Page 65 of Whirlwind

I thrust inside her. Merciless. Her head fell back on a grunt, her hands planting on the table as I drove inside her. Her gorgeous face streaked with red, her sleek damp skin glowed in the lights of Nashville at night.

“You’re my bad girl, aren’t you, Violet Hildebrand?” I ground my pelvis into her, my cock filling her all the way. I was going to convince her to come to Greece with me.

Her eyes flared. “Y-yes, yes I am—” She cried out.

I pounded into her, her slick pussy squeezing around me, her heated gaze melting with mine.

I had all night to convince her to come to Greece, and I would.

26

Beck

My eyes blinkedin the light coming through the windows. So many fucking windows. The loft was flooded with light. Violet’s body was wrapped around mine on the bed. Her face lying on my bare chest. My head fell back on the pillow, my hand stroking her soft, long hair. A groan fell from my lips. Satisfied and exhausted in the best possible way.

Last night was everything I’d wanted it to be for Violet. I’d seen it in her eyes, in the way she’d held on to me, a soft laugh, an urgent moan. No speaking, only me holding her, her holding me. The two of us one hunger, one passion. One.

A phone ringing cut off my reverie. Not a cell phone.Ah, the house phone.

I twisted over the bed and grabbed the telephone on the nightstand which connected to the reception desk in the lobby. “Yes?”

“Good morning, sir. There’s a gentleman here who insists on coming up.”

“Who? Who is it?”

“He says he’s here for Violet. His name is Ladd Jeffries.”

“Ladd Jeffries?”

Violet shot up from the bed, the sheet, the quilt flying behind her.

“Violet, who’s Ladd? What the—”

She took the phone from me. “I’ll be right down, please tell him. Thank you.” She put the phone down and wiped her mess of long hair back from her pale face.

Hopping around the room, she yanked up her jeans, threw on a T-shirt, scooped up clothing from the floor, flipped open her suitcase and shoved it all inside, tossing in her boots, her makeup bag. She moved quickly, with purpose, a soldier under fire. A blur.

“I’m sorry, Beck. I didn’t expect this to happen. But I had to see you. I had to be with you one more time.”

The bottom dropped from my stomach. My insides burned. I grabbed my jeans from the floor and pulled them up my legs. She yanked on her rolling suitcase and charged toward the front door, hit the elevator button.

“Violet!”

She stopped, turning to face me at last. Her gaze steely, her jaw set. She was bracing. “I’m sorry.”A tight whisper that made my insides tighten like a metal screw on its last turn. No more give.

The elevator door slid open.

Violet turned away from me. Her breath cut.

A blond guy, thirty-something, in a button down shirt and crisp blue jeans stood in the elevator, his polished cowboy boots firmly planted in the doorway. His stony gaze landed on me, went to Violet. “I can’t believe you.” His deep voice was even, controlled. “I cannot fucking believe you.”

“What the hell are you doing here?” Violet’s voice was just as controlled as his, only colder.

“You haven’t been answering your phone. I was concerned. I tracked you down and found you.”

“With a little help, I’m sure.”

A cold, sharp razor grazed up my bare spine, my pulse jamming in my neck.

---