DOTTY (The Naughty Ones Book 3) (75 page)

Nico

God. Jack is so right—and no matter how much I’d wanted to rage at him while he calmly and very surely told me that it was time to come clean, I have to agree with him.

The problem is that I’m terrified.

A few days ago I would have just blurted it all out and told Law to go to hell if he so much as sneered my way, but now I…I find myself not wanting to ruin the calm camaraderie that we’ve established recently.

While he is in no way the love I’d met so long ago, I’m happy to note that he’s not the slimeball I’ve thought him all these years. Sure, he’s a flirt, but he explained to me that he’s not into picking up and screwing random ditzy blondes.

That doesn’t mean that he’s willing to be a prick to every woman that comes on to him. Apparently, Law isn’t into insulting women, no matter how unwanted or unwelcome their advances. His style is to let them down gently and leave them feeling secure in themselves instead of breaking them down by leading them to believe they’re unattractive.

Nice, yeah, but I find myself not liking this side of him. It suggests a considerate nature that he wasn’t willing to afford me all those years ago, and I freaking resent that he’s willing to be nice to random bimbos while he’d publicly humiliated me and left me to face those people alone.

Even more, I resent the fact that I like how much he’s changed, from that bratty boy-child into a man who is honorable enough to consider other people’s feelings.

I don’t like that his new attitude makes me reconsider my views about him. If he’s kind and nice and honorable, then I have no excuse not to tell him about Cody or trust him to be the father my son so desperately needs.

It breaks my heart to see Cody’s face when all the dads show up to watch their sons’ games, and my boy has only me. Sometimes I see the disappointment and longing on his face, and now I’m thinking that I was wrong not to have contacted Law when I found out I was pregnant. Maybe he would have come back and been a different man. Maybe I wouldn’t have been forced to marry a man who was my best pal but no husband at all.

Maybe I wouldn’t have lived for ten years dodging Cody’s questions about his father.

And no, I know what you’re thinking, I never told Cody that Brody was his dad. I’m not a total moron. I knew that eventually I’d have to fess up, and no way would I do that after lying to my son for a decade or more.

Okay Nic, stop feeling so gosh darned sorry for yourself and just get this over with.

I look up from the last blouse I’m tagging and hang it on the rack, realizing that I’ve been at this for hours while Law sits patiently waiting for me.

“You okay now, babe?”

Oh God, why does he have to be the exact opposite of the monster I’ve built up in my head?

“Yeah.”

He smiles and rises, taking my hand and pulling me to my feet, slowly so as not to hurt my stiff muscles from how I was crouching on the floor.

“Come on, Nic. Let’s go get some dinner, and then you can tell me exactly why you’ve been so skittish and quiet all afternoon. Don’t let Dad get to you about shit—”

“Your dad wasn’t…he just told me something that I know is true but have been denying to myself for a long time is all.”

Law frowns, but I ignore his questioning gaze and grab his hand, ready to get to our place so that I can tell him everything before I chicken out and convince myself that he doesn’t deserve the truth.

“Mr. James! Good to see you and Miss Sharp out and about instead of slaving away as usual. I was just on my way to invite you to sit at the captain’s table and meet some of our VIP guests. We have Marissa Green onboard.”

I ignore the captain and stay close, as Law talks to him, finally accepting the invitation with a grimace of apology that I can’t fault. The guy, I have come to notice, is never rude if he doesn’t have to be, and declining would be just that, especially since we don’t have a valid excuse.

“Sorry, babe. We’ll be in and out. An hour tops.”

“That’s fine.”

I just hope I can keep my courage for that long.

****************************************************************

Know why I hate blonde, leggy, personable actresses? Because they’re so freaking nice that I have no reason to hate them—even though the chick is currently clinging to Law like a vine and batting her ridiculously long eyelashes at him.

Little ole me is totally forgotten, but thank God I have a hot hunk sitting next to me who seems to like me just fine, so I don’t have to sit here with a mouth full of teeth and dead tongue.

