Dirty Blue Page 14

  Twisting around, I face him even though my morning breath is surely rank, but right now, I don’t particularly care. I want what he has between his legs and I aim to get it. Pushing against his shoulder, I make him roll onto his back where I straddle his waist.

  “Yeah?” I ask. “And what’s that?”

  He’s shirtless; only in a pair of tight, black boxer briefs looking edible right now. The dragon tattoo seems to be the only ink he’s sporting on his solid frame. He has to workout religiously to have achieved this kind of perfection. He’s big, but nothing is bulging. No, he’s cut in all the right places and looking at him, my mouth waters.

  “You’re sittin’ on him.” He smirks.

  Reaching behind me, I palm him, and he lets out a hiss.

  “This thing?” I rub, eliciting a gasp from his mouth.

  His hips buck and I lose my balance, falling forward and into his arms. Palming my face, he kisses me and rolls us, pinning me underneath him.

  “Morning, beautiful,” he tells me, pulling away from my lips to look me in the eyes.

  Before I can get a word out, his hand roams up my tank top until he’s cupping my breast over my bra.

  “It’s looking like it may be a good morning too.”

  Popping up, he gets between my legs. One side of his lips tip up as he eyes my center, probably thinking the same thing.

  Just as he hooks his finger inside the waistband of my shorts, Gabriel’s wail comes through the door.

  “No,” he groans.

  I want to cry out my own protests, but it would be useless. I’d still have to get up and tend to him, so that’s what I do. Swinging my leg around him, I crawl out of bed. Looking back, I see Drago fall face forward into the mattress.

  “Jesus,” he lets out in frustration. “I need to fuck.”

  “And apparently someone isn’t going to let that happen.”

  Opening my bedroom door, I leave, crossing the hall to Gabe’s room—the small closet-like spare room I turned into a makeshift bedroom for him.

  “Hey, little man,” I say, leaning over the crib, picking him up. It reeks of shit in here, and if I were a betting woman, I’d bet it’s coming out the back of his diaper. This kid can produce the nastiest bowl movements. Alana says it’s the formula and if he were on breastmilk, it wouldn’t be so awful. I don’t know how true that is.

  Holding him out, I twist him around, confirming my fears.

  “Lord have mercy, kid.”

  After I have him cleaned up, I feel like I need a shower. My skin has the creepy crawlies.

  Leaving his room, I take him back to mine where I enter to see Drago buttoning his jeans. He bends, grabbing his cell phone and watch from the nightstand.

  “You leaving?” I say, disappointment evident in my voice. He looks up, eyeing the baby first.

  “Yeah, I gotta head down to the docks. There is a problem with a shipment I have to deal with.” He walks over. “Raincheck?” he asks, planting a kiss on my lips and pulling my hip into his crotch for good measure. “I meant what I said. I need to fuck, so plan on seeing me soon.”

  “How soon?” I inquire.

  He pivots at the door, facing me again.

  “How about tomorrow?”

  “I don’t have any plans,” I say, nodding.

  “Good. I have a box and the 49ers are playing a game this weekend.”

  Shock crosses my features. “What?” I haven’t been to a game this season and he’s just offered food to a starving horse.

  “You’re wearing shorts with their emblem all over them. I’m taking it you’re a fan, so do you want to go?”

  “Yeah, I am, and I do, but”—I look down at Gabriel—“I don’t have anyone that can keep him on such short notice.” I know my neighbor would, but I’m not asking. She already keeps him enough when I’m working.

  “You can bring him. We’ll be in one of the suites, so he’ll be fine.”

  “Are you sure?” That seems a little too generous. Sure, he’s been mostly gentlemanly, with the occasional asshole making an appearance, but what single twenty-eight-old wants to hang out with a woman and a baby?

  “I want to see you and fuck you. I’d do just about anything to make that happen, Bri, so yes, I’m sure. Pick you up early tomorrow? It’s about a six-hour drive and traffic will be shit on game day.”

  “I know.”

