Trouble on Tap (2 page)

“Just look at that.” He rubbed circles across her butt.

Bracing her hands against his back, she lifted herself and twisted enough to look over his shoulder. He’d stopped in front of a full-length mirror. He was watching her, and she couldn’t look away from him as her gaze traveled up from his thick, corded thighs to the hard cock jutting from their juncture. He looked good enough to make a girl pray for mercy.

“I could stare at your ass all night.” He smacked it lightly, the delicious sting spreading from her cheeks to her clit.

“That seems like a waste of the evening,” she said, her breathy tone giving away exactly how beyond teasing she was.

He pivoted away from the mirror and flung her onto the king-size bed. Her landing was as soft as he was hard. His hands glided up the outside of her thighs with a firm pressure as his lips, maddeningly soft, traveled up the inside of her left leg. The higher he reached, the less she could think. All she could do was feel the rasp of his five o’clock shadow on her calf, the sharp sting of his teeth as he nipped the soft flesh above her knee, and the pressure of his thumbs as he gripped high on her thighs and pushed her legs wide.

“My good-luck charm is so wet for me.” He circled her opening with a finger before plunging it inside. “After how you made me wait in the elevator, I should tease you until you beg for my cock.”

She lifted her hips off the bed, taking his finger in deeper. It was good, but not enough. What she craved was thicker, longer and more filling than his finger. “Please.”

He added a second finger. “Tell me what you want.”

“You.” She dropped back to the bed and reached out to the bedside table. They’d done this in enough hotel rooms that she knew exactly where to find what she was looking for. “Inside me.” She yanked open the drawer, reached inside, pulled out a condom and threw it at him. “Now.”

He reached up one large hand and snagged it out of the air as it flew overhead. “Impatient, aren’t you?”

Watching him roll the latex up his hard cock robbed her of speech. Her entire body buzzed with need as she planted her feet on the mattress and lifted her hips high, offering herself to him. Something dark and hungry flickered in his gaze as he grabbed her waist and buried himself inside her, filling her up with one smooth push. Relishing the sense of wholeness she only felt when she was like this with Mateo, she slowly undulated her hips, loving how he fit her in all the best ways, in all the right places.

He groaned and threw his head back as he met her thrust for thrust. Hot. Hungry. Hard. It was always like this between them. Like an explosion just waiting to go off.

The penthouse suite wasn’t the draw when it came to Mateo. His body, even as hard and mouthwatering as it was, didn’t make her breath catch. It was the confidence in how he moved. It was the raw power that rippled the air around him. It was the way he carried himself, as if nothing bad in the world could touch him because nothing ever had.

It was all of that and something she couldn’t put her finger on but it had wrapped around her heart the first time she’d spotted him during a grade-school slumber party at her friend Luciana’s house. A part of her had always loved her best friend’s older brother and, up until now, having secret fuck-buddy agreement had been enough.

But her life was changing. Fast. Her modeling days were ending and the idea of calm normality didn’t scare her nearly as much now as it had when she’d run away from Salvation, promising to never go back.

He plunged into her again and again, as if nothing else in the world existed or mattered. Hands touching. Lips tasting. Bodies moving together. He leaned forward, changing the angle and driving deeper inside, rubbing against her most sensitive spots.

The buzzing started in her calves, gaining strength as it traveled up her legs and spread through her flushed body. Swept along by the overwhelming intensity of sensation, she lost herself to the moment and let her body take her where she needed to go.

“Mateo.” She only managed the single word before her orgasm crashed against her, sending shockwaves of pleasure vibrating through her.

Plunging deeper than he had before, he buried himself to the hilt as he cried out his own climax. He collapsed on the bed beside her, pulling her close. Turning her head, she rested her cheek against the smooth expanse of his chest as her breathing slowly came back to normal and the world came back into focus.

When she finally found the energy to open her eyes, he was staring at her with an expression that balanced on the fine line between post-coital awe and something more permanent. He traced his finger across the dramatic rise of her breasts. “God you’re beautiful.”

