7. Nyah
NYAH
Dear Diary,
I made a deal with the devil, but he called me ‘good girl,’ so what else was I supposed to do?
My body ached so deliciously when I woke up.
I needed a shower, so with the stealth of a ninja, I’d rolled off the bed, not wanting to wake Dax.
But I stared down at him for the longest of moments, just taking in the familiar planes of his face.
He was bruised from the fight, but all I saw was the man he’d been last night, hovering over me, filling me so perfectly, whispering all the words I’d wanted him to say but hadn’t been brave enough to ask for.
I smiled to myself over him accepting that things had changed between us. That we weren’t the same people and Luca was part of my life now too.
A part I was suddenly scared of losing.
But Dax had wanted me anyway.
After a lifetime of being told my future was all planned out and set in stone, Dax had just promised me I could have something more.
I went into the little bathroom attached to the room Dax and I had slept in, but after a moment of fiddling with the faucet, I realized this bathroom had no water supply.
I grimaced at the dry sink and considered just getting back into bed, but surely the entire club wasn’t without water, and I desperately wanted to shower and brush my teeth.
I plucked a towel from the rail beside the door, and with my toothbrush in hand and a fresh set of clothes, I padded down the hallway in nothing but Dax’s oversized T-shirt in search of the communal bathroom I was sure I’d seen last night before we’d all gone to bed.
The clubhouse was quiet, the soft sounds of one of the guys snoring behind a closed door the only thing that broke up the silence.
I squinted at each one as I passed, mentally reading off names written across pieces of masking tape.
It was a big clubhouse, clearly built with the main purpose of housing multiple men.
I recognized some of the names, War and Hawk and Fang, though from what I could tell, like Reaper, none of them lived here full time, though maybe they had once.
Other names were unfamiliar—Chirp and Gunner—and I was surprised to see a couple of women’s names on there as well.
I paused outside the bedroom marked with Lynx’s name and fought the urge to twist the handle.
Part of me knew being alone with Lynx right now might not be the best idea.
He’d done some unspeakable things to that man in Scotland, and that guard accusing him of being the Lynx Killer rang loudly in my head.
I’d ditched the phone MacGregor had given me, and that was the only reason I hadn’t googled it. Part of me was glad because I was sure I didn’t really want to know.
But at some point, I would have to.
Because one thing had become clear. I didn’t know Lynx as well as I thought I had.
I found the bathroom I’d seen the night before and held my breath as I entered, sure that a club full of men all living together would mean the communal bathroom was scary, with pee on the floor and mold in the shower.
But it was perfectly clean. Outdated, sure, but the sink had been wiped out, and there was a vague scent of lemon disinfectant that hung in the air.
Either this bathroom didn’t get used much because most of the rooms had their own en suites, or someone at this club cared about cleanliness. Either way, I was grateful. I set my clothes down on top of the closed toilet and twisted the faucet above the sink.
Glorious warm water fell into my cupped hands, and I sighed happily in relief that I was going to be able to get clean. I ran my toothbrush beneath the water, then turned it off, not wanting to be wasteful, before shoving my toothbrush into my mouth and going to work on freshening up.
A door opened somewhere down the hallway, and I stuck my head out to see if it was Dax.
It wasn’t.
Luca stumbled out of a bedroom a couple of doors down from mine, a pair of sweatpants so low on his hips it showed off the V-lines either side of his abs.
His hair was sleep tousled, and he rubbed at his face, like he’d literally rolled straight out of bed and was barely even awake before he’d found himself in the hallway.
I stood there like a chump, paste foaming around my lips, and trying not to choke on the drool that formed over Luca Guerra walking around in gray sweatpants like my own living, breathing book boyfriend come to life.
I wasn’t big on reading. Had a bit too much energy for sitting still for long periods of time. But Violet loved smut, and she’d told me all about the “guys in gray sweatpants” fantasy.
I didn’t need to imagine. Luca was it. I’d gotten so used to seeing him in suits and ties that it literally stopped me in my tracks to see him dressed like a normal person.
Like he could feel me watching him, his gaze met mine.
