Sebring by Kristen Ashley
“It’s impressive, Georgie,” I told her the truth, but keeping my face perfectly impassive, especially after her mention of Nick and Knight.
Her annoyed, frustrated eyes warmed.
“And the boys will be relieved,” I went on.
She nodded, again picking up her fork. “They will. Dad will too, he gets over it and gets with the program. It’ll help, you sussed out this thing with David, taking care of the family. We get the legitimate side producing again, rebuild our stronghold in the turf we’ve got left, start pushing for more. Valenzuela has a soft spot for me. I’ve been buttering him up for months.” She grinned and finished, “Finally, for the House of Shade, I see good things.”
She shoved pasta in her mouth and started chewing, still grinning.
I was not grinning.
I did not see good things.
I saw labs that were always in danger of being sniffed out by rivals or law enforcement and wondered what steps Georgie had taken to be certain those labs were not tied to anything Shade. Another conversation we would have, just not one at a public restaurant.
I also saw our boys who would soon have product on the street and this would not go unnoticed, not by anyone. Those “anyones” would wonder where we got it and our boys obviously were more vulnerable with product in stock than they were when our cupboards were bare and I didn’t feel we were in any place to keep them protected.
And Georgie could, at times, control our father and guide him. At other times, if he felt like not letting something go, he made things uncomfortable. And there were even other times when those things should be made uncomfortable for Georgie, but since she was his favorite and his heir, he transferred his displeasure to me.
The only thing I had to hold on to was that my sister wasn’t dumb and she knew all of this. Even desperate, I didn’t think she’d move forward stupid and she always did what she could to protect me.
So maybe it would work out.
She was right. Our legitimate dealings were much more successful than we knew, something now we would directly benefit from when we did not before because David was skimming a good deal off the top. And this also made laundering our other money easier.
So perhaps things were looking up.
I wanted to hold that hope. I wanted to believe, at least in that.
But I couldn’t shake the idea that there was no end to the downward spiral of the House of Shade. I couldn’t shake the feeling that the end of our world as we knew it was near. I couldn’t shake the thought that end was not going to be a good one.
For any of us.
* * * * *
9:23 – That Evening
Nick rolled off me, rolling me with him.
I tried to turn the other way to start preparations for making my escape but he held tight.
I put pressure on his hold, saying, “I need to go home, Sebring. I have to work this weekend.”
“You’re distracted.”
I stopped pushing, tipped my head back and saw his eyes on me, doing all this feeling more alarm than I should (which was to say, any at all), that he hadn’t enjoyed what we’d just done because he thought I was distracted.
“No, I’m not,” I denied.
He gave me a small grin but did it with an unusual look in his eyes. “Okay, let me rephrase. That was hot. I dug that. But it took work to get you there and it doesn’t normally take that kind of work or any work because you’re always all in from the start.”
Okay, so it was good. He enjoyed it.
There being nothing to worry about, I started putting pressure on his hold again, murmuring, “I’m just busy.”
His hold went strangely solid even as he let me go with one arm to put his hand at my jaw and force my attention back to him.
“Just yes, no or kind of,” he said in a tone of voice that made me brace. “You okay?”
That was when I understood his grin that was small and the look in his eyes.
He was worried about me.
I stayed braced, this time against how nice it felt for my heart to trip over itself at the thought anyone could worry about me.
Especially Nick.
“Yes,” I answered. “I’m fine.”
“Okay, Shade,” he muttered, his hand gliding back, his fingers sifting into my hair. “But just to say, that could be a ‘no’ or ‘kind of’ and you don’t have to lay it on me as to why. I still can help make it better by fuckin’ you again. Or I could take you out so you can slam back as much melon crap and vodka as you can stomach and you got my promise I’ll get you home safe no matter how shitfaced you get. Or we can just zone out in front of my TV.”
I fought the desperate desire I suddenly had to know what programs Nick “zoned out” in front of at the same time I felt the intensely pleasant feeling it caused that he offered me anything to make things better if I wasn’t okay.
I succeeded in doing this and replied, “That’s appreciated.”
I felt his fingers curl in my hair as he slid them down and used the backs to stroke my neck through the tendrils.
And as he did this, his touch and the new look in his eye made me brace again.
“You got someone?” he asked quietly.
“I do believe we’ve had a discussion about exclus—” I started.
“Not someone to fuck,” he cut me off. “I know you got that, him bein’ me. Someone to work shit out with.”
That didn’t only make me brace; it made me tense from top to toe.
“Sebring—”
“You tight with your sister?”
“Of a sort,” I felt it safe to answer.
He read my answer for what it was. “So you’re not. Not for shit like that. Not for when you need someone.”
I forced my body to relax on top of his when I shared carefully, “You know that can’t be you.”
