Lady Killer (Tangled Desires Book 2) (17 page)

“Of course.” She taps a finger on my arm. “I thought I had you pegged, but you surprize me at every turn. What else are you hiding, mister?”

Grinning, I climb off the bed. She’s in for a surprise, but right now I need to get to the gym. “The best way for me to explain is to show you. If you really want to know, be ready at seven. Don’t worry about wearing anything fancy. We’re probably going to get dirty.”

Gem

I have no idea what I signed up for this morning. Opting for jeans and a long sleeve sweater I toss my hair into a pony and apply a little lip-gloss. My roots are starting to show, and I consider tossing some dye through it. I probably should, but part of me longs for my natural hair color.

When I asked Tom about the meetings this morning I didn’t expect that I’d be getting dirty this evening. Well, maybe I did, just in an entirely different way. Now I can’t help but imagine we’ll be climbing through a muddy obstacle course, or shooting each other with paint balls.

“You ready, princess?” He knocks on the door then steps inside. Does he always have to looks so gosh darn pretty? Even in faded jeans and a gray T-shirt, with his cap twisted backward, he’s totally lickable.

My mouth waters, and I consider suggesting we don’t go after all, but curiosity will forever get me into trouble, and after an entire day of trying to work out what he’s hiding from everyone, including his best friend, I’m desperate to know. “All set.”

“So where are we going?” I ask.

“You’ll have to wait and see.” He grins and takes my hand.

We end up strolling around the lake and past the gym, into the main part of town, and then he leads me for several blocks until we stop in the alley behind some kind of shop. He lets himself in, and pulls me along a badly lit corridor.

My heart jumps into my throat for a second, before his grip brings me back from the panic of being in a dark, enclosed space, and then we’re standing in a large, well-lit bakery with glass display cases lined up in a U-shape.

“It’s lovely to have you back, Tom,” the woman at the counter says, gliding toward us, like she’s levitating on those insanely high shoes. Then she puts her hand on his arm, and peers down her nose at me. “You brought someone with you.”

I’m not really sure what Tom’s doing in a bakery with a woman who looks like her job should involve those shoes and a whip, but I want to smack her hand off his arm. “It’s Gem.”

Her eyes widen, then she moves about the room, gathering her purse and jacket. “Well, I have to go out for an hour or so, but I should be back before you leave.”

“So what are we doing here?” I ask, half-wondering if the bakery is actually a front.

He gives me that cocky half-grin. “Have you ever done any cake decorating?”

I’m pretty sure my eyes are bugging out of my head as I stare at Tom, whose entire life seems to revolve around boxing, trash talking with his brothers, and recently, getting into my panties. “You decorate cakes?”

He shrugs, as though it’s the most normal thing in the world. “It’s not that fucking weird.”

“A secret hobby.” I roll my eyes.

“I couldn’t cook, okay?” he says. “At all. So I took some classes. Then I took some more, because I enjoyed it.”

“But why is it a secret?”

“I’ve got another reputation to protect, princess. If my brothers found out, do you think I’d ever live it down? I’m supposed to be all He-man macho, smashing shit, and tough as nails.”

“I would never have guessed,” I joke, squeezing his muscular bicep. “You don’t come across that way at all. And now you’re decorating cakes. That has to put a severe dent in whatever manhood you have.”

I don’t mean a word of it, because it’s pretty damn mouth-watering that the man can not only cook, but create food-porn, too.

“Right.” He leads me through the bakery, past the counters, past steel benches with shelves of ingredients lined neatly above them. Utensils are laid out in organized perfection.

“So why am I finding it so damn sexy that you can make art out of food?”

“You think it’s sexy?” He chuckles.

We make our way past the ovens, and into another room that hosts a row of fridges, more steel workbenches, and an array of tools specifically for the task.

His hands have been all over my body, even now the soft scrape of his thumb on mine stirs my insides. “That you can do so many things with your hands? Oh yeah.” I slip past him and stare around. “So, I have no idea about any of this.”

“And here I was thinking the heiress of Castle confectionary and ice cream would be a pro at this kind of thing.”

“Not so much.”

