Living in Sin (Living In…) (2 page)

For a couple of years after that, she’d hung around him whenever he visited, hoping for another wink, another sign. But he didn’t do it again and then he vanished for ages, only returning when she was fourteen. By then, things had changed for her. She wasn’t seven anymore and the height and muscularity of him, that impression of incredible strength, wasn’t intimidating, but fascinating. And desirable in ways she couldn’t quite understand.

She understood now, though. And six years later he was still just as fascinating to her, still just as desirable.

He wore plain black pants tonight and a simple white business shirt, no tie. The top buttons were undone, revealing brown skin and the plaited cord of the greenstone necklace he was never without. He had his sleeves rolled up and those black eyes were full of darkness and secrets. But there was no wink this time like there had been back then, only a kind of world-weariness that made her chest hurt.

She didn’t know why she felt this connection with him when it was clear he felt no such connection to her. But that didn’t change the fact that she did.

“Okay,” she said, clenching her fists in the pockets of her coat. “So what can I do to change your mind?”

Possibly asking that question was the wrong move. Possibly turning up here in jeans and sneakers and a duffle coat was also the wrong move. Maybe she should have worn something short and sexy, something that showcased her legs. Something visual that would change his mind, because weren’t men supposed to be visual creatures?

Then again, what the hell did she know about men? Pretty much fuck all of nothing. Since the age of seven her life had been dance and there had been no time for anything else. Then when she’d gotten sick, her life had been hospitals, catheters, IV tubes and chemo. Definitely no time for the opposite sex there either.

Kahu’s dark gaze was impenetrable. “Nothing,” he said succinctly. “You can’t change my mind.”

Great. Well, she’d never shied away from the hard truths and she wasn’t about to start. May as well know she wasn’t his type straight-up now. “So I’m not attractive to you?”

His eyes narrowed. “Jesus Christ. You’re totally serious about this, aren’t you?”

“Of course I’m serious. You think I’d spend three days sitting on your step then randomly ask you to seduce me for fun?”

“I have no idea since I don’t know you from a bar of soap.”

The words slid a barb under her skin unexpectedly. He wouldn’t know her, that was true, and why would he? His contact had been with her father. He had no reason to know her. Yet she felt like she knew him. Totally erroneous, of course, since they’d never sat down and had any heart-to-heart chats or anything. But she still felt it.

“I’ll give you a hint then,” she said, trying not to let the hurt show. “I’m not a bar of soap.”

The corner of his mouth curved in a faint but very definite smile. “True. You’re not.” He paused. “So what are you then, Lily Andrews? And what exactly are you doing coming to me with seduction requests?”

Lily sensed an opening and took it. “I’ll tell you. But only on the condition we talk about this inside.”

“You’re assuming I’m interested enough in your answers to bargain. I could just close the door in your face right now.” He wasn’t even looking at her, his gaze on some people coming up the steps behind her.

Shit. She was losing his attention now. This wasn’t going well.

You turn up at his club, requesting he seduce you. In a fucking duffle coat. Of course it wasn’t going to go well.

The sharp edge of disappointment sat coldly against her skin. The audition had been like this. She’d danced her heart out, watching helplessly as the director’s attention had wandered, trying and trying to get it back. Pushing herself hard. Too hard. Ballet was supposed to look effortless and she’d committed the cardinal sin of making it look like work.

Fuck, she had to do something if she didn’t want to fail here too, and something pretty damn drastic.

Behind her she could hear the people approaching the club, guys from the sounds of their voices. Excellent timing.

Kahu’s smile wasn’t for her as he shifted to greet them.

“All right,” Lily said quietly. “If you don’t want me, then perhaps someone else will.”

She didn’t give herself time to think as she turned to face the group of men coming up the steps, because she couldn’t afford such a loss of nerve. Instead, she flung open her coat and grabbed the hem of the sweatshirt she wore underneath it. “Hey guys,” she said. “What do you think of these?”

As one, the men looked at her.

And Lily jerked up her sweatshirt.

