Page 30 of Filthy Devil

“Nash,” she calls out, her voice shaky as she lifts her head. She doesn’t stop rolling her hips, though, even when she continues speaking. “No other women in your bed either.”

I almost burst out laughing. But I don’t. Instead, I give her a smirk before I tell her god’s honest truth, even if that makes me seem weak or whatever. Clearing my throat, I keep one hand on her clit. The other, I wrap around the side of her throat.

“Sweetheart, I don’t think I have enough energy for anyone else right now. Even if I did, I only want you.”

Her face tints pink, her eyes search mine, and she sinks her teeth into her bottom lip, tugging on it before she speaks.

“I like you, Nash. A lot.”

Fuck.

I need to turn fucking tail and get the fuck out of here, but I couldn’t even if I truly wanted to.

And I don’t.

Not really.

Sliding my hands from her throat, I cup her cheek and glide my thumb across her cum-painted bottom lip. “I like you, too, sweetheart. A hell of a lot.”

Before either of us can say anything else, there is a loud knock on the door. Lifting my head, I look at the closed panel of the door, waiting for it to fly open. It doesn’t, mainly because I locked the fucker.

Then I hear Bugsy’s voice on the other side. “Pres, we got a fucking problem.”

Shit.

James scrambles off me. I don’t even have to push her off. She understands the urgency. Knifing straight up, I throw my legs over the bed and walk toward the door. I’m bare-assed fucking naked, but Bugsy has seen it all and more over the years.

Looking back at the bed, I make sure that James is covered. I may not care if Bugsy sees me bare-dicked, but I have a fucking problem with him seeing James. Which is almost laughable considering the last woman I casually dated we shared a couple of times.

“What is the fucking emergency?” I bark as I wrench the door open.

His eyes widen before his lips curve up into a grin, then flick behind me to the bed before coming back to meet my own. “Sorry to interrupt, but we got a fucking problem.”

“What is the problem?” I ask.

He clears his throat, and I expect him to say something like one of the girls is pissed off at another girl. Or that maybe one of the customers was handsy. But what he says causes my brows to rise.

Because how in the fuck did this happen so goddamn quickly?

“We got a representative here from the Southern Mafia.”

How in the fuck?

“Where is he?” I demand.

Bugsy jerks his chin in my direction before he continues. “He is in a room, safely held.”

I know exactly what fucking room that is. It’s the room attached to my office. Only he and I know about said room, and it’s for a purpose such as this. I had some bookshelves put in. They open to a secret room that is plain. There aren’t any windows, and there sure as fuck isn’t any carpeting.

“Let me throw on some pants. Keep him warm.”

Bugsy smirks then takes a step backward. Closing the bedroom door, I turn to James, who is watching me with wide eyes. Grabbing my clothes off the floor, I start to dress, but I can feel her gaze on me as I do. She’s watching my every move, and I’m under no illusion that she hasn’t heard what is going on.

I tug my jeans up, and she shifts in the bed as I button them. Lifting my gaze to meet hers, I realize that she’s not being quiet for any other reason than she’s absolutely fucking terrified.

I abandon my T-shirt on the floor, move toward the side of the bed, and sink down next to her hip. The sheet is pulled up to her neck, her eyes are wild, and I can practically smell the fear radiating off her. This isn’t a fucking tactic either. She’s scared.

“The Southern Mafia is here,” she whispers.

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