  He eyes me curiously.

  “I’m from San Francisco, remember?” He said himself he did a thorough background check, so he should already know that. “And I thought you were a Seattle fan . . . ”

  His eyes scrunch up.

  “I just figured you were since you laid that T-shirt out for me to wear.”

  He laughs saying, “I was trying to get that shit out of my house. Caprice wears it to get under my skin.”

  Sounds like something I’d do to piss Jackson off.

  He leaves, and I take the opportunity to feed Gabe. I’d already planned to do some shopping today. This kid goes through diapers like they are going out of style. I bought his crib last weekend at a secondhand store. Him sleeping with me was getting old and I was paranoid I’d roll over on him after reading a couple of mommy blogs. Luckily, I still had some of the money Jackson deposited into my account. I still have a little left, might as well use it on him.

  11

  When he said he had a luxury suite at the stadium, I hadn’t anticipated there would be so many people inside. I shouldn’t be surprised, but I am.

  I’m not foreign to skyboxes at football games, MMA fights, concerts; the list goes on. My father is a fan of them and when Jackson and I were kids, he used to entertain high-profile clients in them. Robert Andrews loves to wine and dine.

  Jackson and I have always preferred to be out in the stands. In fact, my brother and his family are probably out there now. Jackson is an even bigger fan than I am. During football season, he rarely takes business trips so that he doesn’t miss a home game. When he and Carly are together, no one else can get a word in edgewise when it comes to football—or any sports really. She is definitely her father’s daughter.

  Thinking about them is making me miss my family. I don’t get up here often and I haven’t been to a game in several years.

  I didn’t tell Jackson or Alana I was coming. They’d expect me to sit with them. They have season tickets at the fifty-yard line and several extra tickets to accommodate any guests they might bring on a whim.

  “I knew I’d be seeing you again.”

  I turn away from the fourth quarter of the game, placing my back against the glass, to find Luca, Drago’s brother, standing in front of me with Mia, his three-year-old daughter sitting on his shoulders. They showed up an hour ago, but she’s had her daddy hand-feeding her every dessert that must be on the catering tables.

  I learned when we got here, the suite is actually owned by Drago’s father through the company business and Drago plans at least one game a year where his staff from the docks get to enjoy the game up here. From everything I’ve seen today, the staff really likes Drago. Especially one in particular. I cut my eyes, seeing her talking his ear off now from a table at one end of the room.

  Rolling my eyes back to Luca, I say, “Yeah? How so?”

  “Family aside, no one gets under his skin. No one riles him up.” His lips tip up. “But you do. And quite easily too.”

  I look back over at Drago. Rebecca has her hand resting on his. A pang of jealousy I wasn’t expecting surges through me before I realize it, unable to cover the effect it must show.

  “Don’t get hung up on her; that’s been over for years.” I raise an eyebrow at his admission that Drago once had anything at all with her. “Our father and hers always wanted them to marry in order to make our two families one. But it’ll never happen. D only keeps her working for him because it would be a headache to can her.”

  It doesn’t go unnoticed that he called Drago by the same thing I’ve started calling him, making me think I’m not as original as I
thought. And I’m not certain I like someone else calling him something I thought belonged to me.

  Shit, I think. He doesn’t belong to me, let alone a nickname of sorts. I like Drago a lot, but we haven’t been with each other long enough to define what we are. I’m still struggling with us being so personal when I have a job to do where he is concerned.

  The roar of the crowd outside gains my attention, making me whip back around at the same time the crowd in here cheers. Looking out of the window, I see the skytron announce the 49ers as the winners of the game. From where I am, I see the teammates all jumping on each other in victory.

  “Well”—Luca begins prompting me to turn back to face him—“it was good seeing you here. Hope I see more of you, detective.” I start to cock my head to the side to inquire what Drago has told him when the noise dies down and I hear Gabe crying.

  I quickly jump around Luca, walking over to the floor next to the couch where he has been sleeping in his car seat for the last half hour. I’m sure the loud cheers startled him, and I hate I didn’t anticipate that.

