28
Broadway
T he music seeps from the hidden speakers, my words hanging between us. I spent a few hours taking my frustration out on Fredrick earlier but he didn’t get my full attention as I was distracted by analyzing Violet’s kiss and run.
There’s no way in heaven or hell I’ll let this girl slide through my fingers. I knew the moment I saw her that she’d turn my world upside down. I just didn’t know it would be for the better until I hauled her into my arms.
Now she’s let me close, now she’s kissed me... she’s mine. And I’m hers. When she kissed me back, she confirmed what I hoped: that she feels as strongly about me as I do about her. She doesn’t realize it yet, but it’s just a matter of time.
All I need is a solid plan.
I invented plausible answers to all the questions plaguing my mind while Fredrick bled and apologized. At least I hope he apologized; I wasn’t really listening. I needed to know Violet’s side before finalizing that solid plan.
I’ll make her fall in love with me even if it kills me.
She sits beside me, her elbow on the backrest of the couch, our bodies angled toward each other, the scent of her shampoo wafting the air. The pinkness of her cheeks might be my favorite color. She toys with her wine glass, eyes drilling holes into a spot behind my head.
She’s deep in thought and I’m taking the opportunity to carve every inch of her into my memory. Her hair flirts with her shoulders and a few loose locks dance around her pretty face, making my hands itch. I want nothing more than to reach out and curl them over her ears.
Thankfully, I know better than that.
She swirls the white wine inside her glass and lifts the rim to her full lips, still staring ahead, eyes calculating.
My own glass sits empty on the coffee table. The music fades, the end of one song blurring into the next as Violet leans out to put her glass on the table.
“The Machine” by Reed Wonder and Aurora Olivas fills the room, sending a fit of shivers down my spine. I’ve heard this song before. It’s something Violet added to my playlist.
She leans back again and, finally, her eyes rake over my face, jumping between my eyes, hers growing darker, flickering with an emotion I can’t quite place.
“What do you mean by control ?” she asks, her gaze dropping to my hands, which I’m fighting to keep resting on my lap.
“Do you want to kiss me again?” I counter, basking in the pinkness of her cheeks when she nods.
There’s something about physical contact that sends Violet spiraling. She always tenses when I put my hands on her. Less if she knows it’s coming. Less on her face, neck, or wrists than any other part of her body.
So, instead of leaning out to seal her lips, I do something that surprises not just her, but me, too.
Never, not in my wildest dreams, did I consider a role switch quite like this one.
I adjust my position, my back flanking the sofa, eyes on hers. Slowly, deliberately, showing her exactly what I meant when I suggested she needs control.
I clasp my hands behind my head.
It’s a statement: I won’t touch you unless you ask me to, but you’re free to do as you please .
A small gasp escapes her and she twitches forward. She halts just as fast, reconsidering, calculating, weighing her options. With her lip between her teeth, she stares at my hands, firmly knotted behind my neck.
I can see the war raging inside her, the lust and want battling against fear. She’s been through so much, but she’s moved steadily away from her past since day one. I never thought this would be easy. It’s not, and it won’t be for a long time, but every day, Violet heals a little more.
Faster since she’s been under my roof.
Her eyes glide from mine to my hands. The war inside her comes to an end...
Slowly, she moves, flinging a leg over my thighs, her hands on my face, thumbs brushing the soft skin beneath my eyes. She leans in, her nose brushing mine.
There’s nothing I want more than to grab her thighs, yank her closer and feel the heat between her legs over my groin. I’ve spent weeks looking after her, pining and imagining this moment, hoping to God she’d choose to be mine one day. That she wouldn’t just disappear.
And now she’s here, on me, touching, her warm breath fanning my face, eyes boring into mine. Her hands brace against my chest, a look of wonder painting her gorgeous face. She doesn’t falter again, dipping her head to take my lips in a desperate kiss.
Fuck.
Her tongue thrusts into my mouth, fingers sink into my cheekbones. She’s closer than in the elevator, almost every inch of her pressing against me. The scent of her hair, the taste of those plump lips, the breathless sounds she makes, the warmth of her body...
Jesus fuck .
I did not think this through.
I never thought I’d want to handcuff myself, but...
Keeping my hands clasped behind my head is torture. All I want is to grab her hips and pull her into me. Closer. So much closer. I want to worship every inch of her, mold her into my chest, knot my fingers in her damp hair.
But that’s not how this is supposed to work. I’m hers to use however she wants and must obey her every order. I promised. That promise may only have been implied by my actions, but changing the rules ten seconds in would shatter the trust I earned when she flung her leg over mine.
She’d leap off and hurl the first thing that comes to hand at me—both empty glasses and probably the wine bottle too—so I school myself, pouring my frustration into the kiss.
It’s not soft or careful. Violet’s not timid... as if in this moment she’s thrown all her inhibitions away and decided it’s time to test her limits.
Now she holds the power, and my hands are denied her alluring curves, she abuses it to the limit. Her teeth nip my lips, fingers grasp handfuls of my hair to tilt my head back. The other hand grasps my shirt tight, her thighs spasming around mine.
She steers my head where she wants it, deepening the almost brutal kiss. Her soft, labored breaths complement the music pumping through the apartment.
I groan when her hips buck against me, desire scorching my veins. Sex is off the table for the foreseeable future. I wouldn’t allow her to take that step yet even if she tore my clothes off. It’s too soon, but knowing she’s growing hot and bothered is a huge victory.
Her sweet gasp flies into my mouth and a wave of shivers patters my spine, leaving me wide open.
