“Is it uncommon?”
Her soft voice was a strained snap when she replied, “It’s singularly unique.”
“I gotta believe that, Olivia.”
“I have to believe the same, Sebring.”
“Wasn’t me walked your way, beggin’ with my eyes for you to fuck me,” he pointed out.
He felt the searing fire which was indication she had a formidable temper she had not yet unleashed as she stood, announcing, “This is done.”
She bent to put her drink down and turned to her purse but he caught her before she grabbed it and had her in his lap before she could make a move to stop him.
She twisted at the waist, planting a hand in his chest and pushing hard.
“I said this is done,” she reiterated.
“What’s done?” he shot back. “You bein’ pissy I’m askin’ pertinent questions after you strut in here tellin’ me some guy wants to fuck you and you made a date with him while you’re fuckin’ me and doin’ it takin’ me ungloved? Or somethin’ else.”
“We’re done,” she retorted sharply.
Fuck!
He felt those words too many places, including his balls, his gut, spearing into his temples and burning around his heart.
He wanted that reaction to be about Hettie. He wanted it to be about his plan. He wanted it to be about vengeance.
But Olivia Shade never smiled, she fucked strangers in a way it was clear that was the only connection she’d allow herself and she had nasty scars on her back.
And Nick was drowning in all that.
So in order to control that too, Nick had to admit to himself it wasn’t just about Hettie, his plan or vengeance.
It was about Olivia Shade.
“Uh…no we’re not,” he denied.
She stopped pushing at his chest and dipped her face closer. “Do not pretend for one moment what started us was by my invitation only. Yes, I invited you to that ride. But that invitation went both ways.”
“You took the walk,” he noted.
“You made it clear it was a walk worth it to take,” she retorted.
“Not sure why we’re goin’ over this when the point is, you’re still takin’ that walk every time you come to me. You’re takin’ that walk, you do not take another guy.”
Both her brows shot up. “Are you saying you want exclusive?”
“Woman,” he growled, his hand moving up her back to fist in her hair so he could pull her face to within an inch of his, “you take me ungloved. Fuck yes, that’s gotta be exclusive. We fuck, I fuck you. Not a parade of guys you’re fucking.”
He felt more of the heat of her temper as she lost control.
“And now I say fuck you, Sebring.” The pressure came back from her hand at his chest. “Let me go.”
He held her fast. “Not a chance. You are not done with me and I sure as fuck am not done with you.”
She pushed harder. “I’ll say it one more time, let me go.”
He jerked her closer. “You tellin’ me you feel so much nothin’ for me that you wanna expose me to whatever shit your mom’s friend’s boy could give you?”
“I’m telling you that you don’t get to make assumptions about the woman you think I am because I was drawn to you to start what we started the way we started it,” she shot back, her delicate voice tight with anger, and he couldn’t deny it and she wasn’t hiding it—hurt. Hurt he did not like to hear. Hurt she felt enough to force her to make a mistake. “I’m telling you I haven’t taken any man unprotected. Not even Tommy.”
Nick felt his body still.
But doing it, he felt hers lock.
Not even Tommy.
Tom Leary? A Shade soldier?
A fucking Shade soldier it was known wide felt the wrath of his king and got the drip of acid on his face to learn his lesson. A lesson people knew he’d learned just looking at his face but no one knew why he’d learned it.
This thought shifted from his head when suddenly, her body flew into motion.
Fuck yeah. She’d made a mistake.
He moved instantly to clamp her tight to him.
She emitted a noise of desperation when she found herself immobilized, her arms wrapped round her front, her wrists seized, the only thing she could move was her legs and they were positioned to his side so any movement was ineffectual.
He needed to dig into her comment about Tom Leary.
But he felt at that juncture it would be an error to focus on the mystery of Olivia and not the forward movement of his plan.
“No one but me?” he asked.
“Sebring,” she bit off.
“Why me?”
“Let me go.”
He shook her slightly. “Why me, Olivia?”
She looked to him, mouth tight, eyes holding unhidden anger and frustration, both, he suspected, for herself but aimed at him for her mental health.
“You’re of my world. You get it.”
“I know of Tom Leary, Olivia,” he probed gently. “He’s of your world too.”
She gave a slight toss of her head that if their situation was not as intense as it was would have been fucking adorable. Enough to make him laugh or at least smile.
Instead, it just registered as fucking adorable, which was bad enough.
“He’s in my world. There’s a difference.”