Dirty wicked, p.2
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       Dirty Wicked, p.2
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         Part #11.5 of Wicked Lovers series by Shayla Black
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  Before he could get a tight grip on her, she started fighting, clawing and kicking, aiming for his genitals. He dodged her, clamping his thighs around hers and capturing both wrists in his hands.

  Then he took her to the carpet in the narrow hallway and lowered himself on top of her.

  Sasha fought him with every bit of her strength. She was nearly a foot shorter and a hundred pounds lighter, and he had gravity on his side. Panic clawed her. She couldn’t breathe.

  No!

  She’d failed Harper. Her baby didn’t deserve to die because her father hadn’t been sneaky enough to sidestep criminals and her mother hadn’t been worldly enough to escape them.

  Sasha kept fighting long after Nick had her contained. She tried not to sob. Crying would do no good.

  “Stop!” With strong arms and long legs, Nick clamped down harder, finally holding her immobile.

  Panting, her breath quivering, Sasha looked up into his endless inky eyes. She expected to see laughter, triumph, anticipation.

  She saw regret.

  So he wasn’t looking forward to killing her and Harper. She doubted that would stop him.

  Sasha wasn’t above begging, not if it would save Harper. “Please, she’s just a baby…”

  “Shh. You and your daughter are safe with me. And I won’t let Clifford’s hit men near you.”

  No words could have shocked her more. “How do I know you’re telling the truth?”

  “You don’t, not any more than I know if you’re telling me the truth about whatever evidence Mike may have found. But you want protection from Clifford’s hit squad. I want revenge against the asshole. Looks like we have to trust each other.”

  Could she? What other option did she really have? In this case, the devil she didn’t know had to be better than the one she did. At least she hoped.

  Sasha gave him a shaky nod. “I need help. I can’t run anymore. They’re getting closer. Harper is sick…”

  “And you’re exhausted.”

  “I don’t have any money to offer you…”

  He hesitated. “That’s not what I want.”

  Then what was he after?

  Even as Sasha’s mind raced, she became aware of the inferno of heat Nick put off. It sank through her damp clothes, under her skin. For the first time in weeks, she felt warm.

  “Um…I could clean your house.”

  “That service comes with the rental.”

  “I’ll do your laundry.”

  Nick shook his head. “I know how to use the washer and dryer just fine.”

  “I-I can cook…”

  For a quick second, he looked as if that intrigued him, then he scowled. “Takeout works for me.”

  Now what? Besides housework, her only other talent lay in scrapbooking, and she seriously doubted he’d want a personalized album commemorating the time he’d spent in prison. But she had to give him something. Relying purely on his good favor would be too dangerous.

  “Then what do you want in return for your help?”

  Above her, he shifted, grimaced. Confusion buzzed through her brain…until she felt his erection, lengthening and hardening between her legs.

  Sasha sucked in a breath. Even through her jeans and his, she could tell he was large. She hadn’t had sex—or any contact with a man—since the night before Mike’s murder, and her neglected body didn’t fail to notice that he was all male. The mixture of fear and desire confused her, even as his scent hung musky in her nose, dizzying her head. His stare melted with heat, pouring over her like liquid seduction.

  The truth—the price he intended to extract from her—was in his eyes.

  “Me?” Sasha breathed.

  He stilled for a moment, studying her. Then, as if he couldn’t resist anymore, he notched against her, his erection now like steel. He nudged her right where it counted, against that bundle of nerves that sent a streak of heat racing up her belly and down her legs.

  Sasha closed her eyes. She had to be insane. He was a convicted rapist. Mike had told her that while Nick was one of his best friends, he didn’t trust the guy with women.

  Her body was just responding to stress, to her long abstinence. How many times had she fantasized about finding some way—any way—to forget the mess of her life for a few stolen minutes? Too many to count. But the heat simmering in her veins now couldn’t have anything to do with Nick Navarro himself.

  “You’re kidding.” She shook her head. He must be.

  “Do I feel like I’m kidding?”

  Sasha swallowed against the uptick of her heartbeat. “Why?”

  “I’ve been in prison for over a year. You have to ask?”

  He thrust his hips against her again. Like before, he hit the perfect spot, the one that still hadn’t recovered from his last nudge. Fresh heat zipped through her, more intense than before. An ache began to pulse between her legs.

  What was wrong with her?

  “I meant why me?” Sasha heard the quiver in her voice. “I’m sure you know women who are younger, who don’t have stretch marks and a C-section scar. Who—”

  “I know a dozen Barbie dolls I could call now if I just wanted to fuck. You’re real.” He unclamped one of his hands from her wrist…then glided onto her breast. “This is real.”