Her beauty—and the outrageous behavior she got away with because of it—had always been a tool, a weapon, a wall to hide behind. Men looked at her and saw big tits and a perky ass, but there was more to her than jiggly assets and a wild time. There had to be. If anyone would see that, it would be Mateo.

Grabbing on to her courage before she let the opportunity slip away, the words spilled out of her. “I was thinking that after you got back, maybe we could try this out on a more frequent basis—maybe even go out on regular dates.”

His eyes went wide before his gaze skittered away from her. “Olivia…”

An icy wave of disappointment washed over her before a flaming swell of fiery embarrassment threatened to drown her. She’d walked down runways in little more than glittery strings pretending to be a bikini, but she’d never been as exposed as she was right now.

Rolling away from his touch, she sat up and forced her lips to curl into a beguiling half smile that had landed her multiple magazine covers and hidden far more heartbreaks. “Don’t freak out. I’m not talking marriage.”

“We talked about this in the beginning,” he said, his tone soft and too kind. “We agreed to certain boundaries.”

“Things change.” She barely got the words out before emotion pinched her throat shut.

“Not for me.” The gentleness in his voice hurt more than if he’d laughed in her face.

He cared—but not enough.

And she cared too much.

She stood up on shaky legs. “I gotta go.”

Not waiting to see what he’d do—or not do—she rushed into the living room. Her dress lay in a puddle in front of the window. Putting it on took a millionth of the amount of time taking it off had, even with her trembling fingers fumbling the zipper. She hustled to the elevator door and punched the down button. Then pressed it again. And again. And again.

“You need this,” Mateo said from behind her as he slipped his room key into the slot above the button. “I’m sorry, Olivia. I never meant to give you the wrong impression. I’m just an asshole Marine who lives on adrenaline and MREs. I’m not the kind of guy people like you should depend on.”

The elevator doors opened and she hurried inside.

“We had fun, Mateo. Let’s leave it at that and pretend the rest never happened.” Raising her chin, she inhaled a trembling breath as the doors began to close. “Stay safe during your deployment.”

He opened his mouth but the elevator doors closed, cutting off whatever he was going to say.

Olivia sank back against the wall and fought against the tears she refused to shed. She should have known better than to fall for a pretty boy like Mateo Garcia.

She hadn’t cried this morning when her modeling agent told her she’d walked her last runway because the trend was for slimmer, less-curvy models. She hadn’t cried growing up when practically everyone in her hometown of Salvation had treated her and her family like dirt. And she sure as hell wasn’t going to cry now—no matter how much she wanted to.

So she would start her new post-modeling life without the man she loved. She could deal with that. She clamped her jaw tight to stop her chin from trembling and sniffled back the threatening tears. It didn’t matter. She’d find the place in the world where she belonged all on her own. No one knew better than a Sweet from Salvation that life rarely
gave
you what you wanted. You had to fight for it.

Today

Tucking Handsome into her red-and-white polka dot trench coat to protect the overweight three-legged cat from the spring downpour, Olivia Sweet pushed open the door of her bright-yellow Fiat and stepped out onto uncertain terrain. A flash of lighting illuminated the soggy night, followed by a boom that rattled her teeth and scared the bejesus out of the mangy cat, if the claws suddenly embedded like tiny daggers in her boob were anything to go by.

“He empties the bank accounts and the apartment but leaves
you
. What a prince of a douchebag ex-boyfriend.” She pried Handsome’s razor-sharp claws out of the very flesh that used to pay her bills.

Her back tires mired hopelessly in the mud just off the highway, Olivia looked up the hill toward the dirt driveway leading to Uncle Julian’s house on the outskirts of Salvation, Virginia. Even in the limited light from her Fiat’s headlights, it was evident that the rain had turned the drive into a squishy, slimy mess.

Great. She had a good quarter-mile walk in this mess, uphill, in the dark, in heels, with a snarling, not-quite-tame L.A. alley cat clutched to her chest, and no one was expecting her. Hopefully her sisters would be happier to see her than Mother Nature, who—it turned out—was a royal bitch.

