Riding Dirty (22 page)

“I don’t know,” Tiffany said, her gaze trailing over Mia’s half-exposed form. “Maybe I need to get on more women.”

“You prefer women?”

“Not really, but you can call me anytime.”

Mia laughed weakly, clutching the towel to her chest. What a crazy night. She hadn’t found the man with the wrist tattoo, but she’d managed to keep Cole out of trouble and have a wild time. It was probably worth the hangover.

“Do you want some pot?” Tiffany asked. “It might help.”

“No thanks,” Mia said, rising from the floor on wobbly legs. She rinsed her mouth at the sink and checked her reflection in the mirror. Her hair was a wreck, her mascara was smudged and her skin had an unhealthy pallor. “Ugh. I look like a zombie.”

“Aw, you just need a lazy-morning cuddle,” Tiffany said.

Mia wondered if Tiffany expected them to roll around in bed together again.

Tiffany laughed at Mia’s expression, giving her shoulder a squeeze. They came out of the bathroom at the same time Cole walked in the door, his arms filled with vending machine items. He had a package of crackers and three sodas.

Mia accepted a lemon-lime soda and sank into a chair at the table. She sipped the cold, sugary liquid with caution. It stayed down. Her throat felt raw and her head ached, but most of her nausea had abated.

“I’ll take mine to go,” Tiffany said.

“There’s no rush,” Cole said.

She shrugged, picking up the soda. “I have to work in a few hours. I traded shifts with Janelle last night.”

“Do you need a ride?”

“No. I’ve got my Jeep.”

Mia noticed that Tiffany was wearing her moccasins instead of the snakeskin ankle boots. “Don’t forget your new shoes.”

“I can’t keep those. They’re too expensive.”

Mia stood to gather the boots, bringing them to Tiffany. “Take them with you. I insist.”

“What will you wear?”

“I have another pair of shoes. Cole likes me barefoot, anyway.”

Tiffany smiled at the joke. Cole didn’t. “Okay,” she said, agreeing.

Mia wasn’t sure what else to say. She’d never had a one-night stand before, much less a casual threesome. Tiffany didn’t seem offended by the awkward silence. She said goodbye to Mia with a soft kiss.

Cole opened the door for her. “Thanks,” he said to Tiffany in a gruff voice.

“For what, giving you the best time of your life?”

“For saving my ass.”

Tiffany glanced at Mia, arching a brow. “It wasn’t my idea, but it was definitely my pleasure.” On her way out, she stood on tiptoe, lifting her mouth to Cole’s. He kept his eyes on Mia as he brushed his lips over Tiffany’s.

“If you two ever want to do this again, you can find me at the club,” Tiffany said, winking at Mia. Then she walked through the doorway and strode across the parking lot, climbing into a dusty Jeep.

Cole closed the door. He was shirtless, his jeans half-buttoned and his boots unzipped. He cracked open a soda and took a long drink, his throat working as he swallowed. Mia sipped her soda and nibbled on crackers, starting to feel human again. She had pain-relief pills in her makeup case, so she took one.

“You knew why we were kissing at the rally?” she asked.

“Everyone knew.”

She flushed, embarrassed by their drunken antics. Maybe he’d been angry about the manipulation, rather than the kissing. Either way, she had no regrets. The ploy had worked.

“What about the White Lightning guys? Did they know?”

He shrugged, stretching out on the bed. “Probably not.”

She grabbed his T-shirt from the floor and tugged it over her head, letting the towel drop. Then she climbed into bed with him. He tucked his arm around her, and she snuggled into him, enjoying the feel of his body. He smelled good, like warm male skin and rumpled sheets. She probably smelled like sex and tequila.

“Have you ever had two women before?”

“Yes.”

“A lot?”

“More than once.”

Mia hadn’t felt a glimmer of jealousy last night, but now she was overwhelmed by an ugly surge of it. This was nothing special to him. She’d been a fool to imagine otherwise.

“How was it, the other times?”

“Are you asking me to rate you in comparison?”

Tears rushed into her eyes at his caustic tone. If she’d trusted her voice, she would have told him to fuck off. But she didn’t, so she tried to push away from him. He held tight, refusing to let her leave his side.

“The other times weren’t like this,” he said. “They weren’t with anyone I cared about. Never with two women who looked like you two, either.”