For an instant, the chemistry always there between us flared so hot it felt like it was searing me alive. Melting me to the spot so I couldn’t move.
Then Luca smirked at me with that arrogant smile he’d had permanently etched into his face, back before he’d taken his father’s punishment for me and I’d realized he was actually a decent human being.
He stopped in front of me. “Washing Dax’s cum out of your mouth, princess?”
I practically choked on my toothbrush.
But then a red-hot anger flushed through me, and I stuck my head back into the bathroom and spat out the white foam. It pissed me off that I had to rinse my mouth before I could give Luca a serving of his own sarcastic wit.
By the time I looked up, he was in the bathroom doorway, all tanned skin and dark-eyed gaze running over every inch of me, from my bare legs to the toothpaste I probably still had at the corners of my mouth.
He kicked the door shut behind him and turned on the shower.
My brain short-circuited so long over the muscles moving across his back, rippling beneath his skin, that he had pulled the drawstring on his sweatpants and dropped them around his ankles before I could react.
I clapped a hand over my eyes. “What the hell are you doing!” I hissed at him. “Put your pants back on!”
He did no such thing. In fact, he stepped out of them, which I knew because even with my hand over my eyes, I was one-hundred-percent peeping.
“Hard to have a shower with pants on.” He stepped beneath the spray.
And fuck me, my hand dropped away from my eyes entirely, like it had a mind of its own. I gave up any sense of resistance and stared at his back and ass and the toned muscles of his thighs that were only better for having water sluicing down them.
He ducked his head beneath the water, wetting his hair, and then turned around.
I was still watching him.
He had no shame, and he knew full well what he was doing. His gaze met mine again, and I realized the anger and hurt I’d seen in him last night was being masked by the arrogance he shielded himself with.
I owed this man an apology. More than one. I owed him groveling and falling at his feet to beg his forgiveness. He’d saved me in more ways than one, and all I’d done was betray him. He had every right to hate me. Every right to make me pay for the sins and the guilt I now had to live with.
“Luca,” I started, voice soft.
He cut me off with harsh words. “You should be happy. You got everything you wanted, right?”
I knew what he meant. I was wearing Dax’s shirt. Everyone in the clubhouse had probably heard us last night. Everyone including Luca.
But he was wrong. I didn’t have everything I wanted.
Because a very big part of me wanted him. I let myself openly stare as he lathered his body up with soap, his fingers running over his arms and his chest, washing away the dirt and sweat and grime of the last twenty-four hours.
“Not everything,” I said quietly.
Surprise flared in his eyes, but it was gone just as quickly.
He shook his head, his lip pulling up into a sneer.
“What more do you want, princess? You got your man. You’ve got his baby.
You no longer have to marry my dad or pretend you want me.
” He stared at me; his eyes hard. “What more do you fucking want?”
I heard the pain in his voice. He couldn’t hide it, even though he clearly wanted to.
“You,” I whispered. “I want you.”
He snorted on a harsh laugh. “Oh, that’s fucking rich.”
But when I said nothing, making it clear I had meant every word, his eyes went hard again. “Too fucking bad, Nyah. I don’t want you.”
But that was a lie. I was sure of it. My gaze lowered to his dick, and it hardened instantly, standing at full mast, thick and strong, just like the rest of him.
He was so beautiful.
And I’d hurt him so badly.
I just wanted to make that better. Wanted his forgiveness, and I didn’t know what else to do other than to offer myself to him.
I pulled off my shirt and stood in front of him, naked, waiting, hoping he’d tell me to get over there and get on my knees for him.
Heat flared in his eyes, and his gaze drifted over my naked body.
I stepped toward him and instantly wished I hadn’t. Because that simple movement of trying to close the space between us triggered him.
“Let me touch you,” I said quickly. “I can—”
“No.” His voice was all growl and threat. “I’m not fucking doing this with you. I’m not fucking you to make you feel better.”
I shook my head. “That’s not what I—”
“Isn’t it? Isn’t that exactly what you meant? The guilt is written all over your face. And good. It should be. I started a fucking war for you. A war where men will die. Hell, I’ll probably be buried six feet under before the month is out. And that’ll be on your head, not mine.”