Everything I never dared to show, everything I’ve meticulously bottled up, comes rushing out. All the suppressed emotions I’ve kept on a tight leash around her flood the kiss. I try not to lose it, not to scare her away or take things too far, but the taste of her on my tongue ignites my mind like the fourth of July.
I’m so fucking hard it’s painful. There’s no fooling my anatomy. I’ve wanted this girl since day one and now she’s here, grinding into me, pressing the sweet heat of her center against the erection straining my zipper.
Every muscle in my body tenses in anticipation.
I brace for a slap. I brace for her escape, certain she’ll flee to the safety of her bedroom.
She doesn’t. She pauses, breaks the kiss, and looks down, her blown pupils widening further. Instead of fear, uncertainty, or panic in her eyes, an aura of wonder emanates around her. She’s so surprised, eyes careful as she stares at the tent my cock’s making in my pants.
And then, the little tease scoots closer, dragging her clit over the bulge with an almost incredulous expression.
Liquid heat pools behind my ribs for two reasons. One: The pressure she’s applying is fucking divine. Two: She looks dumbfounded.
In awe of the size of my huge cock.
The self-indulgent thought fades when her eyes fleetingly meet mine. It’s not awe; her eyes are filled with bliss. Her lips find mine again and she grinds into me with more purpose... and I realize it has nothing to do with the size of my dick.
I think she’s dumbstruck because my full-blooded hard-on hasn’t triggered her fight or flight response. She knows I want her, that I’d bury myself as deep as possible if she said yes but it doesn’tseem to scare her.
The past fails to infiltrate her mind and poison the moment. She really does trust me.
I outstretch my hands to the sides, gripping the back of the couch so hard my fingers are stiff. It’s all I can do to anchor myself. I can’t grab her waist, I can’t take control, but I can treat the small signals she’s sending me like orders.
She breaks the kiss, angling her head to expose her neck, and my lips move from hers to the crook of her neck.
Slowly, softly, but with enough intent to keep that greedy, needy part of her burning bright.
She allows me this moment, a few pecks, a few open-mouthed kisses, a few nips of my teeth. Every sound she makes spurs me on and makes the no-touching that much harder. She yanks me by the hair, scooting closer, her boobs pressing into my chest and arms circling my neck as she deepens the kiss.
My fingers gouge into the leather so hard they spasm with the effort. I lock them in place, far from Violet’s waist, hips, thighs... far from where I’m dying to knead her skin and hold her against me.
We’re both panting, breathless, so fucking desperate, drowning in this moment. Unavailable to the world, locked in a bubble until the ringing of my phone bursts it.
As if snapped out of a trance, Violet’s cheeks flush a deep shade of pink and she stills on top of me, then tears herself away.
I go with her, pressing my lips to hers gently, softly, my forehead against hers.
“I... I’m sorry, I—”
“Do you think I mind?” I rasp, ghosting my lips across her cheek, eyes closed. I’m stealing seconds, memorizing the feel of this. Of her. “I don’t. Not at all. Do this as often as you want, baby. I’m yours to use.”
The ringtone starts from the top. I glance over Violet’s shoulder to see Carter flashing on the screen.
Fuck. The only person I can’t ignore.
It’s almost midnight and he usually only calls this late when it’s an emergency.
“I need to take it,” I say, brushing my nose up her cheek to leave a kiss on her temple.
Violet slides off my lap, adjusting her t-shirt and reaching for the wine bottle with trembling hands.
I grab the phone, sliding my thumb across the screen.
“You might want to get over to Scarlett ,” Carter’s stilted tone announces. “You don’t want to miss this.”
My brows furrow. His words suggest the shit’s about to hit the fan, but with a hint of amusement that piques my curiosity. “I’ll be there in fifteen.”
“Make it ten. Trust me.”
“Fine. Whatever’s happening, don’t start without me.”
“I wouldn’t dare.” He chuckles, disconnecting the call.
Violet’s curled in the opposite corner of the couch, her fingers absentmindedly tracing her lips.
“Carter needs me in Scarlett ,” I say, reining the urge to lean over and kiss her.
I’m stepping on very thin ice around this girl, second-guessing my every move.
She kissed me. She let loose, but that was her decision and I merely allowed it to happen.
Now, I must patiently wait for her to process this new turn of events and hope she makes the same decision again.
◆◆◆
Carter was correct. It was in my best interest to get over to Scarlett as soon as possible because waiting for me in his office was one of the nine.
Or rather, one of the seven still breathing.
Timothy Crane sat on the sofa, casually sipping whiskey, when I arrived. In the calmest tone imaginable, layered with unrestrained amusement, Carter explained why Tim had paid him a visit.
The fucker was offering half a million dollars for Violet. He was abroad when Noretto changed the rules and, unhappy about missing out, thought he’d try his luck and take Violet off Carter’s hands.
“You know, in case your boss is bored with her,” he told me, interrupting Carter’s explanation. “That’s one fine pussy so I’m willing to pay premium. My associates are dying to test-drive her.”
I wiped out the smug fucking smile adorning his filthy mouth with a single blow so powerful it shattered his nose and his cheekbone.
Carter grinned from behind his desk, then helped me drag Tim downstairs, load him into the trunk, and take him to the warehouse. Then, he watched for two hours while I played God, basking in the screams, pleas, and apologies.
By the time I got home that night, Violet was asleep.
The hopeful, albeit arrogant, part of me thought she’d find another opportunity for a make-out session the very next day... I was wrong.
It’s been a few days since last time and no replays. Whenever we’re together, huddled on the sofa, my fingers circling her pressure points, I’m dying to remind her she can use me.
But I don’t want to push. She’ll come when she’s ready.