Bad Intentions (The Prescotts Book 4) Page 12

  “There,” she said, indicating the towering 60-story building where she lived. He pulled up to the curb in front of it, the sidewalks bustling with people. Conscious that they’d stopped, she lifted her hips and rearranged her skirt. In front of the building, there was a courtyard with raised flower beds, birch trees and a fountain, all done in a kind of shimmering bronze concrete.

  And sitting on the fountain was Massimo, and he looked angry. Very angry. His brows slashed down over his eyes, his expression pinched and tight. His shoulders were bunched, his posture tense, as though he were ready to pounce at any second. He watched every single person who came and went from the building like a hawk.

  Waiting for her. Looking for her. She shivered and wrapped her arms around herself. What would he do to her if he managed to get her alone? She’d been scared of him before she’d learned that he was a fucking hit man. Now, she was terrified.

  “He’s here,” she whispered to Lucian, her blood running cold, chasing away any lingering heat from her orgasm. “Shit, he’s here.” Now that she knew he was a hit man, she saw everything he’d done through different eyes. Stalking her. Grabbing her. Threatening to assault her.

  Lucian followed her gaze, his eyes narrowing when they landed on Massimo. He let out a low growl that made her toes curl and her pussy clench. He put the car in park, undid his seatbelt, and then leaned over her. Popping open the glove box, he retrieved a small black gun sitting inside. Her mouth fell open as he checked the clip and slid it into the waistband of his jeans at his back, then lifted his black T-shirt over it, covering it.

  Then, he slid his hand into her hair and kissed her. She moaned softly against his lips as his tongue swept against hers with long, drugging strokes. He broke the kiss, pressing his forehead to hers.

  “Stay here. This won’t take long.”

  “No, Lucian, if he’s as dangerous as you say, we should just go. I don’t want you to—” He cut her off with another kiss, this one even hotter and deeper than the last.

  “I promise you, I can handle him. Lock the doors after I get out.”

  She swallowed thickly. “Okay. Okay.”

  He gave her one final brief kiss on the lips and then stepped out of the driver’s side door, slamming it shut. She reached over and hit the button to lock the doors, watching as Lucian strode casually up to Massimo, his posture relaxed, his pace unhurried.

  Lucian was about to go talk to a freaking mob hit man who’d become obsessed with her, and everything she’d been feeling—the blissful afterglow of her orgasm, the happiness and hope that things might actually be shifting between them, the lust, the care and tenderness she felt toward him—they were all obliterated by the fear charging through her. There was so much fear she could drown in it. Her hands shook as she watched Lucian get closer and closer to Massimo, who stood when he spotted him. Her stomach was cold and hard as Massimo approached him, and she wished she were close enough to hear what they were saying.

  She prayed with every single fiber of her being that Massimo wouldn’t hurt him. That Lucian would be okay.

  Lucian crossed his arms over his broad chest, shaking his head as Massimo spoke. She pressed the tips of her fingers to the cool glass of the window, holding her breath as she watched them. Her pulse throbbed in her temples, the sound filling her ears. Then, Lucian leaned in close to Massimo and said something brief into his ear. Massimo pulled back, his face ashen. Lucian just stood there calmly, arms crossed, not saying anything more. After a few seconds, Lucian jerked his head in the direction of the road, and Massimo stomped off, glancing over his shoulder several times at Lucian.

  Holy hell. Questions barreled into her, one after the other. Who was Lucian if someone like Massimo was scared of him? What the hell had he said to him to make him take off like that? What would happen now, with Massimo, with her and Lucian?

  Lucian watched Massimo until he turned the corner onto Fulton Street. Once he’d been out of sight for a good thirty seconds, Lucian came back to the car, and she hit the button to unlock the doors. He slid back behind the wheel and started the car.

  “Do you have a parking garage?” he asked, and she nodded, directing him to the underground entrance. Her place had come with a spot which sat empty since she didn’t have a car. Once he’d parked and shut the car off, he stepped out again and came around to her side, opening her door and offering her his hand. She wove her fingers through his, not wanting to let him go. Not wanting to stop touching him.

