Savage: A Bad Boy Fake Fiancé Romance Read online

  “Of course.” She wriggled and the desire in her faded a little.

  I remedied it with a kiss. I licked and nibbled on her bottom lip. “I had to know,” I said. Not that I needed to explain myself. To anyone. Least of all her. “I had to know, O. I had to know if you’d betrayed me.”

  “We were never an item,” she hissed against my mouth, but her body responded to mine. She lifted her legs and placed them at my sides.

  My dick sliced downward, and I entered her, swiftly. One hard punch into her body. I had to cling to sanity or I’d cream inside her on the spot. Fill her up with all the cum she needed from me.

  “Christ.” I drew it out, long and slow. “Baby, you’re so hot inside. You’re soft as silk and so hot. So wet.”

  She swallowed hard, then licked my top lip.

  I pressed my forehead to hers. “You were always mine. I should’ve been your first.”

  She didn’t answer, but her gaze screamed defiance. I’d fuck it right out of her and leave her a jellied, cum-filled mess on the bed. Mine, mine, mine!

  I gripped her leg and forced it back, right up beside her head. Her body folded for me, her breasts shook and pressed closer together, and those pink, precious nipples puckered up all over again. Her jaw dropped.

  “You want it deep,” I said.

  “Yes.”

  “Beg for it, baby. Show me you’re mine.”

  “Please,” she whispered, her full bottom lip trembling. The defiance wasn’t gone, but I controlled her climax. I was her master right now, and if I decided to pull out, she’d lose it all. “Please, Beckett.”

  “Say you’re mine.”

  “No,” she whispered.

  I pounded into her pussy, buried my entire length inside her, the angle perfect for that sweet, deep penetration she needed.

  Her eyes rolled back in her head, and she shuddered, her jaw dropped. She was transported by my cock. I admired her. The hair splayed out on the sheets, the rise and fall of her chest, the crease in her belly as I folded her.

  Every part of this woman had been made for me.

  I fit inside her perfectly. I braced myself with one hand and used the other to tease her clit.

  She gasped and shook again, but her eyes snapped back to the front, and she locked in on me. “Beckett,” she whispered.

  “I’ve got you,” I said and pumped into her, rough, again and again. “I came for you.”

  The question formed on her expression.

  “I lost count of how many times over the past seven years,” I said. Her cunt clenched around my dick and massaged it. “Fuck, if you don’t let go, I’ll come.”

  She didn’t let go. Her pussy tightened up even more, and she clawed at my neck, my biceps, scratching lines into my skin, new tattoos. These ones would fade.

  I pounded, played with her, brought her back to the edge.

  “Coming,” she whispered and rocked in time with my thrust. “Coming so hard. So—” Her words cut off as she choked on the orgasm, jamming into me, her walls closing around me again.

  I couldn’t hold it any longer.

  I was inside my O.

  And I had my opportunity to fill her.

  My balls tightened up, and my climax shot down my spine, through my dick. I squirted into her, lashed her walls with my cum, again and again. A never-fucking-ending orgasm inside the woman who’d taunted me for years.

  Paradise.

  Finally, it ended, but I didn’t pull out. She hadn’t quit clenching, lighter aftershocks of her own climax. She opened her eyes and showed me the ocean in them. Too much emotion to handle.

  I lay down beside her and drew her onto my chest, before she had the opportunity to speak. I kissed the top of her head and stroked her back, allowing myself this one moment of weakness and tenderness.

  This was my woman.

  She can’t be your woman.

  She was my woman.

  Minutes passed, her breathing slowed, and I lay on her bed, naked, looking up at the ceiling. This one didn’t have the cute plastic stars on it. I stroked her back with the tips of my fingers.

  This felt too right. Being with her, with Penny down the hall, all of it felt too comfortable. The insane need to conquer her had started long ago, but now that I’d fulfilled it, it hadn’t left me.

  Or perhaps, it wasn’t a need to conquer at all.

  “Fuck,” I muttered, then slipped my arm out from underneath Olivia. I positioned her carefully on the pillow. She let out a little fluttering whistle, and I froze, stifled the mirth bubbling in the put of my stomach.

