Riske and Revenge: A Second Chance, Enemies Romance (Revenge series Book 1) Read online

  “Maybe…”

  “With much less penis, too, I hope.” He grinned. “And a lot more hair.”

  I scoffed out loud, rounding a stool as I scrambled to get out of reach. “Don’t diss Bruce. He’s hot.”

  “Yeah, to a woman, maybe.” Ethan reached for me again. Missed. “We’re comparing apples to balding actor here. And not for nothing… but have you looked in a mirror lately? Big difference between you and Bruce.”

  “Ahhh,” I mused into the open air. “It’s the stubble, isn’t it? I never did quite get that five o’clock shadow I always wanted.” I rubbed my jaw.

  “That might be the biggest difference between you two…” Ethan made his way past the fridge. “Well, that… and the fact that I’ve never wondered what Bruce tasted like.”

  He froze, the second the words came out. I got the feeling he hadn’t intended to say them—a mere slip of the tongue, but within the span of those several tense moments, he brushed it off as if he’d just said the most natural thing in the world. As if he didn’t just high-kick the breath out of my body with his bold admission, nearly knocking me on my ass with the knowledge that the boy with the sexiest smile I’d ever seen, and the biggest stubborn streak, wanted to…

  Taste me.

  He grabbed another soda, raising it to his lips, and the sight of him swallowing made everything on me that was below the waist quiver. I tried to ignore it. I picked up a third piece of beef jerky.

  “Just so you know… Bruce also doesn’t have my aim.”

  I turned towards my available bags of goodies, throwing everything I had. Ethan reached for his own, and while the oatmeal creme pies, roasted almonds and mint peppermint patties flew, I tried to forget about the falling sensation that had hit the pit of my stomach just a minute before, making the air unbreathable. In the midst of our food fight, I found some sense of release. I laughed so hard I nearly doubled over the nearby stools, trying to catch my breath as Ethan and I debated the acting ability of Steven Seagal out loud.

  We were just getting around to attacking Steven’s prized ponytail when wham! A cache of white cream went slinging into my eye, burning the living shit out of my right retina. I cried aloud, ducking quickly as my fingers flew to my eye, rubbing the thickened stuff from my face. I rotated towards the sinks only to find a body there instead, solid and unmoving as it wrapped itself around mine.

  It was Ethan, one hand on my shoulder, the other wiping something wet and gentle across my eyelid. He tilted my chin with his fingers.

  “C’mere, c’mere…” He said, breathing the smell of black cherries into my face. “I’ve got you. I’ve got you.” I squeezed my eyes shut. Tears started to escape as I continued to keep my eye closed as he worked around all the wincing and grimacing. His thumb trailed along my jaw.

  “You have to let me see,” he said to me. “I can’t help it if I can’t see.”

  He seemed to mean more than he was saying… But I relented. I let him, opening up my eyelid slowly and painfully to a vision I wouldn’t mind seeing as much as possible. Ethan, with his golden strands of hair falling across his forehead, gazing deeply into my eyes with his cocoa brown ones, making the world fall away and disappear with each drag of the dampened cloth across my eyelid and brow. He squeezed some of the water into my eye. Leaning in, he blew the rest of the creme away, inspecting his work, swiping his fingers at the corners of my eyelashes to check for the rest.

  He wiped the tears away… and any anxiety I had left being next to him.

  We’d committed a crime tonight…

  And in many ways, it had connected us in a way most people wouldn’t understand. Too misunderstood teens, begging to be heard in the small summer world they’d been thrown away into. I “got” Ethan better than most. I knew what it felt like to be different than everyone around you.

  I closed my eyes again, not from the pain, but from the sheer sensation of having Ethan’s hands on me—touching, exploring. Soothing the searing sensation that had just temporarily blinded me. I almost felt grateful for the accident.

  Until I opened my eyes… and saw the regret that lay in Ethan’s. He withdrew, dropping the wet cloth on the counter slowly.

  “Sorry about that,” he muttered.

  I blinked. Once. Twice. “It’s fine. Nothing to worry about.”

