Dignity

  I stopped breathing when she lifted a hand and gently ran her finger over the curve of my bottom lip. “Sounds like you know your way around a pretty impossible situation, Stark. If anyone can take Goddard down, it’s going to be you.”

  I was so far from cold it wasn’t funny. All that emptiness inside of me suddenly felt full. There was so much pressure inside of my chest I couldn’t get a breath around it. My hands curled on the counter so I didn’t touch her. I’d never had to fight down the urge to keep my hands to myself before. Everything about this woman was a battle. I fought everything about her and how she made me feel.

  She was wrong about Goddard. I couldn’t do shit to him on my own because I was fucked up and frayed at the end of all my wires. Short circuiting without the tools to stop the sizzle. It was going to be us . . . had to be us . . . together . . . because she would fight, and I was going to give her all the ammunition she needed to take the bastard down.

  Noe

  His story was crazy . . . but then again, so was mine.

  I’d spent forever trying to get anyone to believe me when I told them what was going on behind closed doors in the fancy house on the Hill, and no one would listen. It would be easy to dismiss Stark’s wild tale as the product of a paranoid mind, a story only a genius could craft and was impossible to prove. However, I saw the way his typical reserve cracked when he talked about losing his sister. I saw how he believed every word he spoke when he declared himself broken and malfunctioning. I could feel the way guilt and something bigger, something heavier, held him down when he blamed himself for his father’s lack of freedom. It was a backstory that belonged to a superhero . . . or an evil mastermind hell bent on world domination. I decided that Snowden Stark had a little bit of each in his eyes.

  He hadn’t quite figured out if he was one of the good guys or one of the bad ones yet. The truth was he hovered somewhere in between the two.

  His fingers circled my wrist where my hand was still resting on the center of his wide chest. I expected his heartbeat to slow when he was done talking, but it sped up as soon as his fingers found my pulse.

  “I’ve never been distracted by a woman before,” His words were soft, low, and slightly angry. The storm in his eyes built as did the tension that always seemed to be coiled so tightly around the two of us when we were within touching distance of one another.

  I scoffed lightly and let him draw me closer. I had to crane my neck back in order to meet his gaze and his eyes followed the movement intently. They locked onto the exposed column of my throat, and I wondered if he could see my pulse fluttering like a trapped bird underneath the skin. “The way you look, I find that hard to believe. I’m willing to bet women go out of their way to distract you on a regular basis.” I’d seen the beautiful girls Nassir hired to work for him in his clubs and elsewhere. There was no shortage of distractions in the circles this man ran in.

  His dark eyebrows lowered and his eyes sharpened behind the lenses of his glasses. He always looked like he was trying to figure out something important, something that would fix everything. He always looked like he was seeking out answers to questions that hadn’t been asked yet. It was beautiful. He was beautiful in his own, unusual way.

  “I told you, I’m not exactly personable. I’m not good with people, women, in particular. They don’t know what to do with me, and I don’t know what to do with them outside of the bedroom. Most don’t like much about me beyond the way I look.” He frowned and his next words made me suck in an audible breath. “I like the way some of them look. I like the way some of them talk. I like the way a couple of them move. I like the way a few of them think, but I’ve never met one that I like everything about. Spending time with most of them is boring and useless.”

  His eyes lifted to mine and I swore I could feel myself being swept up in the tempest and temptation that lurked there. I moved closer still and almost groaned when his big, rough hands settled on my hips.

  “Never met a woman I wanted to spend more time with until you, Noe Lee. I like the way you look, the way you talk, the way you move, and the way you think. You are never boring, and for the life of me, I can’t figure you out.” His voice dropped even lower and I let out a strangled sound of surprise when he used his hold on my waist to lift me like I was nothing so that I was planted on the countertop in front of him, legs dangling on either side of his lean hips. I shifted my hold to his shoulders and refused to pull away as his slate gaze bore into mine. I was the problem he was looking for a solution to and I wasn’t about to tell him that there wasn’t one. If he put all the pieces of the puzzle that was me and my fucked-up life together, he would get bored and move on. I wasn’t ready to be unraveled just yet.

