Chapter Four
A ubrey slammed the door, slapped at the light switch on the wall, and kicked off her shoes. The more miles she put between her and Serge Adams, the angrier she grew. She'd worked her ass off for the last four years building a solid business plan only for him to come in and treat her that way because she was a woman who he believed could be bought for sex.
She jumped through hoops, filled out permits, battled Harrington, dealt with insurance companies, and struggled to feed each person who sought shelter. And she did it on her own at twenty-four years old.
Who was he to assume anything about her?
She walked to the fridge and removed a bottle of wine. After getting scared half to death, putting up with his insane offer, and finding out who the mysterious sexy man who'd trespassed in the shelter was, she deserved to consume the whole bottle. She poured herself a glass, and decided a spoonful of Nutella was also called for.
Men. They were all alike. Sex. Sex. Sex. Then, the minute they lose interest, they hit the road—leaving the woman and the baby.
Her sperm donor had done the same thing to her mom, based on the stories she heard before she'd died. Her mom was an angry, bitter woman who clung to the hatred of what Aubrey's father had done to her and placed all the pain on her daughter, as if she had any part in what happened.
She shoveled another spoonful of Nutella into her mouth and followed it with a healthy swallow of wine. She tapped her fist against the counter as the combo exploded in her head. Not only was Serge an asshole, but he was also an asshole with a cool name.
Most of all, she hated how she excused his behavior because he was sexy. He had the right amount of grumpiness that appealed to her. The ultimate bad boy who only improved as they aged. She groaned. Her mistake.
The doorbell rang. She sputtered her lips at the interruption. It was not the right time for Mrs. Sullivan, who lived next door, to appease her curiosity about why she'd arrived home later than normal.
She picked up the jar, walked to the front door, and scooped more Nutella into her mouth before swinging the door open. "Everything is okay, Mrs—
"Aubrey," Serge said.
She swung the door, but he blocked it from closing with his hand and stepped inside. She backed up and pointed the spoon at him. "Get out."
He closed the door and slipped his hands into his pockets. "I've insulted you."
"You think?" She dug the spoon into the jar and stuffed her mouth full of Nutella but even her favorite indulgence wouldn't make Serge go away. "I'm not a whore."
"No, you're not." His mouth softened. "Believe it or not, I've never met anyone like you."
Okay. Well, then. Um. That was nice. She swallowed and rubbed her lips together. "Your non-apology accepted. You can go now."
He closed the distance between them and swiped his thumb along the corner of her mouth. "Got a little something right here..."
She licked her lip, encountered his thumb, and stilled. His gaze heated, and her breath hitched.
He lowered his head. "I'm going to kiss you."
"No," she said.
His gaze stayed on her lips. "Why not?"
Unable to help herself, she tapped her foot against his shoe. "Because no is no."
He hooked her hair behind her ear. "I wanted to kiss you the moment you stood on those bleachers, ready to take on a gym full of men."
She cleared her throat. "You thought I was helpless."
"No, I thought you were beautiful."
She pushed against his chest. "Get out."
"Not going anywhere, Bree. I apologize for scaring you."
"You insulted me."
"I apologize for that, too."
This couldn't be happening. How could she go from fearing for her life to arguing with him? It felt like foreplay.
She had never dealt with men in his circle before, much less had one attracted to her.
"You have a weird way of showing interest in someone," she whispered.
His hand slipped under her hair, cupping the back of her head. "If there's one thing you need to know about me, I get what I want...and I want you."
"Who says you can have me?" she said.
"Shut up, Aubrey Haydon," he murmured so close to her lips she could feel his breath against her cheek.
She closed her eyes at the onslaught of arousal coursing through her. More than anything, she wanted him to kiss her, but she refused to let him know that.
His lips brushed hers, and he whispered, "Open your eyes."
Need made the act almost impossible. She dragged her eyelids open in the end. "I don't know what you want from me."
"I want you to make no mistake in who you see kissing you." His breath tickled her face. "I want to be the only one you're thinking about when I finally taste you."
Oh. That was hot. No man had ever spoken so bluntly to her before.
"Understand?" he whispered.
That deep, gritty voice swayed her. She wanted to kiss him.
"Yes."
"Good answer," he murmured as he captured her lips.
For all his concern, he went from scary to tempting to oh-my-God deep and delicious in a snap. She held on to his shirt to keep from swaying. She met his tongue with her own. Dueling, stroking, sucking as excitement twirled low in her abdomen.