Chapter Two

At first Kahu didn’t really understand what she was doing. One minute she’d turned away—with any luck to wait patiently until he had time to call her father, or a taxi at least—the next she had her back to him and the people coming up the stairs suddenly went silent, staring at her in shock. Then they burst into loud cheers.

It didn’t take a genius to work out what was going on. The way she was standing, the position of her arms…

“Holy fuck, Lily!” Kahu strode forward, grasped one arm and pulled her around. And sure enough, she had her sweatshirt pulled up to reveal a pair of small but beautifully shaped bare breasts.

Her pale, translucent skin had turned fire red, but along with the embarrassment in her eyes, he also caught a healthy dose of determination. “What?” she demanded, doing nothing whatsoever to cover herself.

Jesus Christ, he hated being manipulated like this.

Kahu reached out and jerked the halves of her coat around her, covering up the snow-white perfection of her skin. “Don’t you dare go flashing your tits around like that,” he growled, his irritation at the situation morphing into anger. “This is my fucking club not a strip joint.”

The men on the steps were still laughing and catcalling. Fuckers.

Lily didn’t even seem to notice them. Far from cowed, she stared at him instead. “So are you going to let me in or not? If not, I’m quite happy to stand here with my tits out instead.”

Christ, she probably would. There was a stubborn cast to that sulky, pouty mouth of hers, a mulish tension in her delicate jaw. This was a young woman who went out for what she wanted and got it.

Like Anita…

But he didn’t want to think about Anita right now. He had more important things to deal with.

Such as one stubborn young girl who was prepared to stand outside on a cold winter’s night half-naked, all because she wanted him to seduce her or some such bullshit he couldn’t quite get his head around.

Well, he couldn’t let either of those things happen, not to Rob’s little girl, and clearly he was going to have to do something. The last thing he wanted was for word to get back to Rob that his daughter was outside Kahu’s club flaunting herself.

“Hey Kahu,” one of the men called to him. “Is she a new member? Because if she isn’t, she’s got my vote for a membership card.”

Something stirred in him, a latent, protective urge he hadn’t felt for a very, very long time. Gripping Lily’s arm, he tugged her in close, smiling at the pricks standing on the steps gawking at her. “She’s the daughter of a friend. So keep your fucking eyes on the ground please, gentlemen.”

Without waiting for a response, he turned and stepped back into the foyer, pulling Lily after him and slamming the door behind them.

Once they were inside, he let her go, his annoyance still simmering like a kettle just on the point of boiling. “Come with me,” he ordered. “We’ll discuss this somewhere quieter.”

She said nothing, wrapping her arms tightly around herself. Probably cold, and no wonder.

She did have the most beautiful tits…

Kahu turned on his heel sharply to hide the surprise that came along with the thought. He hadn’t thought about sex for six months, not since Anita had died. It was like he’d just lost interest. He hadn’t even wanted to jerk off, which was something of a worry since even during his very infrequent dry spells, he’d always at least had a hard-on to relieve. His doctor had told him it was probably just the grief talking and not to worry, so he hadn’t. Until tonight.

Tonight, he was pretty fucking worried. Not a glimmer of interest for anyone in six months yet now he was reliving the memory of Lily Andrews’s bare breasts? What the hell had gotten into him? Christ, he must be some kind of pervert. She was only twenty, for fuck’s sake.

He stalked down the hallway, heading for the private room he liked to use when he had personal friends in the club and wanted somewhere quiet to chat. He’d had a fire lit in there earlier so at least it would be warm, not to mention out of the way if she wanted to try lifting her shirt again.

God in heaven. She’d better bloody not.

Stopping outside the door, Kahu pushed it open. “In here, sweetheart.”

She went past him without hesitation, looking around the room curiously before moving over to where the fire burned in the grate.

He’d indulged his taste for a bit of luxury when he’d first had it decorated, with expensive wooden library bookshelves lining the walls, a couple of leather armchairs by the fire, and a long couch covered in worn, dark blue velvet to provide extra seating.

It was a warm, sensual space, his most favorite room in the whole of the club.

“This is nice,” Lily said, holding her hands out toward the flames and looking around again. “I thought you might make me wait in the foyer.”

Kahu pushed the door shut with a firm click. He remained where he was, standing with the door behind him. This was only going to take five minutes, no need to get comfortable.

