Den of Mercenaries: Volume One (The Mercenaries Book 1) Page 7

  As soon as he was seated, Reagan headed over, refusing to pretend like she hadn’t noticed his presence the minute he had pushed through those doors. On the way, she grabbed a mug and a pot, already knowing that he would order a cup.

  He seemed to be a creature of habit.

  The minute she started in his direction, Niklaus’ eyes lifted, drifting over her as they did every time, as though her appearance might have changed since the last time he saw her. This time, there was a heat in his gaze.

  It wasn’t like he hadn’t made his interest in her known, even without words, and it seemed like he was going to make himself clear.

  “Good to see you again, Niklaus,” she said, keeping her voice low as she poured his cup. “You know, I’m starting to think you’re purposely seeking me out.”

  That corner of his mouth drew up again, but she wouldn’t consider that a smile, not with the way he was looking at her. “I am, unless you mind.”

  Oh …

  She hadn’t thought he would come right out and admit it. “No,” she said after catching her breath, her face flushed. “Not at all.”

  Reagan was readying to walk away when he gestured to the seat opposite him. “You have a minute?”

  “I—sure.” She didn’t think she could have walked away if she tried. “What’s up?”

  “What are you doing after work?”

  She swallowed, the sound loud even to her own ears. “I’m … uh … well, nothing. Just home, I guess.”

  When had she turned into this stuttering mess? Like she had never talked to a guy before?

  “Come home with me then.” He said that without blinking or stuttering, and making sure she understood just how serious he was.

  Since they weren’t busy, she didn’t mind sitting with him, actually found that she enjoyed being in his presence, even if he didn’t reveal much. As the statement and the implications of it hung between them she had no idea how to respond. She wasn’t even sure there was a correct way to respond to that.

  But after a second, she found her voice. “What are you asking for?”

  The question was whispered, almost as though she was afraid that their conversation might be overheard. Before he could answer, as she was finally accepting what he had asked moments before, she knew, as any woman would, exactly what he wanted.

  “One night,” he said, his gaze like a physical caress as it swept over her from head to toe and back again. “Or two.”

  A flush of heat swept through her at the dark promise she saw in those blue eyes of his. No one had ever looked at her that way before, like she was utterly, and completely, desirable.

  Like she was the only thing he wanted to taste …

  His offer was tempting—he was tempting—but she could never agree. She didn’t think she could do a one-night stand, not even two nights, because she knew how it would end. Even if he made her crave one with him just by the way he was staring.

  Reagan already liked him. He was charming in his own way, polite, if not reserved, and possibly one of the most attractive men she had ever seen. Sex would only complicate it, make her believe in something that probably wasn’t there.

  Shaking her head before she could conjure the thoughts that would make her give in, she said, “I have to get back to my other tables.”

  She wouldn’t outright refuse him—even she couldn’t bring herself to do that—but if he was disappointed, he didn’t show it. Yet before she could get away, he caught her wrist, his hold gentle, and she didn’t doubt for a second that if she attempted to pull away, he would let her.

  The index and middle fingers he had pressed against the pulse point in her wrist was warm, almost too warm, but that only made her far more aware of his hold.

  With his other, he pressed something into her hand, curling her fingers around it before she could see what it was. He still held her as he stood.

  “For when you change your mind,” he explained, finally releasing his hold on her as he grabbed his jacket and headed for the exit.

  Looking down, she opened her hand and found a key, the name of a hotel she was familiar with inscribed on it, along with a room number.

  He hadn’t said if she changed her mind, but when.

  As she tucked the key away, she wondered how long it would be before she caved.

  The next night, Reagan stepped out of the shower after scrubbing herself raw to get rid of the old hamburger and grease smell that clung to her skin whenever she worked at the diner. She was trying unsuccessfully to keep her thoughts from Niklaus, but that was nearly impossible considering how frequently he was on her mind.

  He hadn’t been back in the diner since the night before, but that didn’t mean she hadn’t looked for him every chance she got, her gaze straying to the doors whenever the bell chimed. And with each person that walked in and wasn’t him, she had been a little more disappointed.

  He shouldn’t have mattered.

  That was the crazy part about it all.

  A couple of conversations, and the fact that he was extremely nice to look at, shouldn’t have meant that he was seared into her brain, and worse, starring in her dreams.

  Back in her bedroom, Reagan slathered on lotion, tying her wet hair up into a bun to keep it out of her face. And as she was reaching for a pair of ratty old sweatpants and the T-shirt she usually wore to bed, she heard the first mutterings.

  That was how it usually started—soft voices carrying through the thin walls of their apartment. As the alcohol continued to flow, the pitch rose, and very soon, there would only be the sounds of yelling and things breaking.

  There was a time when her father’s drunken rages used to frighten her, making her curl into a ball in her room as she waited it out. When he had begun breaking their belongings, smashing glasses against walls, she had called Jimmy in a rush, afraid of what their father would do next. It was only after a number of times that Jimmy intervened, and she had run out thinking to protect her mother, that she realized even in his drunken madness, he still would never hit his wife.