“What does that mean?”

“You’re both tens.”

“She’s a ten,” Mia said. “I’m an eight.”

Cole didn’t argue.

“You agree that I’m an eight?”

“Hell, no. I just said you were a ten.”

“She’s got a better body.”

“And you’re a fucking doctor.”

“So you’re saying that you enjoyed it because we’re both attractive?”

He released her and sat up, seeming agitated. “I enjoyed it because it was hot. I’ve never seen anything hotter than you two fucking, and the double blow job blew my mind. Is that better? What am I supposed to say, that I didn’t like it?”

“I know you liked it.”

“I didn’t hear you complaining when her tongue was buried in your pussy.”

“I’m not complaining.”

“Then what’s the problem?”

“You tell me.”

He rose from the bed, pacing back and forth. “I want
my
tongue buried in your pussy, and only mine. I don’t care if she’s sexy as hell, and you two look pretty in bed together. I don’t want anyone fucking you but me.”

“Okay,” she said, moistening her lips.

He frowned at this unexpected response. “Okay?”

“I want that, too.”

“You do?”

She nodded. “Last night was just...a one-time thing. I was drunk. I’m not sorry we did it. But I’m not up for doing it again.”

“You’re not?”

“No.”

“You said you weren’t ready to be my girlfriend.”

“I was scared,” she said, swallowing hard.

“Of what?”

“The way you make me feel.”

“And now?”

“Now I’m more afraid of losing you.”

Cole finished his soda, contemplative. He appeared satisfied with her confession. Somehow being with Tiffany had brought them closer together. Mia was flattered by Cole’s jealousy, and a little surprised. His possessiveness was stronger than his desire for erotic kicks. Her need for him was stronger than her fear.

“I’m hungry,” he said.

Groaning at the thought of food, she hid her face in the pillows.

“There’s a restaurant that serves menudo on the other side of town.”

She lifted her head, intrigued. Menudo was a beloved Mexican soup, a hangover cure. “What does a white boy like you know about menudo?”

“You’re whiter than I am.”

“I’m paler than you are,” she corrected.

“All bikers know about menudo. It’s balls-out road fuel.”

She laughed at his description, which sounded about right. He could give a Mexican man a run for his money in machismo.

“Give me my shirt. I’ll make a run while you stay here.”

She tugged the shirt over her head. His eyes darkened at the sight of her nude body.

“I like you like that,” he said, putting on his shirt.

“Naked and barefoot?”

“I’m going to fuck you when I get back,” he said. “Don’t move.”

“Why not?”

“Because I said so.”

She lay there while he was gone, eyes closed, replaying the events from the night before. Her former self wouldn’t have done any of those things. She wouldn’t have smoked pot at a biker bonfire, or slept with Tiffany. A man like Cole would have been beneath her regard, even if he wasn’t a client.

The psychologist in her recognized a downward spiral when she saw one. But the woman she’d become didn’t care. She felt liberated, rather than ashamed, by her behavior. She enjoyed being with Cole and embracing her fantasies.

Her reservations weren’t about her mental health or their sexual exploration. They were about the viability of the relationship. She’d agreed to be his girlfriend, and she was starting to really care about him. Did she even want to find her husband’s killers anymore? What would she do when Cole’s assignment was over? What if he committed another crime or—God forbid—got exposed as an informant?

Being with him felt good right now, but it was bound to hurt bad later. She wasn’t sure she could handle the aftereffects of her indulgence. She’d wanted to feel again. She hadn’t wanted to feel
this much
.

She followed Cole’s orders. She didn’t move, didn’t touch herself. Her thoughts drifted and she dozed off. When he returned, almost an hour later, she startled awake. He set a brown take-out bag on the table.

“Sorry it took so long. The place was crowded.”

“That’s okay. I fell asleep.” She stretched her arms over her head, drawing his attention to her bare breasts.

“How are you?”

“Better.”

“Let’s eat.”

She got up and joined him at the table, naked. He removed two large foam cups from the bag, placing one in front of her, along with a clear plastic spoon. Then, before she could ask for it, he gave her a foil-wrapped packet with cilantro and lime inside. She added the herbs and a squeeze of lime juice to her soup, watching as he did the same. The first taste was good. Spicy, hot, soothing.