  “Stop trying. Take what I give you at face value and understand it’s far more than I’ve given anyone else.” So much more. He knew the whole story and was smart enough to know how it had changed me. No one else got that. I didn’t trust anyone else with my truth and honesty. Never allowing the scattered pieces of myself to be exposed for anyone to see.

  He stepped closer to me, forcing my legs to open wider. I was still in borrowed clothes, which were way too big, but I could feel his heat and his hardness between my legs. It made me lightheaded and had my skin warming and my pulse pounding. He was so big it was easy to get overwhelmed by him, but it was his eyes and the way they were trying to take me apart that had me shivering. The man seemed like he could peer directly into my soul, and he didn’t appear to mind all the grime and filth that clung to it. In fact, the tattered conditions of my insides were nothing compared to the ravages of his. I’d held onto what was left with both hands, he’d let his go entirely and was just now starting to notice the loss.

  “What if I want more than what you give me?” He hadn’t had much of anything since his sister died. If I wasn’t careful, he would take all I had and leave me with nothing. I couldn’t let that happen again. I felt the heat of the words as he touched my mouth. Perched up on the counter, I was almost eye level with him, and all of my most interested parts were lined up perfectly with the parts of him that felt just as attentive. The press of his hardness between my legs was making my breath shaky and nipples hard.

  “Don’t be greedy. You can always ask for more if you aren’t satisfied.” The double entendre made his lips twitch and I moved my fingers from the back of his neck so that I could trace the scar on the side of his head. He watched me silently as my touch moved to the barcode inked behind his ear. His skin was hot and the gentle caress made his entire massive frame stiffen in front of me. I blinked and told him quietly, “You’re distracting, too, Snow.” I liked his first name. It made him more human. There was nothing cold or distant about him now that he was pressed against me.

  He grunted a response and bent so he could close the last inch or so that separated his mouth from mine. My fingers raked across the short hair at the back of his head and my legs automatically wrapped around his waist. I let out a moan that he promptly swallowed. His tongue darted between my open lips and touched mine with purpose and intent. His hands landed on the small swell of my ass and tugged until there was no space left between his hips and mine. My thighs clenched around his waist and I involuntarily ground myself against that rigid length trapped behind his jeans. He felt unbelievably good, even though the fit wasn’t exactly right. If I wasn’t careful, if he didn’t watch himself, he really could hurt me . . . in all kinds of ways.

  He had to bend and I had to lift. I had to hold on and he had to hold me. It meant a lot of grabbing hands to go along with the twisting tongues, but it was hot, and I definitely wasn’t complaining about any of it.

  One of his hands skated over my hip and found the hem of my borrowed t-shirt. The width of his palm covered my ribcage and the edge of his thumb brushed along the underside of my breast. My already hard nipple tightened even more, and I tried to pull him closer even though there was no space separating us. I wiggled myself against his straining erection and felt my eyes flutter
closed at the hard pressure straining against the soft place at the apex of my thighs, warm and wet. It usually took more than a little foreplay to get me going. I usually needed the time to get out of my head and to lock away old memories, oftentimes nightmares.

  Not with Stark.

  All it took with him was a little pressure, a barely there caress, and I was ready to jump out of my skin. I wanted to pull his shirt off and sink my teeth into those tattoos winding around his torso. I wanted to pop the button on his jeans and sink to the floor in front of him, so I could face that beast I was rocking against. I wanted him to cover me, to block out anything but him, and lose us both in the storm he always seemed caught in. I wanted his hands all over me and inside of me. I wanted to give him a real reason to be distracted, so distracted he was thinking of me long after I walked away from him. Long after this seemingly impossible quest for revenge ended.