“So are you going to tell me what the fuck that was all about or are you going to make me guess?” It came out sounding demanding, but he didn’t bother to apologize.

Lily lifted her hands to the hood of her coat and put it back, the light in the room glinting off a tangle of strawberry blonde curls. “Can I have a drink first?”

His patience, already wearing thin, stretched even thinner. “I’m not your servant, sweetheart, and this isn’t a hotel. Besides, you’re not even old enough to drink.” He was being an asshole deliberately, but he didn’t care. She had to learn that manipulative little tricks like flashing her breasts just because he’d refused her advances had consequences.

Annoyance crossed her face. “The legal age is eighteen. I’m twenty.” She dug into the pocket of her coat and pulled out a blue leather wallet. “I’ll even pay you for it.”

“Fine. That’ll be twenty bucks, please.”

She blinked. “Twenty?”

“I’ve only got scotch and I’m taking extra in damages for that stunt you pulled out there.”

A crease appeared between her brows, her gaze searching his. Probably trying to work out whether he was serious or not. He was.

Moving over to a polished, dark oak cabinet, he pulled it open, taking out a bottle of his favorite single malt and a cut crystal tumbler. He poured himself a glass then looked at her expectantly.

“Damages,” she said, still frowning. “But I didn’t damage—”

“You flashed your tits at my paying customers. This isn’t a sex club, love, no matter what the rumors say.”

“I didn’t see them protesting.”

“No, but your father might have something to say about it considering he helps me run this place.”

She didn’t say anything to that, nibbling on her bottom lip instead. After a moment she opened her wallet, pulled out a twenty-dollar note, then went over to the side table standing next to one of the armchairs and put it down on top.

“There. Twenty dollars,” she said. “Can I have my scotch now please?” Then she sat down in the armchair in a fluid, graceful sprawl, tugging down the sweatshirt beneath her coat as she did so, a strip of smooth, white skin flashing

A spark of interest caught him, making him want to stare at that exposed strip of skin. But he smothered the urge. Fuck’s sake, if he was staring at twenty-year-old girls, there was clearly no hope for him.

He got out another tumbler, poured some scotch into it then carried it over to where she sat, setting it on the side table and pocketing her twenty-dollar note. Money was money after all.

“Thank you,” she said politely as she picked up the glass and sniffed at it. She took a sip, her eyes widening as she tasted the amber liquid. “It’s…uh…very nice.”

“‘It’s fifty-year-old Laphroaig so show some damn respect.” He dropped into the other armchair. “But I guess that’s probably asking a bit much from you.”

“You’re angry with me,” Lily said, taking another sip of her scotch.

“Congratulations on your observational powers. Yes, of course I’m fucking angry with you. I don’t like being manipulated. Not by you, not by anyone.”

“I didn’t manipulate you, I just—”

“Sure, flashing your tits at me wasn’t manipulative in the slightest.”

She flushed. “You wouldn’t listen to me.”

“I listened to you. You just didn’t want to take no for an answer.”

Her mouth opened then closed, her gaze dropping away from his, down to her hands where they rested on her thighs, fingers wrapped around crystal tumbler. “Yeah, okay. I’m sorry about that. I only…wanted a chance to explain myself.”

Kahu settled back in his chair, stretching his legs out in front of him. Clearly he wasn’t going to get rid of her until she’d had time to say her piece, so he may as well get this over and done with right now. “Congratulations. You now have your chance. But make it snappy, little girl. I’ve got a club to run.”

She scowled at the patronizing endearment but he didn’t take it back. The more unpleasant he was, the sooner she’d want to leave and the less likely she’d come back.

After a second, she raised her tumbler and drained it, coughing. Then she thumped it heavily back down on the side table. “Okay, so, an explanation.” Her voice was full of a kind of grim determination, as if she was forcing herself to speak.

She’s nervous.

The realization was unwelcome, stirring as it did the latent, protective urge that had awakened after the incident outside on the steps. She was so young and inevitably naïve. And, now that he thought about it, he really hadn’t had very many seduction requests from young women dressed in jeans, sneakers and duffle coats.

