Bad Intentions (The Prescotts Book 4) Read online

  He shook his head. “I was at the gym. And you don’t need to thank me.” He came to a stoplight at West 43rd and looked over at her. Even though she couldn’t see his eyes through the dark sunglasses, she could feel the heated weight of his gaze on her, and she fought the urge to squirm in her seat. “I promised that I would keep you safe. I’m the one who’s sorry.”

  Her eyebrows rose as they moved forward again when the light turned green. “You’re sorry? For what?”

  “I thought I’d solved the Massimo problem, but clearly what I tried didn’t work. I was aiming for subtle, but subtle doesn’t work on this asshole, apparently.”

  “No, it definitely doesn’t,” she said, shaking her head. “I’ve lost track of how many times I’ve told him to leave me alone.”

  Lucian’s grip tightened on the steering wheel, his knuckles going white. “Still, I’m sorry. I told you I’d handle it. And I will.” He gave her thigh a squeeze that had her melting in her seat. “He’s dangerous, Liv.”

  “Well, he’s obviously a total nutjob based on what happened tonight,” she agreed.

  “He’s more than just a nutjob,” he said, and then paused, hesitating. “Tell me again how he said he found you.”

  “Stalking me on Insta. One of my friends posted a picture of us and he said he recognized the terrace.”

  Lucian’s mouth twisted to one side. “Turn your phone off.”

  “What?”

  “I’m not trying to scare you, but Massimo is capable of a lot worse than just stalking you on social media. Turn it off.”

  Watching Lucian navigate his way through traffic, she reached into her purse and powered off her phone. “There. It’s off.”

  “Good. I’m going to get one of my guys to look at it and find out exactly how Massimo’s been tracking you. Because I don’t believe his bullshit excuse about recognizing the restaurant. He’s shown up when you’re out too many times for it to be a coincidence.”

  Her eyebrows shot up. “Tracking me? Like, you think he did something to my phone to find out where I am?” She shuddered. “Is that even possible? That seems like Hollywood movie shit.”

  “It’s not. It’s definitely possible.” He came to another stop light. “I know because I’ve done it to many people. Well, my tech guy has, but still. It’s entirely possible to track someone based on the location of their phone and not have them know about it.”

  “Tell me what you know about Massimo,” she said, sitting up a little straighter. “You know something that you’re not telling me.”

  This time, he didn’t hesitate. “Massimo’s in the mob, Liv. The Italian mafia.”

  “What?” Her eyes went wide as her blood turned to ice in her veins. “He’s what?”

  “He’s a hit man for the mob. He’s extremely dangerous.”

  10

  “Holy shit.” Olivia crossed her arms over her chest as her initial shock faded into regret. Going out with Massimo in the first place had been such a huge mistake. One she couldn’t take back now, but one she regretted all the same. Then, a question crept up on her and she looked back at Lucian, her eyes narrowed slightly.

  “How do you know this?” She pressed a hand to her mouth. “Oh God. Are you in the mob?” She thought back on how many times he’d told her that his life was dangerous and complicated, that he wasn’t a good guy.

  He shook his head. “I’m not, but I work with them. I’m close with Sal Perri, the head of the Cosa Nostra.” He bit back a curse. “He was supposed to make sure Massimo didn’t bother you anymore.” He squeezed her thigh again. “I’ll have to do it myself.”

  Panic shot through her. “No, Lucian, if he’s as dangerous as you say, I don’t want you to—”

  He cut her off. “Liv, sweetheart. I’m ten times more dangerous than Massimo. Trust me when I say that I can handle him.”

  She swallowed thickly and then nodded, panic and worry still sloshing together in her stomach, curdling its contents.

  “I wish I’d never gone out with him,” she said quietly, her eyes fixed out the window as they crossed 12th Ave, Chelsea Piers sliding by on her right.

  “Mmm,” he rumbled. Then he glanced over at her, and she could see the question on his face. “Why did you?”

