The Marriage Merger (7 page)

When the situation calls for it.”

His voice dragged like the scrape of gravel. “How about this situation?”

A husky laugh escaped her. “Not gonna happen when we’re working together.”

“you didn’t initial. Technically, the contract is void.”

She caressed upward over the sweep of denim, hit his belt buckle, and slipped her hand under the leather jacket.

This was now fun. Teasing a man and walking away was a game she rarely played, but he needed a lesson. Washboard abs tightened under her touch, and those amber eyes dark-ened. “Still not gonna happen.”

“Care to tell me why?”

She grinned with pure satisfaction, seduction, and a hint of tart. “The one with the biggest balls doesn’t always win, Sawyer Wells.”

He muttered a curse. “So who does?”

Julietta pursed her lips. “The one who can go the distance.”

Satisfaction poured through her. How was that for an innuendo? Heady with getting the last word, she began to pull back out of the danger zone.

Too late.

He moved so fast she never had a chance. With a strength that amazed her, he lifted her off the bench and onto his lap, holding her arms tight at her sides so she was a bit off balance. Her struggle was instinctual but quickly faded under his calm, implacable demeanor.

She had made a fatal mistake.

And now she was gonna pay.

…

The woman was driving him mad.

He was uncomfortably hard, his erection tortur-ing the hard denim and roaring for freedom. The wind caught her scent—full of leather and musk and cocoa— and drenched his nostrils, wrecking his brain and his dick in one effective swoop. Her body was trim yet full, from the curves of her breasts to the lush swell of her rear, now firmly cushioned in the notch of his thighs. Her face reflected the uncertainty of her position and a slight regret at pushing him too far. Good. At least the woman sensed his need to dominate and take. A crazy lust swirled through his system from the mind-blowing twist of hidden sensuality, cool snarkiness, and razor wit of the woman on his lap.

He had almost hit the floor when he pulled up on his bike and caught sight of her. Dressed in bad-ass black leather with thigh-high boots and her hair stuffed up in a red helmet, she was droolworthy. He didn’t know any woman who rode a bike, let alone appreciated them. The way she bore down in their race showed the hard-core spirit of a woman who enjoyed winning, and her ability to pick through every obstacle in front of her without slowing almost made him have an embarrassing situation.

Almost.

And she’d won. He revered a good competition and rarely lost. The idea she was even able to cross the finish line before him made him want to rip off her clothes and win in another way. A much more pleasant one.

He tightened his grip. He figured she wanted to taunt him, but now his goal was to make her mad enough to lose some of that precious control. For some reason, his gut told him anger would get past her barriers and allow some of that seething sexual energy to spout out. She held back bigtime, and there was something else other than the obstacle of business between them. Until he found out what, he wouldn’t be sleeping soundly at night.

Her hair had come undone—her clip had broken.

Sawyer had only before seen the coal-black strands neatly twisted up on the top of her head. What he now spotted sealed his decision to get her into his bed at all costs.

A shimmering waterfall of silk spilled past her shoulders and hit her waist. rapunzel hair. He had nasty visions of holding all that hair while she was on her knees taking him deep, of the glossy pin-straight strands brushing his thighs, his stomach, and his chest as she reared up over him.

For a second, his mind blanked, and he didn’t know if he was capable of not taking her right here in the public park.

Her clipped words dragged him back to the moment.

“What do you think you’re doing? Let me go; this is unprofessional.”

Damn, she was hot. He kept hold and chuckled. “And what you did was professional? Taunting me?”

She stuck out her chin. “you deserved it. you need to stop talking about sex in hidden meanings.”

“Fair enough. you’re wet, aren’t you?”

A combination of shock, outrage, and lust glimmered in her eyes. “you did not just say that to me,” she hissed. “you go too far.”

“your body gives you away.” He slid a hand over her rear, under her jacket, and around to her front where he cupped her breast. Her nipple stabbed into his palm past the fabric of her sweater, past the barrier of her bra, and demanded freedom. “I can see your pulse hammering at your neck. your nipples are stiff, your pupils are dilated, and you can’t catch your breath.”

“It’s cold and the ride was hard.”

