Made: A Bad Boy Romance (Bad Boy Games) (11 page)

I drop my duffle on the floor and pull her against my body. She lets out a soft sound of surprise, her pink lips forming an O.

“What are you doing?”

“This.” I close my lips on hers and take a long, long sip of what I’ve been craving. My cock turns to steel instantly. She moans against my lips and her hips sway.

Then she’s shoving away from me, stumbling backward in her haste. The towel around her head slips and falls to the floor. When she bends to retrieve it, the robe falls open. I’m treated to a view of those full tits, swinging as she moves.

Perks of the job.

If I’m going to buy it before the week is out, I intend to get my fill of this beautiful woman and check out of the world as a satisfied man.

She straightens with the towel pressed against her chest and her wet hair falling around her shoulders. I decide I like her like this—stripped of makeup, nearly naked, and if that moan is any indication—ready for me.

“Listen,” she begins. “Can we start over?”

“As many times as you want. I’m ready.”

Pink rushes from her chest up her neck to her cheeks. I want to know if her tits are pink, too.

“That’s not what I meant. I mean, that
is
what I mean.”

I tilt my head, thoroughly enjoying the way I’ve flustered her. “I’m listening.”

“We, um, you know. . .What we did downstairs last night. . .”

In a low voice, I say, “Oh yeah, I remember that very clearly.”

“Good. Not, I mean. . .”

“Wasn’t it good for you? Because if it wasn’t, I’m more than willing to keep trying to satisfy you. As long as it takes.”

An irritated look flashes across her face. “Please, I’m serious.”

“You think I’m not?”

“I think you’re thinking with your dick.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

“It is if we want to win this game!”

I wrap my fingers around her wrist and, with my other hand, tug at the bathrobe’s belt until it comes free. She doesn’t stop me; she doesn’t pull away. When the robe falls open, I slide my right hand around her waist and move in until her naked tit is smashed against my leather jacket. “Here’s the thing: you’re right. We’re in this game together. Even though I know more about it than you do, I’ve never played before, so in a way, we’re even. We’re going to have to work together if we want to win.” I cup her full breast with my hand and circle her nipple with my thumb. She sucks in a sudden breath. “You see, that’s communication. We need to work at communication.”

“Is this. . .” she begins. I take her nipple between my lips and suck. “
Oh God
. . . allowed?”

When I lift my head, I say, “I’m sure it’s okay with God.”

“That’s not what I meant, and you know it.”

“Why not have a little fun while we can?” I drag her hand down to the vicinity of my cock, hoping she’ll take the hint and get to work. Instead, she jerks out of my arms and backs away from me, putting an upholstered chair between us.

“You have a terrible attitude! How are we going to win if your attention is focused on getting in my pants?”

I want to point out that she’s not wearing any pants. I’m also confident that if I put my fingers between her legs, they’ll come away coated in her juices. Points to me for knowing what her body wants, even if her brain and her mouth are running in the opposite direction as fast as they can.

My cock is so hard it’s filling my jeans and threatening to punch through the zipper. Her gaze keeps straying south of my belt. My cock stirs when her eyes go there. No matter how much she protests or pretends otherwise, the woman wants me. My dick might not give a shit what she wants, but I’ve never been the kind of asshole who takes an unwilling woman.

“How are you going to focus on the game when you can’t stop looking at my cock?”

“It’s called discipline. Have you ever heard of it? Maybe you could look it up on Google.”

If her goal was to piss me off, she’s doing a bang-up job. I spread my hands wide like I’m giving up. “Fine. Have it your way, but don’t say I didn’t offer.”

She rolls her eyes and pads in the direction of the bedroom.

“Where are you going?”

As she walks, she glances over her shoulder. “Cleveland. Where does it look like I’m going?”

“Point of order you should be aware of—”

“I’ve heard all I want to hear about your cock.”

“It’s about the game.”

“Okay.”

Now she’s all ears. Lucky me. “As long as the game is in play, I can’t let you out of my sight.”

“What if I have to go to the bathroom?”

“Biology happens.”

“You can’t be serious!”

“Was there anything about Alexander Ferrara you noticed that wasn’t serious? Because if there was, that was a mistake. The dude plays for keeps.”