  What the fuck kind of snore was that?

  I dragged the comforter from the base of the bed and laid it over her naked skin. She made the little whistle-snore again, and I snorted a laugh. Fuck it, why did she have to be this goddamn adorable?

  I tugged on my pants and my shirt, but let that hang open. I strode out of the room, barefoot, and clicked the door shut behind me.

  I couldn’t sleep now.

  I’d just filled my temptress with my cum. Christ, I might never sleep again.

  Years had passed since I’d made a promise to my best friend. Michael had cornered me in the hallway outside one of my father’s fantastic dining rooms while a party was in full swing and demanded I swear I’d never touch his sister.

  He’d thought I wasn’t good enough for her. He’d meant it in the nicest way possible, and he’d been right.

  I was broken. The parts of me that should’ve been capable of emotion were twisted beyond repair—probably had something to do with witnessing my mother breaking a chair over my father’s back. Or the countless other similar events. The lack of love and contact.

  They’d taught me that love wasn’t a real thing. It was chemical or hormonal bullshit, and it faded.

  Olivia deserved better. Christ, Penny deserved better than me floating in and out of this apartment.

  I walked toward the sofa and sat down in the darkness, staring out over the New York skyline. The city that never slept, lights twinkling as far as the eye could see. Not that it was late, just past seven.

  I’d officially fucked Olivia into a coma.

  “Fuck,” I repeated and dropped my head into my hands.

  I couldn’t force myself to regret this.

  Guilt barreled through me regardless.

  A promise was a goddamn promise, and I’d broken it, because I was too caught up in my need for her to stay away.

  My phone buzzed in my pocket, and I drew it out, frowning at Kayla’s number flashing on the screen. I swiped my thumb across it, then pressed the device to my ear.

  “What?”

  “Well, glad to hear you’re in a good mood,” Kayla said. “I hear you expressed that perfectly at lunch with Mr. Holmes.”

  “Fuck him,” I said, itching for a cigarette. I hadn’t smoked in a couple weeks—I usually did whenever I went out. It was purely social. I was not into the cravings, except for now, apparently. “Fuck him, and fuck Cooper. He came to that meeting with his mind made up.”

  “You still burnt a bridge.”

  “It was a rickety bridge. I didn’t hire you to judge my business practices, Kayla, only to make me look good. To make the company look good.”

  She huffed a sigh. “And I can’t do that if you walk out of meetings with influential investors. Dane Holmes—”

  “We’re done talking about him. If that’s the only reason you called, I’m hanging up. Call me back at a more reasonable hour.”

  “No, Beck, wait!” Kayla yelped. She cleared her throat, took a second to regain her composure. “There’s more. We need to talk. Now. In person.”

  “No.” My thumb drifted to the red end-call icon on the screen.

  “Beck, listen, some reporter from a local paper snapped a picture of you outside a woman’s apartment and posted it on the paper’s social media page—Twitter. And there are rumors circulating that you have a girlfriend. Everyone’s freaking out online.”

  Jesus H. Christ
. How did news travel this fast? Fuck the digital age. This was none of anyone’s business. I remained silent, boiling about this. At least they didn’t know her name. She was safe from the hawks and vultures.

  I was hardly an A-list celebrity, but people gave a shit about the billionaire bachelors of Manhattan, unfortunately. And me? They loved news about me. I was unattainable, hated, loved, despised. I was their walking soap opera.

  “We need to talk about this,” Kayla said. “For your business, Beck.”

  I clicked my fingers, ground my teeth. “Fine,” I said. “Fine. When?” My business had been everything from the minute I founded it with Michael’s financial backing—after my father had disowned me.

  “Now, if you can. Not at the Granite Room. Somewhere more low-key.”

  “Rusty’s.” The bar was probably the last place any of the people in my circles would go. They’d rather saw off their own arms than drink draft beer and sit on a stool. Pretentious pricks. “Twenty minutes.”

  “Good,” Kayla said. “Good. This is good, Beck. Let me just tell you that. This could be very good for you if you play it right.”