“I get that,” he returned instantly, now sounding disgruntled. “We know where we are. But you’re not tight with your sister, not that way. You’re not tight with your mom. I’m not askin’ for it to be me. What I’m askin’ is, is it someone for you?”
It wasn’t someone for me.
In trying to come up with a reply, I knew I accidentally gave one when his eyes narrowed on me and he bit out, “Fuck.”
“I’m fine,” I assured.
“Right,” he stated shortly, his unhappy expression uncharacteristically unhidden. “I’ll pretend ’cause we are what we are that doesn’t mean dick to me. Sayin’ that, it sucks knowin’ there isn’t anyone you got for you.”
My heart tripped again because that felt good too.
I had to put a stop to this.
“This is the part where it’s important we remember the limits of what we have,” I shared in a whisper to gentle my words but also to hide the pain his words caused because I liked them too much for safety.
“You look at me with that sweet, sad look in your eyes, Olivia, and you say those words to me…”
He shook his head and I thought, even hoped he was just going to let that hang.
But he kept talking.
“You fuck me like you can’t get enough of me and you give me you like you want me to drown in your pussy and then you tell yourself you believe that it stops there. You do that, I got no choice but to give that to you. But I can get what we are to each other and still give a shit about you. And that’s where I am right now, with that sweet, sad look in your eyes, lyin’ on top of me after just havin’ you. And that’s where I was with you two days ago with your mom shovelin’ shit you for some reason got no choice but to swallow. And even before, you tryin’ to hide your scar from me.”
Before I could break in to stop him, relentlessly he went on.
“And I’ll let you think you’re bullshitting me that I’m just cock to you when you didn’t hide your pain for me when you thought my dad was dead. You need that, I’ll let you have it because you give me no choice.”
“You telling me it’s bullshit isn’t exactly letting me h
“Oh yeah,” he said like it was a continuation and I hadn’t even spoken, “and I’ll try to pretend you’re stone-cold Olivia Shade two seconds after you’ve been a smartass.”
Hesitantly, I shared, “I wasn’t being a smartass. I was simply pointing out an incongruity in your statement.”
He looked to the ceiling. “Christ, I’m tellin’ her if she needs me, I’m there however she needs that to be, and she’s spoutin’ words at me like ‘incongruity.’”
She needs me, I’m there…
I couldn’t focus on that.
Instead, even more hesitantly, I began to ask, “Do you not get that word or—?”
His eyes cut to me and his arm around me squeezed hard with annoyance. “Yes, I get that word.”
“Oh…kay.” The first syllable came out in a wheeze because he hadn’t yet loosened his hold.
He studied me.
Then he slid his arm up my back until his hand caught under my arm and he pulled me up his chest so we were eye to eye.
“The point is,” he said softly, “we’ve established we get it. There are lines we don’t cross. We both know why. We both got shields up to protect ourselves and each other from the shit in our lives. But that doesn’t mean we can’t give a shit and that doesn’t mean we can’t be decent to each other when the need arises.”
“I…I…” I didn’t know what I wanted to say, so I finished weakly, “I actually am fine, Sebring. I have some things on my mind but I’m fine.”
He scowled at me.
I wanted to shut this down. I wanted to stop myself from feeling what I was feeling because it felt too good.
But he was right.
We got it.
And if that was true—and he believed it was—and if I could convince myself of that—then we did get it.
So I could have it.
“However, if needed, I’ll be certain to get shitfaced safely with you or…” I shrugged, “other.”
“You do know you can be cute,” he remarked curtly.
I could?
“No,” I told him.
“And it’s fucking annoying,” he declared, sounding like it was far worse than that.
I had the deep desire to smile.
Instead, I pressed my lips together.
His eyes dropped to them and he suddenly looked well beyond fucking annoyed.
His gaze came back to mine.
“And, just sayin’, in a perfect goddamned world, I’d know who taught you it wasn’t okay to be happy, not even for the length of time you’d give yourself to smile, and I’d fuck them right the fuck up,” he declared, his words and their tone proving he was definitely beyond fucking annoyed.
But still, I liked he had that emotion for me.
And liking it, I felt my body melt on his as I whispered, “Sebring.”
“Now,” he rolled me to my back, “with all that shit, I’m not fine.” His mouth came to mine. “So we’re fucking until I feel better.”
“Okay,” I agreed, sliding my arms around him, perfectly fine with giving at least that to him.
So I did.
We fucked.
And by the time he walked me to my car, I didn’t know how much better Nick felt.
But outside of leaving him, I felt great.
Chapter Twelve
Rearview Mirror
Olivia
5:26 – Saturday Evening
My phone rang, I looked at it and didn’t bother fighting it.
I answered it.
“Hey,” I greeted.
