Early Sins (Dangerous Games Book 0) (20 page)

“Yes…” she purred, bowing her back to press her breasts more firmly into his hands.

Mine
.

The possessiveness he’d felt the night before when he’d seen that rich bastard flirting with her surged again, and he knew that now that he’d had her – there was no way he could let her go. Her age, her history, her steel inner core that made her impossibly stubborn and incredibly powerful, it was all just more of her, and he couldn’t get enough. “Have I mentioned that you’re perfect?” he spoke softly against her neck and he felt the shiver go through her.

“Once or twice since last night, but I’m far from fucking perfect.”

“We’ll work on your mouth.” He tried to sound stern, but it only worked because she couldn’t see the grin on his face.

“I can get on my knees again and you can work on my mouth all you want.”

There was no stifling his groan as he slid one hand down her belly between her legs, and when he swiped a finger between her thighs he found her soaking wet. “Do you want me?” he asked, and she shifted her weight from leg to leg, making her hips wiggle enticingly as he stroked her clit.

“Yes, Smith…” she whined and he chuckled.

“Alright, bend forward a little more.” His eyes roamed her curves, the random blossoming bruises that he’d likely put there, but they weren’t ugly, just testaments to her strength. Just another part of her beauty. C shifted forward and then he adjusted her hips and moved behind her. With all of the water it would have been difficult to enter her smoothly if she hadn’t been so wet, but with one thrust he was buried deep.
Hot. Tight. Mine.
They both groaned and she pressed back against him, so perfect, and he knew he was lost already. Her talented mouth, combined with too many years with absolutely no one, there was no way he’d have any control.

“Fuck…” Camille tightened down on him and rocked her hips forward and he growled and spanked her lightly.

“Be still and come for me.” Keeping himself still inside her he slipped his hand over her hip and brushed over her clit, when she jumped she gripped him again and he hissed air through his teeth. “Stay still.”

“I don’t know how the fuck you expect me to do that.”

“Because I asked you to,” he answered and started to rub her in circles. When she started to shudder he moved his other hand into her hair, trying his best to hold her still so he wouldn’t come like a teenager.

He cleared his mind and focused on her –
she is what matters. She’s all that matters
. With every quiet moan, every whispered curse, he could feel her moving closer and closer to the edge. Just as her breaths grew shorter, a low whine escaping her lips, he started to move. Each thrust inside her liquid heat was a test of his own self-control, already worn down by the magic her tongue had worked on him – the same way she’d revived him for round three the night before.

There was no doubt, he was absolutely, unequivocally, lost to her.

“Come for me, Camille.” As soon as he said her name she shouted his and came hard, gripping him in waves. He managed to thrust once or twice more, reveling in how absolutely perfect she felt. Then he joined her, his balls tightening as he spilled himself with a blinding lightning strike of pleasure that would have had him buckling if he hadn’t released her hair to brace on the wall above her.

“Jesus fucking Christ, Smith.” She was breathing hard, leaning on her arms on the tile, and he started to pepper her skin with kisses, everywhere his mouth could reach, his fingers holding onto her hips like she was a lifeline. Eventually she pulled away and he slid from her, momentarily upset with the loss, but then she put her arms around him and leaned up on her toes to kiss him – and he was filled with that strange joy only she could bring him. He pressed her back against the wall, both of them slippery now, but he needed to claim her mouth again. Needed to taste her, to know she was real, and safe, and whole. When he finally let her go again she was smiling and breathless, looking up at him with the most incredible blue eyes.

He grinned down at her. “You really shouldn’t have such a foul mouth.”

“You’ve got to give that shit up, Smith. It’s never going away.”

“That’s alright, I think I’m growing to like it.” He squeezed her ass and then flipped her around, holding her against the wall with one arm across her shoulders. She tensed against him, and he waited to see if she actually didn’t like it or not, and then he felt her laughing quietly. “What?”

“You know, I was just about to kick your ankle out from under you, and then I realized we’d both go down, and that would hurt like fuck.”

He chuckled. “You’re right, so maybe you should stay exactly where I put you so I can wash you.”

“Now you’re bathing me?”

“It’s an excuse to touch you, let me use it.” Camille wiggled her ass again and he smacked it. “I think you’re doing that on purpose.”

“It’s kinda hot.”

“I think so too.” He pressed a kiss to her shoulder and then grabbed the soap to gather suds. Over the next twenty minutes or so he made sure every single inch of her was clean. Strangely, his favorite part was when she leaned back against him as he massaged her scalp, working the shampoo through her long hair. When she went to do the same to him he let her, and as he closed his eyes he knew there had never been a single person he trusted like he did her.

When she’d accused him of not trusting her the night before, it had hurt. If he could only put into words what life had been like before her, or how insane it was having someone sleeping just one bed away that could move like a cat. Someone who could, as she had said, slit his throat in his sleep if she wanted to.

Camille had no idea how much he trusted her – how much he loved her.

Well, fuck.

He stopped her hand and leaned her back against the wall, kissing her softly because there was no way he could say those words out loud. Not now, not ever. She was his weak spot, the only chink in his armor, and he wouldn’t become hers. She wasn’t just affecting his vocabulary, she had slowly made her way through every unfeeling layer to find whatever humanity still existed inside of him – and it was all hers.

“Round five?” She asked when he finally leaned back from her, and he couldn’t help but laugh. Another thing only she seemed capable of drawing out of him.

“You’re going to kill me. No.” He nudged her out of the water and started to rinse the soap off. “Go on and start drying off, we’re moving hotels.”

“We’ve only been here like four fucking days.”

“Do you want to argue or do you want to find out where I want to take you?” He glanced at her as he turned to rinse his front, and she rolled her eyes – but not before she’d given him a very thorough once over.

