Chapter Eleven #2
Then, “I don’t have any plans after this…yet.”
Slow. Seductive. His tone sent a shiver down my spine, and I finally spotted him as a couple moved aside and revealed Rook engaged in conversation with two attractive women.
One of them, blonde and wearing a dress that was so short it almost violated my dress code, leaned close enough that her chest nearly pressed against him.
She whispered in his ear while her friend stood back, shy, but clearly just as appreciative of Rook’s looks and charisma.
And God…his looks. Gone was the sweat-stained tank top and tattered sweatpants. At the sight of his tuxedo perfectly tailored to his strong body, every coherent thought poured out of my head in a rush.
Until the blonde woman stroked one hand down the front of his shirt, and a scalding feeling raged through me. He noticed me now, his eyes catching mine as his lips curled.
“Excuse me, ladies. I need to talk to someone, but we’ll catch up later.”
No, they fucking wouldn’t.
The women sashayed off to find more champagne and Rook pinned me with that infuriating grin.
“I know you don’t like women,” I said.
“Maybe I do.”
“You don’t.”
“No, but it got your attention.” He shrugged, and the motion drew my eye to his bow tie, colored with splashes of green and brown.
“Is that bow tie camo?” I gawked at the ugly thing sitting at his collarbone.
His smile widened and made my chest do an uncomfortable squeezing thing.
“What? You don’t like it?” He straightened it, looking down and admiring the hideous pattern. “I wore it just for you.”
“How did you get in here?”
“It’s called party crashing. You should try it sometime—lots of fun.”
I took a deep breath in and released it slowly. “I don’t need to crash parties. I’m invited to all of them.”
He slid his eyes up and down my attire and said, “You look good, by the way. Probably would have looked better in red…”
“It was burgundy, and you’re a wanker.”
He snorted. “You’re so British.”
“Yes, well, that is where I come from,” I deadpanned. “Do you have a purpose for being here aside from irritating me? I have things to do.”
I scanned the club that had filled to the brim, but Emmett had disappeared somewhere in the crowd.
“You never agreed to my truce,” he said.
“I was distracted,” I grumbled. Emmett was somewhere in this room, and I was missing my opportunity to talk to him. I searched for his navy clothes, for his dark skin and tall frame. He would be tall enough to see over most of the guests…
“Oh, I’m well aware,” Rook laughed, snapping my eyes back to him.
“Fine, I agree. Truce.” I waved a dismissive hand and turned to go, but he clasped my arm and stopped me. I turned, my gaze burning.
“I had something important to talk to you about.”
This party would last a few hours, and Emmett was obviously the most popular person here aside from me. I could spare a few minutes to hear what Rook had to say. He wouldn’t leave me alone until I did.
“Not here,” I said, yanking my arm from his grasp and motioning for him to follow me. We cut through the crowd and I led him to my office. I was never there long enough to use it, but Gray worked in there sometimes. I turned on the light and watched Rook lock the door behind us.
“What is this important thing you needed to interrupt my party for?” I asked.
“There’s still a killer on the loose.” He crossed his arms and leaned against the door, another barrier between me and Emmett.
“So? No one else has died. Two is a grudge, not a pattern.” I leaned against the bare desk. “This could have been a text message.”
He faked a pout, and I bristled at the fact that I was right—even the faux expression made me want to bend to his ridiculous excuse to see me. “You never answer my texts,” he said.
That’s what this was, wasn’t it—a flimsy excuse for my company?
“I’m not interested in socializing with you, Rook,” I said.
He pushed off the door and crossed the small space, putting us uncomfortably close again. “So I was just casually licking your cum off my fingers a few weeks ago?”
“I’m even less interested in ro—”
“I don’t want romance with you.” He rolled his eyes and then said, with an amount of seriousness unusual to him, “Love is a distraction for losers with no ambition. Getting your cock in my mouth, on the other hand…”
His dirty words made me shudder, just slightly enough that I hoped he hadn’t noticed. “But why?”
That was the part I didn’t understand, even more than my inexplicable desire to bend to this strange pull between us. We hated each other. We had tried more than once to end each other.
There was no cocky grin on his face when he said, “Because you’re interesting, and once in a while, I need to shake things up.”
He felt it too—the monotony of money and power. I had everything I needed, all I could want aside from a conclusion to my research, but none of it stimulated me. None of it coaxed me out of bed in the morning, looking forward to my day.
I took a tentative step forward, and Rook did not move away. He lifted his hand and brushed his fingers along my jawline, and though I stayed perfectly still, my heart kicked in my chest.
This was my office, my club. I wouldn’t relinquish control to him here, so when I pressed my lips against his, I was fully aware of the fire I was stepping into.
And fucking hell, did it burn.
I didn’t think Rook knew how to kiss without hurry, without throwing himself fully into passion.
He moaned and wrapped one hand around the back of my head, locking my mouth against his as his tongue invaded every corner of it.
He kissed me until I was breathless, then held me longer, until my lungs burned.
When he finally released me, I gasped for air, and the sound spurred him on.
He undid my pants and stroked his thumb up the length of my cock.
“Stop me,” he said as he dropped to his knees, tugging my pants and underwear to my ankles as he did. He stared up at me.
I shook my head, just a slight jerk, and jutted my cock toward his lips. If Rook wanted to play games, I would show him what happened to people who thought they could match me.
He licked the slit of my dick, his tongue hot and precise, then sealed his lips around me, taking me halfway into his mouth and dragging my cock across his tongue to the back of the throat as he sucked me.
I lost myself in his powerful mouth before I remembered I was not letting him take control tonight.
I dug my fingers into the base of his skull and thrust down his throat until he choked.
But the next time, he took all of me, the muscles there working to relax around my length. He grasped my thighs, fingers making dents in my skin.
There was something heady about this man on his knees in front of me—the one who had killed me, who had broken my wrist. I fucked him harder until his eyes squeezed with the effort of enduring me and tears leaked from their corners.
And he took it all.
Every punishing thrust.
“Swallow this,” I growled, slamming into his mouth again and holding him fast as my cock pulsed in his throat. The muscles convulsed as I spurted deep in his mouth, and when I withdrew, a trickle of cum and saliva leaked from the corner of his lips.
He looked wrecked in front of me, flushed and panting, pupils blown. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and rose to his feet as I fixed my pants and straightened my clothes. No one could know what had transpired behind that locked door.
Rook steadied himself, but I wrapped my fingers around his throat and squeezed just enough to feel like a threat. The bastard just smiled. Unhinged.
“You don’t tell anyone what happened here.”
He grabbed my wrist and twisted it away from his neck, but didn’t cause me pain.
“Truce means I keep your secrets, and you keep mine.” He stroked his opposite fingers up the inside of my arm. “Sorry about your wrist. I wasn’t before, but I am now.”
He released me, unlocked the door, and strolled out of the room as if nothing had happened at all, leaving me with the sinking feeling that I still wasn’t in control, and that I had won nothing.