  Unbuckling him, I pull him out, tucking him to my chest to soothe him.

  “He okay?” I hear Drago ask from behind me.

  I look over my shoulder as I search for his bottle in his diaper bag. “Yeah, he’ll be fine once I get something in his mouth.”

  Looking past him, I see most people are going to mill out the door since the game is over. Everyone but her.

  “Hey, Drago”—she glides up next to him, placing her hand on his forearm—“can we grab dinner tomorrow night? I have something I need to discuss with you.” She glances down at me, and I see the smug in her ice blue eyes.

  “No,” he tells her, stepping out of her grasp and closer to me. I stand, putting the bottle of formula in Gabe’s mouth. “Whatever you have to talk about you can do tomorrow at work.”

  “This is personal.” She looks affronted as she faces him, straightening her back.

  “We don’t have anything personal between us.”

  “I beg to diff.” She glances at me. “Could you excuse us?”

  “No, she can’t.” Drago wraps his arm around my back, cupping my shoulder and tugging me next to him. “She’s my date and you’re being a bitch. Go, Rebecca, before you piss me off.”

  Her jaw drops, and I have to bite the inside of my cheek to keep myself from smiling. I’m smiling on the inside and that’s enough.

  “Fine,” she bites out. “We’ll talk tomorrow.”

  Without another word she backs away, turning and leaving, being the last out.

  “I’m sorry, she is—”

  “It’s nothing,” I follow up before he finishes. He handled that like a man should. I have no complaints to voice.

  “That shit really works?”

  “Huh?”

  “The formula.” He nods down toward Gabe, prompting me to look. Sure enough, he’s back to snoozing. “Think he’ll stay that way for a bit?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe. Why?”

  His lips take on a slow smile until he has a shit-eating grin on his sexy face.

  “I’ll be right back. You put him back down and then don’t move.”

  Okay, what’s up with that? I silently question, watching him jog out of the door.

  Once I have Gabe situated with a blanket over him, I stand, watching him to make sure he isn’t going to wake back up. So far, he doesn’t, and by the time Drago comes back in I’m certain he’s down, at least for the time being. He’s been held a lot today so I’m sure he’s tired.

  Coming up behind me, Drago wraps his arms around me, tightening them to hug me to his front.

  “I’m calling in that rain check, sweetheart.” My eyes flutter closed when his warm lips land softly on the side of my neck, just under my ear. An electric surge sparks a trail down my back. “We have less than thirty minutes before we have to be out of here and I want to fuck you against that window.” He nudges my face, making me look in that direction.

  I swallow hard. It’s glass and not the tinted kind preventing someone from seeing if they were to look up here.

  Placing his hands on my hips, he gently pushes me to get me to move that way. I’m way too compliant, but I’d be lying if I said excitement and fear wasn’t kindling deep inside me.

  He positions us to face the window, me in front of him, looking out at the field.

  “Did you have this in mind when you put this wrap dress on this morning?”

  “Uh-uh.” I lean back against his chest. “Not at all.”

  I figured we would fuck, just not here. We’re driving back to LA tonight, so in my head I had my place or his in mind when I thought about it.

  “I’ve been picturing this all week. And let me tell you, it’s been hell. I’ve gotten hard with no relief every single time.”

  He told me yesterday it’d been two weeks since he last had sex, making me wonder if he hadn’t been with anyone else since he and I had sex that first time. Is that excessive for a single man to go without these days? Listening to some of my male co-workers it is. Then again, half of them are cheating pricks.

  “Hands on the glass,” he orders. Doing as he says, I look over my shoulder. He’s looking down; I imagine at my rear end, which he confirms when he hikes up my dress, saying, “You have the best ass I’ve ever touched—hell, ever seen.” He grips one cheek firmly, squeezing my flesh.

  “I work hard for it,” I confess, turning my head to look back out of the window, seeing throws of people filing out of the stadium. The players have all left the field, but there are still countless others out there. Anyone could look up here and see us. Someone could see us from one of the other suites.