Grabbing her purse and the keys with her free hand, she slammed the door shut and half slid/half skidded her way up. She’d managed three lurching steps before the thick mud swallowed her canary-yellow stiletto whole. Only the top of her ankle bone poked out of the muck.

It was times like these when only a girl’s inner Samuel L. Jackson could fully express her frustration. “Motherfucker.”

The shoes that would have been worth some real money if she could find a buyer online were now impractical decoration. Just what she needed more of in her life.

Handsome twitched and made that weird mrowly-cat-growl noise.

“Watch those claws, fur ball, or I’ll leave you out here.”

The cat hissed.

Olivia balanced her weight on her still-free right foot, flexed her left foot, spreading out her toes inside her Jimmy Choo for a better hold, and tugged her leg upward. The mud released her foot with a wet slurp, but retained custody of her obnoxiously expensive shoe.

As she stood with one leg up like a half-drowned, bedraggled flamingo, another flash of lighting and bang of thunder snapped what was left of Handsome’s tentative grasp on reality. The cat lost his shit—clawing and squirming his way free from the confines of Olivia’s trench coat.

He perched his fat, furry ass on her shoulder for a heartbeat before using her as a launch pad to propel himself into the darkness.

The force of his leap knocked Olivia off kilter. She whirled her arms around, her heart pounding against her ribs as she fought to stay upright in the slick mud. Backward. Forward. Backward again. The earth and the sky repeatedly traded places. She wibbled and wobbled, clawing at the raindrops for balance before toppling forward.

Faster than a lumberjack called timber, she was face first in the sloppy sludge. The cold, dank mud went up her nose and into her open mouth.

That.

Was.

It.

She propped herself up on her elbows, spit out a mouthful of mud, and wiped the back of her hand across her lips. Handsome was one dead cat. Of course, she’d have to catch the surprisingly fast three-legged monster first.

Rising to her feet, and now covered from nose to kneecaps in muck, she lifted her face to the sky. At least the rain would be good for cleaning her face. The torrent washed over her, taking with it the tension locking her shoulders tight since she’d left L.A. in her rearview mirror. Sure, she was still broke, homeless, jobless and her shithead of an ex had posted naked pictures of her to a revenge-porn site, but at least she would be with her sisters—as soon as she could get her ass up this hill.

Lightning flashed, showcasing the quarter-mile mud pit between the highway and Uncle Julian’s house.

Well, almost.

First, she had to slog her way up the driveway.

Girding herself for what would undoubtedly be an ugly trek, she pulled her purse strap tight and flicked off her useless right shoe. Mud and only God knew what else squished between her toes.

“Meow.” Handsome strutted over to her—as much as he could with his signature loping style on two front legs and one back leg—and sat down on her bare foot.

She wiggled her toes. “So you figure I’m better than the local wildlife, eh city boy?” Olivia hefted the cat up and tucked him back into the opening of her trench coat. “Don’t get too comfy. I’m still mad at you.”

His purr vibrated against her damp skin.

Picking her foot placement carefully, she marched forward, intent on conquering the last quarter mile. She’d spent years as a model stomping in five-inch heels down the catwalks in New York and Paris, once in little more than a diamond-encrusted bra and panties. Surely she could manage to overcome a little mud. Using the house’s front porch as a beacon, she continued onward and upward.

It wasn’t the prettiest sashay she’d ever taken, but eventually she made it to the wraparound porch. She’d no more than squished down one mud-covered bare foot on the wood before Handsome sprung from her hold and scurried away—probably to cleanse himself of his dirty humiliation in private.

If only she could be so lucky. Per usual when it came to being a Sweet in Salvation, she had to take her medicine in public, but she wasn’t the same flaky wild child who’d left this place after high school graduation. She was stronger, smarter, more with it—fingers crossed, people would see past the layers of mud and see past the retired model to the real Olivia underneath.

Stopping in front of the door, she took a deep breath and pressed her wet finger to the dry doorbell.