  She lifted one shoulder, her lips pursed. “Because I’m tired of being alone. I’m tired of searching for that person I’m supposed to be with. Because he seemed hot and confident at first.” She cut her eyes at him. “Because when I first met him, he kind of reminded me of you.”

  Lucian’s jaw went tight, the muscle near his ear jumping. “You shouldn’t date guys because they remind you of me,” he ground out, his voice dropping an octave. “You should run in the fucking opposite direction if they remind you of me, sweetheart.”

  God, she loved when he called her sweetheart like that. It made her stomach flip and swirl, made her heart race, made her entire body tingle and vibrate.

  It made her imagine what it might be like to actually be his.

  “Yeah, well. When you spend five years wanting a man who keeps telling you that you can’t be together, you look for alternates.”

  He didn’t say anything, his eyes trained on the road. After a moment, he shook his head slowly, and she could’ve sworn she heard him whisper “fuck” under his breath.

  “Why did you kiss me?” she asked. She was suddenly annoyed that he’d kissed the everloving shit out of her and they hadn’t even talked about it.

  That muscle in his jaw jumped again, but the hand on her thigh crept a little higher, his fingers inching inward from the top of her thigh to her inner thigh, taking some of her skirt up with it. Heat coiled low in her belly at the touch, only inches from where she was starting to throb.

  “Because you’re not the only one who’s been wanting something for five years.”

  “And the dam broke?” she asked, holding her breath. A sensation worked its way through her. A fluttering in her belly, a tingling in her limbs, an expansion in her lungs, and she realized that it was hope. Which, given the way he’d been pushing her away for five years now was probably incredibly foolish, but it was there all the same. When it came to Lucian, it probably always would be. She didn’t know how to not want him. Especially after the way he’d kissed her, the way he made her feel like the sexiest woman on the planet with a single glance, the way he’d dropped everything to come help her and make sure she was safe. He was sexy as hell, confident and capable and successful and more of a man than any of the guys she’d ever dated.

  He was a protector, through and through. A protector who worked closely with the mob, apparently. But even knowing that didn’t change how she felt about him.

  She realized then that his protective streak included protecting her from himself, something he’d been doing since the night they’d met.

  “Yeah,” he said, his voice like gravel. “It did.”

  She laid her hand over his on her thigh, drawing small circles on the back of his hand with her pinky. He let out a ragged breath, his attention focused on the road.

  “Nothing you tell me puts me off,” she said quietly. “The age difference, the fact that you’re dangerous, none of it. Because I see the real you, Lucian. I see the man that you are beneath all of that armor. I see a protector, a smart businessman, a good man.” She sucked in a breath, trying to get her racing heart under control. “I see the only man I’ve ever truly wanted.”

  “Liv,” he ground out, his voice a low warning.

  She lifted one shoulder again, and his fingers inched ever so slightly higher on her thigh. “It’s just the truth.”

  He didn’t say anything, but she could hear his breathing in the quiet confines of the car, could feel his pulse beating against his skin beneath her touch. They moved past Pier 54, the trees from the Hudson River Greenway poking up into the sky, swaying slightly in the evening breeze that wouldn’t be nearly enough to cool the city down.

  He drove with his eyes on the road, one hand on the wheel—why
was it so sexy when men drove like that?—the other inching higher and higher on her thigh, her skirt riding up. She bit back a moan and shifted in her seat, opening her legs wider. He lifted his hand, but before she could protest, he slipped it under the fabric of her skirt, landing on her bare skin. She hissed, his touch like a brand.

  “Do you regret kissing me?” she asked, gasping quietly as his pinky grazed the seam of her thigh.

  “No.” His voice was barely more than a growl. She studied him, her eyes landing on his lap, where she could see the outline of his cock beneath his jeans. Long and thick, it was pressed against his thigh, and the sight of it, the knowledge that he was just as turned on as she was right now, made her squirm in her seat as she ruined her panties.

  The greenery around them grew lusher, One World Trade Center rising up before them as they drove in silence, his fingers so close to where she burned for him. But he didn’t move closer, even when she shifted again and spread her legs even wider, practically begging him with her body to touch her.

