clit, and then my entrance again.
His strokes are sensual and teasing, making me push my hands to his head and weave my fingers through his hair while rocking my hips against his face.
The pleasure is immense, immoral, and irresistible, and I can’t think of anything better.
Eyes closed, I bite my lip and smile.
He peels his mouth away from between my thighs just as I teeter on the edge, and I snap my eyes open and look at him as he walks around and stops next to my head so I can take him into my mouth.
On any other day, I would’ve been paralyzed with fear.
What if I fail?
What If I’m not doing right?
What if he quickly learns I’m not experienced?
None of that turns out to be an issue. Guided by my own primal needs, I do everything right.
Fist locked around his cock, mouth wrapped around the chiseled tip, tongue moving like a serpent.
Normally, I’d laugh at my crazy thoughts. But this is not a laughing matter.
It’s like I’m drunk, obliterated, the need to please him bigger than anything else.
Craning my neck, I bob my head until he feels like iron in my mouth.
He thrusts a few times between my lips before pulling out and swiftly hovering over me.
We’re close to the finish line when I roll over, asking for what I love the most.
He tops me, pushes his hard length into me, and hammers me until all I see is light, and all I feel is the storm and warmth of his release.