  “Sometimes I don’t know my own strength…”

  “It happens.”

  “I get carried away.”

  I nodded. “Understandable.”

  “Like what I’m about to do right now.”

  And then he kissed me. And it was no normal kiss. He pulled all of me into him—from the top of my head to the tips of my toes. It was a skillful move, a slick one. The hands that had just caressed my face were now grabbing it, holding tight. His hardened body was pushed into mine and as he captured my lips, he used it to his full advantage, hovering over me, inclining my lips to reach his own where he prodded and pushed and applied pressure with all the passion we’d barely kept-bottled tonight.

  This was like nothing I had ever experienced.

  Ethan’s kiss was like the first time you listened to a song you knew you would never get enough of. It was a serenade, full of thoughts unsaid, a melody meant to be mesmerized. We fell into a sudden sync as if it were music, and I kissed him back, rubbing my hands over his shoulder blades as I tightened my fingers around him, squeezing him just as tightly as he was clutching me. Nothing had ever been more natural.

  I met him there, at the meeting of our mouths, matching him lick for lick, tug for tug, nip for nip. He groaned when I moaned, and when I began to whimper from the pleasure, he surprised me, picking me up and placing me right on the tiled kitchen counter where he settled between my legs, finding a place between my thighs as he stood in the “V” of my sitting stance. I fought the urge to squeeze my thighs around him as his fingertips trailed along my nape, massaging the soft, sparse hair there.

  His taste was strong—sweet and almost smoky. I should have known he would be. Because Ethan was a walking wildfire, and everything about him set a blaze on my skin. Abruptly, his lips abandoned ship, taking a detour towards my brow, my forehead, my earlobe. He sucked the edge of the lobe between his teeth, and when he pulled back, I shuddered, my nipples hardening to sensitive peaks that stretched against my sports bra and shirt.

  In nothing but a tank and shorts, I suddenly felt as if I were too covered by clothes, my body hot and flushed. And when Ethan made his way to my neck to tease his tongue there, the blaze across my extremities only grew. In that moment, I tried to think of anything to stop him—stop me.

  I considered what he’d been doing with Christy “Cocks-A-Lot” behind the bleachers, what they’d been up to. My mind meandered in a million different directions about what could have happened to put that look of guilt on the stupid girl’s face, but when Ethan stepped back, stared into my eyes and spoke, I could barely remember my own name, let alone what I’d been thinking about.

  He glared at me in wonder. His voice was a whisper. “Christ. What the fuck is this…?”

  I shook my head. I knew what he was trying—unsuccessfully—to say… but what that “it” was, that feeling that was sucker-punching me in the pit of my stomach, I also didn’t know. All I knew was that I didn’t want it to stop. And from the firm, hard length of him rubbing along the insides of my thighs, it was clear that Ethan didn’t want it to, either. Wrapping my fingers around his shirtfront, bolder than I’d ever been at the thought of how much he wanted me, I brought him back into the triangle of my thighs, turning my mouth to touch his until a door slammed shut less than fifty feet away.

  The word “Ethan” made its way across the hall and into the kitchen and before the person behind it could make it inside as well, I jumped down from the counter, brushing past him. I made a beeline for the door before he could grab me, brandishing the key to the Corvette. I didn’t even care that the car wasn’t mine. Hopping into the front seat, I turned the ignition, leaving the hou
se in the dusk to the tune of my own name being shouted in the taillights. I didn’t care. I was out of there, adding yet another list of crimes to my now lengthening rap sheet.

  Grand Theft Auto… and falling for the wrong fucking boy.

  Gone with the Wind

  Time is not a thing that passes ... it's a sea on which you float.

  - Margaret Atwood

  RISKE

  She was gone. Vanished into thin air.

  I couldn’t concentrate for days. Couldn’t think. Couldn’t write. I could barely compose an e-mail without my thoughts drifting, and when I did, my fingers followed their own mind, writing each question I had on the page.

  Who was she? Where did she go? Why did she feel so familiar to me?

  I couldn’t get her out of my head.