She tilts her head and studies me for a long moment like she’s reading something stamped on my face. “Don’t you play for keeps, too?”

Her question stuns me, but she’s right. Half-measures are for pussies. “Yeah, I do.”

“Okay, then, we’re good.”

I stand there like an idiot trying to understand what just happened. Meanwhile, she disappears into the bedroom, and I let her go. Unless there’s an assassin under the bed, I figure she’s safe.

“Nathan? Can you come here?”

I rush through the doorway, my nine-millimeter in my hand, to find Brooke standing next to an open and very full suitcase. Her arms are folded under her breasts. She doesn’t look happy. “What’s wrong?”

“Everything.” She waves a hand over the jumble. “The suitcase was delivered this morning, but everything in it is sized for Samantha.”

“So? Don’t chicks borrow each other’s clothes all the time?”

“Obviously, you haven’t noticed that I’m about five inches taller than Samantha. We don’t wear the same sizes.” She points to a short stack of folded t-shirts on the edge of the bed. “Those are the only things that will fit except for a couple of skirts.”

Again, no pants. I like where things are going. “So wear that stuff.”

She glares at me. “No. Either you take me home so I can collect some things from my closet, or we go shopping.”

“You can’t go home.”

“Then shopping it is.”

“Whatever. Get dressed.” I’m about to turn around and give her some privacy when I notice the corner of a cell phone sticking out from under a layer of tumbled shirts. Brooke catches on the minute I see the phone. We both lunge for it. I’m faster. Once the phone is in my hand, I step back from her, holding the phone out of her reach.

“Give that back.”

“Oh yeah? Where’d you get it?” Because I know it wasn’t on her when she left the Eye last night. I checked. Players are only allowed certain pieces of technology and each has to be registered.

“If you must know, Mr. De Luca, gave it to me.”

What the fuck is Marco De Luca doing making sure Brooke has a phone? Come to think of it, it’s odd that he wasn’t in the Eye last night while Tucker negotiated with Ferrara and de Hainault.

Unless Tucker shut him out.

A new layer of possibility settles over my theories, but I can’t see what it changes.

“Marco came to see you last night?” There’s an edge to my voice I don’t like but can’t seem to do anything about. Everything about this woman sets me on edge and makes me ready to fight or fuck.

She sighs. “Not that it’s any of your business, but—”

“We’re playing on the same team, so yes, it
is
my business. What was Marco Fucking De Luca doing in your room?”

She lifts an elegant brow and silence spools out between us.

“You’re going to have to tell me sooner or later so you might as well get it over with now.”

“He didn’t say I couldn’t tell you, but I got the impression he thought it would be better if I kept the fact I had the cell phone to myself.” She shakes her head. “I hate this. All of it. I can’t imagine why having a phone is a problem.”

“That’s because it’s against the rules for a player to possess a phone that’s not registered.”

“How am I supposed to know that?”

“You don’t.” I toss the phone back on the bed. “But I can promise you one thing: if that phone came from De Luca, it’s not registered, which means it can’t be tracked and monitored during the game.”

Crinkles form around her eyes. “Does that help us or hurt us?”

“There’s only one way to find out.”

“How?”

“Use the phone. Then we wait and see who makes a move.” I hand her the phone.

“Does it matter who I call?”

From my pocket, I extract a sticky note I’d been thinking of tossing in the trash. Now I’m glad I kept it. I pass it to her. “Try this number.”

She stares at it. “Who’s on the other end.”

“Your friend, what’s her name? Carley?”

“Caylee.”

“Yeah, her. You were so worked up last night wanting to know if she was all right. . .” My voice trails off because I feel fucking lame.

Tears well in Brooke’s eyes. She launches herself at me and wraps me in a quick hug. “Thank you, Nathan. I knew I was right about you.”

Something in my chest twists. I can’t place it, but I know it’s a feeling that’s either new or one I haven’t had in a long time. Even though she’s just a pawn in the game, I’m responsible for her, which sucks for me and makes life more complicated for her.

I hate complications.

Her hand snakes between us and slips behind my belt. It’s a tight fit, so I offer to unfasten it.