  “I’m so wet right now,” she whispered, not trying to provoke this time. She’d simply said it because it was true, because she couldn’t think about anything else right now.

  He let out a low, gruff sound, half moan, half growl, and then moved his hand, cupping her over her panties. Her hips jerked at the unexpected contact, and she bit her lip to keep whatever undignified sound she’d been about to make from escaping.

  With agonizing slowness, he traced his fingers up and down over her pussy. “Christ,” he ground out, his nostrils flaring. “You’re soaked, sweetheart.” He worked his hand over her again, heat pulsing in her belly, her clit throbbing. She put her hand over his, holding him in place.

  “That’s what you do to me. That’s how much I want you.”

  He stroked her again, the touch both too much and not nearly enough. “Do you ever touch yourself and think of me?” he asked.

  She swiveled her head to the side, her eyes eating him up as he tormented her, his fingers moving her slick panties over her sensitive flesh. “Only on a daily basis.”

  He rubbed his hand over her with more pressure at her admission, then took his hand away. Disappointment curled through her. He was about to call the game off. Again. She needed to stop letting herself hope so damn much when it came to him. How many times did she need him to push her away before—

  “Show me.” It was an order, not a request, and the command in his tone made her even wetter. “The windows are tinted. No one can see.”

  She swallowed, her mouth suddenly dry. And then she slipped her fingers into her soaked panties and circled her fingers around her swollen, throbbing clit. She bit her lip, heat flushing over her skin at the indecency of what she was doing. And yet it didn’t feel wrong. Nothing felt wrong with Lucian. Ever.

  He took off his sunglasses and tossed them onto the center console, his eyes darting back and forth between the road and where her hand was moving inside her panties.

  “You have no idea how many times I’ve made myself come thinking about you,” she panted out, her skin tight and hot, her nipples hard, aching points.

  “Tell me what you think about.” Another command, one she was helpless to do anything but obey.

  She sighed as she worked her clit between her index and middle finger. “Everything.” She slid two fingers inside herself and then slicked more of her wetness over her clit. They hit a spot of traffic around Charles Street, and she’d never in her entire life been so grateful for Manhattan traffic.

  “Liv,” he said, his chest heaving. “Tell me.”

  She blew out a breath and rubbed her fingers over her clit in slow circles. “Sometimes I imagine times when I’ve been with you in the past, like my birthday party, or a charity event, and I play out what could’ve happened. Like the night I found you on that balcony, I imagine taking your hand and dragging you off somewhere secluded, just the two of us.” She closed her eyes, getting lost in the fantasy. “I’d sink to my knees in front of you, open your pants and suck your cock until you came. Until I’d swallowed down every last drop.”

  A horn blared and her eyes flew open. Lucian’s gaze was locked on her, on her hand moving between her legs, and even though he could move up, he hadn’t. He took his foot off the brake, his eyes still glued to her. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed.

  “Or other times, I make up entirely new scenarios. Sometimes there isn’t a scenario at all, and all I need to get me there is to imagine that it’s you touching me. That it’s your fingers stroking my pussy and making me come. I imagine things I know I like, and things I know I want to try.”

  “What do you like?” he asked, his voice hoarse.

  “I imagine you eating my pussy until I come so hard I almost pass out. I imagine riding you, taking you as deep as I possibly can, until there’s no doubt that I’m yours. I imagine you stroking my pussy and teasing my clit until I burst all over your hand. I imagine stroking your cock until you come all over my fingers, and then I lick them clean.”

  His grip on the steering wheel was so tight that the skin of his knuckles was practically translucent. “And what do you want to try?”

  “You make me want the dirtiest things. Things I’ve never done with anyone but want to do with you. I’d let you tie me up and do whatever you wanted to me. I’d let you spank my ass so hard you leave a handprint.” Her pussy clenched and throbbed at the thought of being marked by him like that. “I’d let you fuck my ass. My throat. Spit in my mouth. Come on my tits. Anything. You make me need things I didn’t even know I wanted.” Her voice was getting higher, breathier with each admission. She knew she should feel ashamed of how dirty he made her want to be, but she wasn’t. It was the truth, and she’d always told him the truth.