We take a spot at the bench where a couple cakes are laid out on turntables. At first I work beside him, copying what he’s doing, applying something that’s apparently a crumb coating. Does he have to be good at everything?

“I’m pretty sure half my cake’s in the icing,” I say.

“You’re trying to be too pretty about it, princess.”

I spin the turntable. Apparently at some point I’ve squashed a section of the cake, while his is perfect. “Not even that show Cake Boss could save it now.”

Moving behind me, his hands cover mine, one on the turntable, the other holding a spatula, which kind of looks like a big, flat scoop. His lips brush against my ear as we start to move the base. “Softly does it. Don’t aim for perfection.”

“That’s easy. At this rate, I’ll settle for edible.” The heat of him is soaking into my back and along my arms where we touch, distracting me from the job at hand.

“When you were learning to box, remember how it was all about technique? Learning how to make moves correctly so you didn’t hurt yourself?” His breath tickles my ear, warm puffs that send tingles along my nape, stirring the hairs there. “Power and speed came later.”

“I remember.” The coating is coming together, looking less cake and more icing as we glide the spatula over the surface.

“This is sort of the same, except the base doesn’t have to look pretty, but it’s what will make each step easier to get right.”

“I think I get it.”

He moves his hands from mine, his fingers leaving a trail of goosebumps over my arms, before he scoops my ponytail away from my neck and puts his mouth there. “Knew you would.”

To hell with the cake and whether it’s edible, or pretty. The scoop slips from my fingers as I lean into him, tilting my head to give him all the access he wants. “You’re distracting me.”

And I don’t care, because I’d rather focus on the sensations he’s building inside me than the task at hand.

He snakes his palm up to rest at the base of my throat, and I’m pretty sure he can feel my heart thudding as he owns my mouth. He’s all slick heat and deep lingering strokes that stir my insides to life.

Turning me in his arms, he grasps my ass and lifts me onto the counter beside our cakes. I think I have icing stuck to my butt. Traces of it are on my skin, too, everywhere he touches. The scent of cake and sugar, of salt and masculinity, envelopes me as he lays me down on the bench and hikes my sweater up over my tits so he can put his mouth there, sucking and licking at me until I’m arching into him. “This has to be against health and safety, or something, doesn’t it?”

He growls deep in his throat, his gaze penetrating. “Oh it’s definitely against my safety. You do terrible things to me, pretty girl. Leave me aching for you. I could break boards I’m so fucking hard.”

He takes my hand and places it on his hardness. It pulses under my fingers as I stroke him through his jeans. “W-what about the cakes? Shouldn’t we finish them?”

“Fuck the cakes,” he grunts, kneading my thighs with his hands he moves up to rub circles with his thumb. Even in jeans he knows exactly where to apply pressure to create the sweetest sensation. Pleasure surges through me, tightening that coil of need that’s become a permanent part of me since I stumbled into his gym. Funny how I never in a million years actually believed I’d end up in this position with him. My body at his whim.

Lights flicker somewhere toward the front of the bakery, heels clipping along the floor. I startle, yanking my sweater back down over my boobs, while my heart skips a beat. Tom grips my hand, and I start to breathe again. Somewhere along the line he stole my heart, and left me with utter faith in his ability to keep me safe.

It’s only the pastry chef, who I forgot about while I was immersed in cakes, and Tom’s hands on me.

She raises one well-manicured eyebrow as she takes in the room. Then her toes start tapping. “Are you guys finished in here?”

“Will be as soon as we clean up,” Tom says, as I wiggle off the counter. Then with a grin, and a swipe to my ass, he whispers in my ear, “You’ve got icing on your butt.”

Damn it, I knew that was going to happen.

I brush it off as best I can while he talks to Lucy. “I’ll have this cleaned up in five minutes and then we’ll be out of your hair. Thanks again for letting us use the space.”

“You’ll be in this week? To finish the details?”

“Definitely. I’ll give you a call.” He kisses her cheek, and her resolve at being annoyed over walking in on us sullying her workplace melts.

I watch him as he moves about, cleaning up the mess we made. He fascinates me, and, I think, everyone else around him.

“What are you thinking?” he asks, brushing his hands down his pants after he puts the last thing away.

“How do you do that? The woman positively melted for you.”