“Like I was saying, Nico…I can call you Nico, right? As I was saying, you would be perfect for this role in the new movie I’m shooting next week. All that beautiful hair and those eyes. Man! The director would go nuts if he saw you.”

I can’t even remember the guy’s name, and I’m fully aware that he’s spinning me a bull story, but I play along if only to keep up some conversation while Law allows Marissa to climb him like a monkey.

Stupid, beautiful, kind…person.

“You’re hilarious. I can act about as well as I skydive, but thanks for the compliment. So what’s it like being an actor?”

He starts talking, and I zone out, so not interested in a word. A polite smile and nod every now and then is all it takes, I guess. I’m pretty sure the guy’s got his arm around the back of my chair, and he’s so close I bet he can see down my shirt and tell you my bra size.

Another thirty minutes passes and we’re almost hitting dessert when I literally feel Law turn my way and glare in the guy’s direction.

“You sit any closer and you’ll be on her goddamned lap.”

I titter—admittedly, I’ve had like four glasses of wine and I’m making steady inroads on my fifth. Mr. Actor turns a light shade of pink and backs off, his green eyes shooting daggers at Law.

“Come on, babe. I think we should go up. You look…beat.”

Another giggle—and since when do I freaking giggle?—escapes me and I end up tottering to my feet, feeling so great I even spare a smile for Marissa and the fool next to me.

“Christ, that guy was checking out your tits,” he snarls when we reach the elevator.

I’m still feeling buzzed and not so steady on my feet, so I just flop against the wall and smile.

“He was nice.”

“He was trying to get in your pants!”

Ooooh, someone’s jealous.

“Eh, he wasn’t doing too badly actually. He offered me a starring role in a new movie that’s probably gonna be a blockbuster.”

“You can’t act for shit and we all know it. He was making a play.”

He’s snarling every word as he pulls me to the room and flings the door open. All I can manage is a slurred burp and giggle, which it seems only pisses him off even more.

“You wanted that asshole?”

“Eh.”

That’s all I get out before I’m pinned to the wall by two hundred and some odd pounds of hot, angry male. His mouth swoops down and takes mine in a show of dominant possession that has me so hot so quickly that I think my panties just melted right off.

“Mine.”

His mouth is back, and he’s kissing me senseless, so senseless I don’t realize we’ve moved till I feel the soft mattress beneath my back. Pulling away, which makes me groan and try to cling to him, he rises up above me and starts ripping at my clothes.

“God, you’re so fucking sexy.”

He’s huffing by the time my dress and underwear are gone, and I feel a moment’s hesitation. I shouldn’t be doing this, I should be—

All thoughts cease when he stretches out naked above me and opens his mouth over my nipple, his other hand coming up to roll and tug at the other bud.

Pleasure and arousal hammer at me, making my blood pulse through my veins in a hot, sluggish pounding that sets up shop in my sex and spreads outward to every cell of my being.

I want him so much in that instant that I allow it all to drop away; I push it all back for later. Now, just this once, I want to feel the rush and crash of mutual desire.

“Your tits are perfect, bigger than they were before,” he says and groans, using his teeth and tongue to torture me. “Does that feel good, babe?”

“Yes. Yes. Please don’t stop.”

He doesn’t. He worships my breasts till I’m nothing more than a muddled mess of writhing and moaning before venturing south. He licks at every inch of skin, scrapes his teeth over my hipbones, and then sets to work between my legs with a focus that has me weeping and clawing at him, begging for relief.

“Law. Please.”

“What is it, babe? What do you need?”

He’s grinning against my thigh, daring me to voice my every dark desire and go with him wherever it is he’s trying to lead me. I want to. I want to tell him every filthy, desperate need I’ve had for the last ten years, and then I want him to fulfil every one.

I want slow and sweet, hard and wild, and then I want to start all over again and let him have me in every position known to man, and even some I don’t think exist anywhere but in my depraved mind.