  Yeah, he screamed bloody murder for hours.

  Yeah, he broke what few possessions they had, and when they were replaced, he broke those as well.

  But he had never put a hand to his wife.

  For that reason, Reagan still felt a touch of pity for the old man … but not much.

  Especially not tonight.

  More than once she had wished she was living a different life, away from the sheer craziness that was her own.

  And tonight, she decided, she wanted something different.

  Tonight, she wanted to pretend the Reagan who worked crazy hours and came home to a broken family didn’t exist.

  Shutting the drawer that held her pajamas, she opened another, hunting through it until she found what she was looking for.

  Black lace.

  She rarely, if ever, splurged on anything, but there had been a few occasions where Shan had convinced her to go shopping, and on one particular trip, made her buy the fancy set because, “every girl needed sexy underwear.” She had to admit, the bra and matching panties were nice, but she hadn’t found a reason to wear them—though Shan made it clear that there didn’t have to be a reason—until now.

  Reagan might not have known what the proper etiquette was for a one-night stand, but she was ready to find out.

  She dressed quickly, first the lingerie, then a dress—one that would be easy to get off and put right back on when she was leaving—and shoes before she was exiting her room and heading for the door.

  As she was stepping across the threshold, she heard the first of what would probably be numerous glasses shatter as her father hurled it against the bedroom wall.

  Reagan kept walking.

  The distance to where Niklaus was staying wasn’t far from her own home, fifteen-minute cab ride max. When she arrived—and had paid and climbed out—Reagan blinked in surprise, not remembering just how enormous the building was, and how desperately it was in need of repai
r. If not for what awaited her back at home, she might have turned and left.

  Steeling her resolve, she kept forward, ignoring the curious glances shot in her direction from the men loitering outside. The inside wasn’t much better, not with the man with a stale expression staring at her through the bars of the front counter.

  If Niklaus was in the city on business, then obviously he needed to have a talk with his boss if these were the best accommodations …

  Judging from the room number she had memorized, she figured his room was on the third floor. Taking the elevator that looked like it hadn’t been checked since the cold war, she went up, then down a hallway until she reached the right room.

  Holding the key in her hand, she thought better of just walking in, especially since she hadn’t called first to let him know she was coming. Instead, she lifted her fist and knocked. Down the hall, someone’s television was playing so loud that it carried outside of the cracked door, making it impossible to hear whether someone was inside.

  Chewing on her lip, she waited a few more seconds before knocking once more, deciding that it might have been a good idea for her to call ahead, just to see if he was actually there before riding all the way over.

  Reagan was determined to try one last time when the door swung open suddenly, Niklaus standing on the other side with a black shirt stretched across his chest, jeans that were zipped but left unbuttoned, his feet bare. Usually, his hair was styled, but now, he had left it unkempt, like he had just gotten out of the shower and left it dry how it liked.

  At first, surprise skittered across his features before it was gone just as quickly. She didn’t get a chance to even speak before he had an arm hooked around her waist and was dragging her inside, but only far enough that he could close and bolt the door.

  She was so used to the somber way in which he carried himself that now that she was facing him like this, her heart kicked up a pace.

  Swallowing, she met his gaze. “Hi.”

  His answer was slow, and almost taunting as he said, “I didn’t think you would come.”

  “Me neither.”

  Niklaus took a step closer, and she took one back, only managing to press her back against the door. Pressing one hand flat against it, he leaned into her, the warm heady scent of him surrounding her. “Why did you?”

  The words stuck in her throat, not because she was incapable of saying them, but because she could barely breathe with the way he was now looking at her.

  “No, no, that won’t do,” he said after a moment. “You can’t be shy with me now.”

  “One night,” she found herself saying, repeating the words he’d said to her. “Maybe two.”

  That was all she could say before his lips were on hers and she finally gave in to the very thing that she had been trying to resist. He didn’t start off demanding. No, he just let his lips coax over hers until his lips parted, and hers responded in kind. His hand came up to pull the tie from her hair and tangle his fingers within the strands.

  There was no hesitation on his part, no fumbling around at all, and when she felt his teeth, just pulling at her bottom lip, she moaned low, grabbing hold of the front of his shirt and drawing him closer.

  But while he allowed it, he drew his head back, cold blue eyes staring down at her. “I can be gentle if you need me to be,” he murmured, the whisper like a caress against her skin. “But I can’t promise how long that’ll last, yeah?”

  She could do nothing more than nod, and only when he got that response from her did he finally step back, his hands going to the neck of his shirt and pulling, and just that quickly, he was half-naked, and she was able to take him in without his shirt in the way.

  Besides the tattoo she had noticed at his neck, there were two more on his chest … stars, she realized when he came closer. But they didn’t look as fresh on his skin as the lines behind his ear, but rather mottled, the skin beneath scarred.

  She couldn’t imagine what could have made those parallel marks on his skin, but she could guess that they had to hurt.

