Wicked Intentions (6 page)

“Nathan!” her scream was unintentional as it was strange.

He chuckled then did it again

“Oh. Oh. O…” her mouth stayed open as she silently screamed with each hard deep plunge. The world stopped on its axis, the hard wood pressing into her back disappeared and all that remained was the hard man holding her, surrounding her, in her.

“Fuck,” he groaned as his lips met hers in a punishing kiss to match his deep strokes inside her. The tension in Shakira built up as the ride overwhelmed her. Heat curled up in the pit of her stomach and her pussy contracted around him.

“Nathan,” she whimpered as the sharp wave of her orgasm hit her. He continued driving in and out of her until he reached his own peak. He came with a groan.

For a moment they just stood there with him holding her up against the door and still inside her. Shakira tucked her head into his shoulder taking deep breaths tinged with his masculine scent. The angel inside her shook its head while the devil inside her crowed.

Being bad for one night was worth it, wasn’t it?

Early dawn caught Shakira creeping around the bedroom picking up her clothes. She didn’t know what the protocol was for waking up after a one-night stand and she sure as hell wasn’t staying to find out. The soft sun rays peeking through the grey drapes were enough light for her to see what she was doing. In the morning light her decision to have one night of torrid sex with a perfect stranger seemed stupid. This was not her style at all. What had she been thinking?

She bent to pick up her dress that was bunched up at the foot of the bed. Her back cramped with the effort as did her lower body.

Damn Nathan!

Her eyes flew to him. He lay sprawled on the bed, arm slung over his eyes and chest rising and falling with his deep breaths. The grey comforter stopped just below his navel hinting at the goodies below. Once hadn’t been enough for him; neither had twice. She wanted to tell him it was enough but then his kisses had her toes curling and soon she was begging for round three.

Oh God! What did I do?
Heat flushed through her body as she remembered all the nasty things they’d gotten up to. How the hell was she going to face him after today? With any luck their next and last meeting would be when he handed her back the keys to her apartment. Maybe she could get London to get her keys to avoid ever seeing Nathan again.

She mulled over how to blackmail London to do it as she searched the room for her bra. It was draped conveniently on the headboard above Nathan. Careful not to make any noise and wake up him up, she crept towards the bed. In the morning light his features were soft and relaxed but that didn’t minimize their impact. If anything it only made her want to bend and place her lips against his to confirm that they tasted just as good this morning as they had last night.

Resisting the impulse, she reached for her bra – just as Nathan stirred.

She held in her sharp intake of breath as her gaze flew to him.
Don’t wake up. Don’t wake up
. He didn’t. He turned on to his side away from her. Shakira let out her breath in a soft whoosh before picking the bra. Afraid that she’d wake him up if she stayed any longer in the room, she gathered up her clothes in her arms then left closing the door softly behind her.

He hadn’t changed much about her living room. Her grey couches still dominated the small space with the multicolored throw pillows strategically placed around them. The bookshelf that faced the large mirror she’d placed on one wall to make the room seem even larger was still there only a collection of thrillers and classic novels had now replaced her self-help books.

Some part of her was happy that he liked her style enough to keep it but mostly she just felt sad. If he’d changed up some things this wouldn’t feel so much like home and like Eve had ripped up a part of her. Pushing her melancholic feelings aside, Shakira dressed quickly, tamed her hair into a ponytail then called a cab. While she waited, she wrote a note to Nathan promising to get him the rest of his money by the next day and placed the one thousand five hundred dollars her mother had left her on the coffee table.

It took the cabbie barely fifteen minutes to get her to London’s building.

“Who is it?” Amani’s voice called out when she pressed the buzzer.

Oh damn!
Who needed this drama in the morning?

“It’s Shakira. Is London up yet?”

Amani’s answer was curt. “She’s not in.”

“Could you buzz me up so I can wait for her?”

“No.” And the bitch left it at that. No matter how much Shakira pressed on the buzzer after that she didn’t answer. As if it wasn’t embarrassing enough that she was doing the walk of shame in last night’s dress and no panties, now she had to wait outside.

Shakira stood against the wall, looking longingly at Jeanine and wishing she’d carried the keys to the car last night – at least she could’ve waited in it. Luckily one of London’s neighbors came out of the building a few minutes later. With a quick thanks, Shakira darted into the building.

It was almost as if Amani and Farah had just been waiting for her. As soon as she knocked on the door, it swung open and they shoved the duffel bag containing her clothes and her car keys in her face.