  I choked out his name as his thumb found my aching nipple and slowly started to circle it. His touch was a little tough, slightly uneven, but I liked it. I liked that he didn’t have all the answers to all the things, and I smiled because I realized I might just know a little bit more about something than he did. Even if the something I knew more about was as carnal and as basic as sex. I arched my back and thrust my throbbing peak more firmly into his hand and groaned when he shifted from stroking to lightly tugging on the tender tip. I could feel a tremor working its way from my core outward and I gasped as hot pleasure tripped along every nerve ending.

  We were still fully clothed, had barely rounded second base, and I was as close to coming as I would be if he had his mouth between my legs. The thought evoked images of his surprisingly rough hand and unsmiling mouth doing decadent things to me. It made me shiver and dig my fingernails into the tendons on the back of his neck hard enough to make him growl.

  The sound vibrated against my parted lips and I sank my teeth into the bottom curve of his. His glasses were slightly askew and it was adorable. I wanted to rip them off his face and demand that he fuck me. Dry humping was nice and all, but I wanted my hands all over what he was working with. I felt like a kid at Christmas who knew she was getting exactly what she asked for from Santa. I needed the wrapping paper out of the way so I could play with what was inside.

  The hand he had on my ass tightened as I thrust my hips against his hard cock. His heat scaled and the pressure against all my most sensitive parts felt really, really good. In fact, if I slid a hand down the front of the baggy sweatpants I was wearing and touched myself, just barely, it would be enough to send me over the edge.

  But it wasn’t my fingers I wanted. It was his.

  “I need you to touch me, Snow.” The words escaped choppy and breathless, pleading and insistent. I had had hands all over me the last few days that I didn’t want and didn’t ask for. I’d been touched when it was the last thing I wanted. I’d been hurt and manhandled. I needed his hands. The ones I’d asked for, the ones I was ready to beg for, the ones I put myself willingly into to remind myself this was up to me . . . he only got what I was willing to give. I didn’t want to think about how much that was. The man was tempting and dangerous. If I wasn’t careful, I would hand over my heart without a fight. Even though he’d never given any indication he wanted it.

  He lifted his head from where he was tracing the sensitive shell of my ear with his tongue and looked at me through hooded eyes. “I am touching you.” He gave the nipple trapped between his fingers a hard tug that I felt all the way through my body, and his fingers dug deeper into my ass.

  For a smart man, he could be incredibly dense. I put my hands on his cheeks, his stubble rubbing against my fingertips, and buried my heels in his backside. “No. I need you to touch me.”

  He stilled and stared at me for a long second. He watched as I waited. Our breaths were the only sound competing with the pounding of my heart in the quiet apartment. I was giving him more than he asked for and I felt like I was balancing on the edge of something huge and scary, waiting to see if he was going to join me.

  He blinked behind the lenses and then an animalistic, possessive, raw sound was ripped out of the center of his broad chest. There was nothing robotic or practiced about it. He was nothing more than a man who had his hands on a woman, who wanted him so much she couldn’t think straight. He was just as human and as hungry as the rest of us. He was better at hiding it, but not from me.

  The hand that was holding onto my ass slipped over my hip and brushed over my lower stomach. His fingers were long and strong, the tips rough against my skin. He paused to trace the bruises that were left from my ordeal at the hands of Goddard’s goons, and I could see the anger that chased the passion in his eyes. In order to keep him on track, I attacked the side of his neck with my teeth and worked my hand under the hem of his t-shirt so I could trace the corrugated lines of his tight abs with my fingers. The guy was a monster and I loved everything about being pinned and held against all that strength. It was straight up fantasy material, even if he wasn’t anyone’s idea of a dream guy.

  His fingers disappeared into the top of my sweatpants and both of us stilled when he realized I wasn’t wearing any underwear. That wasn’t something Booker had on hand for me to borrow and I hadn’t gotten around to seeing what the woman who used the apartment as a safe house before me left behind. I moved a hand to circle his thick wrist and opened my mouth to let out a silent sound when the tip of his middle finger slid down through the dampness that was already collected and made my inner thighs wet.