His dick twitched. She was fucking magnificent, refusing to surrender even a bit. She could be his greatest challenge.

“I know another thing that’s hard,” he muttered.

“See! Another innuendo. Let me up.”

“one kiss.”

She stilled. Was that fear or regret on her face? What was she so nervous about? “Why?”

“Prove it. Prove you’re not interested right here, right now.”

She rolled her eyes. “you’ve dated too many blondes.

This has ‘sucker’ written all over it.”

Sawyer fought a grin. “you kiss me. Just once. you’re not into it, or me, I won’t push anymore. you hold the reins.”

“you won’t try to touch me?”

“Nope.” regretfully, he removed his hand from her breast and dropped his arms to the side. She shifted her weight so she wasn’t off balance, and Sawyer swallowed a painful groan.

“My terms? Then you leave me alone?”

“yes.”

A tiny frown creased her brow. He waited patiently until she finally nodded. “okay. Then we move on as business partners. No weird stuff.”

“Agreed.”

As if preparing for a test, she dragged in a breath, shut her eyes, and leaned forward. Her lips touched his, super soft and sweet, like the spun cotton candy he lusted after as a kid and beyond. Tentative. Honest. Pure.

Her body softened on his lap, and all the signs of her arousal flared to life. It took every ounce of power in his being to accept her kiss on her terms, but when she finally lifted her mouth, the surprise in those dark eyes told him more than he’d learned about her so far.

oh, yeah, she was afraid. of him. of her reaction. She wanted him as badly as he wanted her. But she didn’t know what to do with it, and there was a major blockage in the way of her physical reaction, as if she didn’t allow herself to ever slip over the edge of not being in control.

Another piece of the puzzle slid into place.

She drew back. Her tongue slid over her bottom lip and probably caught his taste, since her body gave a tiny little shudder. Sawyer realized that chaste kiss was sexier than an openmouthed, tongue-mingling mating, because it was the first time she’d given him something on her own.

He swore she’d be giving him a hell of a lot more.

“okay? Satisfied?”

“yes.”

She hesitated, as if not trusting him to give up so easily.

But she quickly pulled herself together, scrambled off his lap, and began packing up the bag. “We better go. It’ll be dark soon.”

He didn’t answer. They threw out the trash, walked to their bikes, and donned their gloves. “Thanks for letting me ride with you. I’ll express the page to your office and have my assistant come get it when you’re done.”

“Fine.” She tried to stuff her glorious hair back into the helmet, and Sawyer caught the tremble in her fingers. “I assume you’ll stick with your word and not bother me again in a—personal way?”

“No.”

Her head shot up. “What?”

He rocked back on his heels, enjoying the hell out of her. “I said if you didn’t respond to that kiss, on your terms, I’d leave you alone. But you did. you want me just as badly as I want you.”

Her mouth dropped open, then closed with a snap. She fisted her hands. “I didn’t respond! I told you I’m not interested in taking this relationship into the bedroom, and you need to respect that.
Porca vacca,
you are unbelievable!”

He grinned. “That kiss proved a lot of things, including your interest. Something’s holding you back though; I’m just not sure what it is. But your comment made a lot of sense to me. It’s not about having balls.”

“Huh?”

He gave a wink. “It’s about going the distance. Which I intend to go with you. See you Monday.”

He slid onto his bike, revved it up, and roared down the pathway, leaving her standing by the castle in the dying sun with a shocked look on her face.

Sawyer stared at the current shithole, which used to be his pristinely kept kitchen, and tamped down his impa-tience.

Again.

Soda spilled on the counter. A bag of chips open and growing stale by the hour. His gleaming stainless steel stove smeared with some type of dark liquid and spots of burnt cheese. His boots crunched on the white marble floors as he shoved the chips back in the cabinet, recycled the soda bottles, and dragged a sponge over the stove.

Didn’t parents usually count to ten when they were about to explode? okay, he liked his place clean, but he was a guy, and even this was tough. ever since the kid moved in, his already thinning patience stretched to epic proportions.