He grins, wrapping an arm about my waist. “I’m charming, obviously. Don’t you think so?”

“Apparently.”

“There’s only one girl I want going soft for me. Do you melt for me, princess?”

Every damn time you look at me.
“You’ve got icing in your hair.” I lift up to scrape it out with my nails.

“So do you.” He licks his lips, and that dirty, little twinkle shines in his eyes. “I’m going to enjoy getting clean with you in the shower, and then I’m going to make you dirty all over again.”

Tom

I pace outside the bathroom door and adjust the cuffs on my shirt again. “Are you almost ready, princess?”

“Will you be patient?” I hear her giggle on the other side of the door, and I swear she’s taking her sweet-ass time just to make me edgier. It’s like we’ve slipped into this comfortable relationship this past week, all our secrets out in the open. Well, most of them. I asked her about why she ran in the first place, and she finally told me it had something to do with match fixing, including my last round against Santiago. Looking back, I should have seen it. There had been something so off with the way he fought that night. I’m sure there’s more, but her not telling me isn’t about trust. Even as she told me, she took my hand and placed a thumb drive on my palm. The whole reason she’s been running for so long is on this tiny device, and she gave it to me without a thought that I would read the contents.

I glance at my phone, checking the time.

“We’ll be late.” I huff. We’re nowhere near late, yet. We’ve still got plenty of time until we’re expected to be at the venue, but I figure it’s worth a try to get her out of the bathroom already.

“We won’t,” she calls back.

“I’m going to get Chelsea, and pick up Dad from the hotel,” Mace says, sauntering out of his room, adjusting his jacket. He looks uncomfortable. “Do you think she insisted on formal dress just to chafe me?”

“Nope. She wanted to ogle Razer in a suit.”

“I don’t want to hear that shit.” He growls, giving me a shove to the shoulder.

“We’re going to have to face it sooner or later.” I shrug. “He’s going to be Mister Bennington-Hadley.”

“You’re kidding.”

“Nope.” I chuckle.

“I guess that makes sense. He’s always been one of us.” He cocks his head at the door. “Princess, you better hurry up. Tommy boy’s looking like he’s ready to break down the door.”

Then he laughs and marches away.

He’s right though. She’s been in there for ages, and I saw her carrying a little pink tote and a drycleaner’s bag over her arm. I’m dying of curiosity.

It kind of surprises me the door opens when I push it. She’s standing in front of the mirror, her hair a caramel blonde color, a lot like it was in the photos in my album. I can see the woman I didn’t notice then, trotting around so confidently and holding up the signs announcing rounds, while I was in the ring. Her locks are curled and twisted into this sexy side ponytail that falls over her shoulder while she bends over the counter applying gloss to her lips. I still can’t believe I didn’t see her, but then maybe I had. I’d kissed her that night after my win, not one of the girls in the front row beside the ring, but her… As if I’d known all along she was the one, even if only subconsciously.

I can barely breathe, my cock rigid, as I drag my gaze down past the strip of black lace across her back to the sheer garter belt, tiny black panties, and stockings. She’s a fucking fantasy.
Mine.

She does something to my brain, the combustion I have going on over her cooks it. She’s too delectable not to have a little taste. I stalk over and run a knuckle down the bumps of her spine, across the dimple at her hip as I bend around her to press my mouth to the hollow below her ear, tasting her, the slight sweetness of her perfume and the salt of her skin. My fingers toy with the long silver earring she’s wearing. “So fucking pretty.”

I watch her watching me in the mirror, her eyes wide and full of lust, as I wander my hand down her ass to part her legs.

“We’ll be late,” she says, but then she darts the tip of her tongue over those glossy lips, and I don’t care, because I have to have her.

Plucking one suspender, I let it snap back against her thigh. She jumps with a hiss, but the slight wiggle in her hips as she arches for me tells me she’s aroused. “We have plenty of time.”

“Do we?” She twists, gliding her palms over my dress shirt with a half-smile, dropping it lower until she cups the bulge in my pants.

