Page 39 of Birthright (Sinners of New Orleans #4)

THIRTY-EIGHT

Sam

Roman

Olivia’s ex is at the bar.

I'm down the street from Gino’s when my phone dings with a text from Roman. My blood boils for reasons I'm not quite sure of. Or maybe I just don't want to inspect why it bothers me to know that Olivia's ex is at her bar.

I didn't even know she had an ex.

The bell above the door chimes as I enter.

I find Olivia standing behind the bar, Roman on the other side, and right in front of her is the man I assume to be her ex.

Her blue eyes flash to mine when she hears me enter.

Something akin to relief flickers across her features, and then it’s quickly replaced with worry.

"You need to leave," she says to her ex.

I study the man she's talking to. He's only a few inches taller than her, with blond hair styled atop his head.

He's dressed for business, wearing pressed slacks and a button-up, but it's not my kind of business.

He looks like he's ready to sit in a very boring meeting, or within the walls of a gray cubicle while he taps away on an ergonomic keyboard.

What did she ever see in a guy like him?

"I'm not leaving until you agree to dinner," he says, leaning on the bar in front of her. Olivia takes a step back, putting distance between them, the bar acting like a barrier.

The way he leans into her space makes my jaw clench. Roman catches my eye with a subtle nod, confirming this is the situation he texted about.

"Is there a problem here?" I ask, striding up to the bar. My eyes flash to Olivia, watching her throat as she swallows. She seems nervous, and I wonder if it's because of him or me. "Are you okay?" I ask her.

She nods. "I'm fine."

"Listen." The ex, whose name I have no idea, turns to me with one hand lifted in a defensive back off posture. "I don't know who you two are, but this is a private conversation. So if you could…" He waves his hand, telling us to move away.

The nerve on this guy.

Beside me, Roman chuckles, probably because he knows this asshole just made a huge mistake.

I feel the edges of my lips twist up into a grin that I can only imagine is menacing, by the way the loser's face immediately changes. "You listen," I begin, my voice low and deep. "She asked you to leave. And unless you want to find out exactly who I am, I would listen to her. Capisce?"

He frowns, but there’s a hint of fear lingering in his eyes as he puts the pieces together. Slowly, he turns to Olivia. "You sure you want me to leave you with him?"

Before she has a chance to respond, I do it for her. "She's sure."

The man backs up, hands lifted. He spares one last glance at Olivia. "You have my number. Call me when you're ready."

"She won't," I snip, watching happily as he backs out of the bar, the chime overhead ringing as he leaves.

I take Olivia home myself, giving Roman the night off. Since the Serpents showed up at her bar, I've had extra men on both her and the house. I can't shake the need to protect her at all costs.

My chef makes us dinner, and we sit together at the dining room table, eating as if this is something we do every night. Like we're a normal couple.

I think I like it.

The idea of this being our new normal flashes through my mind, and I enjoy the images of us together, sharing stories about our days.

I've never imagined myself having something like that. A wife. A life.

And now I can't shake the thought.

But I also can't shake the knowledge that she has an ex she's never told me about. A little voice in my head counters that she doesn’t owe me that insight. It's not like this started out as a traditional relationship — whatever that means. But she hasn’t brought it up.

Is that why she came to New Orleans? Was she running from him?

He called her his fiancée. I grind my teeth at the recollection.

She's not his anything.

"Who is he?" I finally ask, holding my annoyance on a tight leash.

Olivia swallows her bite of pasta, setting her fork down gently. She looks up at me with shining blue eyes.

"He's no one."

"That's a lie."

"Just someone from my past."

"So not no one?" Frustration simmers under my words.

I stare at Olivia, waiting for a real answer. Her eyes dart away from mine, fingers fidgeting with her napkin. The silence stretches between us.

"Fine. His name is Rhett. We dated for three years in Montreal."

"Three years isn't just 'someone from your past,' Olivia." My voice comes out harder than intended. "He called you his fiancée."