The original plan to stay at a hotel didn’t make sense. He’d be in Milan for a while and needed to oversee each part of the construction of Purity, so he decided to rent an apartment close to headquarters. Back in New york, his new apprentice stayed in an adjoining suite at a five-star hotel, so they both had privacy but remained close enough so Sawyer could play guardian. of course, the benefits of a hotel included constant maid and room service, so he rarely worried about the state the kid kept the room or if he was properly fed.

When he got to Milan, he decided to rent the luxurious loft and move the boy in with him. After all, he was too young to trust alone, though he acted like a twist of an old bitter man and a young biker gone bad. And the space was pretty damn big, which should have meant plenty of room for both of them.

Wrong.

Sawyer threw the sponge back in the sink and wondered for the billionth time if he was nuts for getting a kid he didn’t know off the streets of New york City moved in with him, and involved in his business. After all, he had enough on his list of things to do without including helping a homeless teen with a sarcastic wit who challenged him at every turn. Maybe it was the angry, lost look in his eyes that dragged Sawyer back to his past and made him want to prove someone could give a shit in this world. That maybe he could help and make a difference. God knew his foster brother Danny had never gotten that chance.

Sawyer only planned to assist Wolfe for a few weeks and get him on his feet. Instead, eight months rolled by, and Sawyer made no move to get rid of him. of course, the teen proved to be wicked smart and a big help in getting Purity off the ground. Before long, Sawyer decided to hire him as a permanent fixture as his assistant and see what happened.

If they didn’t kill each other first.

Sawyer made his way past the living room—decorated in simple masculine tones of beige and brown and currently strewn with dirty underwear, jeans, and socks—and followed the smell to the back room. Silence greeted him, but he knew the iPod earbuds were stuffed in Wolfe’s ears, so he’d hear nothing anyway. Instead of knocking, Sawyer pushed open the door.

A pair of surly blue eyes stared back in rebellion.

Sawyer ignored the look and tapped his ear in a demand for the kid to take the earbuds out. Vincent, now named Wolfe, shifted on the bed and muttered a curse. ripping the bud from his right ear, above which his hair was shaved, he glared. “What?”

“How about cleaning up your mess?”

A snort. “you got a cleaning lady, so why do you care?”

“She only comes once a week, and it already smells.

ever hear of a hamper?”

“you leave your stuff out.”

Sawyer refused to sigh; it was so cliché. “yeah, but not clothes that are breeding. I’m letting you crash here so you don’t have to pay for a room. The least you can do is buy food once in a while.”

Wolfe’s response was a long sigh. “Sure. Sorry.”

“Why don’t you get out of this place for a while? Take a walk. Shop. Do something.”

The kid looked at him as if he’d won the dummy award of the year. The gold hoop in his brow and in his ear winked in mockery. Why did Sawyer suddenly feel like shuffling his feet? How could a nineteen-year-old boy intimidate the crap out of him? He reminded himself to be patient.

Patience and understanding would eventually allow him to win. The kid had been through a lot, and he was supposed to be helping. “Why? So I can wear those ridiculous clothes you bought me and parade myself around like I’m some kind of designer toy? or sip espresso and pretend I’ve got my shit together to score a supermodel? No, thanks. I’ll stay here.”

Sawyer glanced at his regular uniform that rarely changed. Faded jeans with a hole in the knee. Battered black boots. White T-shirt. The matching leather bomber jacket completed the look of bad-ass, young Johnny Depp wannabe in the current century. Not that he cared what the kid wore, as long as he cleaned it up a bit for the office. He tried to change the subject. “you don’t have to wear the clothes if you don’t like them. I thought you’d enjoy getting out to explore. your Italian is amazing—you picked it up faster than I ever did.”

“It’s a sissy language.”

Sawyer bit back a laugh. The kid was a pisser. “Fine. Stay here, but don’t steal my last bottles of Peretti—you’re still underage. And don’t use my house as a base to get women.

Did you contact the sales team for me on those issues I pointed out?”

“yeah, it’s done.”

“Thanks, Vincent.”

The name slipped from his lips before he remembered. Hot blue eyes narrowed with rage, and the boy’s fists clenched. Sawyer stood still, as the kid battled with his inner demons. Demons Sawyer knew way too much about.

“Don’t ever call me that again,” the kid hissed. “ever. My name is Wolfe.”