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Before I could slip my other hand into my pussy, he caught my wrist, dragging it to his mouth. I was wet enough that I didn’t need the extra help, but watching him suck my fingers, the feel of his warm mouth around them, had me rubbing circles around my clit faster.
He pulled my fingers free of his mouth and slid them into my pussy, making sure the only part of me he touched was my hand. “I want to hear how wet you are when you come.”
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
Cool blue eyes scorched me like nothing else could, and I shivered. Nate slid his hand around my other hip, pressing me against the wall just enough to keep me stable while we touched ourselves.
I writhed against him, hips chasing everything I had to give, but I was careful not to touch Nate any more than we were. It would’ve been so easy to press my pussy to his lips, to make him give me what I wanted. He would have done it happily; I knew that for a fact, but he wanted to play the game, and I wanted that too. I wanted to tease him with something he couldn’t have. Not yet.
Plus, I liked torturing myself.
I was hooked on the way Nate stroked his cock, the way he watched as my breathing quickened with every plunge of my fingers and how his followed soon after. Despite how little we touched, we were more connected than I’d ever been with someone else besides Greyson. Coming didn’t feel like just a possibility; it was inevitable.
“You’re so close,” he murmured in an awe-soaked voice. “Show me how you come, angel.”
A few more seconds and I was there, riding my own fingers through the high. I hissed Nate’s name, and he stroked faster until he was coming with mine on his lips as well, but not even his come touched me. It made it that much hotter.
When we were both finished, breathing slowly again, Nate stood and turned off the shower, reaching for a towel to wrap me in. When I tried to take it from him, he growled under his breath and snatched it back, carefully drying off every inch of my skin. For someone who hadn’t fucked me, he was more comfortable with my body than I expected. Then he shucked his shorts and wrapped a towel around his waist. I didn’t know if I could handle a conversation with him naked in my bedroom, but I vowed to try.
Neither of us spoke as he wrapped my hand in his, led me into my closet, and disappeared back out the door. Thinking he’d left made my chest ache, and I hated it instantly, even knowing he’d have to come back. Hated that, already, I could feel myself getting more attached to him.
It was only when I was dressed again and saw him lounging in my chair in nothing but a towel that I relaxed.
“What’re you doing?”
“We need to talk.” It was obvious he wasn’t looking forward to our conversation, but he’d resigned himself to it.
“We do.”
I let him prepare himself. Whatever he had to say wasn’t something he was proud of—anyone could tell as much—I wasn’t going to make things worse by pestering him. I needed him to tell me the truth.
“What do you want to know?” he finally asked.
“Tell me about the Osorios.” He hesitated, and I knew the time for pussyfooting around the truth was gone. “If you have ties with the cartel, you can’t be here, Nate. Family or not, I don’t trust them, and that means I can’t trust you.”
For a moment, he just stared off into space, and I wondered if this was it. If I’d have to kick him out for good. Truthfully, I didn’t know if I could do it. Finally, he blew out a long breath. “I do have ties with them, but not like you’re thinking. I worked for them.”
“The Osorios.”
“In a roundabout way, yes.” Frustration swamped me, and I tried not to swear. This conversation would take forever if he kept trickle-truthing me. I didn’t want this to be painful for either of us, but my people were counting on me keeping shit together. That meant knowing who we’d let into our house.
“I wasn’t actually in the Army my whole tenure.” He said it so pointedly that it made my stomach sink. He was owning up to a lie already. What else would he admit by the time we were done?
I tried to stay calm and think through it. I’d read his military file and been impressed. They gave him incredible commendations, some of the best I’d ever seen, and we’d verified each and every one. Had he earned them, or had the government done it to hide his real job?
As soon as I thought about it, I knew. Then I really did swear. “Holy fuck. You went merc?”
If he was a former mercenary, it explained a lot. His skills were better than expected. Grey had taken him to the shooting range before they’d hit the gym and was blown away. Nate had nailed every shot asked of him without fail.
Nate laughed under his breath. “I can’t believe I’m surprised you know about us. You know everything.”
I didn’t, but I wished I did, especially now.
Mercenaries were people even Mario wouldn’t mess with. If they came through your city, you let them pass without issue. If they had to hunt on your territory, typically, they gave you a warning. But even if they wouldn’t, who gave a shit? You didn’t fuck with the people who could climb in your window and slit your throat.
Even mafia bosses had boogeymen, and the mercenaries were ours.
Looking at Nate, I couldn’t see it. There was something about the way he was with me that made it feel impossible, even though my gut was screaming that it was true. That was emotion, though. When I considered things logically, it made sense, and as that sank in, the paranoia came roaring in with it.
