Collide (Off-Limits Book 2) Page 9

  We do a loop through campus and back, enough to make me feel alive.

  When we return, he follows me inside and takes a look. “You don’t want to keep any of this for yourself?”

  “Nah. I don’t need memories of him.”

  But my gaze runs around the room, landing on a telescope in the corner.

  The store was full of pieces and gadgets, each one fascinating my young eyes.

  “You earn the right to explore out there by understanding what’s on Earth.”

  “But what if learning about what’s out there can teach us about Earth?” I countered with an eleven-year-old’s logic.

  He stared me down, a hint of admiration in his stern face, but he wouldn’t bite. So I built one myself with mirrors and parts from around the house.

  The magnification was limited. When he saw how hard I worked, he got me the real thing.

  It was the only time I can remember him getting me something I wanted.

  Daniel takes a few things and after, I shower and dress for the day and feed the fish.

  I hit a contact.

  “Hey,” I say when Olivia picks up the video call. I’m rewarded by her pretty face, hair slicked back like she’s recently gotten out of the shower. “Check this out.”

  I flip the phone around to show her the fish. “He’s almost back to normal.”

  “Hell yes! Behold, the fish whisperer!” Her muffled applause and catcalls make me snort.

  “I’m a fish mercenary,” I correct as I head out the door to the porch I’m actually pretty damned proud of. “I expect a reward.”

  “After I figure out how to sell my car.”

  “What? Why?” I pull up halfway down the walk.

  “My dad’s company is going down. I need to make tuition.”

  “But you have the money from my dad.”

  She hesitates and my grip on the phone tightens.

  “You spent it already. On what?”

  “School stuff.” Her voice is distant, almost avoiding.

  “Clothes? Rent?”

  “I don’t want to get into it.”

  She’s younger, but this is a new reminder.

  I try to rein in my temper as I take the steps down. She’s not only my student, she’s the woman I can’t stop thinking about. One who’s given me more than money can buy—her body, her trust, a fresh start.

  I care about her, and I hate watching her struggle.

  “I’ll give you the money.”

  “No.”

  “Why not?” I demand, shifting into the Mercedes.

  “Because I’m sleeping with you.”

  “What’re you gonna do? Dance at Velvet for everyone in this damned town?”

  “I’ll get a loan.”

  “Or you could take the money from me.”

  “When was the last time you lent some woman you were sleeping with twenty grand?”

  I lean back against the head rest, sighing. “It’s not a loan. It’s a gift. And you’re not some random woman. We’re exclusive.”

  “Just because I have complete unfettered access to your dick…”

  The laugh catches me off guard. “Unfettered? Nice.”

  “…doesn’t mean you give me thousands of dollars.”

  It’s a reminder that I’m not supposed to care about her.

  When the fuck did I start following anyone’s rules but my own? When did I ever try so hard?

  Since she made us conditional on keeping feelings out of it.

  She gets under my skin, and every time I see her, I get closer to losing my whole damn heart.

  “Well, if you could take care of yourself, it wouldn’t be a problem. But you can’t.” The words are out before I can stop them.

  The endless seconds of silence are confirmation something has gone horribly wrong.

  “I have to go.”

  “Come on. Olivia. I didn’t mean—”

  She hangs up and I rub a hand over my face.

  Don’t need a damned PhD to know I’m going to regret that.

  14

  Olivia

  “Nice bra.” Kat nods to my shoulder and I glance down to see the inch of black lace strap exposed by my wide-necked shirt. “How long have you guys been back on?”

  “A few days.” I ignore the salad on my plate and the bustling lunch traffic of the University Center, lowering my voice. “It’s not a relationship. I mean, it is, but it’s only sex.”

  They exchange a look and Kat reaches for her glasses. “So what’s the problem? Besides the fact he might as well be your vampire lover because you can’t ever be together in the light of day.”

  Yesterday on the phone, he tried to help me—but he also implied I couldn’t take care of myself.

  “I don’t want him to think of me like a student.”

  “But you are a student. And he likes you the way you are.”

  “Well, maybe I don’t like me the way I am.”

  “Which is?”

  Helpless.

  I took Lancaster’s money, and I don’t regret it. But now Sawyer’s offering me his, and it feels terrible.

  My phone buzzes with a text. A picture of the black ghost knife fish comes through.

  Repentant Asshole: Captain Jack is hungry.

  Liv: You named him? How do you know it’s a male?

  Repentant Asshole: Apparently the only definitive way to tell is during breeding, but there’s a general consensus that females’ eyes are closer to the front while males’ are more on the sides.

  Of course he looked it up. The image of him doing serious fish research pops into my head and tugs on my heart without permission.

  I type back.

  Liv: Right. And why is he hungry?

  Repentant Asshole: Because the asshole who usually feeds him has been distracted all day thinking about a woman who’s angry with him.

  Liv: I’m not angry. It sounded as if you think I’m a kid who can’t take care of herself.

  And that sucks way more than not having enough money to pay for school, I think but don’t say.

  Dots appear for a minute, then two.