  I hung up on her to keep from snapping back.

  Play it right?

  Who was playing?

  Chapter 14

  Olivia

  A piercing wail cut right down the middle of the blackness in my mind. Sleep. Deep and delicious sleep, totally dreamless. Usually I had vivid dreams, and they were filled with scents. Leather or oil or sour clouds of ash or the soft grace of a lily.

  Not tonight.

  I bolted upright in bed, and my comforter slipped from my naked body. It was dark, curtains drawn. I blinked, listened.

  Another wail from down the hall and through the baby monitor on my bedside table.

  Penny!

  I reached for the lamp on my bedside table and nearly knocked it off. I clicked it on, and the room flooded with butter-yellow light. The rumpled sheets, the clothes on the floor. My clothes only. Not Beckett’s.

  Oh god. Beckett.

  I struggled to the bathroom and washed my hands and face, then rushed to my closet and whipped out some loose PJs and another of my robes. I dressed in what had to be two seconds flat and tied the robe at my waist, then grabbed my cell from the top of the dresser, tucked it in my pocket, and rushed for the door.

  I jogged down the hall and into Penny’s room.

  The two-year-old sweetheart stood up in her crib, gripping the rail in those chubby fists and howling, tears streaking down her cheeks.

  Dread settled in my belly.

  What if she asks for her mommy and daddy again?

  “What’s wrong, sweetheart? Did you have a nightmare?”

  Penny wailed on.

  “Do you want to go for a walk around the house? You can see my dresses again.” I held out my arms to her, and my heart practically stopped in my chest. Please, please, please don’t ask for your daddy or mommy. Please don’t ask for something I can’t give you.

  Penny sniffled and held out her arms to me, and it was as if a choir of angels had just sung a chorus of hallelujahs.

  I swept her up and tucked her to my side, then kissed her forehead. “All right,” I said. “All right, you’re all right. Come on, let’s go.”

  She sniffled and didn’t say a word but clutched the front of my robe as I walked her out of her room and back down the hall to mine. We trundled past the unmade bed and to the closet. Inside, I clicked on the overhead light, and we walked all the way to the back, toward the dresses. This time, I picked out the lilac number I’d worn years ago to a party at the Prices’ mansion.

  It was another reminder of Beckett, but I swallowed my nerves and handed it to Penny.

  “Do you like it?” I asked, still holding it by the hanger.

  “Yes,” she said, and mushed it in her sticky toddler hands. “Pretty.” The ‘r’ came out as a ‘w’. “Mine?”

  “I bought it, Penny. Long ago. It was very expensive.”

  She gave one of those precious smiles. I sat down with her, placing her on the floor beside me so she could play with it for a while until she calmed down enough to go back to bed.

  Penny pulled the fabric into her lap and ran her fingers over it. She giggled and worried the silk, but I didn’t care. She was happy, and the dress was just a memory. I hadn’t worn it in seven years. I’d kept it as a reminder of what a total nut Beckett was, and even that hadn’t kept me from sleeping with him.

  And now he was gone.

  Penny’s crying had distracted me from that, but now she was happy, playing with the dress, and it slammed home.

  He’d left.

  Was this how it was going to be?

  What had I expected?

  Beckett had always taken what he wanted from me and then left me in the lurch. It was the same pattern he’d displayed during high school and college. We’d grown closer, closer, closer. He’d been possessive until finally he’d kissed me.

  God, no, he’d sucked my soul out through my mouth.

  And then he’d left, and he hadn’t spoken to me again in seven entire years.

  He’d simply ceased to care, and I’d been left with nothing but memories and yearning for him.

  And yeah, I hadn’t slept with anyone but one guy. Yeah, maybe that made me a dumbass prude, but I’d never seen the point in sex without love.

  What did that say about me now?

  There were two horrible options.

  Either I loved him. Or I’d broken my no-love-no-sex rule.

  I forced the thoughts aside and focused on Penny instead. Her future was important. I’d help shape her and show her that the way I’d lived my life, from spa treatment to fancy restaurant, wasn’t real.

  That family was real. Family and love and warmth.