  “I bet you do,” he replies, squeezing my other butt cheek, then rubbing the skin after, soothing it.

  He’s going to wreck me in more ways than I’m ready for.

  His warm hands roam up, trailing heat in his path, stopping when he reaches the band of my panties. Not wasting any time, he glides them down to the floor. Wrapping both hands around my calves, he slides them up, pressing his thumb into the muscles on the back. It’s both torturous and glorious at the same time.

  I’m not prepared for the moment he stops just under my ass, spreading my cheeks wide apart and then his tongue connects with my center, making me gasp. My eyes close and my head drops back onto my shoulders as he licks me from my clit to my wet opening.

  I whimper when his mouth leaves me, not able to control my need.

  “Lean forward and push your ass toward me,” he instructs, and being greedy, I do exactly that.

  One of Drago’s hand lets go of my ass cheek, moving between my legs, going under my dress and up my belly, stopping in the center of my abdomen. Holding me, he glides my body back under his tongue, making my eyes roll back in my head. The slow moan escapes past my lips.

  He could do this for hours and I’d never tire. My legs will give out before my body does.

  His hand slips lower, going achingly slow, until his palm connects with my clit, making that bundle of nerves sync in a tornado of fury when he increases pressure against me, rubbing back and forth.

  Shit, that feels so good, better than good. This is what my life has been missing for far too long. It’s like he’s the missing link to me or something.

  His middle finger—or maybe his index finger, I don’t know which—takes up the space his palm was, circling ever so slowly as that tongue laps at me.

  I breathe deep, trying to gain composure the best I can before he kills me.

  “Lazy circles aren’t going to cut it, Acerbi.” I use his last name hoping to instigate him. “I’m a fast and hard kind of woman.” My words sound so strong even though I am anything but that on the inside. Those fucking circles are driving me mad and he’s going to make me come.

  He snickers from behind me seconds before twisting the material of my dress in his fist and forcing me to turn around to face him, my eyes landing on his below me, where he’s kneeling on the floo
r.

  “Be careful what you wish for, detective,” he says, putting an emphasis on my title. “Little girls like you are easily broken by men like me.”

  He stands to his full height, staring down, making it a point of just how much smaller and shorter I am than him.

  Jesus, he looks every inch of a predator right now, and I’m not so sure if I’m supposed to be running toward the danger, or away from it. I have to pin my palms to the glass to keep from climbing up his body. At some point, he pulled off the polo shirt he had been wearing so now I’m staring at his sexy bare torso. His upper chest is smothered in black hairs that lighten as they trail down, disappearing into his jeans.

  My tongue pushes out, wetting my dry lips. Apparently, this is another memory that eluded me—and a weakness. My fingers twitch, wanting to run through what I’m imagining is soft hair on that firm body.

  His hand comes to rest on my hip below where my wrap dress is tied. Fingers loop around the belt, yanking; it releases without much work, the dress falling open to reveal my body underneath. With my panties already discarded, only my bra conceals the rest of me.

  We stare at each other for seconds that feel more like an eternity.

  “Aren’t you going to fuck me now?” My unsteady voice comes out breathless, revealing just how much I want him. What’s the point in concealing it? I’d much rather enjoy every minute I can. Logically, I can’t let this happen again after today. My career is too important to me to jeopardize it over a man. And right now, that’s exactly what I’m doing.

  Reaching behind himself, he produces a condom from his back pocket. He didn’t even have to pull it out of a wallet. I guess he’s been as ready for this as I have.

  He places the foil pack between his teeth, leaving it there to unbutton his jeans. Looking down, I watch as he unzips his pants, yanking them and his boxers down his legs at the same time.

  I gulp, swallowing hard at the sight.

  Mother of God . . .

  The condom packet rips, but I can’t take my eyes off his cock. Fuck me, I’m in for a ride. If it fit once, then it surely has to fit again, right?