Never Kiss a Bad Boy (33 page)

I wanted him, even with the danger.

He was pushing into me, making me groan in delight, when his phone rang again. Both of us skipped a beat, thrown off by the interruption.

But it didn't stop there.

Before the ringing even ended, someone knocked on the nearby door.

“Is he actually outside?” I asked, straightening.

Pushing my hair off of my neck, Kite stroked my throat. “The bastard is determined to get my attention.” Gripping my hips, he slid into me fully. Every inch of him stretched me, making me squeal; I hadn't been ready. “But you need it more.”

It was silly of me to think Kite would stop just because someone was at the door.

My cheek heated up the window. Below me, the streets moved as fast as the blood through my veins.

Knuckles rapped sharply on the wood, demanding we hear them. It was no shock when Jacob's voice came next. “I know you're both in there, let me inside.”

I covered my mouth to muffle my sounds. Kite drew back, the tip of his cock just inside of me. Stroking my spine, he reached down and made a vigorous circle over my throbbing clit.

“I'm a bit busy with Marina!” he shouted. “Come back later!”

“Stop whatever you're doing for a minute and open the door, Kite.”

“I don't think Marina would appreciate that!” Chuckling, he shivered and drove into me harder. I wondered if Jacob could hear us fucking, and wondered why I was blushing. He'd been there, involved, with the two of us before. Where was my shame coming from?

Kite's fingers swirled quicker, toying expertly with my engorged clit. The pressure of my mounting orgasm was rocketing at me, tickling the back of my tongue.

Metal clinked, and though I felt Kite hesitate, he didn't fully stop. I was confused by the sounds, but the combined jingles and crisp footsteps said it all.

Jacob had used a spare key to get inside.

Of
course
he'd have a key. I'd assumed otherwise since he always knocked and waited, but that was clearly him being polite. He had that air to him, this crispness and perfection in his manners.

I'd seen his other side, though.

I knew what lay resting under his placid surface.

Sighing, his steps brought him to our side. I turned, able to catch him from the corner of my eye. His reflection shined in the window; Jacob was dressed in a rich, cobalt blue shirt. It matched his eyes, made his onyx hair that much more stark.

“This is why you couldn't answer my call?” Jacob asked, sounding sufficiently put out.

Red as a beet, I closed my eyes—but Kite didn't spare me. Holding my fiercely, he slammed his length into me with new gusto.

I shouted, then chewed my tongue.
He's doing it on purpose,
I realized. Maybe there existed no jealousy, but good-natured, male-infused competition?

Kite and Jacob had that in spades.

“I'm busy,” Kite said, spanking me once more. I saw Jacob arch an eyebrow. “Come back in fifteen, okay?”

“Fifteen?” he scoffed, linking his hands behind his back. “That's sloppy of you. But we're needed at the bar right now.”

I didn't miss the irritation in Kite's voice, not even over the blood thumping in my ears. “Fine, just wait a bit, she won't hold out another five minutes at this rate.”

Those hawk-like features fell on me. Jacob was hard, angular and lean and ever languid. Focusing was impossible, I was narrowed in on the building tingles of my release. I tasted my own sweat, my own need. Let them banter; if Kite could do that and get me off, fine.

Jacob's words cut through me like a cold knife. “We don't have five minutes. Kite, you have to stop.”

Stop? Was he insane?

To my utmost shock, Kite started to slow down. Gritting my teeth, I tried to drive myself back onto him. “What the hell, Jacob?” I spat, desperation putting me close to screaming. “Kite, don't you even dare!”

“I hate to do it, but there's an emergency,” Jacob said soothingly.

I wasn't fucking soothed.

“Shh,” Kite said, releasing me. He slid out, and the wet sound should have been humiliating, but I was too furious—too ratcheted up in my lust. I'd been so close! “This has to be serious, Jacob wouldn't interrupt otherwise.”

Shaking my head, I faced them both and bent to pull up my jeans. “I can't believe you two!”

Jacob was black ice. He didn't even need to touch me, I froze just because he was there. The intensity in his crystal eyes made me forget to breathe.