Shakira heard Farah’s triumphant “Bye” before the door slammed in her face.

This was one of those times she wished she had some hands on her. She was ready to knock down the door and fight the two girls. Only the recognition that she couldn’t even win a fight with her own hair made her stomp away in a huff.

“Where are you?” London asked almost four hours later.

“At a motel,” Shakira said into the phone as she looked around her current accommodation. The single room could have fit into her kitchen and still left some space even with the adjunct bathroom.

The walls were papered in a flowery pink and green wallpaper that looked like it’d just stepped off the boat from 1743. The only furnishing was a the bed Shakira currently sat on that was covered in a comforter in a gunk shade of green to match the atrocious wallpaper, a rickety chair and a small TV that was currently playing reruns of the Golden Girls. Though it was by no means the Ritz, it was clean and pocket friendly.

“Why’d you do that?” London protested. “I told you you could stay with me.”

Shakira thought of telling her how Amani and Farah had kicked her out but she didn’t want to bring more trouble into their already fragile roommate relationship so instead she said, “Babe, you know how I like my own space.” Then to quickly change the subject, she asked, “So how did your night go with Enzo?”

“Oh, you know. We talked, played a little music, watched the stars…”

“Watched the stars?” Shakira guffawed. “I bet he wanted to do a lot more.”

“I told you we’re just friends,” London dismissed. “How did
your
night with Mr. Nathan Hollis go?”

“It went well,” Shakira hedged.

“Oh. No. I want all the details. Get nasty with me.”

“Girl, Charlie has nothing on this man.” Shakira settled on the bed with the phone on her ear and a smile on her face as she recounted her night.

In the morning, she woke up to dry taps. The bucket of water they brought her was as tepid as last week’s tea. By the time Shakira exited the miniscule bathroom she was ready to pay Nathan so she could get out of this place. Her first stop was the bank where they proceeded to ruin her Monday morning.

“I’m sorry, Miss Dalton your account has been frozen,” the branch manager pronounced.

CHAPTER 7

“What do you mean the FBI froze my account?” Shakira exclaimed. Her voice carried beyond Wayne’s office drawing askance looks from two lawyers who were passing by.

Wayne walked to the door and shut it before turning back to Shakira. His look was apologetic as he explained, “According to the bank, they received a notice to freeze your accounts immediately after your arrest.”

“Why? Why would they want to take my money?” she asked, her mind reeling in confusion. She knew enough criminal law to know that an arrest was not enough to get your money frozen unless you were in for some financial crime. “And isn’t the bank supposed to notify me?”

“They did notify you,” Wayne said as he settled back behind his desk. Except for his head of copper curls and the freckles that marred the pale skin underneath his eyes and nose, he was the picture of the suave successful lawyer. He’d color coordinated an expensive navy suit, with a striped purple, white and blue shirt along with a purple tie to match it. A silver Rolex and platinum cufflinks gleamed at his wrist subtly hinting at his net-worth.

Like him, his office was the picture of elegant opulence. The large space boasted a beige carpeted floor, plywood walls, a floor to ceiling window with a stunning view of Manhattan’s skyline and a glass sliding door that opened out to the rest of
Green, Green & Becket
. The furniture was all black leather, sleek steel and polished dark wood.

Everything about Wayne and his firm screamed money. He added, “The bank sent you a letter to your house notifying you of the freezing.”

“Why would they send a letter to my house? I wasn’t even-” Shakira stopped speaking because her temper was on the verge of spilling over. It wasn’t Wayne’s fault that the FBI, her bank and her mother who’d sold the house where her mail had been sent were all assholes. Pinching the bridge of her nose, she stared at the ceiling and counted to twenty.

Wayne interrupted her at fourteen. “You don’t need to worry about it. With you released without charges it should be easy to get your assets unfrozen in a week or less.”

Releasing her nose, she focused on him. There was a hopeful note in her voice as she asked, “You think so?”

“I do.” He nodded as a large smile spread across his face and creased the edges of his eyes drawing even more attention to the freckles there. “You’re with
Green, Green & Becket
and we always take care of our clients.”

She sagged in her seat in relief. The bank had only left her with the state’s mandatory one thousand seven hundred dollars but that would be enough to carry her until the end of the week or even longer. The thought of money cut her relief short.