  “Let’s go up to your place so you can pack a bag.”

  “Pack a bag?” she asked as they walked through the parking garage toward the elevator bank at the far end.

  His grip on her hand tightened. “I’m not leaving you here alone. You’ll stay with me until this is resolved.” There was that commanding tone again, the one that didn’t invite questions, only obedience.

  And once this was resolved—whatever that meant—what would happen then? Would things just go back to the way they’d been before? That wasn’t what she wanted. Not by a longshot.

  “Stay with you?” she asked, testing the waters.

  He nodded as they arrived at the elevators and he pressed the call button. “It’ll be easier for me to keep you safe that way.”

  She felt as though her insides were melting and as they stepped into the elevator, hands entwined, she leaned into him, pulling his scent into her lungs. She hit the button for the 47th floor and the doors slid closed, sealing them away from the world. She was keenly aware of the fact that for the first time ever, once they set foot inside her apartment, they’d be truly alone. No prying eyes, no one to interrupt. Her heart thrummed and she traced her fingers over his knuckles.

  “Okay. I’ll come stay with you.”

  11

  Lucian followed Olivia into her apartment, shutting the door and locking it behind them. She still hadn’t let go of his hand, and he’d felt the tremble in hers when she’d stepped out of the car. This had to be a lot to process for her. She had an ex-boyfriend stalking her who turned out to be a mob hit man, and she’d rubbed her clit to orgasm in his car while whispering the sweetest, dirtiest words he’d ever heard.

  Fresh blood surged to his cock at the memory and he clenched his jaw. When she’d told him how wet she was, something inside him had snapped and he hadn’t been able to stop himself from touching her to find out for himself. And then, watching her touch herself as she told him the dirtiest, most gorgeous things…fuck. He’d been minutes away from coming in his pants like a goddamn teenager. He was hanging on to his control by a thread, especially now that they were alone in her apartment.

  And then, there was what he’d said to Massimo. Two simple words that had sent him running. Two words that might cause a lot of problems between Lucian and Sal, for the Kings of Hell’s Kitchen. Two words that were 100% true and had been for a long time now, even if he’d never allowed himself to speak them out loud.

  She’s mine.

  Olivia let go of his hand and moved into the kitchen, opening the fridge and retrieving two bottles of water. Her apartment was gorgeous and frankly, more grown up than he’d been expecting. It was open concept, with a kitchen on the right, a small breakfast nook by one of the large windows, and a living room beyond it. A hallway to his left led to two doorways, likely a bathroom and the bedroom.

  Olivia’s bedroom, where she touched herself and thought of him. He pushed a hand through his hair and then adjusted his aching cock, now hard as motherfucking steel.

  Needing something else to focus on, he returned his attention to the apartment, taking in the brass fixtures in the kitchen, the Italian marble countertops, the pale hardwood floor. The living room furniture was sleek and simple, with a cream-colored sofa flanked by two deep blue armchairs. It was feminine and sophisticated, just like she was. This was not the apartment of a college girl. This was the apartment of a woman with a career and a life.

  She handed him the bottle of water, which he took but then set down on the kitchen
island.

  “I like your place,” he said. “Great view.”

  She glanced over her shoulder at the windows that looked out onto the East River. “Thanks. I bought it a couple of years ago.” She stared at him, the hunger, the want in her eyes plain as day. She was clearly feeling the tension of being alone with him, too. She set her water down beside his and peered up at him.

  “What did you say to Massimo to make him run like that?” she asked, searching his face.

  He exhaled sharply and slid his arms around her waist, pulling her close. “I told him you were mine.”

  She made a soft sound in the back of her throat and he broke. For five years, he’d been holding back a tidal wave of need and lust. Love. He couldn’t do it anymore. He didn’t want to do it anymore. The only thing he wanted was Olivia, in every single way possible.