  Repentant Asshole: I know you can take care of yourself, but I wanted to look out for you. For most of my life, I didn’t have control over my circumstances. So when I can do something for someone who deserves it, I will.

  Repentant Asshole: Plus I don’t like seeing you hurt. It fucks me up.

  Repentant Asshole: Are we still on for tonight?

  My chest squeezes. Dammit. For a man who’s good at getting into trouble, he’s remarkably good at getting out of it too.

  “What are you going to do, hold him down and insist you’re a grown-ass woman until he agrees with you?”

  Kat’s words drag my attention back.

  I adjust my shirt, tucking the bra strap away, and an idea takes shape in my brain.

  “That’s not the worst plan.”

  I head to Velvet with a bag full of gear.

  The security guy out front is the same one who worked the night I came with the girls and met Sawyer for the first time.

  His nod is full of recognition, and his gaze drops to my legs. “You gonna pull another move for me to let you in here?”

  I grin. “Nope. Teresa said you have to let me in.”

  Inside, the place is empty, the sleek tables and couches around the perimeter, the glossy stage and pole. My stomach flips.

  “When he gets here,” I tell the guy, “have him sit here.”

  I head to the bar where a woman is stocking for the night. “Hey. Do you think you’ll be done with that soon? I can help if you like.”

  “You really want this place to yourself, huh?” She pulls out a spray bottle of Lysol. “Just wipe down whatever you use when you’re done.”

  It’s probably a joke, but as I go backstage to get ready, I’m still not sure.

  I take my time doing my hair and makeup, then pull on the costume I put together.

  He’s here.

  I know the sec
ond before I hear him and the security guy talking on the other side of the stage.

  “I don’t want to sit. Where is she?”

  I wait five seconds.

  Ten.

  There’s no more arguing outside. I peer through the curtains, relieved the bar is vacant now.

  When I texted earlier to tell Sawyer there was a change of plans and to meet me at Velvet instead of a hotel, he wanted to know what was going on. I didn’t answer, just told him to be here.

  Sure enough, there’s a man sitting in a lone chair in front of the stage.

  Adrenaline shoots through me.

  When I locked eyes with Sawyer at Velvet that first time, it was so sexy.

  I can only imagine how it’ll feel tonight.

  No audience.

  No interruption.

  No threat of discovery.

  Just him and me and the way we talk best.

  And I need to show him I’m not some girl who can’t stand on her own two feet.

  I start the music, a low throbbing beat.

  When I step out onto the stage covered in shadows from the spotlights, the tables are empty—the place is mine—and I’m wearing a short dress with very little beneath it.

  Sawyer’s eyes are on me. “What are you doing?”

  I’m supposed to be the one on display, but he’s so beautiful it steals my breath. His rugged jaw flexing, dark hair spilling to his shoulders, intensity pouring off him.

  I take a steadying breath. “Do you ever think about what it would’ve been like if we’d met under difference circumstances? Like maybe if we met in New York instead of here? Or maybe you watched me dance at the ballet, instead of in a T-shirt and jean shorts?”

  “I’m not good at make-believe, Cherry.”

  That’s why I borrowed this place for tonight. I wanted to feel strong and feminine and capable.

  The music is indescribably sexy.

  The dance is one I’ve been working on in my head, some of my classical training and flexibility. I made it more provocative once I decided on my plan for tonight.

  “I’m not a kid.”

  I take a slow step toward him, and his eyes burn down my body.

  “I know that.”

  My feet stop out of reach of his chair. “You say you do, but you don’t. If this is going to work, I need you to.”

  I peel the dress over my head. Underneath, I’m wearing a sheer black bra and thong. The bra has embroidered cherries over the nipples, and the thong has matching ones at the “T” in the back.

  His eyes darken. “Olivia…”

  A thrill races through me as I drop the fabric on the ground.

  Velvet might not be the real world, but for tonight, it can be our world.

  I shimmy in front of him, moving my hips slow and rhythmically.

  When I lean in and lower the bra straps to my elbows, he starts breathing more heavily.

  “Your tits are perfect.”

  “Only my tits?”

  He grins. “The rest of you is okay, too.”

  I slide the bra down to my waist and his hungry gaze snaps down my body.

  He leans forward, but I put the bra back in place. “No touching the dancers,” I murmur against his mouth, pulling back teasingly.

  “You’re touching me.”

  My skin heats everywhere, and I go deeper into the fantasy. “One of us is going to be in trouble. Because I’m in an exclusive relationship.”

  “Relationship.”

  That’s not what was supposed to come out.

  “I meant arrangement.”

  No feelings.

  My own demand.

  But the lines are blurry.

  “I hope he fucks you for this,” he says, eyes wild, breath ragged. Then he takes my mouth in a kiss that’s just as rough as his voice.

  I sink into his lips, because he’s the storm I want to lose myself in. I’d rather be swept away with this man than hide away in the safety of everything I know.

  When he pulls back, I feel the hairs on my neck lift. I look past Sawyer toward the door.

  “He’s watching,” I whisper. “The security guy.”