  The little girl yawned and clutched the dress to her cheek.

  “Would you like to go to sleep, Penny?”

  She yawned again in response.

  “But you’ll have to leave the dress here, darling.”

  She shook her head. “I like dress,” she said, in her slurry toddler voice.

  “I know, baby, but you can’t sleep with it.” I tugged on its end and lifted it. “See? It’s got these bad chokey straps. It can’t go in your crib.”

  Penny welled up regardless.

  I raised a finger. “But, if you want, I can find someone who can turn this dress into a teddy bear for you. Would you like that?” A silky purple teddy bear for Penny. It sounded ridiculous. It sounded cute.

  Penny’s cerulean eyes lit up. “Yes!”

  “Please,” I said.

  “Please,” she repeated.

  “All right, then if you’re a good girl and you have a nice sleep now, tomorrow we’ll find someone who can change this dress into a teddy bear for you.” I opened my arms, and she toddled over to me, the toes of her sleepy jammies flopping on the floor. I hefted her, then rose. “Whooo, you’re getting big. Such a big girl.”

  “Yes,” she said and nodded proudly.

  “That’s right. You be proud. You’re beautiful.” Positive body image was another thing we’d reinforce. Relax, girl, she’s two, not ten. I carried her down the hall through to her room and placed her in her crib. “Goodnight, sweetheart.”

  She held onto my wrist. “Beck poo here?”

  “No, baby, he’s not here tonight,” I said, and my heart tha-thudded like the traitor it was. “Sleep now, and tomorrow we’ll go get that teddy fixed up.”

  Penny pressed her lips out, and I bent low. She smooshed her mouth to my cheek, which left a trail of spit, but I couldn’t bring myself to care. She’d kissed me. She’d hugged me. She wasn’t screaming.

  “Sleep tight, Penny Boo.”

  “Bye, bye, Libya.”

  I laughed and watched as she settled, then tucked her light blankie under her chin. I waved at her, headed out of the bedroom, and left the door open a crack and the hall light on.

  The rush of thoughts and emotions flooded
me.

  Beckett had left. He’d left after we had sex. And he probably wouldn’t come back.

  Thanks, hon, see ya in another seven years.

  Fuck, I was an idiot. I should never have let it happen, but I’d been so buoyed up by my success getting Penny to sleep without crying for the first time, and he’d been there and so him.

  “Stop it. Enough.” I walked through to the living room and plonked down on the sofa, dragged my cell out of my pocket, and stared at the blank screen.

  That elusive scent, his cosmic cologne—with a hint of amber—draped around my shoulders. I gritted my teeth and unlocked my phone.

  I could call him. But I wouldn’t.

  No, I wasn’t that weak.

  When he’d walked away years ago, I hadn’t chased after him at all. I’d realized that whatever was going on in Beckett’s life was too much for me to handle. Worse, he didn’t want me a part of it.

  And then he’d gone to jail and—

  My phone buzzed in my palm, and my heart leaped.

  It was already 10:20 p.m. A booty call?

  Bebe’s name flashed on the screen, and my hope flickered and died.

  Just my friend. Probably calling from some hot and happening club or party or restaurant with whomever she was dating this week.

  I answered anyway. She’d been my friend for years—had been my roommate when I’d first moved to the big city—and I needed a distraction.

  “Hello?”

  “Babes!” Bebe’s background was filled with chatter and the low thump of music. “How are you?” Her words slurred a little, too. Oh, god, this was a booty call, in friendship terms at least. She obviously needed something.

  “I’m good,” I said. “Just about to go to bed, actually.”

  “Go to bed. OMG, how old are you?” Bebe tittered a high-pitched laugh. It didn’t sound anything like her. Or maybe it did, and I’d simply changed. Perhaps I’d been like her, too. Had I made late calls in the club?

  No, I despised clubs. I despised drinking ever since Nathan, my younger brother, had pretty much disowned our family and fallen into booze, clubbing, and god knew what else.

  “Twenty-six? What’s up?”

  “Oh, I just heard the juiciest gossip, and I wanted to find out if it was true,” Bebe said.