“Okay,” she said. “You know menudo.”

“Told you.”

“Were your friends at the restaurant?”

“A few of them, yeah.”

Judging by his smirk, he’d earned some high fives for scoring with two women last night. Mia watched him eat the soft, fleshy bits of tripe from his soup. She finished a third of hers, along with the rest of her soda. Her stomach couldn’t handle too much.

After breakfast, he stripped down to his boxers and climbed into bed. He had something around his ankle, covering the monitor. She hadn’t noticed it before, maybe because it blended in with his black socks.

“What’s that?” she asked.

“A muffler. I think the tracking device might have a voice recorder.”

Mia felt the blood drain from her face. “Does it?”

“I don’t know, but I can’t be too careful. I’ve been wearing it whenever I’m with you. During the sessions, too.”

She joined him on top of the blanket, inspecting the fabric at his shin. It was wetsuit material, thick and waterproof. If Vargas had been listening in on them, she was screwed. On the other hand, the eavesdropping tactic might not be legal.

“Don’t worry about it,” he said, pulling her toward him.

Mia allowed him to wrap his arms around her. “Telling a woman not to worry is very similar to telling her to relax.”

“Relax, babe.”

Now he was goading her. She tried to wrestle him and lost. They rolled across the mattress, play-fighting until she was panting and begging for mercy. He had her arms pinned above her head and her lower body trapped underneath his. She squirmed against his hold. When he lowered his mouth to hers, she turned her head to the side.

“Do you want to be on top?” he murmured, kissing her throat.

“No, I want to shower and brush my teeth.”

“I like you the way you are.”

“Dirty?”

He nodded and caught her elusive lips, kissing her thoroughly. Their tongues mingled, cilantro-laced. He didn’t taste bad, so maybe she didn’t either. His mouth was hot, spicy, soothing. Maybe dirty sex was the best hangover cure.

He kissed her again and again, letting her get used to his weight. Soon she forgot her misgivings and wrapped her legs around his waist. She could see their reflection in the mirror, the backward tattoo across his shoulders. W-A-L-T-O-U.

When he released her hands, she threaded her fingers through his hair. Her nipples brushed his chest, and his cloth-covered erection nudged her steamy sex. He hadn’t entered her last night, or the night before. She was suddenly desperate for him to penetrate her and give her a good pounding.

“Fuck me,” she said in his ear.

He rolled away from her, reaching for a condom.

“You don’t have to. I’m on birth control.”

“Really?”

She nodded, biting down on her lower lip. She’d started it a few weeks ago in preparation for seducing him. The last thing she needed was an unexpected pregnancy. Cole didn’t ask why she was taking contraceptives. He just kicked off his boxer shorts and climbed on top of her, delighted to go bare.

She studied his face while he entered her, his expression a mixture of agony and ecstasy. He slanted his mouth over hers, plunging his tongue inside as he slid home. She gasped and dug her fingernails into his back.

“Yes,” she panted, filled with him. Skin on skin. “Yes, Cole.”

He buried himself in her, over and over. She was swollen and sensitive and very slick. His cock grew shiny with her moisture.

“Your pussy is so wet,” he said in a guttural voice.

She tried to think of a nice compliment for his cock, but she was beyond words. He felt so good inside her, so big and hard. Her breasts bounced against his chest with every thrust and his face hovered near hers, drawn with pleasure.

“I love fucking you.”

She moaned, glancing in the mirror. The muscles in his back bunched and his tight buttocks flexed as he pumped that thick cock into her, balls-deep.

“Come for me.”

She wasn’t sure she could handle any more stimulation to her clitoris, but she loved the feel of him on top of her. She loved the reflection of their entwined bodies in the mirror. She loved every breathless second, every inch of his cock.

She loved
him
.

He shuddered, spearing her with a heavy thrust. Then another, and another, penetrating her to the hilt as he collapsed against her, sweaty and spent. After a long moment, he withdrew from her and rolled onto his back, draping an arm across his forehead. When she tried to get up, he clamped his fingers around her wrist.

“Don’t move.”

“Why not?”

“Because I’m going to finish you off.”

She squirmed at the thought, squeezing her legs together. “I can’t.”

He opened one eye. “Is that a challenge?”