“All the time in the world, pretty girl.” My heart thumps a little harder, for her. That’s what she does to me. Owns all the parts of me no one ever has before. I lift her off her feet, planting her ass on the edge of the counter as I take her mouth, my tongue sliding on hers. Her lip-gloss tastes like cherry, smeared on my lips, and I suck the bottom one between my teeth, while I follow the line of her stocking up the suspender and under the garter belt to slip my fingers into her flimsy panties.

She bucks, her tits rising and falling as I twist two digits inside her wet heat and stroke her until she grinds into my palm. Then she wraps those long legs around me, the heel of her shoe digging into my ass.

I need to have her now. Need her fitted to me the way only she can. There is nothing else. I don’t speak, I can’t think as she slides the zip on my dress pants down and wraps her fingers around my dick.

“I need you, Tommy.” She gasps between each word, while pressing kisses to my mouth, guiding me between her slick folds, the head of my cock surrounded by her heat. She pulls me into her with those vise like legs. I thrust deeper, consuming her as she consumes me. I’m never going to get enough of this girl and the way she responds to me. Each time I’m with her is better than the last.

Her fingers dig into my shoulder, a bite that corresponds with her heel in my ass and I drive harder into her, with deeper, longer strokes.

I want this girl for the rest of my life. I want to sleep beside her, make babies with her, and tease her over her hatred of caffeine and chocolate. I want to fuck her without condoms, and… shit.

She tightens so sweetly around my dick as she cums on me. I can feel every clench of her muscles, as her orgasm ripples through her, her head thrown back, her tits bouncing. I barely manage to pull out of her before I cum, covering my dick with my hand so I don’t make a mess of her. At least not this time.

I’ve never forgotten a condom before, never made that kind of mistake. Only I’m not sure it’s a mistake when it comes to her, because I’m never going to let her go. I want to ask her if she’s okay. If she’s protected. We’ve never had that conversation, never needed to, but I don’t get a chance to because my cell vibrates in my pocket and I have to answer Claire before she has a hissy fit while Gem slips into a little black dress that has me panting after her like a dog.

***

People mill around the ballroom in fancy dresses and suits, the buzz of conversation swelling around us. Glass walls give a perfect view of the lake as the sun sinks below the horizon. A band plays softly behind the parquetry dance floor, and long tables line the back wall where people pick at platters of food.

Most of my family stand together in the center of the room, where a tall table is set up with the three tier white and gold engagement cake I’d brought to the venue this morning. Mace is at the bar, his hand wrapped around a tumbler that no doubt holds a decent scotch. Gem squeezes my hand as we make our way over to Claire, who’s talking to Olivia, the girl she handed the reigns of her charity, House to Haven, to when she decided to move home.

Chelsea stands slightly behind her, gorgeous in a gold knee-length dress. Except she’s looking a little out of sorts, and I realize I never did talk to her about getting a check-up.

“You’re almost late.” Razer drops a hand on my shoulder, with a smirk. “We were about to send out a search party.”

“Little Bit’s going to get worse for the wedding.” I chuckle.

“Don’t I fucking know it?”

Mace joins us, standing next to Gem. “Well, don’t you clean up real nice, princess?”

“I could say the same about you.” She digs him in the ribs with her elbow, and he grins. Like at some point he started giving a shit, not because of me, but because he has genuine respect for my girl.

Claire squeals, this piercing shriek, as she launches across the room, and we all look to see what’s happened. Slouched in the doorway to the function room, dressed in Armani and expensive Italian loafers, is our other brother, Rush. He adjusts his tie with a grin before scooping Claire up and spinning her around. “Look at you, Little Bit. I do believe you grew some more while I was gone.”

She swats his arm, trying to glare at him but failing, as her smile shines like a beacon. “That’s because you never come home.”

“Well, I’m here now.” He lowers her to the ground and winds his arm around her shoulders. “Although you are marrying our brother, so obviously I’ve been lax in my duties as big brother.”

We all attack, Razer shaking his hand, Mace clapping him on the back. I pull Rush into a bear hug, and despite the fact he’s taller than me, I lift him clean off his feet and bounce him around. “Can’t believe you didn’t tell us you were coming, you bastard.”

“Watch your language, Tommy.” Mom says, swooping in when I set him back on his feet. It’s crazy, everyone talking at once, excitement washing off us in waves.