Serge slid his hands under her armpits and picked her up without breaking away from her. She wrapped her arms around his neck, her legs around his waist, and continued to kiss him. No stranger danger. No fear. Just a sexy exchange that she hadn't had in...ever.
In the back of her mind, she was aware of him walking. She only had one worry. Now that he had started, she never wanted him to stop.
In the bedroom, she fell onto the bed, taking him with her. He landed on top of her, bracing on his elbows to cushion the landing. She slipped her hands free and fought with the buttons on his shirt.
"Forget about them," he said against her lips. "I'll take care of you."
"Wait." She gasped, letting her arms fall to the mattress. "What are we doing? What am I doing?"
"Right now, my hands are on you." He plunged his hand between her skin and the front of her jeans. "In a second, I'm going to taste you."
His fingers dove between her legs, parted the folds of her pussy, and slid into her wetness. Her insides spiraled tighter.
"Oh, God." She exhaled. "M-maybe we should slow down."
She couldn't think, much less breathe.
He stilled. "Give me one good reason."
How about they barely knew each other? Or, she was only twenty-four years old and had never had a one-night stand. He was obviously a lot older than her and probably more experienced. This wasn't the kind of game she played. She had no idea of the rules.
Plus, he'd offered to buy her in the excuse of giving money to the shelter.
"I take it I can continue because you're not telling me no," he said.
In her head, she screamed no—even hell no, but her body gave him a sultry yes and even purred to make sure he understood she was giving her consent.
Above her, she saw the street kid the news articles claimed he'd been in the past. It was the idea of what kind of trouble he could still get into that made her interested. The articles stated that the younger Serge Adams was rumored to be out of control, a hot head, and running from the law since he was six years old and homeless, living with his younger brother and prostitute mother.
Her first impression of him had scared her. He was powerful, dominating, and too conceited. He was the forbidden fruit, tempting her. Something about him, barely holding on to polite society, knowing he was hard and unbending to the core, thrilled her.
He grabbed the waist of her jeans. She jolted. "Wait."
"What now?"
"I know I'm clean, but I don't know..."
"I'll take care of you." He dragged the material down her legs. "I have a condom."
"Okay. Okay. Protection is a good thing." She tried to hide her disappointment when he straightened.
She fisted his hoodie, wanting to tell him to go ahead. He'd teased her about oral sex, and she wanted that.
Only half-dressed, the cool air prickled her skin. She sat up, and he caressed her sides as he grabbed the hem of her shirt. She raised her arms, letting him undress her. Nothing stopped him from seeing every inch of her in the light from her bedroom.
He planted his hand on her stomach, pressing her down until she was horizontal on the mattress. Every muscle in her relaxed under his touch, except one hidden deep inside her, making her quiver.
Serge buried his face against her neck, growling against her skin. Her pleasure rose, and she gave one final effort to raise her hand and grab his attention. Her fingers sank into his hair.
"Please." She tugged.
He kissed his way past her ribs, over her abdomen, and parted her legs, putting his mouth on her pussy.
The warmth. His tongue. The caress.
He slid his hands underneath her, cupping her ass. She arched against his mouth. Digging her feet into the comforter, she tried to fight against the orgasm that wanted to come and take over. She wanted this feeling to last longer. Last forever.
Serge turned his head, kissed the inside of her thigh, and moved up her body. Trembling, she locked her ankles behind his calves, not letting him go as he extracted a condom out of his wallet, unzipped his jeans, and released his cock.
A big, hard, beautiful cock. Maybe the size got bigger as a man aged. She swallowed hard, imagining him filling her.
"Oh, wow," she whispered, blinking at the sight of him.
He rolled on the protection, lowered himself, and nibbled on her neck. "Last chance to tell me no."
She closed her eyes and went against common sense. "Yes."
He thrust. She gasped. Her whole body seized. Holding onto his arms, she panted at the intrusion. She tried to decipher if she was tense or if he was really that big—she knew the answer. He was really that big.
Underneath her hands, his muscles constricted and became harder. She moved her hips, trying to judge how much more she'd need to take, and he slowly withdrew. A shuddering exhale left her body at the instant relief.
Before she could gain her breath back, he slid back in, pinning her to the bed. She moaned, expecting discomfort, and only received pleasure.
He gazed into her eyes, holding himself still. She moved against him. No longer in shock, she could enjoy the way he felt inside of her.
She dug her nails into his biceps. "Please."
He moved in and out. The strokes were long and slow. Her body warmed. She needed more. She squirmed below him. Each agonizing stroke ignited her pleasure.