“You.”

It’s all I can manage to get out through my clenched, choked throat.

I want him so bad.

It seems to be enough though, and he all but falls on me as he rears up, palming my head and taking my mouth in a kiss that is hotter and more intense than any we have ever shared.

“You’re so beautiful, Nic. I’ve been starving for you, babe.”

I can’t reciprocate and tell him that I’ve spent days dreaming about this, craving just the slightest brush of his hand, anything to calm the raging need that’s set in and won’t seem to go, no matter what I do.

He’s kissing me gain, his mouth and hands holding my head still, as he knees my legs wider and lines himself up. I let out a keening cry, as he thrusts home in one hard, heavy movement that seats him before I can utter a protest.

The fit is tight, a little too tight, as he pushes till not an inch of his erection is bare of my sex.

“Goooood.”

“Ssh, babe. That’s it, Nic. Just relax and let yourself feel me,” he croons, taking my mouth in a series of slow, smooching kisses that are meant to soothe and calm the slight pain.

I obey and will myself to relax and just focus on his mouth and the way his hands are gently stoking through my hair. Soon enough, he starts kissing me deeper and sucking on my tongue. His groan of pleasure is followed swiftly by my own when I wiggle my hips and feel an answering pulse of renewed arousal.

He takes the hint and pulls his hips back, never leaving my mouth, forcing me to share his breath as he pulls back and pushes in, back and in, back and in, in a pace that is as slow and sweet as it is hot.

I feel him everywhere, and—man-oh-man—is it better than I ever remembered.

“More.”

He ignores me and keeps at the slow pace.

It feels like hours later that I feel a rush of pleasure so great I scream into his mouth and explode in a burst of twitching legs, clawing nails, and so much pleasure I can’t catch my breath.

That does the trick for Law, too, and with one more thrust, I feel him tense and come with me, his feral groans and growls absorbed by our still clinging mouths.

Minutes later, he pulls away and comes down beside me, pulling me closer and into his arms. The action makes me wary, not because I don’t appreciate the comfort or cuddling after such a mind-blowing event, but because he’s never been a cuddler, and it’s another new thing about him that leaves me feeling terrible.

“You okay, babe?” he whispers, snuffling into my neck with a contented sigh.

“Great.”

But I’m not, and even as the minutes tick by and I feel him relax and then drift off to sleep, I’m fully awake and filled with regrets.

I’ve been a bitter, selfish fool all this time and it’s time I faced the truth. I didn’t keep Cody from him because he wouldn’t have been a great father or a fabulous champion for his kid. I didn’t keep it from him to protect Cody from future disappointment, or even because I felt that it was better for my kid.

I did this because I was pissed and hurt and bitter about the way he’d treated me. I’d loved him so much that when he’d left me I’d felt used and broken.

That hurt had turned into anger and then resentment, and I’d somehow fooled myself into thinking that I had a valid reason for keeping the man away from his son.

Seems that for all my intelligence, I am not the most emotionally savvy woman around.

And tomorrow morning, I have to wake up and tell the man—whom I now realize I never stopped wanting—that I wronged him in the worst way.

Law

I wake with a sense of peace and contentment that I haven’t felt in so long that it takes me a while to decipher the emotion before putting a name to it.

Yeah, I feel happy and…whole…in a way I haven’t experienced since I won my first game or got scouted in college to go pro.

The feeling is warm and graceful and so complete, and I can’t help a grin as I roll over and look at the woman lying beside me in bed. Nic…

I’d met her one day when Dad called and asked me to go to the NYU campus to headhunt the girl. I’d been annoyed to miss a full day of practice checking out some college puff piece who probably couldn’t negotiate a deal if it ran up and bit her on her prissy ass.

Boy had I been wrong.

We’d met with the dean and been shown to a lecture hall that was full to the rafters but for three reserved seats.

And then I saw her.

Nineteen years old, teaching an advanced Econ class and so fucking beautiful it took me ten minutes to stop drooling and tune into what she was saying.

