Never Kiss a Bad Boy (14 page)

My guts twisted, her words drilling in. Marina wasn't a corpse yet, but she believed she might as well be. This woman thought she had nothing left to lose.

In my grip, she was solid and warm. We were pressed together, the air molecules between us all that kept our lips from touching. I sensed every breath that left her lungs, saw every tiny shift of her chest as it rose.

She watched me with an energy I had no word for. It was patient, a candle flame ready to snuff out or set the world ablaze. How could someone with such
heat
think they were as good as dead already?

My hands coiled in her sweater until I saw her mouth twitch. The memory of my dream infected me. She'd been so sensual... so enticing...

But reality was far better.

“If you were a ghost,” I said flatly, “I couldn't do this.”

Hunching low, I pulled her to me and captured her lips. I wasn't gentle, the kiss was meant to show her my point: Ghosts don't feel, ghosts don't whimper, and ghosts don't fucking
bleed
.

She was breaking down my barriers—wrecking my mental walls.

Marina wasn't a ghost, she was a drug.

The toilet paper bounced off the floor. Seconds later, she scratched at my wrists, broke away from me. I let her go, though it was with obvious reluctance.

“What—what the hell?” she gasped, touching her mouth. Her fingertips came away, stained red. I'd nipped her enough to leave a small mark.

I wanted to cover her with more of them.

Breathing in loudly, I stood tall. “You don't need to believe in me. You don't need to trust me. But if you really only care about revenge, let me say this.” Scooping up her wrists, I held her in place. “If you think you're invincible, untouchable, you're going to make a fatal mistake. Then, you'll become an actual ghost. For the sake of your goal, remember that.”

Marina was stiff, cement in her bones. Gingerly, she linked her fingers with mine. The pressure of her touch made my already hard cock swell painfully.

Abruptly, she pulled away. “You shouldn't have kissed me.”

Rubbing my tongue over my lips, I tasted what remained of her. “No. I shouldn't have stopped.”

Jerking backwards, she looked ready to run. I hadn't moved, everything had happened within inches of where I'd been casually leaning. Her attention shot down to the front of my pants, then back to me. “I... I need to leave.”

Tilting my head, I slid my foot under the toilet paper. In a gentle, easy flip, I kicked it up and caught it. Narrowing my eyes, I offered it to her. I hadn't stopped smiling—I couldn't, not with her anxiety on my taste-buds. “Guess I'll be seeing you.”

She hesitated, like taking the toilet paper was a trap. Finally, she lifted her chin and grabbed it. “Thank you,” she said. Her mouth opened again, shut, and then she headed for the exit. Looking back, she paused, gathering her words.

Then, instead of speaking, she just left.

I pressed against the counter and stared at my ceiling. The air still vibrated like she was nearby. Grazing my lips, I looked at my fingertips and recalled her salty flavor.

Yes. Marina was a drug.

My drug.

And I wanted to overdose on her.

****

I
called Kite twice before he answered.

I needed him to meet me at the Corner Velvet, to make sure he could watch the place while I went off to explore my leads.

“Sure man,” he said when I finally got through. “Of course I'll do it. Meet me there so you can show me where the paperwork is for the shipments.”

I came close to scowling. He should
know
this stuff. “Yeah. I can do that.” This meant I couldn't take my car, though. It'd be noticed if it was left behind the bar too long. Anabelle might ask questions. “Actually,” I said before he hung up. “New plan. Let's go together, you drive.”

He met me in the garage, his attention going briefly to my large bag. “Planning a camp-out?” he teased.

Dropping the bag in the backseat, I climbed into the car. “It might take a few days to find anything out. I don't know yet.”

Revving the engine, he guided us out of the underground. It was bright outside, the sun happy to shine and blind us. “I hate that you're going alone.”

“It's safer alone.”

“It's safer with the two of us,” he grumbled.

Sighing, I turned up the radio. “Stop worrying about me and focus on keeping Marina under control.” Classical music piped through the speakers. It made me think about this morning—about her lips, her heavy breathing. Quickly, I changed the channel. “What was she doing when you left?”