  He dipped his head and kissed her, and they both moaned as their mouths came together. He didn’t think he’d ever get enough of kissing this woman. He could drown in the sweetness of her mouth and die a happy man. How had he spent the past five years not kissing her? Now that he’d tasted her—in more ways than one—he knew he’d never be able to go back.

  She wound her arms around him, threading her fingers into the hair at the nape of his neck. Her body felt so good pressed against his. So right, like this was exactly where she belonged. She was his—to protect, to claim.

  To love.

  He gripped her hips and lifted her onto the island, not in a hurry to do anything but kiss her and kiss her until neither of them could breathe. He’d been wanting this for so long that he wasn’t going to rush. No, he was going to savor every single fucking second of it.

  He didn’t know how much time had passed when he broke the kiss and dragged his lips down the soft skin of her neck. He didn’t know, and he didn’t care. The only thing that mattered right now was Olivia. He’d never wanted a woman the way he wanted her, and he knew it was because it was more than just wanting. It was needing, like he needed air. She was vital to him in a way no one else ever could be.

  “Lucian,” she whispered, her fingers in his hair, her head tipped to the side. “Oh, God. I want you so much. Please don’t stop. Please.” The last word came out on a ragged moan as he pulled her closer to the edge of the island, her legs wrapping around him. Her pussy pressed against his stomach, the slick heat of it searing him through the fabric separating them. He sank his teeth into the juncture where her neck curved delicately into her shoulder, and she gasped, shuddering in his arms.

  He lifted his head and met her eyes, which were dark and heavy lidded. “I mean it, Liv. You’re mine. I can’t stay away from you anymore. I need you.”

  I love you.

  The words bounced around his skull, loud and insistent and true.

  “Lucian,” she whispered, bringing her mouth back to his for another deep kiss, her hips writhing in his grip. “Fuck me. Please, baby. I need you inside me. Please.”

  Nodding, he pulled the gun out of his waistband and laid it on the island beside their forgotten bottles of water. Then, he scooped her off the counter and held her cradled to his chest, his heart pounding madly against his ribs. He didn’t have room to wonder if this was a mistake or if they shouldn’t be doing this. He was too consumed with her. Olivia. His Liv.

  Mine.

  He kissed her as he walked them slowly down the hallway to her bedroom, his blood near boiling in his veins. It felt as though everything in his life had been leading him to this moment. To her. To this inevitable collision.

  He stepped into her bedroom, still kissing her, and then tossed her down on the bed, his heart throbbing, his dick aching, his chest heaving. Her glossy brown hair fanned out around her, and she smiled as she reached for him, urging him down on top of her. Fuck, she was so beautiful. He didn’t deserve this. Didn’t deserve her. But he couldn’t stop himself from taking it.

  Keeping his weight on one of his elbows, he slid a hand over her hip and to her ass, urging her leg around his hips. He kissed her again, working his thigh against her pussy, squeezing and kneading her ass over top of her panties. They both moaned, and the kiss morphed into something hotter and wilder as they lost control, urgency spreading between them like wildfire. He buried his face in her neck and slid his hand beneath the fabric of her panties, filling his hand with her flesh, squeezing as he worked her against his leg.

  She slid her hands up and down his chest, across his back and shoulders, touching him restlessly, writhing against him, her breaths coming in harsh pants. A gorgeous flush had started to spread across her skin, making her glow in the fading light. He licked his way up her neck and the salt of her skin tasted like the inevitability of fate. Like coming home. Like happiness and everything he’d always thought wasn’t for him.

  But maybe he’d been wrong in thinking that Olivia wasn’t for him, because being with her now—finally—felt like the only right thing he’d done in years.

  He kissed her again as he slid his hand from her ass and up to her waist and then to her breast, teasing the underside of it with the tips of his fingers. She whimpered and rocked her hips, grinding herself on his thigh.

  “I want to see you,” she murmured against his mouth, her fingers pulling at the hem of his T-shirt. He rose up to his knees and yanked his T-shirt up over his head, tossing it on the floor.