She sighs, pushing her plate away. "Ex-fiancée. We were engaged for six months before I ended it."

"Why didn't you tell me about him?"

"Because it doesn't matter." Her eyes flash with defiance. "It was over long before I met you."

"Clearly not to him." I lean forward, my forearms on the table. "He flew all the way to New Orleans to find you."

"I didn't ask him to."

"Why did you end it?"

Olivia crosses her arms. "That's my business."

"It became my business when he showed up at your bar." I feel my control slipping. "Did you love him?"

"I thought I did." That hits me like a punch. "But it wasn't real."

I study her face, trying to read the emotions flickering behind her eyes. There's something more, something painful she's holding back.

"Tell me about him," I say, my voice softer now. "All of it."

Olivia takes a deep breath, her shoulders rising and falling.

"My stepfather introduced us. They work together.

My mother was thrilled; he was everything she wanted for me.

A fancy corporate job, came from a good family.

" Her fingers trace invisible patterns on the tablecloth.

"On paper, we were perfect. The happy couple everyone envied. "

The bitterness in her voice makes me tense.

"My mother was so happy. After everything with my father, seeing me with someone 'stable' gave her peace.

So I stayed." She looks up at me, her eyes suddenly hardening.

"But he never loved me, Sam. Just the idea of me.

The perfect fiancée he could show off at parties, the arm candy for business dinners. "

My hands curl into fists under the table.

"Behind closed doors?" She laughs, but there's no humor in it. "He was cruel. Cold. Made me feel worthless in a hundred small ways. And he cheated constantly. With anyone who'd open their legs for him."

The rage building inside me is immediate and visceral. I want to find this man and tear him apart.

"Why did he come here?" I ask, fighting to keep my voice level.

"Because I embarrassed him by leaving." Her voice is steady now, stronger. "I was supposed to be his perfect trophy wife. When I walked away, it made him look bad. And Rhett can't stand looking bad."

I reach across the table, covering her hand with mine. Her skin is cool beneath my palm.

"If he comes near you again?—"

"Are you jealous?"

"Am I jealous?" I lean back in my chair, studying her face. "I wouldn't call it jealousy. Protective, maybe. I take care of what's mine, Olivia."

She eyes me skeptically for a moment, watching me intensely. I wonder what she sees…a jealous bastard who wants to kill her ex for ever touching her. For thinking he has the right to show up now and demand she go out with him. My fists clench at the thought.

"You keep saying I'm yours, but then you push me away. What is this ? "

"Olivia. I?—"

She crinkles her napkin and tosses it on the table, standing up swiftly. "You can't have it both ways. You can't act like a jealous boyfriend, and then pretend there's nothing between us."

"There is something between us," I rush to say, standing up and moving toward her.

"What?" She crosses her arms. "What exactly is between us, Sam? Because you run hot and cold. One minute, you're inside me, and the next, you're pushing me away."

I run a hand through my hair, frustration building in my chest. "It's complicated."

"No, it's not." She moves closer, close enough that I can smell her perfume. "Either you want me, or you don't. Either you're jealous because you care, or you're just territorial about your possessions. Which is it?"

"Of course I fucking care." My voice rises as the dam finally breaks. "You think I'd risk everything to keep you safe if I didn't? You think I'd lie awake at night worrying about you if this was just about sex?"

Her eyes widen as her breath catches.

I step forward, eliminating the space between us. "Fine. I'm jealous. I hated seeing him look at you like he had any right to. I hated hearing him call you his anything."

My hands find her waist, pulling her against me. "Because you're not his. You're mine. And I'm yours."

I watch the fire in Olivia's eyes, her chest rising and falling faster with each breath. The confession hangs between us, raw and undeniable. She's mine. I'm hers. The simplicity of it hits me like a freight train.

"Show me," she whispers, her voice barely audible.

Something snaps inside me. I sweep my arm across the table, sending plates and glasses crashing to the floor. The sound of shattering crystal barely registers — only her gasp — as I lift her onto the cleared surface, my hands gripping her waist.