He tossed a look at me. “I don't know. Sleeping, I guess.”

I doubted that was true. “You didn't talk to her?”

Shrugging violently, Kite turned the car down the street. “No. Why does it matter?”

“You're acting strange.” Slowly, my eyebrows crinkled over my nose. “She was acting weird this morning, too.”

He slammed on the breaks, changing lanes abruptly. Someone honked behind us. “What?” he blurted, struggling to stare at me and also watch the road. “She came up to see you this morning?”

“Careful,” I said, keeping my voice calm. “Don't drive like an idiot. Yes, she came up. How did you not notice?” I didn't like the fact that he wasn't keeping tabs on her.

He was silent for a single heartbeat. “What happened?”

My mouth was a neutral line. “You tell me, first. What's got you two acting so uneasy?”

Kite took a slow breath. Pulling into the alley, he parked behind the Corner Velvet. The keys twisted, engine dying and the last of the white noise going with it.

For a while, my best friend did nothing but sit there, staring at his hands.

Then, the back of his head thumped against the seat. His eyes were shut. “I fucked her last night.”

A tiny, tiny sliver of ice inched into my belly. I'd known he wanted to sleep with her, but I was surprised it had happened so fast.

Pressing two fingers to the bridge of my nose, I started to laugh. It was a soft, gritty sound.

“It's not exactly funny.”

“No,” I agreed. “But when I tell you what happened this morning, you might see the humor.” I let the words roll off of my tongue. A tongue that still tasted like her. “Marina and I kissed.”

Lifting his head, Kite looked down his nose at me. “You kissed her, or she kissed you?”

“Does it matter?”

Kite grabbed the wheel and squeezed. “I guess not.”

My smile was brittle. “So now what?”

“What the fuck do you mean, now what?” Kite was fidgeting, unable to decide if he wanted to hit something or freeze in place. I knew the feeling. “You're telling me you want her, right? Unless you kissed her because you were curious if she'd have a damn heart attack and drop dead.”

Remembering the softness of her mouth, how it yielded to my roughness, I shivered. “No. I kissed her because I felt like it. Yes, I want her. I also don't plan to fight with you over her.” Pointedly, I faced him in the car. “You understand what I'm saying.”

He flicked his stare from my face, to his fists. Kite was in deep thought, trying to weigh what he wanted from Marina with what I wanted from her. In a way, I knew what he would say. After all, our bond was stronger than law or logic. We did everything for each other.

We always had.

Setting his jaw, he offered his hand to me. It stayed in the air, waiting for mine. “I want her. You want her. That means we both get to have Marina...”

“Or neither of us does,” I finished. Clasping his palm, I crushed it tight. The tendons in my forearms flexed with the briskness of the handshake.

Kite and I, we'd seen things—done things—that no one knew of. Just us, a pair of wretched creatures who would kill to live and murder to succeed. We were not good people.

We were never under the illusion that we were.

This moment shot home the memory of our first oath; how we had become Blood Brothers, and how we would always choose what was best for both of us.

Greed led to tragedy and betrayal.

Neither of us would let that happen.

“We share her,” I said flatly.

“We share her.” Kite's eyes were brooding, but they flashed when he smiled. “It wouldn't be the first time.”

Chuckling, I let him go and leaned away. “No. I guess it wouldn't.” Thinking of the other women who had agreed to our rules, it brought a film of distaste. For so many reasons, there'd never been a woman who could keep up with us.

Would Marina be the first?

That girl with her tempting hips and perceptive eyes, she had no clue what we had in store for her.

In more ways than one, I felt in my heart that we would destroy her.

And I didn't care.

If it meant I got to taste her again...

I didn't care at all.

Marina

––––––––

T
hree days had passed since he had kissed me.

Three fucking days.

Yes, I'd been counting.

Normally this is where you're supposed to wax poetically about the man in your life. Stare in the mirror and into your own eyes. Phrases should pop up like, 'Oh, he's so lovely!' Or perhaps, 'I wonder what our kids would look like?'

Peeling back my lower lip, I stared at where Jacob had bitten me and wondered...

Will next time be worse?