“Hey,” Nick replied. “Got somethin’ that came up. Can’t do dinner tonight.”
My heart sunk.
“Text you when my shit’s done. You can come over or I could come to you,” he finished.
My heart got light.
I wanted him to come to me. I wanted his presence in my house, the memory of him in my bed.
But I did not want anyone who might be watching to see him come to me or see his Jag in my drive.
“Text me,” I said. “I’ll come to you.”
“Right, later.”
“Later, Sebring.”
We hung up.
I finished what I was doing at David’s office and headed home because I had to make myself dinner and then be ready for Nick whenever he was ready for me.
* * * * *
11:38 – Saturday Night
When the text came from Nick (that text being, I’m home), I should have let it go. It was late. Much later than I expected. Too late and thus rude to be texting a woman who you want to come over so you can fuck her.
I should absolutely not let him think I was up, waiting for him.
And I should never give him the impression a late summons such as that would get me in my car, driving the streets of Denver just to get a dose of him.
What I should do was answer it the next day, saying I’d gone to sleep and missed his text.
Or better yet, not answer at all and make him communicate with me.
I knew all of that.
However, the only thing I could muster was allowing twenty minutes to pass before I checked for signs anyone was watching the house and then I went to the garage to take the tracker off my car and I headed out.
I felt slightly better when I was barely on my way before another text came in from Nick.
You awake?
I didn’t text him back and not just because I was driving.
I went to his house. I parked. I walked up the iron stairs.
He had the door open by the time I made the top.
I barely walked through before he slid the door to at the same time he shoved me to the side.
He pushed me against the wall.
I was about to push back when I froze because Nick didn’t go for a kiss.
Or he did.
But he went for a different kind of kiss.
He dropped to his knees in front of me.
I drew in a sharp breath as I felt my hips jolt when he yanked my jeans and panties down to my thighs.
I dug the back of my head into the brick of the wall when I felt his tongue dart out, forcing itself into the tight juncture between my legs.
And I felt my jeans bite into my thighs as I automatically tried to force my legs wider to give him more access.
Nick didn’t need more access. He was doing just fine thrusting his tongue into my close wet.
Yes.
Oh God, yes.
He was doing just fine.
“Sebring,” I breathed, and lost his tongue as he surged up.
But I got his eyes and I got his finger as his gaze caught mine and he shoved his finger tight against my clit.
My eyes closed and my lips parted.
That was when Nick finally kissed me.
* * * * *
1:02 – Sunday Morning
“Fuck,” Nick grunted.
I’d had my bare ass to the top step to his bedroom, my legs had been around his hips as I took his cock, but I’d pulled off, squirmed up, turned to crawl out from under him to force him to follow me to the bed.
He didn’t follow me to the bed.
He wrapped an arm around my belly and yanked me back, pulling me between his legs. My thighs pressed together but bent at the hips, he rammed back in.
I moaned and pulled forward against the strong hold he had on me but only to drive myself back.
I heard his noises, thick and deep and greedy, mingling with my own, which were soft and desperate, and a wave of wet hit between my legs as a shaft of electricity shot from clit to nipples.
I drove back harder.
Nick thrust in faster.
I was close and I wanted it to happen together.
I tossed my hair to look over my shoulder at him.
“Come,” I ordered.
His liquid blue eyes came to me as he kept fucking me. “Do not come.”
??
He pulled out.
“No!” I snapped.
He straightened, taking his feet and taking me with him, my ass in his hips, my back to his front.
I tried twisting in his arms.
Instead, I fell forward to the bed as Nick fell with me.
I tried to regain my knees and add my hands under me.
Nick used his weight to subdue me, his strong thighs to push between mine, and then he was filling me again, thrusting deep with me on my belly.
I stilled just so I could fully experience that beauty.
He didn’t still but shoved a hand under me, straight down, finger to my clit.
“Now you come,” he demanded in my ear.
I lifted my hips to get more of his cock at the same time I undulated them against his finger.
“Sebring,” I gasped.
“Come,” he ordered.
My entire body started trembling.
“Fuckin’ come,” he growled.
Shuddering under him, I came.
Spectacularly.
* * * * *
2:24 – Sunday Morning
Nick had me pressed against my car, one arm around me, his other hand in my hair at the side of my head.
“You’re a fuckin’ nut,” he muttered, looking amused.
“I am?” I asked, sounding confused.
“Olivia, you’re drivin’ home instead of sleepin’ in my bed and wakin’ up in a few hours on a Sunday, a day I think it’s a law is supposed to be lazy, which means I’ll fuck you slow then make you breakfast. And, just sayin’, I make fucking great cinnamon French toast.”
I’d had more than spaghetti from Nick, it had all been good, so I knew without a doubt he made great cinnamon French toast.
I also knew I wanted to taste it.