  Her muscles tightened, heat pouring through her as her clit throbbed against her fingers, which were circling faster now. Her orgasm was close, hovering just on the periphery of her awareness.

  “Make yourself come, sweetheart. You’re close, aren’t you?”

  She nodded, gasping for air as she circled her clit harder and faster, the wet sound of her fingers working her pussy filling the car. A part of her still couldn’t quite believe that this was happening, but she was too far gone to do anything but rub her clit as her orgasm barreled down on her.

  “You’re the only thing I think about when I touch myself, Lucian. The only thing.” Her head thrashed back and forth against the headrest, heat and pressure coiling together low in her belly, her pussy spasming beneath her fingers.

  “Open your eyes, Liv,” he said in that commanding tone that made her want to do all kinds of depraved things with him. “Look at me as you come.”

  She pried her eyes open and met his, the intense heat burning in them making her skin feel scorched.

  “Come, sweetheart. Come all over your fingers in my car.”

  “Lucian!” She moaned out his name as her pussy rippled and fluttered, her clit pulsing wildly against her fingers as her orgasm crashed through her, stealing her breath. Her hips bucked against the seatbelt with each pulse of her orgasm, and her panties became even wetter with her arousal. Her arms and legs shook as she rode out the last few heavy throbs, her fingers still on her clit, no longer circling, just pressing. She let out a shaky breath, her skin feeling hot and tingly.

  Holy. Shit. Had that really just happened?

  Without a word, he reached over, pulled her hand out of her panties and tugged her closer until he could reach her fingers with his mouth. And then, still driving—how they hadn’t crashed, she had no idea—he sucked her glistening fingers into his mouth, one by one, moaning appreciatively as he licked and sucked them clean. At the feeling of his tongue on her skin, fresh arousal washed over her, making the orgasm she’d just given herself completely unsatisfactory.

  “Fuck, you taste good,” he said, his voice rumbling from his chest. “Even sweeter than I imagined.” He braked at a yellow light, and she was surprised to look around and find t
hat they were almost at Canal Street. Almost back to her place. What would happen once they got there? Would he drop her off and drive away, and they’d be back to pretending there was nothing between them, acting like this hadn’t happened? Acting like she hadn’t just rubbed her clit to orgasm in his goddamn car? Like he hadn’t licked the taste of her pussy from her fingers?

  He kept working her fingers with his mouth, making her squirm, making her throb, making her intensely aware of his mouth on her skin. God, she wanted to feel his mouth everywhere. Everywhere.

  “So…you imagined me too?” she asked. She wasn’t normally insecure, but everything about this, while exciting, had her feeling off kilter. This was so much more than their usual teasing and flirting. This felt like it could actually be the beginning of something, after all these years.

  He released her hand, his eyes holding hers. Pinning her in place. “Every damn day, Olivia.”

  The light turned green and he moved into the intersection, turning left and taking them deeper into the Financial District.

  “I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve fucked my fist and imagined it was you. Your mouth, your pussy, your ass. I’m obsessed. Addicted. Thinking about you is the only thing that gets me off.” He glanced over at her. “Has been for years.”

  She couldn’t stop the grin from spreading across her face, and she reached over and slid her hand across his thigh. “I think it’s time we stop imagining.”

  He didn’t say anything to that, just clenched his jaw and focused on weaving through the dense traffic around them. She left her hand where it was but didn’t sssss to stroke him or tease him, sensing that he needed a little space after what had just happened and the admissions they’d made.

  “Up ahead,” she said, pointing. “Where it forks, go right and then turn right again.”

  He nodded, maneuvering the car smoothly through traffic. In this part of the Financial District, the buildings were so high that it seemed later in the day than it was because of the way they blocked out the setting sun. Beams shone between the buildings, create a strobing effect as they drove. She shifted in her seat, intensely aware of her still pulsing core, her soaked panties.