  His nostrils flared and his jaw ticked furiously as my body pulsed around him.

  “Hot.” The word seemed like it was wrenched out of him.

  “Yes.” Mine was barely audible and strangled.

  His tricky digit slid farther down, tracing sweet folds and slipping through liquid pleasure.

  “So wet.” Obviously.

  I choked out a laugh. “Are you surprised?” How could he be? I was wrapped around him, practically melting into him.

  My eyes snapped shut as his middle finger found entrance at the exact same time his thumb rolled across my clit. I groaned and tightened my hold on his wrist and I rubbed myself against his touch like a cat.

  “I . . . maybe a little.” I’d heard Stark sound a lot of ways but unsure wasn’t one of them. I had no idea how he could doubt I wanted him when I was the one chasing after him.

  I wanted to reassure him that this was exactly what was supposed to be happening between us. I gave him my truth and he gave me his. Both were messed up, ugly, and hard to hear, but we were still standing. His past was darker than mine, cloudier and convoluted, but somehow even with all those shadows in the way, we managed to see each other. We managed to find the only other person in the world who would believe, the only one who would trust. I couldn’t say anything because his finger was pumping in and out of my soaking center and his thumb was stroking my clit relentlessly. All I could do was throw my head back and ride the wave of pleasure that was crashing through me. It rushed around me, coating his fingers and leaving me shaken and breathless in his hold. His tongue traced along the line of my neck and I could feel his appreciative sigh against my skin as my body tugged and quaked uncontrollably around him. His fingers dragged wetness across my skin when he pulled from my body. I thought I was going to come again when he lifted them to his mouth and flicked his tongue across the shiny surface. His eyebrows arched and that sound that wasn’t close to human rumbled out of his chest again.

  I knew it wasn’t going to take much. A little bit of Stark went a long way.

  My legs fell weakly from his hips and I slumped backwards so I was sprawled bonelessly across the top of the counter. My chest was heaving and my heart was thudding, but I’d never felt better. I couldn’t remember when having a man’s hand on me had ever felt as right, as destined, and as perfect as his did.

  I could still feel his erection throbbing between my legs. Before I could offer to do something about it, he stepped away, pulled off his glass
es, and rubbed his hand over his face.

  “Like I said, distracting. I like the way you come, Noe.” His voice wasn’t exactly steady, thrilling the secret, soft part of me that I liked to pretend I didn’t have. “We need to talk about what our next step with Goddard is before we get interrupted . . . or distracted again.”

  I stared up at the ceiling wondering how he could ignore the electric heat that was still swirling around us like a living, breathing thing. I heaved a sigh and pushed myself to a sitting position. He moved a couple of steps away but I could still clearly see the outline of his cock behind the taut line of his zipper.

  “Goddard will still be there after I suck your cock, Snowden.” I really wanted to know how he tasted, how he looked when he finally lost control. I hopped off the counter and started to move toward him.

  His eyes widened and then narrowed as he held up a hand and took another step away from me. His jaw tightened and I saw his cheek twitch as he told me harshly, “I need to think. I need to plan. I need to keep you safe, and I can’t do any of that if all I’m thinking about is how your lips would look wrapped around my dick. I’m going to take care of you, Noe.”

  I paused mid-step and cocked my head to the side so I could consider his words without losing my shit. I didn’t need him to take care of me. I was just fine taking care of myself in most things, but in this one instance, I really wanted him to have a hand in it. I didn’t want to take care of the hollow ache between my legs by myself, and I didn’t want him to touch the seriously impressive length that was making the front of his jeans obscenely tight. That was all mine. I understood his reluctance wasn’t about rejection. It was about him having to prove something. He wasn’t going to budge. I could see it in every stiff line of his big body. and I had to admit it sent a different kind of thrill shooting through me when I realized he really meant what he said. He was going to take care of me.