He ground against her. "Look at me."
She inhaled a shuddering breath, so...so close. Then she opened her eyes.
The intensity of his dark gaze penetrated her and brought her release. She convulsed in pleasure, wave after wave. His eyes warmed, and if she thought she was done, she soon discovered otherwise.
One look from him and her body paid attention despite her mind reveling in the fastest, hardest orgasm of her life. Again?
He lowered himself to his elbows. "Together now."
As if she were used to him dictating her every move, she held on to him. "I-I don't know if I can."
"Let me worry about that," he murmured against her lips, moving against her.
Embers heated to burning flames, and she gave him back everything he gave to her. Fast, hot, and heavy. She wrapped her arms around his neck, straining for what she knew was again within her reach.
Then he growled, and she swallowed the sound. Her orgasm swept her away as he plunged inside of her and held himself still. His cock pulsed. His pelvis pumped. His groan deepened.
She ran her hands over his shoulders, wishing he'd taken off his clothes. But even the material couldn't hide the tremors of his climax rocking his body.
He put his lips on her ear. "If you're seeing anyone else, it stops now."
"We had sex. That's all," she whispered. "You can't say that."
"I can, and I did." He slipped out of her, rolling off the bed, and stood. "Where's the bathroom?"
She pointed to the door. He walked out of the room, and she mustered all her strength to curl into a ball.
He was delusional, sweeping into her life and turning it upside down. They got caught in the moment. He was sexy. She was angry. He was pushy—
She sat straight up. The asshole had lied.
He hadn't come after her because he was attracted to her. He wanted the shelter, not her.
She stood and grabbed one of her oversized T-shirts out of the drawer and pulled it over her head. He'd probably try to use the fact that they had sex against her to get her shelter. She closed her eyes and groaned. Damnit.
She played right into his hands.
Serge walked into the room. Sick inside, she turned away from him. He hadn't even removed his clothes, and she'd spread her legs like the whore he believed she was. She wasn't for sale. For any price.
Hadn't she learned her lesson with old man Harrington? While he hadn't gone as far as trying to seduce her, he had frightened her and nearly caused her to withdraw her bid on the old gymnasium because of his threats.
He wrapped his arms around her from behind and nuzzled her neck. "Turn around."
She shook her head. He propelled her around to face him. She pushed away from his hands. "I have an early morning. I'll walk you to the door."
"What's going on?" His low, cautious voice angered her.
How could he not know? He was the one who brought up the idea that he'd pay her expenses for a year, two years, if she slept with him.
She had no plans to let that happen. The shelter belonged to her. She would succeed at keeping the doors open on her own.
"Nothing." She shrugged, walking around him. "I'm beat. I had a long day, and then I went out with you and now—she fluttered her hand toward the bed—this."
"This?" He followed her out to the living room. "You mean when I fucked you and you came twice?"
"Yes, you don't have to remind me." She swallowed. "I was there."
"Then tell me why you're in a hurry to get rid of me." He removed her hand from the doorknob. "I don't make it a habit to sleep with every woman I meet. I also don't make promises I don't plan to keep."
"I'm not interested in your money." She crossed her arms. "I'm not interested in being partners. The shelter belongs to me. I don't need any help." She raised her chin. "Is that perfectly clear?"
The five o'clock shadow only made the chiseled planes of his jaw stand out when his lips thinned. Leaning down, he stopped inches from her face. She used all her strength to square her shoulders under his intimidating size.
"Tomorrow night, I'll ring your doorbell. You're going to answer," he said. "Then we're going out. Together."
"In your dreams." She pursed her lips.
No way would she survive another night with him. The constant rollercoaster of fighting and sex made her nauseous.
His eyes softened. His lips twitched. She glared. The jerk silently laughed at her.
"Oh, I'll dream of you." He pressed his lips to her forehead. He simply held her head while he inhaled and ended with a soft smack of his lips to her forehead. "Sweet dreams, Bree."
He opened the door and strode out of her life. She stood, staring at him as he opened the door to his car. She had no idea how to handle a man like him.
Serge paused before getting into the car. "Lock the door."
She jolted and slammed the door shut. Leaning her head against the wood, she fingered the deadbolt and flipped the lock. Her heart raced. He was coming back tomorrow. She pressed her lips together and screamed in frustration. She was not going out with him.
There was nothing he could do to make her change her mind.
The shelter belonged to her. She didn't need any help. As far as she was concerned, she'd had her first and last one-night stand.