Tempting (Red Lips & White Lies Book 1)
Chapter 20

A gust of wind cracks the shades against the windowsill as the feral look in Nixon’s eyes darkens to something beyond sexy.

I’m not sure when it happened. Was it quickly or years in the making?

It doesn’t even matter when. This man owns me.

My body, my orgasms, and I think he might just own my heart too.

I’m not sure how it happened or when it happened, but it happened, and it’s scary as hell.

With a wicked grin on his firm, full lips he drags the thick head of his cock through my drenched sex, covering himself in my arousal. Sliding up and down. Pushing in the tiniest bit, then pulling right back out and smacking my clit until it throbs in time with my heart.

My blood thrums through my veins, flowing just under my skin, excitement and arousal and something else fighting for dominance.

“Nixon . . .” I beg, desperate to feel him inside me. My nails score his skin as they dig into his shoulders, and I try to pull us closer. “Please. I want more.”

My next breath is stolen from my lungs when he rolls us over and grabs behind my knees. “Straddle me, baby. I want to watch you ride me.” His hands grip my hips. “But don’t go thinking you’re fucking me, Mac. It doesn’t matter what position we’re in. Your orgasms are mine.”

“God, yes they are.” Excitement courses through me as my body clenches, and I lean down and kiss the edge of his lips. “I was responsible for my own for far too long, Nix, and I want you to make me come. Just you.”

I moan as he bucks beneath me, hitting my clit again.

“Tell me, Mac. Did you get yourself off this week?”

I shake my head and wrap my hand around his erection. “I tried. But nothing lived up to the memory of you. You’ve ruined me,” I whimper.

“That’s it. Up on your knees, beautiful. I want you to slide down my cock nice and slow. Feel the stretch, Mac.” We both suck in our breaths as I do what he said and notch the head of his dick against my soaked entrance.

I lean forward and brace my hands on his chest, loving the feel of him. Of his strength. His power. The way he focuses it all on me. My God . . . it’s too much.

Pleasure and pain spark like a bright bolt of lightning in a dark night’s sky as he stretches me until I feel like I might just tear in half.

I move achingly slow as I take him deeper, and my eyes close as I soak it all in.

Every delicious sensation.

“Eyes on me, beautiful.”

My eyes fly open and lock on his baby blues. I get lost in the emotion there as I take him deeper. Until I’ve taken all he’s got to give me. I rock my hips, wanting this to last but chasing the high I’ve been missing since the last time I was in his arms.

“Fuck, baby, you’re doing so good.” He jackknifes up and wraps my legs around his waist so we’re chest to chest. Nix’s strong arms band around my waist, and he takes back all control.

“My good girl . . .” he whispers as his lips press against mine, and I melt, loving the way he controls me.

“Only yours,” I murmur against his lips and let him shift my body however he wants, unable to do anything but give myself over to him completely.

“Tell me, baby,” he whispers in my ear. “Tell me what you want. Tell me how it feels. Tell me you’re mine.”

Oh. God.

This isn’t what I should want. I want a career, not a man. We were supposed to be no strings. Instead, they’re wrapping around us in a million directions, and instead of running, I just want more.

“You, Nix. I want you,” I whisper back, relieved to give life to the words.

“I didn’t say stop talking, Mac,” he demands, and there’s that growly voice I love. He changes our angle just enough to hit a whole new spot, and I see stars.

“More of this. More of us. I want you closer,” I gasp. “Deeper. I want to feel you every time I move for fucking days.” I lean my forehead against his and inhale his breaths.

His strokes are slow and measured. Controlled. Just like Nixon.

One hand grips my chin with rough fingers and holds my face while he takes my lips. He licks into my mouth as he fucks me harder. Faster. Our bodies moving together in an intricate dance. Moving against one another to our own beautiful choreography until I don’t know where I stop and he starts. I just feel him. Everywhere.

“So fucking good for me.”

His praise is like a lit match being thrown into a pool of gasoline.

A fire rips over my already hypersensitive skin, leaving a blazing inferno in its wake. It’s too much but won’t ever be enough.

“That’s my girl,” he growls against the hollow of my throat as his hips pick up speed and grinds his cock inside me, creating the most decadent friction against my clit and hitting the most delicious spot inside, and I know without a doubt I’m not going to last much longer.

A whimper is ripped from my lips on a sexy cry that even I can recognize as a beautiful sound.

“Shh, baby. I’ve got you.”

I nod, unable to form words. Lost in my lust. Chasing the high.

Nixon drags his mouth over my peaked nipple, sucking and biting and scraping his teeth over my skin until the edges of my vision darken, and I think I may pass out.

Overstimulated . . . Overwhelmed.

“Gonna need you to come for me, Mackenzie.” The flames lick higher and higher with each desperate word.

Every thrust of his hips against mine.

Each stroke of his fingers and cock. His teeth and tongue.

The look in those baby blues I could get lost in for days. It’s all there. The lust. The need. The want. It’s all reflected back at me, right there.

He’s giving it to me in his words. His actions.

He’s giving me him.

And as I wonder whether I can take it . . . take him, he thrusts up and slams me down against him, and I shatter in his arms. A silent scream falling from my lips as my body shakes violently, uncontrollably. There’s nothing soft or gentle about it. It’s world-defining and body-draining, but Nixon doesn’t stop. He fucks me through my first orgasm, his strokes never stopping. His voice and body and actions holding me tightly while he pounds into me, adding a finger to play with my clit, then gripping my ass and opening me to him so he can play with that too.

I jerk with a mix of fear, anticipation, and pure need.

Willing to try whatever he wants.

To take whatever he’ll give me.

“Nix . . .”

“Shh, beautiful. Relax and trust me,” He croons, and a flicker of a flame comes roaring back to life. My body already primed for more. How could I not be when Nixon plays me like I’m the most important game of his life. Only he could ever do this to me. For me . . .