  It wasn't until later, after I'd run back into the blaze, that I'd thought about the beautiful face in the fire, her delicate hitched breaths... the way her soft skin felt against mine.

  And I felt like the biggest fucking tool.

  She was in trouble, that was all.

  Here I was, using every waking minute to think about the woman in the fire, when I should have been thinking about my next business move--a move that would put me on path to taking the southern travel literature scene by storm. My leg shook under the desk as I pondered the many possibilities.

  I called in my assistant, David, watching him squirm on the other side of the room before speaking.

  “It’s all set, Mr. Foxx. Hotel, tux, transportation---everything. You’re all set for the Literature Today summit. I asked for the Escalade, but all they had left was the CLK Viper coupe.” His gaze dropped. “And it’s four cylinders, not six cylinders like you normally like…”

  I nodded. Truthfully, I’d only heard half of what the newbie was saying, but it didn’t matter. I’d be at the Literature Today Summit come Hell or high water. It was the stamp of approval on a conquest that was a long-time coming.

  The acquisition of A Whole New World.

  I should have been ecstatic.

  It was a deal I’d been working on for some time, and it was my duty, my goddamned job to incorporate promising but fledgling businesses under the umbrella of Foxxhole, to add to my father’s legacy… and, more importantly, my own.

  So why did I suddenly feel like shit?

  I tapped my finger on the desk, standing. I turned to look out of the floor-to-ceiling window behind me. Eyes in the distance, one forearm braced against the glass, I overlooked the beautiful bay that lay just beyond it. The waves past the clear wall beckoned to me, and I tried to remember the last time I took a vacation, could feel the ocean spray on my face… fucked without the sake of just fucking.

  When was the last time I enjoyed anything? Had truly wanted anything?

  And was that the reason I was so hung up on the woman from the fire? I’d convinced myself that it was only to check if she was okay, but that was a lie. She’d been perfectly fine when I left her street-side, if not a little over-exerted. Against the adjacent building, she lay, hair over her face, her breathing slow and even as she sunk into the comfort of the woman beside her.

  And I hadn’t seen her since.

  I was forced back into the building—obligated, really. I’d make the same choice if given the chance, but the fact remained…

  Something in me, something untapped and inexplicable, wanted to make the angel in the blaze mine. If only for a cup of coffee… or a night. I felt something—something strong and overwhelming with the ethereal-looking woman. And I needed to see… needed to know if the spark I felt three nights ago (no pun intended) was just a fluke.

  I paced my office.

  By the time I made it to the file cabinet and back, my assistant David appeared to be in full meltdown mode. He was standing there, sweating. I concentrated my focus back on him, but as soon as he opened his mouth to speak, a quick rapping on my door ripped my attention away.

  I called out “Come in” and Dana, my secretary, strolled through the thick oak door, a smile on her face, and an envelope in her hands.

  I gave David a look and he disappeared just as quickly as he had come in, shooting a small smile at Dana before dashing out of the door. I waved Dana in.

  “I hope you have something good for me, Dana…”

  My secretary blushed. “I do, Mr. Foxx.”

  I grinned. “I mean in the envelope, of course.”

  She nodded once. “Of course, Mr. Foxx. Certainly.”

  "Have you called the hospital again?"

  "Yes, Mr. Foxx."

  "And?"

  "I paid one of the nurses like you asked. Only one woman checked in last night with fire-related issues. And that woman checked out of the hospital, Mr. Foxx. Late Thursday night. They confirmed what you told me, but they wouldn’t give me a name. Refused to, actually. The staff’s lips are airtight."

  I rolled my eyes at the news, knowing that Tampa General wasn’t going to give me more than that. If money wasn’t going to convince the staff, then nothing would…

  At least, it was a lead—the first one I’d had in days. I would find this woman, talk to her… But first, I had a meeting to go to. A meeting that might be the difference between being the best in business… and being forgotten.