Grabbing my pants, he actually zipped them up. I hadn't expected that. I also didn't expect him to take my hands, to graze the backs of them with his thumbs while he smiled. “Relax, Marina. We'll make it up to you.”

Wrinkling my nose, I pulled away. “How do you figure?”

Jacob swayed closer. It was subtle, but I was too aware of him to not notice every inch of breathing room I lost. His aura was consuming me. He did it so easily, that magnetic pull that promised so much.

He murmured, “After we go take care of the bar, I promise to spend as much time as you want on that sweet body of yours. Far more than fifteen minutes.”

He spoke right into my core. I almost forgot what he'd just denied me, but the ache in my lower belly was a cruel reminder.

I scooped up my shirt. Kite gave me an overtly sad expression as I hid away my chest, not caring I didn't have a bra any longer. “You assume I'll want anything to do with you—either of you—after this,” I said.

Like rich cream, Jacob poured into every crack of my brain, stealing a kiss that I hadn't predicted. When he started to speak—looked me in the eye with that wicked promise—I listened to what he was offering. “Come with us to the bar. You won't regret it.”

He traced my jaw, the shell of my ear, and kissed me once more outside my temple.

Jacob knew how to make me dance like a puppet on strings.

“Fine,” I said, quieter than I wanted to. “But if you ever stop me like that again?” I pointed a finger, and his genuine surprise was invigorating. “I'll smack you right in your damn smile.”

Jacob bowed his head. “I'll make a note of that. Get changed, we need to go.”

We left the apartment while Kite was still stumbling into a pair of jeans and a shirt.

Jacob

––––––––

I
t hadn't been an emergency—not exactly.

Anabelle, my prime bartender, had phoned me with some grim news. “I'm sick,” she'd said, mumbling into the receiver. “Like, extremely sick. You don't want details, Mr. Fallow.”

I didn't. I also didn't want her infecting everyone, what a headline
that
would be in the papers.
Corner Velvet Causes Plague.
I'd asked her if she was contagious.

“No no,” Anabelle had laughed, hollow as a coconut. “But I'm a mess. If I feel better, I'll come in tonight, but I can't get the bar prepped. You and Kite will have to.”

It amused me how she treated me so formerly, but never bothered with Kite. It definitely bugged him, too, but then... I'd kept things business between me and her.

Kite had never cared about such rules.

Before Marine had swayed into our lives, Kite had been losing himself nightly in booze and women—including Annabelle.

Now, things had changed, more than I'd ever thought possible.

“It's fine,” I'd told Anabelle, finishing belting my pants on with one hand. She hadn't woken me up, I'd stirred at the first hint of gold on the horizon. “Kite and I will handle it. You stay in bed and get better. Bye for now.”

There was so much to do, but first, I had to call Kite and let him know. He wasn't much of a boss, but he
was
the co-owner of our bar.

And that was when I'd run into the first problem; Kite wasn't answering. I had a strong suspicion as to why.

A quick trip downstairs through the stairwell of our high-rise apartment, a few knocks on the door and another call, and I was positive. Placing an ear on the wood, I heard the stomach tingling, heart pumping noises that only Marina could make.

That woman, she turned my very bones into glass. One tap, and I'd shatter.

With the sun rising over her naked skin, I'd stepped inside and halted their fun.

I could have left them alone for a few hours, given them privacy.

Let Marina come as she desperately needed to.

But I hadn't.

Why not?

That thought plagued me now as I drove my car down the busy streets towards the Corner Velvet. Kite and Marina were following in his orange Mercedes, leaving me alone with my buzzing mind.

Seeing them both wrapped up together, how red her lips had been in their desperate 'o' shape... The memory made me shift in the seat, proving I could steer the car
and
steer my painful erection at the same time.

Marina was a cannonball crashing into my world—our world. She threatened everything Kite and I had spent our existence building. Hell, we'd been on the verge of retiring when she'd shown up and told us she knew we were hitmen.

From that moment, the plan was clear. We needed to get the letter she had that proved who we were, the one thing tying us to her.. the thing that could put us behind bars. After that?

Marina had to die.

No loose ends.