  He sank his fingers into her giving flesh, dragging his thumb over her nipple. Sasha sucked in a breath. Despite her damp shirt and bra, she felt his touch all the way to her toes. Tingles skittered through her system. Her nipples puckered, beaded. Under his broad palm, he teased one of the buds with another slow caress. His rough breath rent the silence between them. She shut her eyes—and bit back a moan.

  She had to be totally out of her mind. Why wasn’t she fighting, screaming her lack of consent?

  Her brain told her she’d lose any chance of persuading him to protect her and Harper. Loneliness reminded her how badly she’d missed human comfort. Her touch-starved body shouted the fact that there was something about Nick Navarro that lit up the long-suppressed woman inside her that had fantasized about silken satisfaction with a very capable man.

  She was still trying to comprehend the moment—the caress of his talented fingers—when he dipped his head to torment the tight bud of her nipple through the fabric separating them. A pull. A nip. Pleasure seized her. Shivers racked her. So sudden. So shocking.

  It terrified her.

  “I won’t be forced.” Her voice sounded shaky, splintered.

  Above her, Nick tensed and raised a brow. They both knew her body wanted him. Heat rushed through her veins, up her cheeks. But she made herself meet his stare. What was he thinking? What would he do? Had she just made a dreadful mistake?

  Slowly, he withdrew his hand, then pushed himself away from her. He sat against the wall. Sasha felt the withdrawal of his heat instantly. Cold seeped into her body again, her damp shirt making her tremble. The guarded, slightly mocking expression on his face wasn’t helping her nerves, either.

  “I’ve never raped anyone in my life, including Fiona Normand.”

  Sasha backed away to the other wall and drew her knees into her chest. She almost thanked him for lying to her. His false words were a slap of reality, erasing the quick rise of her desire and her loss of sanity.

  “You don’t have to deny what happened. I read the testimony. I merely wanted you to understand—”

  “I’m not denying a damn thing,” he growled. “I’m telling you flat out that I didn’t rape her. You need to know that. I don’t want you fighting once I have you naked and under me.”

  He sounded awfully sure of himself. Of course he is, idiot. He stands between your daughter and death. He’s got you and he knows it.

  Sasha didn’t see any way to avoid becoming his lover. She’d do anything to keep her baby alive.

  “The expert testimony of the doctors at your trial found your skin under her nails and your semen in her…”

  “I never denied fucking her, but I didn’t force her to do anything she wasn’t willin
g to do with me and hadn’t done before.”

  A million thoughts spun through her head. Her stomach tightened. “It doesn’t matter.”

  “It does. And I’m telling you the truth.”

  “Why would Fiona Normand lie?”

  He shrugged. “The town princess told the policemen that the bad man lured her into opening her front door, then he raped her. How else was she going to explain being tied to her bed? Certainly not by admitting that she begged someone like me to bind her to it. It’s all smoke and mirrors to prevent me from investigating her uncle, the very crooked Mr. Clifford.”

  Sasha felt her eyes widen. “Fiona is his niece?”

  “Through marriage, but notice how the press didn’t mention that? You can thank the cops and reporters he has stashed in his back pocket for neglecting to include that info.”

  The press didn’t surprise her so much but… “Clifford is bribing the police?”

  “You look shocked to find out the good guys can be bought.” He smirked. “Yeah, he’s paid them to disregard his shit for years.”

  “So…” She grappled to comprehend the depth of seedy corruption. “Fiona lied about everything that happened between you to protect her uncle? Why? I’d never protect anyone doing such awful things.”

  “If she let her Uncle Walter go down, where would her meal ticket be? So Fiona told him I was pumping her for information about Mike’s disappearance.” Nick smiled grimly. “Clifford set up the rest. Crying rape served the added bonus of preserving Fiona’s precious reputation. She wasn’t willingly having sex with a P.I. who had a record. No, I forced her.” He cut her a mocking glare. “Of course.”

  Sasha wasn’t sure what to believe. “How did you meet her?”

  “I heard she and Clifford were close, so I picked her up in a bar. I suspected she knew all the dirty dealings her uncle was up to. I gave her whatever she wanted so she’d talk.”

  Even sex?

  “Oh, my…” Sasha sat stunned. Nick had tried to work Fiona over, and in the end she’d worked him?

  “I should have seen the con coming. I won’t be played again.” Self-recrimination filled his bitter tone. “Look, I never said I was a Boy Scout. I only said I didn’t rape her.”

  Did she dare believe that or did she simply want to because she couldn’t stomach the thought of giving her body to the kind of man who would hold a woman down and force his way inside her?