  My skin prickles and I have a sudden urge to reach for my dress, but it’s halfway across the floor.

  Sawyer’s body goes tight. “How does it make you feel?”

  It’s like the audience the first night. Strangers’ eyes, with strangers’ minds behind them.

  “I can end it in a second,” he promises. “But tell me how it makes you feel.”

  I have no desire to be with another guy, to have him touch me, but feeling his gaze on me awakens an urge I’ve never experienced.

  “Hot.”

  Sawyer’s eyes darken. He looks past me toward the door. “Show’s over. I catch you watching again, you won’t be able to walk, not to mention work the door here or anywhere.”

  The door closes immediately.

  “If you were going to do that, then why did you ask?”

  “Because I wanted you to trust me enough to tell me the truth. To keep you safe. That’s the greatest gift you could give me.”

  Warmth erupts inside me, but there’s gooseflesh on my arms and neck. Every time I think I’m used to this raw, earnest man, he proves me wrong.

  He circles my waist with his hands, palms warm and possessive on my bare skin.

  I’m practically naked but I feel sheltered. Cared for. Seen.

  “When was the last time you had a lap dance?” I breathe.

  “If I’ve ever had one, I can’t remember it.”

  “If you’ve ever had one, I’m going to erase it from your memory.”

  I try to shift off his lap but he won’t let me.

  “You don’t have to prove anything to me, Olivia,” he murmurs against my throat. “I see you. I want you. I care about you.”

  Every muscle in me goes lax.

  “Not how you dress. Or how you act. Or how you dance. I see who you are when you think no one’s paying attention. When you think the world is wrapped up in its own drama, and there’s no hope for any of them… I’m watching you.”

  My heart seizes. I can’t look in his eyes right now or I’m going to lose it.

  So instead I arch my back and rub against him.

  He feels so good and eager and I think of how it would feel to have him inside me when the music reaches a crescendo.

  He leans forward, grabbing my bra strap between his teeth and snapping it against my skin. “Take it off.”

  “You want to add that to your collection, Professor?”

  His eyes are hooded, hazy with lust as I reach back to unhook my bra one-handed.

  I can hear his breath catch as my bra comes undone and I lower the straps.

  I rub against him as I dance before him, getting myself off. I’m high on my power and the sex between us. It overwhelms me and he senses it.

  “Take off the rest,” he says huskily.

  “Be patient.”

  “We’ll see who’s patient when I suck on your clit until you’re begging to come, sweetheart.”

  Then his hands are on me, dragging me down to sit on him.

  I slide my arms around his shoulders and my legs around his waist. He props his hands on my thighs and I feel him groan against me.

  “If I met you under difference circumstances, it wouldn’t have changed anything.”

  “No?”

  I hear Sawyer’s zipper come down as he opens his pants and pulls out his cock.

  Fuck. He’s hard and he’s huge, and my throat dries looking at him in the dim lights.

  “No,” he goes on. “Because in that world or this one, I’d still make you mine.”

  Tonight, I wanted to prove I’m the kind of woman who can take care of herself.

  He obliterated any need to.

  I wanted a moment of reprieve from the stress of campus.

  He showed me it’s not the minutes we have that matter, but how earnestly and unapologetically we use them.

 
I feel wild and free. Different from the girl who took the stage here months ago.

  I skim my hands up my sides, lingering on my breasts in a way that makes his jaw work before threading up into my hair. “I want you to ride me until the sun comes up.”

  He reaches into his pocket for something, then rolls the condom over his cock.

  My hips settle over him as his nose bumps mine. “Nothing in the world I’d like more, Miss Barclay.”

  It’s not gentle—he’s too worked up for that—but his hand grips my butt and he thrusts to meet me.

  We’re in a primal rhythm, me rocking on his cock, and I cry out.

  He kisses me and I buck against him and he comes with me.

  His beautiful body jerks under my hips and my hands and I feel powerful. Fearless.

  The song is dying, the spotlights waning, but we’re still joined and he’s rubbing me while I tremble.

  “Just a little more,” he whispers in my ear.

  I’m so wet, and when he moves inside me, I shudder.

  As I come again, he grabs my hip and jerks me back onto him. His eyes are fierce with desire and something fiercer I don’t dare name.

  He drives into me all the way to the end. I grind against him, taking him deep enough it feels as if I couldn’t separate us if I wanted to.

  We’re exhausted and we’re sweaty and he’s looking at me like he’s never seen me before.

  My eyes drift closed.

  I feel exposed, but I also feel battered. Every part of me is bruised.

  I’m not sure I can put all my pieces back together.

  I’m not sure I want to.

  “Olivia.”

  I blink to see him lean back in his chair, watching me like he’s trying to memorize every feature.

  “Come home with me.”

  15

  Sawyer

  She put rules on what this is.

  Her body is mine.

  Her heart, she keeps.

  It’s a lie.

  Like she wanted, I ride her until she’s exhausted. Then I let her sleep and wake her again in the early hours of the morning, make her come on my lips where I can still taste us both.