Usually they wore a hell of a lot less.

Much to his annoyance, a thread of unfamiliar curiosity wound through him and he found himself watching her. Waiting for her to speak. How fucking irritating. He didn’t need to hear Lily Andrews’s reasons for wanting a seduction. Especially when he’d heard every tedious story, every single stupid explanation, all the rationalizations for what was essentially a simple, biological need. May as well try to explain why eating and sleeping was necessary. It would make as much sense as why people wanted to fuck. Which was not at all.

You wanted to screw someone because you did. That was it. Everything else was just excuses.

Lily’s gaze was serious. Like what she was about to say was terribly important. And it probably was to her.
Everything
was when you were twenty.

“So,” she began. “I’m a virgin.”

“Oh Christ.”

She frowned at him. “What’s wrong with that?”

“If you’re wanting me to induct you into the gentle arts of lovemaking, you’re shit out of luck, sweetheart.”

Her frown deepened into a scowl, pale cheekbones flushing. “You don’t know what I want. I haven’t finished my explanation yet.”

“You don’t need to finish explaining. I already know what you want. And don’t bother protesting because you
do
want me to induct you into the gentle arts of lovemaking.”

“But I—”

“You chose me because of my outstanding reputation when it comes to satisfying women.”

Her mouth shut with a snap.

“And you think I’d have no problems with screwing you because I fuck anything that moves.” Kahu sipped his scotch meditatively. “Am I getting warm?”

She stared at him, her smoky green eyes narrow, jaw jutting obstinately. “Like I said, what’s wrong with that?”

He sighed. “If I had a cent for every young woman who came up to me asking for that very same thing, I’d be fucking Croseus. Be original, for God’s sake.”

“Fine,” she said crossly. “How’s this then? I’m a dancer and last week I failed an audition. I
never
fail an audition. Never. They said my dancing lacked passion.” She paused and he found himself falling silent, waiting for her to go on. “I don’t know about passion. So I guess that’s why I’m here. I’m hoping you can help me explore what I’m lacking.”

Yeah, okay, maybe he hadn’t heard this story before. “So you want to sleep with me in order to dance better?”

“That sounds weird, but yeah.” She leaned forward, resting her elbows on the arm of her chair. “Passion
is
an experience I’m missing, so maybe if I have it…I can channel it into my dancing.” A certain kind of intensity entered her gaze as she stared at him. “Dancing means
everything
to me. I mean, I missed out on a chance to be with the Royal New Zealand Ballet, but there are some auditions happening in Sydney in six weeks. They’re by invitation only, so I’m going to send in my CV and hopefully I’ll get picked.” The light in her eyes was almost fanatical. “I want this audition. I
want
it. And I’m prepared to do anything I can to get it.”

“I see.” Kahu lifted his glass, took another sip, studying her. He had to admit, that intensity was oddly compelling. Anita had been that way about the piano. She’d been religious with her practice and a complete perfectionist when it came to her performances. Not that there had been many by the time he’d met her, but even in the waning years of her career, she’d still practiced at least two hours a day. “Okay, so you deserve a few points for more originality at least,” he continued. “But you still haven’t explained why you chose me to be the lucky breaker of your hymen.”

“Uh, to be fair, I probably don’t have a hymen anymore.” She waved a hand. “Dancing is…you know…very athletic.”

“Hymen or not, answer the question.”

She laced her fingers together. And for the first time, a hint of uncertainty crept into her eyes. “Because…well, I know you. And I trust you.” Another hesitation, her gaze flickering away again before coming back to his. “And I want you.”

Kahu said nothing to this, merely looking at her from over the rim of his tumbler.

Shit. Why had she said that?

Because it’s true? And you want him to know it?

Restlessness filled her. God, she hated sitting still. Pushing herself out of her chair in a sharp, sudden movement, she went over to the fire again, sticking her hands out to the flames, the tips of her fingers tingling.

Yeah, she did want him to know it. At least it probably made more sense than the jumbled up explanation about why she wanted this seduction in the first place. Her feelings about the whole thing were complicated and she barely understood them herself, let alone trying to explain them to another person.