“Let me.” She sinks to her knees, working the buckle and zipper like a pro. My cock springs free from containment, huge and ready. Obediently, she opens her mouth. That’s all it takes for pleasure to flood my veins. I sink my fingers in her damp hair as she wraps her lips around my cock and starts sucking. Her tongue gets into the act, working my shaft back and forth and all around.

She’s a pawn, I’m a bastard with a gun, and we’re both stuck in a game where we don’t know the rules. There’s no way this works out in the end for either of us, but I don’t want her to take her lips off my cock. It makes me crazy to think of what might be happening right now if she had to play without me, that ripe mouth on another man’s cock. Even if it’s only for now or as long as the game lasts, she’s mine.

While her head moves back and forth over my length, and I shove my cock against the back of her throat, I make a promise to myself that Tucker Voss, Alexander Ferrara, and the whole lot can go fuck themselves. One way or another, I’m getting Brooke out of this situation in one piece.

I drag her to her feet and jerk the stupid H&S bathrobe off her shoulders. It falls to the floor. I kick it away from us. I can’t stand for anything related to H&S to be near us. I want her the way she is at this moment—smelling sweet from the shower and naked for me.

She smiles shyly. “I’m not very good at blow jobs.”

“You’re doing fine.”

She sinks to her knees again. I fuck her mouth, making her take me as deeply as she can, even though I’m too big for her. My cock pulses against her throat. When I look down, her tits sway with her movements, but I can’t see them very well. I want them in my face, in my hands. She sucks harder, working me until I’m about to come.

I pull her to her feet. “I don’t want a pro. I want you.”

Her eyes gleam in the morning light, and I never want to fuck a woman in the dark again. I want to see her, every beautiful inch and know she’s mine.

“This game is going to get twisted,” I warn her.

“Like it hasn’t already?”

I look around the room, noting a couple of picture frames that are no longer level, a lampshade that’s slightly askew. “You were worried that the room is bugged?”

“I think they installed cameras, too.”

“You sure?”

“I remembered what you said last night about that hallway behind the club and the little office—about it being one of the few places there weren’t any cameras. It just seemed logical they’d put them in the rooms.”

I take her face in my hands, bring our faces together and whisper, “If you’re right, they’re probably watching us right now.”

“Why not put on a show for them?”

I can’t believe she just said that. When I don’t say anything, her jaw tightens, and a hard light turns her blue eyes silver. “We’re going to win. No matter what, we’re going to win.”

Slowly, I nod, amazed at the way she’s diving headfirst into the game. And here I thought I was going to have to drag her, kicking and screaming. “Then we better make it good for them.”

“Watch this.” After taking three steps toward the bedroom, she turns back to me and crooks a finger. Her head is slightly tilted, and there’s a slant to her shoulders that thrusts her large tits forward. She’s like a pinup girl come to life. “There’s something I want to show you, but only if you’re a very good boy and follow my orders.”

“I’m ready for my orders.”

“I’m going to lay on the bed. I ask questions; you answer. If you’re right, you get to take a step forward.”

“What happens if I’m wrong?”

“Oh, poor baby, it’s one step backward, and I’ll be all by myself, naked, on that big bed.”

I watch her hips sway as she walks into the bedroom and crawls onto the bed. When she’s on all fours with her heart-shaped ass pointed toward me, she whips her head around. “Ready to play?”

I strip in record time.

“First question: how many women have you fucked?”

“You want the truth? I don’t know.”

She flips onto her back with her head propped on the; her legs spread wide, and two fingers toying with the curls on her mound. It’s torture to stand here with my huge cock straining to reach her. The only thing that makes the game worthwhile is knowing the show we’re putting has to be stellar. It better fucking guarantee we win Round 2.

“Second question: what’s my favorite color?”

Shit.

She sighs in disappointment. “I’ll take that to mean you don’t know. One step back.”

I take a step forward.

“Oooh, cheating is not allowed, Mr. Costa.”

“Fuck the rules.”

“Third question: when’s my birthday?”

Finally, an easy one, thanks to the fact I read Tucker’s file on her. “September 13.”

“One step closer.”