Claiming My Vengeance Read online

  “Lay down.”

  “On the floor?”

  She nodded, quirking a half-smile.

  This was ridiculous.

  “I have a perfectly good bed the next room over.”

  “I don’t want you on the bed. I want you on the floor.”

  I lowered myself to the floor and glared up at her. “Will this work for you?”

  She didn’t answer, just knelt and pulled off my shoes, one at a time, and then my socks. “Lay back.”

  I did, folding my arms and cushioning my head with my hands. The mat was cold against my skin. When she straddled my thighs, her quick fingers going to work at the front of my pants, I wanted to roll her over on her back. Let her feel the cold if she liked the floor so much. But as she tugged insistently at my waistband, I lifted my hips. I wanted to see how far she would go.

  I could honestly say that I’d never been naked in front of a clothed woman before. It was a weird feeling. But the heat that flashed into her eyes at the sight of my erection was gratifying. She stripped off her t-shirt, leaving only a plain black sports bra and leggings that fit like a second skin, and I could see her nipples poking at the cotton.

  She bent over me, nipping at my throat, and my cock pulsed. She worked her way down, kissing and lightly biting a path down my stomach, my dick getting harder with her every move until it was painful. But instead of taking my cock into her mouth, she went lower, taking my balls between her lips. I almost came right then and had to bite back a groan.

  She released them with a small sigh and sat up again, lifting her arms to pull off her bra. The small, perfect globes of her breasts bobbed free, her nipples dark and pointed. She cradled one in each hand and smiled at me, bending over to slide my cock between them. As the head appeared between them, she licked at it before moving back down. It was exquisite torture, and my cock jerked again, a small stream of precum landing on my stomach. She licked it off.

  The urge to grab her, strip her naked, and pound into her until she screamed was almost overwhelming. But I didn’t back down from a challenge.

  Standing up again, she pulled her leggings down to her ankles and kicked them free. Long, leanly muscled legs on either side of my chest, Liv did her best to drive me insane. And her best was very, very good. She slid both of her hands inside her black, boycut briefs to touch herself, watching me the entire time to gauge my reaction. It was a struggle to breathe.

  She left her underwear on, and turning around, sat across my stomach, so only her back tapering down to a narrow waist and sweetly curved cheeks were visible. Reaching up, she gathered her hair in her hand then leg it go, letting it spill free across her back. My fingers itched to bury my fingers in it and she knew it, damn her.

  I could feel her breath against me and her tongue darted out in teasing licks, but it was agony to not be able to see what she was doing. I felt her hand wrap around the base of my cock and she took me into her mouth, just the tip, and sucked hard, releasing it with an audible pop. Every muscle in my body was tense with the need to bury myself inside her. Yes, to take back control of the situation and to exact a little revenge for the lesson she was trying to give me. To drive her to the edge with just my mouth and fingers, again and again, until she begged me to let her come. To fill her up and ride her hard.

  When she’d finished her teasing, she turned around again to face me, looking incredibly hot, disheveled, and flushed, and very pleased with herself. In a burst of motion, I grabbed her and rolled her over, switching our positions, pinning her wrists to the floor with both hands and trapping her lower body between my thighs.

  Fuck it. She’d had enough time in the boss’s chair. It was my turn now.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  Liv

  He lasted longer than I thought he would. I had expected Gabe to give up any time, but minute after minute ticked by, his body tense as a bowstring, as he lay still and let me do every possible thing I could think of in my limited experience and active imagination to make his control snap. When he finally flipped me over on my back, he startled a shriek out of me, but if I was completely honest with myself, being beneath well over six feet of wild-with-lust Gabriel Ainsley was exactly where I wanted to be.

  I expected him to rip my panties off and slam into me, but he just gave me a wicked look, like he knew what I was thinking. His hands bracketed my wrists and he rubbed his cock against my sex. I hissed out a breath, already so sensitive I almost couldn’t stand the pressure, and wished I’d taken my underwear off earlier.