“Wayne, I don’t have much money to pay you.” Picking up her bag, she searched for her wallet as within it as she said, “I mean I could give you a two hundred dollar ret-”

Wayne stopped her. “You don’t need to worry about it, Shakira. This one’s on me.”

She looked up at him in shock. “Really?”

“Really.”

She didn’t know what to say. She’d known a lot of kindness from people in her lifetime but it rarely came from people who lived in gilded cages as Wayne did. Eve’s own step-brother, a real estate mogul, had pretended he didn’t even know Shakira when she’d gone to his office to plead for aid with her university costs.

Wayne was the last person she’d expected to help her. He and Charlie had been university buddies and somewhat friendly. When he’d approached her offering his services Pro Bono after her first lawyer had ditched her, she’d been baffled – grateful but nonetheless baffled.

His spirited defense at the trial despite his disbelief in her innocence had convinced her that he only meant well. His kindness was as unexpected as it was appreciated.

“I don’t know what to say, Wayne,” Shakira said. “I don’t know how I can thank you.”

“Just a hug would be good enough.” He laughed. She wasn’t sure if he was kidding or serious but a hug was the least she could do. She stood and crossed over to his side of the desk. He hopped to his feet and drew her into his arms.

Wayne was taller than she was and her head only touched his chin. His cologne imbued her senses as she pressed her body closer to his lean tall length. He was a handsome man with a good physique – her body should’ve been lighting up in all sorts of celebration. But it felt almost like hugging London; comforting, innocent and definitely no sparks. Maybe the night with Nathan had soothed her hormones.

He held her for a bit longer than appropriate before releasing her. When she looked up at him, his mouth was cocked at an odd angle and his eyes were heavy lidded. She knew that look. Obviously Wayne’s hormones didn’t agree with her assessment of the hug.

His next words only confirmed it. “…and maybe dinner tonight?”

“Um…um…um.” She frantically tried to ferret for a good excuse why she couldn’t go to dinner with him but Shakira had always been hopeless in situations that required quick thinking. “Um…sure.”

“Eight o’clock then.
Sabine’s.
”

A date with a nice guy like Wayne wasn’t the worst thing that could happen to her, she thought as she waited for the elevator. Unbidden, an image of Nathan clouded her thoughts. She started to shove it to the back of her mind then hastily reeled it back in.
Damn it!
She still owed the man money.

Obviously explaining that the FBI had frozen her accounts was out of the question. The man already knew she’d been in prison; she didn’t need to make him even more suspicious of her. As much as she wanted to avoid any contact, not talking him was also not an option. Shakira liked to handle her responsibilities. She dialed his number just as the elevator came to a grinding halt and its steel doors opened up.

He picked up on the third ring. “We need to talk.”

Had he read her mind? Thrown, Shakira could only say, “Okay,” as she stepped into the elevator.

“Let me take you to lunch,” he suggested. They needed to talk - but lunch? Before she could protest he added, “Where are you? I can pick you up.”

“No, no. You don’t need to,” she protested. The elevator stopped at level five picking up two more people. She suggested to Nathan, “Let me meet you.”

“Is
44 Club
okay?” he asked, naming a restaurant Shakira had only seen but never been to.

“That’s okay,” she acquiesced. “I’m close to it so I’ll just wait for you.”

She stopped at the ATM and withdrew the rest of her money – just in case the government got any more ideas. Tucking one thousand dollars into one envelope and then the remaining two hundred into her wallet next to the balance left over from Saturday’s withdrawal, she headed to the restaurant.

Sleek luxury cars stopped in front of the building that housed
44 Club
dropping off expensively clad businessmen and women. As soon as she stepped into the restaurant, Shakira realized exactly why she’d never been there.
44 Club
was not a place you came to eat. It was a place you came to throw away money.

The smell of exotic food and money mingled to create an intoxicating scent that seeped into her blood and welcomed her into the large airy space. The warm shades of the red and white décor embraced her as did the soft instrumental music playing in the background in accompaniment to the quiet conversations of its exclusive clientele.

Shakira was so glad she’d chosen to dress up today. Armored in her silk blouse, pencil skirt and red-bottom heels, she felt like she almost belonged. A smiling server in a snow white shirt and pants met her at the entrance. “Welcome to
44 Club
.”

He led her past several linen clad tables arranged artfully across the expanse of the restaurant and occupied by other clients.
Oh my God, is that Pierce Brosnan?
Shakira quickly tapped down on the immediate thrill and forced her gaze back to the server. This was not the place to fan-girl. He guided her to an open table and placed a menu in front of her before leaving her to make her choice.