“He hasn’t changed a bit, has he?” Chelsea whispers beside me, a tremor in her voice.

“Not so much.” I shrug and squeeze Gem a little tighter.

“Hello, Chels.” Rush claps Dad on the back as he steps around him, his focus completely on her. It has to have been almost a decade since the two of them saw each other, but it’s almost like no time has passed.

“Rush.”

Taking her hand, he dips to press his mouth to it. “It’s been a long time, hasn’t it?”

“Years.” She winces. We were fifteen when he left her behind, and I’m wondering how he could have chosen the spotlight over her when he’s staring at her the way he is now.

“You’re looking awfully pretty tonight, Chels.” He fingers a couple strands of her hair, and her throat tenses for a second.

“It’s Chelsea. No one calls me Chels anymore.” A flash of resolve hardens her face before she flips her hair and walks away, leaving Rush open mouthed.

“I guess your magic finally wore off, brother,” Mace crows, shoving his cell back in his pocket and heading back to the bar.

“So what’s going on with him? I heard he beat the shit out of Razer,” Rush asks as he smiles at Gem, and I find myself wanting to pull her behind me after the way Chelsea reacted to him.

“Don’t know. He doesn’t talk about it.”

“I’ll sort him out while I’m here. Is it all right if I crash for a week or two?” He takes Gem’s hand, squeezes it. “Who’s this?”

“Gemma,” I say. “Wait, what? You’re not leaving tonight?”

“There are a few things I’d like to take care of. Besides, show business gets tiring when you’ve been doing it as long as I have. I could use a break and lay low for a while.” He squints and shuffles his feet.

Coming back, Mace sets his full glass down on a table. “Going to borrow your girlfriend for a minute, bro. I want to see if she can keep up with me on the dance floor.”

We haven’t talked about naming this thing between us, not that I haven’t thought about it, but it’s hitting me that she’s got her feet planted firmly in my life. It’s hard to believe when everyone comes and goes, that the girl with a legitimate reason to leave is the only one who’s wanted more of me than a night in my bed.

“Is that okay with you, princess?” He smirks as he tugs her away from me, but she glances over her shoulder and winks. Somehow, she’s managed to wrap the cranky fucker around her little finger.

“Girlfriend?” Rush laughs. “Are you telling me some girl’s got your balls in a vise?”

“She’s got me.” I shrug.

“What’s with Mace calling her princess? I would have thought you’d be all caveman about that shit.”

I pick up Mace’s scotch and down it. “She’s an heiress. Her last name’s Castle. Like he wasn’t going to start calling her princess.”

Gem

My hands shake so much I can barely turn on the tap to splash cold water on my face. It hadn’t been dancing that Mace had wanted me for, though he’d spun, dipped, and glided like he was born to. While Tom and Rush stood to the side, laughing, conversing, and watching, Mace had been warning me that Santiago wasn’t as far away as we’d hoped. That at some point over the last twenty-four hours he’d started heading in my direction. It could be nothing. He might not even know I’m here. At least that’s what Mace tried to tell me.

My feet itch, my gut is all twisted. I don’t believe he thinks that for a minute.

I could barely breathe by the time he spun me to the edge of the dance floor, away from Tom and toward the bathrooms. I couldn’t drag my gaze away from Tom, or get the image of him flying through the air and crumpling on the blacktop out of my head.

Mace gripped my arm, bent his head to my ear. “Go compose yourself, princess. Let’s not worry anyone unnecessarily.”

I pat my face dry and check my hair and makeup, but I don’t think I can hide the fear in my eyes. I’m still trembling as I lean over the basin and exhale. I’m strong enough to stay put, aren’t I? Surrounded by strong, ass kicking alpha men. There should be no doubt in my mind. Except they’ve become like family in the short period of time I’ve gotten to spend with them, and imagining anything happening to them because of me makes me sick to my stomach. Maybe running is the better option after all.

I twist around at the sound of retching behind me in one of the stalls, covering my mouth with my hand as that acidy feeling in the pit of my belly increases. Breathing in and out a couple times, I will myself to calm down, to plant my feet and believe in a future I never expected was possible. Three shaky steps to the door, and I steel my spine, reaching for the handle.