  Supporting his weight on his forearms, he lowered his body until I was covered by him, surrounded by him, his heat, the scent of his aftershave, our lips nearly touching, his silvery eyes searching mine, looking for something. We weren’t connected yet, but I couldn’t tell where I ended, and he began. And rather than feeling like I needed to get away, to gain control back, I realized that this was power. I had brought him to this. Made him forfeit. Made him want me so badly he couldn’t even think. I gave him a slow grin. It was the permission he’d been waiting for.

  He released my wrists and dragged my underwear off. His biceps rippled as he scooped his hands beneath me, pulling me forward to him. He plunged two fingers inside me and the sensation of his rough hands invading my heat made my muscles clench tight. He bent over, fingers still buried deep, and gave his full attention to my clit. Synchronizing the thrusts of his fingers with the rhythm of his tongue, I arched my back as I rocketed toward my first orgasm.

  I was almost there when he pulled away from me, long enough to center himself at my opening and drive in deep. The overwhelming fullness as he slammed into me again and again, the roughness of his calloused hands on my breasts, squeezing, demanding a response, ratcheted up the tension in my body until I was straining, breathless, at the edge.

  “Come for me, Liv.”

  With that harsh demand, he bent over me, surrounding me again with his heat. Every part of our bodies were in contact, his chest rubbing against my breasts, increasing the friction, increasing his pace, driving deep, slippery strokes into me again and again until I broke, hurtling into the void. I was blind and deaf to everything, but could feel, deep inside me, jet after jet of white-hot heat as Gabe shuddered, roaring out his own explosive release.

  He held himself over me, his arms trembling, his cock still pulsing, aftershocks rocking me every few moments. He rested his forehead against mine for a long moment, but I kept my eyes closed, unable to look at him. It had been too much. Too soul-searingly much.

  He gently disengaged himself, and heedless of his expensive shirt, used it to clean most of the stickiness from between my thighs. I blushed at the intimacy of it and shot up into a sitting position, but he was already done and had turned away.

  His voice was distant as he gathered up his clothes and said, “I brought steaks. They’re probably cold.”

  He left the room, and as my senses returned slowly, and I struggled to comprehend what had to be the two most bizarre post-coital sentences ever, I became aware of Green Day singing “Time of Your Life.” I started laughing, and if the laughter was edging close to tears, I pretended not to notice.

  It was nearing sunset and Gabriel was already downstairs, so I made use of his bathroom to quickly shower and clean myself up more thoroughly. I managed to work the controls all by myself, too, thank you very much. I dried myself, pulled on a pair of loose yoga pants and a gray tank top that I used for pajamas, then brushed and braided back my hair.

  My stomach growled as I headed down the stairs, and I realized how ravenously hungry I was when I saw the steaks and baked potatoes, reheated and set out on the counter on real plates. Gabe was in a loose pair of sweatpants that hung low on his hips, the delineated muscles of his abdomen on blatant display, and I felt a dangerous tug in both my womb and my heart at the sight of him.

  He frowned at me. “I just realized that I have nothing in this house to eat. How did you survive all day?”

  “I drank beer and made an omelet. I�
��m a survivor.”

  A smile played at his lips. “Are you sick of beer?”

  “I’ll take an IPA.”

  He carried his plate to the couch, and I followed suit.

  “Where’d my TV go?”

  I shrugged. “I got bored and played with buttons. It disappeared.”

  Shaking his head and looking like he was trying not to smile, he picked up a remote from an end table and hit a button, starting the TV on its return journey. Wordlessly, he flipped it on, and we sat in silence, eating our steaks, our plates balanced on our laps, watching Chuck Norris drive a buried car out of the ground to mow over several bad guys with assault weapons.

  “Why aren’t there any streets named after Chuck Norris?” I asked Gabe seriously. He took a sip of his beer and gave me a quelling look, which I ignored. Instead, I widened my eyes and lowered my voice dramatically. “Because no one crosses Chuck Norris and lives.”