  I drove to the coffee shop as fast as my Maserati would take me. And still when I walked in, Griff had me beat. He was already sitting down at a table, leaning back in his button-down shirt and tie, his sleeves rolled up to the elbow. It was clear that he was putting in work. Typical Griff work, at least. He was grinning in the face of some pretty barista, his green eyes twinkling, his game face on as he undoubtedly set up his date for the night. If you could call the types of interactions Griff had with women “dates” at all…

  I approached the table, catching the tail-end of his conversation with her as she spun on her low-laying heels, clutching the edge of her apron in one hand and her phone in the other. Her smile held all kinds of secrets.

  I sat down as Griff whistled low behind her back. He leaned in.

  “You hitting that?”

  “I don’t shit where I eat.”

  “Nobody said anything about shitting. I’m talking about fucking.”

  “When are you ever not? For fuck’s sake—and I mean that literally, let me find a new coffee spot before you ruin this one by banging all the baristas.”

  Griff looked around. “They should be so lucky…” He grinned. “Where’s the prick?”

  “Sears,” I corrected. “And he’s not here yet. And if we want to welcome him the right way on to the company, we might want to find another nickname for him besides ‘The Prick.’ From what I hear, he’s as sensitive as a ball-sack.”

  “Which is interesting… for a man who doesn’t seem to have one. Have you met his old man yet?”

  “Dozens of times. I wouldn’t be doing this deal without him. Fucked up part is… now he knows we need him.” I looked at the front door and straightened. “Now, wipe that shit-eating grin off your face. The Prince and The Prick just walked in.”

  I stood, just as Greg and my other right hand man, Chris, came strolling in. They crossed the length of the small cafe in seconds, with their hands out to shake. Griff’s words still in mind, I almost felt like I could sense the slime in Greg’s handshake, but I shook the sentiment off.

  Greg Sears might have been the devil, but I had just made a deal with him. I didn’t want to think about what that made me.

  I faked a small smile at seeing the corporate climber in front of me. I motioned towards the chair. “Have a seat, Greg—Chris. You look like you’re in a good mood.”

  “The best,” Greg grinned, his smug smile grating on my nerves. “We’ve just come into a bit of booming luck. Turns out A Whole New World is practically on its knees. A recent fire wiped out a huge chunk of its hardware, its records. They’re scrambling to maintain status, but with the costs of rebuilding and repairing, it looks like the company is incapable of fully recovering. Now’s ou
r time to swoop in. Take them out of their misery. Turn them over to a company worth ruling.” He winked. “Yours.”

  I shifted in my seat. “How convenient for you.” I folded my newspaper in two. “I don’t like the sound of taking advantage of a company. If we’re going to buy a company out, let’s do it the traditional way. No shady shit. We’ve got our own problems to deal with. Or have you forgotten about the fire at my own headquarters?” I sliced him in two with a stare, and he squirmed. He pulled at his tie.

  “I haven’t forgotten, sir. It’s just that… Our fire was some freak accident. Theirs looks deliberate. They probably wanted to collect on their insurance policy. Ours was most likely a result of bad wiring… or letting the wrong type of people in the building…”

  I glanced over at Chris. Seemed like someone had been sharing secrets while I was away. I didn’t like letting Sears in on anything he didn’t have to know. The man was coined “The Prick” for a reason… and I didn’t trust him as far as scrawny-ass Chris could throw him. I straightened my cufflinks, staring at Sears.

  “Sam didn’t do this, Greg. He wouldn’t.”

  The slinky man shrugged. “Who could say for sure? I’ve heard that you like to work with the homeless, sometimes offering up a place to bed for the night. But making friends with them? Risking your neck to save them?” I glared at Chris, shooting fire from my eyes. “You could have died. Easy. And with those types of people?” He shook his head. “You never know. Sometimes charity isn’t what they need. Sometimes, it’s a good old kick-in-the-pants, a healthy dose of reality.”

  My stare hardened at him, growing ice-like. “I’m sure you’d know all about that.” I tapped my thumb on the table lightly, feeling the wood beneath my finger. “With your private schools as a kid, your chauffeurs. Tell me: Is that your natural eye color—the green? Or has your money-hunger finally reached max capacity?” I practically hissed the words, staring. I stood up from the table and before Sears could respond, I excused myself, taking my newspaper with me.