  She wasn’t given the chance to ask him about them before his lips were crashing against hers again, then skimming down her jaw and throat, leaving a burning path behind. Before she had even realized it happened, Niklaus was on his knees in front of her, insistent hand shoving her dress up to pool at her waist.

  Drawing her leg up to rest on his shoulder, he held her steady even as her entire body trembled. Niklaus didn’t immediately go for her center, rather let his mouth skim up her calf, his teeth nipping at her flesh making a rush of heat surge through her. By the time he made it to her inner thigh, she was soaked. Aching. Waiting for the moment when he would finally touch her and put her out of her misery.

  But he didn’t do what she wanted, not yet anyway. His fingers splayed across her stomach, sweeping down until he had his thumb pressed against her clit over the lace.

  It was enough to send a shot of electricity through her, her hands drifting to the strands of his hair and pulling.

  “Right there?” he asked, pressing a little firmer, rubbing in small circles.

  With each second, he made minute adjustments until her back was arching off the door, a throaty moan clawing its way up her throat. As skillful as he was at finding the right spot to make her clutch him tighter, it was nothing compared to when he hooked his fingers in the side of her panties, drawing them to the side as his lips found her center.

  As his tongue delved between her lips, he didn’t immediately lash at her clit, but twisted and rolled his tongue over all of her, dipping down to her entrance and back up again, drawing the tight bundle of nerves between his lips and sucking.

  A keen whine ripped free from her as rational thought fled, only replaced with a need to get him to do that again.

  Then she felt his fingers again, following the same path his tongue had as he moved from her clit then down and pressed two fingers inside of her, curling them upwards.

  Niklaus didn’t ask for instructions, letting her reactions to him giving him any answer he needed.

  Reagan was close, closer than she should have been considering he had just touched her. Her body wasn’t her own under his hands. And he knew, as he kissed, licked and sucked, every bit of her that she was about to come.

  He was on his feet in a flash, his forehead to hers, one hand firm on her chin, forcing her eyes on him.

  “I can feel you’re about to come, how fucking tight you are around my fingers.”

  Reagan was close, so close, that his words were like a spark on the never-ending flame, making her burn hotter as the orgasm nearly overtook her.

  “Is that what you want?” he asked, smiling even as she fought to catch her breath. “Do you want me to let you come before I fuck you?”

  “Yes, please,” she responded.

  She wasn’t above begging, not with him—not when it felt like he was the only man that could ever make her orgasm.

  “Then let me have it,” he said and kissed her again, swallowing her cry as he twisted his fingers igniting her orgasm, robbing her of breath.

  She was helpless not to obey, lost in the wave that had swept her under. He didn’t give her time to come down, sweeping her up instead, carrying and dropping her down onto the bed that had already been stripped of its comforter.

  Now, as he kneeled between her spread thighs, his fingers at the waistband of his jeans, he eased them apart. Then they were unzipped and he was shoving the denim down his legs, taking the boxer briefs he wore with them, and finally, she had her first look at the cock he was finally fisting.

  She was only allowed the view a short time before he was digging a condom out, fitting the latex around his length. Long strokes kept her attention focused on the one part of him she desperately wanted at that moment.

  He wasn’t even inside her yet and she felt like she was about to burst. His hand was between them, keeping hold of his cock as he tilted his hips, rubbing the head directly across her clit, making her nails dig into
his shoulders.

  “Are you wet enough to take me?” he asked at her ear, even as he felt the evidence with each shift of his hand. But he wanted an answer from her, practically demanded it. It wasn’t just the firm slide of him against her, but the way the question had fell from his lips, the heated tone as though this affected him just as much as it did her.

  He was teasing, only offering just enough friction to keep her mindless, but not enough that she was racing towards the edge. It wasn’t until he angled his hips back, and he circled her entrance, his gaze glued down at the action.

  For just a second, he seemed content in teasing her this way, until he found purchase and thrust in, catching her off guard as she gasped, his name spilling from her lips.

  He was big, bigger than she had expected despite the rather in-depth way she had handled him moments earlier.

  And as her body adjusted to his fullness, a slight tremor worked its way through his body, and she felt, rather than heard the low growl that swept through him.

  Gentle, he had said.

  But as he drew back, nearly pulling all the way out of her, she knew almost immediately that whatever gentleness was in him was long gone.

  Because when he thrust back in, his grip on her was stronger, his need a little more at the forefront as he throbbed inside of her.

  He gave a few more measured thrusts, giving her time to adjust, and the more she did, the better it felt, like he was rubbing over every last nerve ending in her pussy.

  “That’s it,” he murmured in a heated rush, “open up for me.”

  It drove her insane, the way he kept careful control of himself even as she was writhing beneath him, trying to get more of anything. His hands. His lips. His cock. She just wanted more.

  And it didn’t take long before he read into her silent demand. Then he was fucking her harder, his fingers digging into her skin as he tilted her hips to take him better, making the jagged slide that much more mind scrambling.

  His lips found her ear once more, dark, heady, sensual words whispering from them. She was floating high, drunk off every bit of him.