  God, he had a sexy laugh.

  We’d stumbled upon an eighties action movie marathon. Physically demolished, in a weird place emotionally, and full of good food and dark chocolate mousse, I was asleep before the next movie was half over. I woke at some point during the night in semi-darkness, still on the couch, with a blanket on top of me and Gabe’s scent surrounding me from the pillow beneath my head.

  I told myself it was for the best. The fact that I was already missing the comfort of his warm body sleeping next to me was a bad sign.

  ***

  In the morning, I pretended to sleep when I heard Gabe come downstairs. I listened to him get his coffee, heard him tapping on his laptop for a few minutes, and he quietly left the apartment.

  He’d written a note, his handwriting bold and slashing, letting me know that groceries would be delivered around nine, so I used his gym again, pushing away thoughts of him through sheer will. I watched the delivery person put away the groceries, amused at the amount of food Gabe had bought. He apparently didn’t know that I only ate enough for one person, because there was enough to feed a family of six with a wide variety of culinary tastes.

  Yogurt, juice, cereal, eggs, waffles, mac and cheese, frozen foods, bacon, hamburger, steaks, pork chops, pasta, rice, more beer, wine, four different kinds of soda… Gabe’s kitchen was huge, but the exhausted delivery guy, who made three trips with a borrowed flat cart from the building maintenance guy, was still having a hard time finding space for everything. It looked like we were settling in for a siege.

  I tried not to read anything into it, but I still felt like Gabriel was trying to take care of me.

  I called and checked in with Freddie, and then got back to my computer work, making some decent progress. I’d uncovered a couple of saved pdfs of Devlin’s bank statements, and several deposits of varying amounts were sent to the same company name, TrePat LLC, over the course of a month. There was no website for the company online, but I dug in further. The sound of the doorbell jolted me out of my focus a while later, and I realized hours had passed. It was late afternoon already.

  Gabe hadn’t let me know to expect anyone, so I checked the security camera setup next to the door. Two guys were standing in the hallway, both tall, well-built and wearing wicked-looking grins. The man on the right was slightly leaner, dressed in a suit and tie, polished-looking and handsome, with green eyes and short brown hair. The other man was in jeans and a Modest Mouse t-shirt. His hair was dark auburn and his eyes bright blue. I could tell their color, because he was looking directly into the camera and waving.

  “Oy, Olivia? Are you in there?” An Irish accent. These guys were trouble. I was a pretty good judge of men now, though, and I didn’t think they’d be trouble for me.

  I hit the intercom, smiling. “Can I help you?”

  “Aye, luv—” the blue-eyed devil started, but the man in the suit elbowed him.

  “Knock off the Blarney bullshit, Flynn.” He, too, addressed the camera and grinned in a way that was very appealing. They couldn’t see me, but they knew I could see them, and where the camera was. “I’m Beckett St. Clair, owner of the St. Clair Hotel, and this is Flynn Murphy. We’re friends of Gabe. I don’t know if he mentioned it, but tonight’s poker night. He always hosts on Wednesday nights.”

  I hit the button to unlock the door and opened it.

  “And you’re showing up early for said poker night because you want to annoy Gabe, right?” I asked, one eyebrow raised.

  “Damn, she’s a smart one.” Flynn winked at me, his Irish accent noticeably lighter now, and made a beeline for the fridge. “Pretty too,” he called over his shoulder.

  Beckett, obviously the smoother of the two, rolled his eyes and held out a hand, shaking mine warmly. “It’s nice to meet you, Olivia. I’m so sorry about what happened the other night. I hope you’re recovered?”

  “Just a couple of scratches. How is Jeremy?” I felt a pang of guilt. I should have called to check on him myself.

  “He’s good.” Beckett accepted the beer that Flynn brought him. “He says that you saved his life. From what we saw on the security tapes, you truly did. Thank you.”

  “I’m sorry about your window.” I winced, thinking of how hard poor Jeremy must have hit to break the thick glass. “Does Jeremy have a goose egg on his forehead still? Maybe a massive concussion?”