I press my lips to his shoulder and bite down as he teases me. Circling the puckered hole while he pounds into me in the most delicious way. And when he finally pushes his finger inside me as he pulls me down over him, I scream out in pleasure and come violently while Nixon roars my fucking name as he pulses and empties inside me.

He lays me down, dragging his fingers though my sex, gathering our release and pushing it back inside me. It shouldn’t be hot as fuck, but with Nixon, everything is.

And hours later, after we’ve showered and fallen back in bed and back into each other’s arms, I trace his tattoo and whisper a truth that scares me more than any other. “You scare the shit out of me, Nixon.”

He presses his lips to the crown of my head and holds me close.

He doesn’t push for me. He waits and lets me replace my words.

Words that hurt on a primal level.

“I don’t want to let you in, Nix. I don’t want to need you. I don’t want to love you. Because if I do . . . That kind of loss—that’s the kind that has the power to break a person, and I don’t think I could survive that again.”

“Your mom,” he whispers against my skin, and I nod, unable to form words as tears burn the backs of my eyes.

“Baby steps, Mackenzie. You’re here. That’s a start. Give me baby steps, and I’ll give you everything I have.”

I don’t look at him, because if I do, he’ll no doubt be able to see it all on my face. Every single thought. Every emotion. Every truth. And I already feel flayed open. I don’t think I could take that. Not yet. Maybe not ever.

“Sleep, Mac. I’ll be here all night to keep your demons away.”

And the thing is, if anybody ever could, it would be him.

When I wake up the next morning, the bed is empty. Nixon is gone, and so is Gordie. There’s no mistaking that one because the English Bulldog puppy snores loud enough to drown out all of downtown Kroydon Hills.

Do they make CPAPs for dogs?

I get out of bed carefully, deliciously sore and throw on the Boston U shirt Nixon gave me last night and my discarded panties. Luckily, he didn’t rip these to shreds like he did my others. His condo mirrors mine, but it’s more lived-in. The bedroom furniture is minimalist and stylish, but it’s done with care, unlike my lack-of-furniture motif. Grays and blacks bleed into the en suite bathroom, where I help myself to his toothbrush, then fix my hair.

Hey . . . if he can use mine, I can use his.

I laugh at that thought and pad down the hall in search of coffee and stop, cursing myself for not considering that Leo would be here.

The younger Sinclair brother stands in the kitchen, shirtless and shoeless. A pair of jeans hangs from lean hips while he waits for the coffee pot to finish brewing with his arms crossed over his chest.

For a brief second, I think about tucking tail and darting back to the safety of Nixon’s room. That only lasts as long as it takes for Leo to laugh though.

“Might as well wait with me, Kenz. Pretty sure I heard you two going at it all night. You sounded very enthusiastic. You’ve gotta need the caffeine more than I do.”

I’ve known Leo since he was in fourth grade and would pick his nose and eat it.

Maybe that familiarity is why I do what I do next.

I pick up an apple, toss it in the air, and catch it with one hand. “Hey, Leo . . .”

He looks at me with a cocky grin.

“Catch.” Only instead of tossing the apple gently at his hands, I nail him in the nuts as hard as I can throw. “Now you need coffee and an ice pack. Sit down and shut the fuck up.”

Leo doubles over in pain, and I help myself to a pack of peas in their freezer and toss them to him too. They land on the floor with a thunk because he can’t bring himself to straighten out just yet.

I guide him over to one of the kitchen chairs and push him down into it, then hand him the peas and laugh when he flinches.

“What the actual fuck, Kenzie?” he groans, and I don’t bother hiding my smile.

I pick up the apple next and toss it up in the air again, like I’m going to juggle. “Now, Leo. I know your Momma didn’t raise you to talk to women that way.” I throw it up and watch it come down.

“And I’m pretty sure you’d gut a man if they talked to one of your sisters that way.” Another toss up and another catch, while Leo groans and adjusts the ice pack. “I also know if I told your brother what you just said, you’d be walking out of here with, at the very least, a black eye. He might go easy on you because he’s your brother. But your team captain . . . my brother—he wouldn’t be so kind.”

“I was just kidding, Kenz.” If that’s his apology, he’s going to have to do so much better.

I toss the apple one more time and wait until the last possible second to catch it. “Four years all state softball pitcher in high school. Don’t piss me off, Sinclair.”

“I’m sorry,” his voice cracks as he screeches, and I smile.

The front door creeks open, and Gordie comes barreling into the kitchen, followed by his very sexy owner.

I squat down and let Gordie jump all over me like he didn’t spend half the night sleeping by my feet.

Nixon hangs up Gordie’s leash and cups my face as he drops a kiss on my head, and my face flushes because I like the familiarity of it. I probably shouldn’t, but I do.

“What the hell, man? What’s with the peas? What did you do?” he asks Leo, and I giggle.

“Let’s just say Leo was trying to catch an apple, and it didn’t go his way. Right, Leo?” I wait to see if he’s going to tell Nixon what really happened or if he’s going to save his own ass. Because I might not know where Nixon and I are headed, but I know with absolute certainty, he’d kill his brother for talking to me like that.

Leo glares. “Yeah. Something like that.”

The coffee pot beeps, and I stand back and watch the sexiest man I’ve ever known make me a cup of coffee. Everly’s right. Coffee is a love language.

Nixon hands it to me, then cups my ass right in front of Leo and leans into my ear. “I fucking love you out of my clothes, but I gotta say, Mac, seeing you in them is pretty fucking great too.”

“Jesus Christ. Get a fucking room,” Leo whines, and I pick up the apple from the table. “Fuck. I’m kidding.”

Yeah . . . that’s what I thought.