  It didn’t matter. It was felicity for her that Nick had been released from prison early for good behavior. Without him, she and Harper might be dead soon.

  She drew in a deep breath. “You want sex in exchange for your help and protection. I understand. What are your exact terms?”

  “Four weeks. It will take me that long to figure out how to play this, whether I should fake your deaths, find or fabricate evidence to discredit Clifford, or just kill the son of a bitch.”

  Kill? Her conscience balked. Logic reminded her quickly that the Orleans Parish DA had no such qualms about murder. He’d threatened to smother the life from her daughter. High-minded morals wouldn’t keep her and Harper alive.

  “Sasha.” He snapped, bringing her attention back to him. “Hear me well. In those four weeks, the word ‘no’ never falls from your lips. Whatever I want, whatever I ask, you comply.”

  “You mean if you want us to hide at three in the morning, we do it? That’s okay. We’ve been doing that for…it seems like forever.”

  “I mean that, too. But I’m also telling you that I expect perfect willingness in bed.”

  Shock knocked the air from her lungs. “You’d want someone giving you whatever just because you commanded it?”

  “The commands are for your psyche, sweetheart. That way, you can tell yourself that you didn’t have a choice, that of course you didn’t like bedding down with a rapist. But honestly, I’m not going to do a damn thing to you until your body is good and wet and ready.”

  She digested his words in a panic and shook her head. “That may never happen.”

  His jaw tightened. “If I can’t get you hot, I don’t have any business between your legs. If you can’t let go because you’re afraid I’ll hurt you, I’ll persuade your body otherwise. That’s a promise.”

  How was she supposed to respond to that? “Um, I’m sure you’re perfectly capable of…arousing a woman. I meant that I may disappoint you if you’re expecting some vixen. I—I’m not very sexual.”

  Nick stilled, then a smile quirked up the side of his mouth. “You will be.”

  Those words filled her with part dread—and if she was honest—part anticipation. Always, she’d been the good girl. She’d been a virgin on her wedding night, done her best to be a lady, even in the bedroom. Somehow, she didn’t think Nick would appreciate her circumspect nature or accept her lying back and sorting through her mental to-do list during sex.

  Then again, what choice did she have? Faking a few moans would be much easier than actually orgasming with a virtual—and very dangerous—stranger.

  Sasha thought back to his touch on her breast, the way he’d rocked his hips against her. She’d felt something, far more than she expected. Maybe it would be enough to see her through.

  “I—I’ll do my best not to disappoint you,” she murmured finally.

  A laugh played across Nick’s wide mouth. “Don’t worry. I plan to be thoroughly satisfied.”

  She bit her lip, feeling a violent flush rush up her cheeks. Then silence ensued. What was left to say? For the next four weeks, she’d agreed to whore herself to a ruthless criminal fresh from prison. She had a full belly, her daughter was tucked safely into a bed, and a doctor would see Harper in the morning. Sasha really had no excuse to delay the inevitable.

  She stood. Nick did the same. Their stares met. She ignored the jolt of awareness pinging through her body. Instead, she reached for her blouse, unbuttoned it, and slid it off her shoulders before dropping it on the floor.

  Nick watched, nothing on his face giving away his thoughts. His gaze flicked over her shoulders, her breasts covered by a utilitarian white bra. Was he totally underwhelmed? Lowering her gaze, she saw he had a reaction to the fact she was nearly topless. He was undeniably hard, his bulge trying to burst through his jeans.

  What was she supposed to do now? But she knew. She’d read books, watched a porn movie at a bachelorette party once, listened to Mike go on and on. Sasha knew what all men wanted.

  Uncertainty quaking in her belly, she closed the distance between them and stopped in front of Nick. Then she dropped to her knees.

  Chapter Two

  Nick smothered a curse and clenched his fists. Sasha Porter was in front of him. On her knees. Looking up at him with big hazel eyes that said she’d do anything to please him.

  The fantasy of her oral adoration had been a favorite he’d cha-chinged from his spank bank repeatedly for nearly three years. He was more than a little tempted to unzip and let her go to town.

  She reached for his fly. He grabbed her wrists in a harsh grip. His breath sawed in the silence between them.

  Nothing about her demeanor screamed horny, but Nick knew females. When he’d had her underneath him, her body hadn’t been immune. Still, he couldn’t let that fact fuck with his head. Taking Sasha up on the offer he’d coerced from her would make him a terrible bastard. Well, more terrible than he was. Despite his conviction, he’d never violate a woman who wasn’t willing in every way.

  “Nick?” she breathed. “Don’t you want me to…?”

 
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