The scab had healed already. He'd done just enough damage to make me bleed. Enough to make me question when my sanity had driven over a cliff.

Splashing water on my face, I gripped the sink and looked closer at the red ribbons in my eyes. Sleep had been elusive. Jacob wasn't entirely responsible for that part.

In less than twelve hours of each other, two different men—two extremely
dangerous
men—had both buried their mouths on mine. Was this how life worked? You go without kissing someone for years and then, boom, fate throws all of your missed opportunities at you at once?

The mirror was cool on my forehead. Water dripped from my cheek, splattering in the drain. This whole situation was fucked. I needed to focus.

The point of being around Jacob and Kite, my hired hitmen, was to plot vengeance. They were supposed to teach me how to reach my target, and then how to murder him. Boom.

Simple.

Why did they have to screw everything up?

Tapping my cheeks, I sighed. My anxiety would vanish if I could just talk to
one
of them about how I was feeling. Granted, I didn't know how I felt—not exactly.

If I said to them, 'Hey, this is a business deal. Nothing sexual is allowed,' would I prefer they agree with me? Or if they did, would that dig a knife into my guts?

This thick tension was a recipe for disaster. It had to be removed... but bringing this stuff up wasn't easy.

Kite had done his best to avoid me, which was astounding since we
lived
together. He kept slipping off to his bar, the Corner Velvet. Or going for runs at odd hours. Or just sitting there, awkwardly, doing that thing where he'd stare at me as if I couldn't tell he was doing it—only to glance away the instant I turned.

And Jacob?

Three days. Literally, three days since he'd kissed me, and since I'd last seen him.

Kite had confirmed, in our brief chats, that Jacob was out looking for information. That had thrilled me. It meant I was getting closer to my ultimate purpose.

Kite didn't seem worried about where or what Jacob was doing. But I suspected that, like me, he was uneasy and wasn't showing it.

Was it weird to worry about Jacob?
No,
I told myself.
You need him. That's why you're nervous. If something happens to him before this is all over with, you don't get your revenge.

I needed Jacob. I needed Kite.

That's the only reason I'll worry about either of them,
I told myself.

I hardly believed my own words.

Eyeing my reflection, I filled my chest with air. I had to calm down. Among monsters, you had to pretend to be one yourself. It kept you safe. They couldn't hurt you or get at your weak spots.

Touching my lips, thinking of how differently the two men kissed, I shivered.

Three days.

Kite

––––––––

M
y own home had become a prison.

I walked and breathed like a cursed man. It was a ridiculous, suffocating experience.

Marina Fidel was eroding my senses.

When I dreamed, I tasted her throat and heard her screams. The fact I didn't need to imagine those things made it worse. I'd buried myself in her welcoming thighs, gripped her firm ass and held on for dear life.

Marina was all I wanted. And I might need to kill her.

Sitting on the edge of my bed, I heard her walking in the hall. I knew her footsteps. I could even count down the time it took her to go into my kitchen, heat herself up some water, and then sit down for her morning cocoa.

She brushed her teeth for a minute and forty seconds every morning. Her showers lasted as long as it would take me to clean my gun five times. Obsessed? Me?

Of course I fucking was.

This woman was a hazard. My heart rate had reached dangerous levels since she'd walked into my life.

Lifting a hand, I studied my palm; my knuckles. My tattoos were the same as ever, but the rest of me felt... off. It had begun the night I'd given in, when I'd coiled Marina in my claws and tasted the slickness of her pussy.

I don't know that I regretted it. I knew I couldn't resist her forever. I wasn't ashamed of that. It was just... the damn aftermath.

Clenching my fingers, I pictured the flash of terror in her eyes when I'd slammed her temple on the car window, putting my gun to her skin. The look she gave me, it thrilled me to my core. That fear was tangible. Exciting.

Depressing.

That was the face she would make soon enough. Whether it was from my hand, Jacob's, or her mystery target... Marina would find a violent end. I was starting to suspect she knew it, too.

The accusation in her eyes when she looked up at me as we fucked wasn't an illusion.

Why do this when you know it won't last?
That was what she'd asked me.