“Fine, I’ll pack.” She chewed on her bottom lip as she slid the door back and stepped out onto the towel on the floor. “I’m keeping the P238, by the way.”

Smith turned around just as she slid the shower door shut. “Wait, I like that gun,” he spoke over the sound of the water.

“It sat soaking between my thighs on the drive home last night, trust me, it’s mine now.” She laughed as she walked out of the bathroom and he couldn’t help but chuckle to himself. He was going to have to clean that gun, her gun. Camille was trouble with a capital T, but she was his kind of trouble –
his
– and he wouldn’t have it any other way.

Chapter Sixteen

They were in the car, inching by in the New York traffic somewhere in Manhattan, and she felt weird – glowing with a kind of eerie happiness that seemed to warm her from the inside out.

Definitely a foreign fucking concept for someone who life seemed to target for an extra helping of bullshit.

Of course, a series of stellar orgasms from quite possibly the hottest man on the planet could make anyone feel good. Glancing over at Smith she once again felt like she was in some kind of dreamscape, because there was no time in her life she would have expected to find herself next to a hot, deadly example of physical perfection – but, there he was. Sunglasses on, leaning on the door, one hand on the steering wheel in a shirt that stretched across his muscular chest. Wearing jeans that made her remember his ass in extraordinary detail. There was a shadow of facial hair across the bottom of his face, his jaw cutting a hard line against the bright sunlight, and she couldn’t stop smiling.

“What is it, C?”

“Nothing, just admiring the view.”

He grinned and leaned over to run his hand up her thigh. “You’re insatiable.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing.” She laughed and he leaned back to his side of the car, grinning. Smith was focused though, looking ahead at the endless line of cars in this city packed too full of people. Leaning against her door she ran her finger over the little bump in her arm. “Hey, question, how long does this birth control thing last?”

“About four years. Did you not listen to the doctor when he told you that?”

“Why the fuck would I pay attention when I wasn’t even having sex?”

“Because you don’t want to get knocked up, and it’s important to be aware of medical procedures performed on you,” he chastised, his voice droll.

“Whatever. That’s actually a pretty good deal.” After her one-night stand with the dumb ass, where neither of them had even finished, Smith had dragged her to a doctor for a barrage of tests and the implant. Incredibly over-protective for someone who routinely kicked her ass, but it had paid off.

“Yes, it is, and a lot more reliable than the pill.” Smith shifted in his seat and cleared his throat. “Are you thinking about it because I…”

“Came inside me?” Camille laughed to herself when he looked a little uncomfortable. “That’s why I thought of it, but that doesn’t fucking bother me. Especially since it’s you.”

“Well, I’ll… take that as a compliment.” He sat up and sighed, cutting off a car to their left to get in the next lane. “Finally, here it is.”

Leaning forward she looked up at a towering hotel that looked way too fucking nice for them to be at, but sure enough he pulled into the little drive before the doors where a valet was waiting. “Are you serious? We’re staying here?”

“Yes.” He smiled at her as the valet opened her door and she climbed out. Smith moved towards the trunk, cutting off the valet. “We’ll get the bags, no need to help us.”

“Of course, sir.”

“He’s really particular about the bags,” she muttered and the valet gave her a shrug. With a grin Camille reached in and grabbed her suitcase and Smith grabbed the duffel full of weapons and his bag. Slamming the trunk Smith handed over the key and they moved inside where she couldn’t help but stare at everything in the incredible lobby. It was the kind of place celebrities must stay, or politicians, or the kind of douchebags who had been at that gala. Ornate and embellished with gold accents and over-priced, uncomfortable looking furniture.

She wandered over to a crystal lamp, tracing her fingers over the bumps on the base that seemed to catch the light. A few minutes later Smith was standing beside her, watching her. “You ready to go upstairs?”

“In this place? Fuck yes!” Her excitement was hard to contain, especially since just a month before they’d spent two weeks at the hotel she called
Murder Motel
because there were stains in the carpet that had to have been blood. There had also been squeaky beds and a gasping, weak air conditioner – and now they were in the lap of luxury. This kind of ridiculous opulence was thrilling, but as they rode the elevator higher and higher she started to get antsy. “How high up are we going? How expensive is this place? Can you afford this?”

Smith laughed softly. “We’re on floor twenty-three, and yes, we can.”

“Then why the fuck have we been staying anywhere else?” she asked, exasperated as the elevator dinged and she rushed out. He turned her down the right hall and a moment later opened their room. It was huge, with big windows overlooking the city, and just one bed. More specifically, the largest and softest looking bed she had ever seen. “Holy fuck, Smith, seriously? We could have been sleeping here? This
whole time
?”

“We can’t stay at places like this all the time,” he said it with exasperation, but the look on his face seemed incredibly self-satisfied.

With a cheer she dropped her bag, ran, and jumped onto the bed, landing on it in a cloud of soft bedding and pillows. It was like heaven had created a mattress from feathers and magic. “It’s official, I love this hotel. We need to stay here forever. This is fucking amazing.”

“You didn’t even look at the view, C.”

“Yeah, yeah, the city – blah blah blah. This
bed
…” she groaned and turned over to smell the perfectly clean sheets. No harsh bleach stench like the other places they’d been in the last two years. “Seriously, Smith, this is where we should always stay.”

“If you stayed in places like this every night, you’d never be able to sleep in a car when you’re tracking someone, or on a dirt floor when you need to.” He shook his head and flipped the lock on the door.

“I used to sleep in a fucking closet, trust me, I can sleep anywhere.” She meant it as a joke, but she caught him out of the corner of her eye as he stiffened.
Smooth fucking move, Camille.
With a sigh she sat up on the soft bed, staring at him. “Hey, I shouldn’t have said that. Forget about it. Come on. Get on the bed. It’s amazing.”