  “Oh, God,” she whispered, her hands sliding up over his abs and to his pecs, her fingers playing in the short dusting of chest hair covering them, working over his nipples. He clenched his jaw and held still, letting her explore. Her touch was featherlight, delicate and smooth over his skin, but it was the expression on her face, the dark lust and need shining out at him from her gorgeous brown eyes that made his cock jump and his balls throb. “God, Lucian,” she said, her fingers trailing back down to his abs. “You’re so sexy.” She shook her head, her fingers still exploring, dipping into the ridges of his muscles. “I can’t believe…” A brightness shone in her eyes and she didn’t need to finish her thought because the same incredulous emotion was pumping through him right now. What had started five years ago had been leading them to this moment, where he promised her protection and claimed what she was offering. When he loosened the iron grip around his heart and let it leap out of his chest and into her hands.

  He dropped back down on top of her and brought his mouth to hers, needing the connection. “Believe it,” he murmured against her lips, his hand in her hair. “I’m not going anywhere. You’re mine.”

  He rolled them so that she was on top, her body splayed over his, all of her curves soft and yielding. She sat up and peeled her blouse off, revealing a simple white bra with little pink polka dots on it. She bit her lip and reached behind her back, undoing the clasp and then sliding it down her arms.

  “Fuck,” he groaned at the sight of her breasts, perfect handfuls topped with the sweetest little nipples. Nipples that were sharp points right now, begging to be sucked and tugged. He slid his hands up from her hips over her sides and to her breasts, cupping her and skimming his thumbs over those gorgeous nipples. She moaned and arched her back, pressing into his touch. He could feel the hard, fast beating of her heart beneath her left breast, and the knowledge that she wanted this just as badly, that this meant as much to her as it did to him, seared through him, permanently rearranging something inside him. “You’re so goddamn beautiful, Liv. Come here.”

  He pulled her back down on top of him and kissed her, both of them sighing and moaning at the skin-to-skin contact. Somehow, he’d survived five years without this woman in his arms. He had no idea how, because now that he’d tasted her, touched her, he wasn’t going to be able to make it a day without her. He’d never felt like this with a woman before, this wave of possession crashing over him, this need to touch her and mark her and protect her almost overwhelming him, and he knew it was because he’d never loved anyone the way he loved Olivia. The way he’d loved her for a long time, if he was honest with himself.

  S
he broke the kiss and pressed her forehead to his, her long hair falling around them like a curtain. He slid his hands down her bare back and to her ass, working her against his cock. She gasped as her pussy pressed against the ridge in his jeans.

  “Holy shit, baby,” she panted. She moved her hips, rubbing against him, teasing and tormenting them both. “You’re so big.” She moved her hips faster, making them both moan. “Oh, God.” She kissed him again and then sat up, her fingers moving to the tie of her wrap skirt. She opened it and peeled it away from her body, tossing it onto the floor to join the growing pile of their clothes, leaving her in nothing but a pair of pale pink panties with a very noticeable wet spot on them.

  Their eyes met as she pressed her pussy against him, the air around them seeming to crackle with static electricity, thick and charged. Her fingers moved to the button of his jeans, popping it open, and then she scooted back a few inches so she could unzip his fly. His cock throbbed, eager for her hands, her mouth, her pussy. She slid her palm up and down the length of him over top of his boxer briefs, making his hips shift on the mattress. Making him groan and ache.

  “You’re going to destroy me with this,” she said, her voice raspy as she rubbed her palm over him again. She moved off his lap and started tugging his jeans down. “You’re going to fill me and stretch me until I’m molded to you and only you.”

  The air whooshed out of his lungs on a harsh pant and then he stood, just long enough to get rid of his jeans. When she reached for his boxer briefs, he tumbled her back down to the bed, coming down on top of her, his weight braced on his arms. Her legs wrapped around his waist as he thrust against her, wanting to draw this out as long as possible. He felt as though fire were coursing through his veins, making everything inside him molten.