The words weren’t entirely fair. Part of Luca’s defiance toward his father and uncle came down to more than just saving me. There was his sister, his own dark past, carrying out the things his father had demanded. It wasn’t all on my shoulders.
But he wasn’t wrong that I was also to blame. And that I was trying to make myself feel better.
I deserved whatever punishment he was going to dole out.
“Stand there and watch,” he said in a voice so guttural it had me clenching my thighs together.
I would have done anything he’d said in that moment. That was the power the attraction between us had on my body.
His hands slid down his body, fingers moving in waves over the ridges of his abs until he got to his cock. He gripped his base and stroked himself patiently, torturously slow, more so for my benefit than his, I was sure.
He’d taken a punishment for me. And now he was doling out one of his own.
I didn’t dare move, even though the need inside me demanded to. It begged and pleaded to go to him, to fit my fingers around his, to take over, to touch him, lick him, get on my knees and put my mouth on him.
And yet, I knew if I moved so much as an inch closer, he wouldn’t allow it.
My punishment was standing here watching him and knowing he wasn’t ever going to be mine. That maybe he could have been, if things had been different, but I’d ruined any hope of that with lies.
He stared at me while he stroked himself, his dick so thick and impossibly hard it looked painful. But there was no pleasure in his face. Nothing but the pure, intense anger that was solely directed at me.
His hand fell away from his cock, dropping lower, rubbing soap over his balls and between the thick thighs I so desperately wanted to touch. He found the spot between his legs that clearly felt good and stroked it, his other hand coming back up to pump his shaft again.
He was big enough to use both hands on his cock, and he did, fucking into his grip, both hands tight, squeezing the head until it leaked with precum.
He made tiny noises in the back of his throat, and his head dropped back, so water splashed down over his face. But he didn’t need to hold my gaze to torture me. What he was doing to himself, watching him like this, was all the punishment I needed to make me understand what I had lost.
I pressed my thighs together again, the heat inside me so fiery I needed to release it.
I’d had an orgasm at Dax’s fingers just the night before, and yet watching Luca made me feel like I hadn’t been touched in a million years.
I slid my fingers between my thighs, touching my clit, searching for my entrance so I could give the hollow feeling inside me something for relief.
I hadn’t even realized he was watching, but his sharp, biting, “No,” stopped me. I opened my eyes and realized he was staring at me.
“No,” he said again. “You don’t get to do that. You don’t get to come.”
I let out a noise I was sure I hadn’t ever made before. One filled with need and frustration. I so desperately wanted to press my fingers inside myself and relieve some of the pressure.
But I was powerless to ignore him. My brain shouted sassy, smart-assed remarks at him, and yet some other part of me moaned at him bossing me around.
“Watch me, princess.”
He stroked himself harder, faster, pumping his hand over his cock.
He leaned his other on the shower wall and groaned.
His balls tightened, his muscles tensed, and white spilled over his hand as his moans echoed around the room, bouncing off the tiles, and hitting me straight at my core where it hurt the most.
Which is exactly what he wanted. He watched me pant helplessly, my thighs trembling with a need to release the ache inside me.
But he didn’t let me come.
He washed his hands and turned off the water.
He grabbed a towel, fit it snugly around his waist, and then stopped in front of me.
“You’re going to watch me do that every morning, princess.
You’re going to watch me fuck the club bunnies here at night.
You’re going to do whatever the fuck I want you to do, like a good girl. ”
I hated this. Hated he was being such a prick when I knew deep down he wasn’t. That this was the armor he used when he’d been hurt.
I hated that I’d been the one to hurt him.
And yet, every word from his lips only made me want him more. In that moment, I would have agreed to anything he wanted if it meant he’d touch me. “Yes,” I whispered.
He smiled smugly and then leaned down and whispered in my ear, “Good girl.”
He walked out of the bathroom before I could crumple against the wall, wondering what the hell had just happened, and what sort of deal I’d just made with the devil.