My knuckles had gone milky white on the steering wheel. Someone honked; I jerked forward on the road, baffled by my distraction.

Imagining what had to be done to this lovely, amazing girl that I wanted to grab and taste and hear scream for me, it turned me sour.

Marina could destroy us. One simple word or mistake, and she'd ruin everything.

Knowing that risk, I do stupid things like agree to give her a chance at proving she can be trusted.

That she can be allowed to live.

I tensed, recalling that day. Kite had demanded we give her the revenge she deserved. He'd argued we could risk leaving her alive. I'd agreed, but under one condition; she had to prove her trust.

I hadn't yet decided how that would happen. That was unlike me, too. I was quick with plans and details. Surely, I'd come up with something. Instead, I'd been dragging my feet, delaying the process.

It's because, if I make the decision, it becomes real. She has a chance to fail.

I wasn't ready for that. This limbo was... easier.

I should have been colder, but Marina was a new sun, warming the blackness in my heart.

Pushing out of the car after I parked it in the alley, I straightened my tie.
Marina... how are you so firmly in my veins?
She'd grown like a tumor, I feared ejecting her from our lives would rupture something irreplaceable.

And that was partly why, seeing her and Kite going at it, I'd snapped.

Deep down, I wanted to be involved in their morning fun. But while they might have had the time to finish, I didn't have the time to jump in.

So I'd stopped them. Was
that
jealousy?

No,
I told myself, musing over the realization.
It's greed.

I ached to watch Marina come, but
I
wanted to be part of it. I needed to see her thrill with lust, and not from the sidelines.
Plus,
I told myself, nudging through the backdoor of my bar,
Forcing her to wait will make it that much more exciting for her. For all of us.

Scanning the room, I shook my head in surprise. Anabelle hadn't mentioned that she'd bailed last night before cleaning up. Had her illness hit her that hard, even then?

There were glasses and empty bottles all over the place, the dark wood of the booths and tables sticky in the pale lights. I wandered behind the bar, knew with one glance that nothing had been refilled or washed.

Kite's voice rang out a second after he kicked the door open. “Shit, it's a wreck in here!”

Peering over at them both, I did a scan of Marina that ate up the vision of her in a mere blink. She'd managed to clean up some, but she still wore curve-hugging jeans and a top so tight it enhanced the shape of her delicious breasts.

Her face, though, her energy; she had that casual, tousled, just rolled out of bed look that people struggled to create. Except, for her, it was reality.

She'd tied her long, thick hair up in a tail, some pieces loose and framing her toffee skin. I committed all of it to memory, blaming it on my hitman history.

Clearing my throat, I started to peel back the cuffs of my expensive shirt. “Anabelle is very sick. So sick, it looks like she left in a whirl last night. We'll need to clean everything as fast as we can.”

Kite sighed, ruffling his hair with one hand as the other hooked casually in his jeans. “You couldn't have just told me that earlier? Fuck. Okay. That means she isn't coming in tonight?”

“I doubt she will.” Running water in the sink, I started piling glasses. “I'll make some calls. It's last minute, but maybe I can find a replacement bartender.”

Marina came my way, slipping around to join me. “Let me help,” she said, dipping her hands into the suds.

“You're sure?” I asked.

“I'm not going to stand around and watch you guys work,” she said, giving me a sly glance. “I don't know how to run this place and I
definitely
can't bartend, but I'm capable of washing some glasses.”

Marina could have easily gone for a walk, left us to take care of our own troubles.

But that wasn't her.

Nodding, I said, “Thank you.”

I was rewarded with a flush of pink along her neck. I loved it.

Kite tapped his foot, then started gathering up empty bottles. Between the three of us, the bar would look presentable within a few hours.

Bent over the sink with Marina, we scrubbed glasses while the less filthy ones ran through the automatic washer. Kite had vanished into the backroom, working harder than I'd seen him ever bother with. What had motivated him so suddenly?

It's her,
I realized with a start.
Marina. She's made him more... responsible.
She'd asked me, once, if Kite had always been reckless. She'd said I was always taking care of him, and I had to admit, then and now... it was true.

I would always protect my best friend.