Page 31 of Dirty Deal

My jaw grits, and I thrust forward fully, burying myself to the hilt in Lena’s slick heat. Sealing our bodies together as close as they can humanly go.That’show sure I am.

“Of course I’m fucking sure.” Okay, I sound pissed off now, but it’s a return to form. Lena hears it too, because she lights up at the challenge. “You think I could live without you, Lena? You think I could change my mind about the only person I’ve ever loved? Don’t be an idiot. You’re better than that.”

Her laugh is smoky. Blissful. She digs her nails into my chest—on purpose, this time. “Prick.”

“Cocktease.”

“Neanderthal.”

We trade insults as I thrust, our hips slamming together in the quiet office, and to anyone else’s ears, it might sound like we hate each other. But people who hate each other don’t cling on for dear life, like parting would be physically painful. Real enemies don’t sigh into each other’s mouths, and nip at each other’s throats, and swap whispered declarations of love between insults.

“Mine,” I pant, grinding my hips in slow circles. Lena’s getting closer now, her channel fluttering around my cock, and I snake a hand between us to rub at her clit and get her there.

“Mine,” she retorts, twisting my hair until my scalp prickles. I press my pained laugh against her neck.

When Lena comes, falling apart in my arms, it changes something inside me. Something deep in my chest locks into place, and I’m forever altered.Hers.It takes everything in me to keep thrusting, my breaths ragged.

“Weston,” Lena whispers once she’s caught her breath, tugging at my shoulders. “Come inside me. Let go.”

My groan is loud and pained, and my body surges with pleasure at her words, swelling inside her and spilling deep. It’s good and right and so intense it nearly hurts.

I keep thrusting, pushing my come deeper. Claiming every nook and cranny of my girl.

“Neanderthal,” Lena mutters again, but she sounds fond. Dreamy. Her thighs flex around my waist.

Finally, we’re silent except for shaky breaths. My office smells like sex, and the windows really have fogged over. Going forward, I need to ban Ariq from this whole floor.

“So,” Lena says at last, nosing at my sweat-damp throat. “What shall we do tomorrow night?”

Thirteen

Lena

Five years later

On the third floor of the Merritt, a balcony overlooks the casino below. I stand there, hands resting lightly on the rail, and peer down like a queen surveying her kingdom.

A band plays from a podium in the corner of the room, while elegant guests gather around the games tables below. Everyone down there is dressed to impress, with tailored evening wear on the men and jewels sparkling at the women’s throats. The servers weave between tables bearing trays of champagne, while the chandelier glitters high above.

It’s a masterpiece. So much grander than when my father ran this place. Perhaps it’s disloyal of me to be glad that Weston owns this casino now rather than the Merritts… but then again, I barely ever speak to my parents these days. We have yearly awkward phone calls, and that’s that.

I’m always glad to hear that they’re safe, that they’retryingto be smarter, but I can’t handle much more. They keep trying tomake amends for what they said to me all those years ago, but some things you can’t take back. They lost their daughter that night.

But Weston, on the other hand, is the world’s most doting husband. He’s down on the casino floor right now, nodding at staff and charming the guests, and maybe I’m biased, but he’s clearly the most handsome man in the room.

His dark hair is thick and tuggable, the memory of it making my fingers twitch against the balcony rail. His shoulders are broad and sculpted, filling his suit with ease, and the dazzling smile that he flashes now and then…

Good lord. I’d fan myself if he were any closer.

You’d think that after five years, the effect my husband has on me might have faded a little. You’d think I’d be less breathless every time I catch sight of him. You’d think my pussy wouldn’t throb with anticipation each time I hear his deep voice.

Nope.

Five years later, the effect has not dulled. If anything, it’s gotten stronger. I’m as addicted to Weston James as I always was, my whole body craving his touch.

My nails dig into the balcony rail as I watch my husband down there, my skin heating with a blush. I shift my weight, trying to subtle as I squeeze my legs together—but like a bloodhound, Weston raises his head and pierces me with his knowing gaze. His mouth twitches.

Weston excuses himself and exits the casino floor.

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