And man, she was
way
beyond smart. I’d realized soon that my old man had a reason for trying to snatch this young girl up before she even touched her last week and graduated.

Nicolette was well and truly the most vibrantly intelligent and outgoing girl I’d ever set my eyes on. And she was a hot little nerd, who wore a Star Wars t-shirt depicting two lightsabers—one big and one tiny, saying ‘Of course size matters.’

Sense of humor, too.

Shit. I’d all but left a drool trail all the way to the lectern by the time she stopped talking and dismissed the class to a resounding round of applause.

Yeah, my girl was smart and well liked and everything I never knew I wanted. I’d dumped my girlfriend the same day and set out to seduce the hell out of her, as my dad wooed her for James.

I can be a charming bastard when I want to be and had the starry-eyed girl eating out of my hand in the two weeks in which I’d romanced her to death.

Turned out that while she was most definitely a virgin—Roooar!—she was not the shy type, and I’d had her maidenhead before the month was up.

Of course, I fell in love. No smart man in his right mind could have resisted Nic’s quirky charms and her insatiable sexuality. She was simply the perfect woman, right down to her hatred of shopping or wearing makeup.

Mom had taken over there and whipped her into shape while Dad set her up in the company.

I took my sweet time finishing college. I was going pro as a star goalie after all, so wasn’t too concerned about any of it. With Nic at Dad’s side, I was free to pursue my dreams and have my perfect girl waiting for me at home.

I had it great till Nathaniel Lincoln slammed into me the last twenty seconds on the clock, trying to land a goal and end my shutout.

My knee was well and truly fucked, and there ended my career before it even began. And there started my discontent and the need to get free and live my life…because I knew that Dad and Nic would expect me to just forget that my dreams were shattered and join the company.

I didn’t want to be a CEO. A suit. Some stuck up exec who played golf twice a week and attended charity events while my wife pranced around dripping in jewels.

So I steadily got increasingly bitter and angry. I became more resentful of Nic, the happier she seemed to get.

And then I’d exploded one night, the night of Dad and Mom’s twentieth anniversary party.

I still can’t think about that night without feeling weak with regret, and I still feel lingering pain, just as much as when I’d realized I’d destroyed the only woman I ever gave a shit about.

Not only had I publicly humiliated her in front of the people she worked with and needed to lead every day, but also I screamed my distaste of her in front of my parents, ruining their party and losing their respect.

They forgave me, eventually, after about three months of unanswered calls and a lot of pleading on my part. But I never once called Nic to ask forgiveness.

No, I’d done what I always did and ignored it, pretending I didn’t give a shit as long as she wasn’t weighing me down and telling me in her soft, understanding voice how sorry she was for my knee and that life went on, that I had a bigger purpose, that God had closed one door, but there was sure to be another that would open somewhere better.

Yeah, I’d fucked it all up royally, but I have another chance now, and I swear I won’t ruin it by being the same immature, cowardly loser I was at the tender age of twenty-two.

This time I’ll be everything she needs and more, and I’ll get the family I’ve been denying myself all this time. I think it’s been my way of punishing myself for what I did, but I’ve suffered ten years of loneliness, so I’m quitting my shit and just taking what I want.

What I need to survive.

Grinning once again, because yeah, I’m just
that
damned happy, I pull her naked body into my arms and groan at the feel of her hot, smooth skin making contact with mine.

She sniffles and groans, stretching with a jaw-cracking yawn before opening her eyes and smiling softly at me.

“Morning, beautiful,” I murmur, kissing her and chuckling when she tries to push away, muttering about morning breath.

“God, you still look great in the morning, even with bed head and stubble,” she gripes, pushing away.

I grin at her and feel a weight lift off me when she smiles back and reaches out to caress my jaw.

“We need to talk about the future, babe.”

“I know,” she says sadly, pulling her hand away and closing her eyes on a shudder. “There’s something I need to tell you.”