So exclusive was
44 Club
that the menu didn’t even come with prices.

“How much is a glass of juice?” Shakira asked the server when he came back for her order. She almost had an aneurism when he stated the price. “I’ll have water. A
small
water!”

Taking advantage of her first free minutes of the day and the free wi-fi, she opened her laptop and logged into her account with one of her favorite freelancer online marketplaces. Even when she was working at McPherson’s, she’d always had a back up plan in case things went south. She’d kept her freelancer account active by taking smaller accounting jobs over the weekend. Now that she was jobless, she’d need to take larger jobs until she found something offline.

She was engrossed in her applications when she felt the hairs at the back of her neck stand up. Startled, she lifted her head only to see him making his way towards her. The thrill of awareness was immediate as was the perking up of her body. All her senses came alive. Her pulse began to beat a faster rhythm, her nipples perked up and inner thighs moistened almost as if in readiness for him.

She was wrong.

One night had definitely not been enough to soothe her hormones.

They’d just reserved all their actions for one man.

Nathan.

She couldn’t tear her eyes away from him. She’d seen him naked, half-naked, in casual clothes - yet her response to him in a suit was just as strong. Her eyes cruised up his body hungrily eating up the way the grey fabric molded his thighs with every step he took and caressed his broad shoulders. Her tongue peeked past her lips as she focused on the open collar of his black shirt, loving the flash of his strong throat. Finally her gaze rose to meet his just as he reached her table.

“Shakira.” Even the way he rolled her name on his tongue was enough to send her heart skipping a beat. Shakira was in no condition to resist him when he bent his head and placed his lips on her softly before straightening up.

“Hey.” She was shocked that her voice wasn’t the least bit shaky and that she didn’t reach for him and pull him down for an extended kiss.

“Have your ordered yet?”

Shakira shook her head wordlessly and Nathan gestured for a server. What was it about the man that had her behaving like a mute when she wasn’t panting like a horny walrus?

Get a grip, Shakira
!
Don’t you understand the concept of one-night stand?
She could almost hear London berating her. Giving herself a mental slap, she shook off the entrancement Nathan’s arrival had charmed her into. By the time the server turned to her to get her lunch order, she had her wits back.

“Just get me what he’s having,” she requested as she shut her laptop and slipped it back into her bag. When she turned back to Nathan, his eyes were on her and they were narrowed in – anger? She immediately launched into an explanation, “I promise I’m going to get you the money I just-”

He interrupted, “You left without a word.”

“I’m sorry?”

“I woke up to a cold bed and fifteen hundred dollars on the coffee table.” A muscle jumped in his cheek as his piercing gaze skimmed her face, her throat and breasts and left a trail of tingles. “What was that about?”

“Isn’t that what you wanted?”

“No, I wanted to see the beautiful woman I invited to my bed last night next to me.” Though his voice barely rose, his eyes flared with passion. “I wanted to get a chance to make her breakfast and thank her for a wonderful night.”

Even though they were not meant as compliments, his words were like the sounds of a well-played violin to a music aficionado. She couldn’t help feeling flattered that he thought she was beautiful. Her lips widening in a soft smile she said, “Then you should’ve called.”

“After you ran out on me,” quirking an eyebrow, he asked, “would you have picked up my call?”

“Of course,” Shakira said though the skeptical devil inside her jeered ‘
yeah right
’. Reaching for his hand across the table, she said, “I’m sorry.”

His eyes slipped to her hand over his. Even that small touch was enough to spark Shakira’s nerves and she wanted to pull away. She kept her hand on his soothing one finger over his skin.

His expression eased and sighing deeply, he turned his hand under hers and squeezed her fingers lightly. “Next time, at least wait up for me.”

Next time?
Shakira didn’t get a chance to refute the statement because their meal arrived at just that moment. She’d thought that after their one-night disaster any conversation between them would be awkward. She’d underestimated the man.

The lunch was far from uncomfortable. Nathan was practiced in the art of making a woman feel good. He kept the easy conversation swirling around them subtly delving into her life but not so much that she felt like he was intruding. Despite the fact that beautiful women trooped by them – some even stopping to greet him- his eyes never strayed away from her. He made her feel as if everything she said was laced in platinum and covered in gold.

Eyes lit in interest he exclaimed, “I can’t believe you grew up here!”