  Beckett laughed. “No concussion, but he’s showing off the goose egg to everyone and telling the story to anyone who will listen.”

  I caught Flynn out of the corner of my eye, giving me a once-over, and realized I was still in my yoga pants and tank top. No bra. I could feel my face redden. “I’m sure you guys know where the TV is. I’m just going to head upstairs and change clothes.”

  Flynn grinned. “Not on our account, luv.”

  “You said Gabe told you about me?” I asked him, widening my eyes innocently. “Did he mention that I’ve earned a second-degree black belt in Taekwondo?”

  Flynn took an exaggerated step backward and gave me a cheerful grin. “Right, then. TV it is.”

  “It’s my day to babysit,” Beckett explained, tossing his suit jacket on the back of a chair and heading toward the couch. “We’re still working on house-training him.”

  I headed upstairs, smiling. I liked Gabe’s friends. On the way up, I heard my phone ringing and hustled, thinking it was Freddie, but it had stopped ringing by the time I got there. I had six missed calls from the same Chicago phone number, all since I had gone downstairs to answer the door. No messages. The phone rang again in my hand.

  “Hello?” I couldn’t hear anything. “Who is this?”

  After a few seconds, there was a click on the other end and the call disconnected. I waited a couple of minutes, but it didn’t ring again. Probably a robocall or a wrong number, but I never got phone calls unless they were from the very few people who knew my number.

  I jotted down the phone number and sat down at my laptop to look it up. Even after trying a few different reverse lookup searches, the only info I could come up with was that the calls were coming from a cell phone registered in a Chicago area.

  Scrolling back to the day of the accident, I could see that the numbers matched. It left me with an uneasy feeling, but short of calling the police and asking them to track what was probably a prepaid cell phone, there was nothing I could do about it.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  Gabe

  It had been a shitty day. I had sent Brian home sick the day before, despite his muffled objections, delivered between racking coughs. My phone had been ringing off the hook ever since with calls from the press and no one to screen them. Without exception, every single caller wanted to know how I could be sure other properties owned or renovated by Ainsley Holdings were safe.

  Because we worried about inside leaks, I had spent a good part of the last two days closeted with HR, going over employment files and shuffling trusted, longer-tenured employees into positions vacated in recent months, or in a few cases, replacing people all together.

  Chester had called midmorn
ing, and while I appreciated his intentions, that meant spending nearly twenty minutes on the phone, convincing him that everything was under control. That there was nothing to stress out about, even though I was standing in the middle of the biggest dumpster fire corporate Chicago had seen in years.

  The “intern” Jason Pierce had sent over from his security company had his onboarding that afternoon, and I put him to work organizing the file room, with the unspoken understanding that he’d keep an eye out for anything unusual and talk to other employees.

  Despite how busy I was, I’d been struggling with my conscience over the situation with Liv all day. On the one hand, I told myself I had nothing to feel guilty about. The way she’d so coolly talked about using me had cut deep, reminding me of Natalie, a girl I had dated in college. Natalie was a sweet little blonde, a cheerleader, and the epitome of a small-town girl, and I’d thought she would be the woman I spent the rest of my life with. I learned the hard way that she was nothing like she seemed.

  On the other hand, Olivia had never tried to pretend sweetness or innocence. In fact, she was painfully straightforward and had told me about her loss of innocence when I’d asked… and I’d gotten the impression it was a story she’d never shared. I had rewarded her trust by basically telling her that she was nothing special and would be discarded and replaced as soon as I was done with her.

  I’d sworn I’d do what was best for both of us and cut off the physical aspect of things, but damn it had been hard to leave her sleeping on the sofa the night before. It would be one thing if she was just trying to tie me to her with sex, but if I was honest with myself, I liked Liv and was drawn to her for more than that. Her sense of humor, her resiliency, her loyalty to her friends, selflessness with others, and that rod of iron she had in her spine... she affected me far more than I was comfortable with.