"I'm going to taste every inch of you," I growl, pushing her back until she's lying before me like a feast.

I capture her mouth in a bruising kiss, pouring every ounce of possession and need into it. Her lips part beneath mine, a soft moan escaping her throat as I trail kisses down her neck. My hands work quickly, unbuttoning her blouse and pushing it open to reveal the lace beneath.

"Beautiful," I murmur against her skin, my fingers tracing the curve of her breast.

I push her skirt up around her waist, hooking my fingers into her panties and dragging them down her legs. She lifts her hips to help me, her eyes never leaving mine.

"Sam," she breathes, reaching for me.

I catch her wrists and pin them gently above her head. "Not yet. First, I want to taste you."

I drop to my knees between her legs, spreading her thighs wider. The sight of her laid out before me, flushed and wanting, nearly undoes me. As I press my lips to her inner thigh, she trembles beneath my touch.

"I'm going to make you forget every man who came before me," I promise, moving higher with each kiss.

Just as my mouth reaches the center of her, a shrill ringing cuts through the air. Her phone vibrates on the edge of the table where it had escaped my earlier sweep.

She reaches for the device, blue eyes scanning over the caller ID. I can see the moment her face twists, and she silences the phone, flipping it upside down on the table.

"Who was that?" I ask. I want to know, need to know who made her face twist in annoyance like that.

"No one." She reaches for my face, her palm brushing against my cheek. "Please, I need you."

"Olivia—" The phone begins its vibration again, cutting off my words.

She peeks at the caller ID, and then quickly silences it again.

Now I'm becoming annoyed.

"Olivia, who the fuck is calling you?—"

Again, the phone vibrates. This time, I reach over her, snatching it out of her hand with a growl.

My jaw clenches when I see the name on the screen. Rhett .

"Sam, don't—" Olivia reaches for the phone, but I step back, holding it out of her reach.

My thumb slides across the screen, accepting the call. I put it on speaker.

"Olivia? Finally. We need to talk about?—"

"Olivia's busy," I cut in, my voice like ice.

There's a pause on the other end of the line. I can almost picture this corporate prick's face going pale.

"I want to speak to my fiancée," he says, trying to sound authoritative.

I laugh, but it’s dangerous. "Ex-fiancée. And right now, she's spread out on my dining table, waiting for me to finish what we started."

Olivia's eyes widen, a flush pinkening her cheeks. I hold her gaze as I continue.

"She's mine now. Every. Inch. Of. Her." I emphasize each word, watching Olivia's pupils dilate. "And I'm about to remind her exactly who she belongs to."

"You son of a?—"

I ignore him, setting the phone down beside Olivia's hip as I drop back to my knees between her legs. Her breath catches as I press a kiss on her inner thigh.

"Sam," she whispers, half warning, half plea.

I grin against her skin, then drag my tongue slowly through her folds. She gasps, her back arching off the table.

"Let your ex hear who you belong to, Olivia."

"What's happening? Olivia?" Rhett's voice comes through the speaker, confused and angry.

I circle her clit with my tongue, feeling her thighs tremble on either side of my head. Her fingers tangle in my hair, pulling me closer as she moans loud enough for Rhett to hear.

I focus completely on Olivia, her taste flooding my senses as I worship her with my mouth. Her thighs quiver against my cheeks, her fingers tightening in my hair as I circle her clit with my tongue. I glance up, watching her face contort with pleasure, her back arching off the table.

"Sam," she moans, still loud enough for Rhett to hear every delicious sound she makes.

I slip two fingers inside her, curling them upward as I suck her clit between my lips. Her hips buck against my face, chasing the sensation.

"That's it," I growl against her. "Show him who makes you feel this good."

She whimpers, her body tensing as I increase my pace. I can feel her getting close, her walls tightening around my fingers.

"Please," she gasps, her head thrashing from side to side. "Don't stop."

I have no intention of stopping. I work her relentlessly, my fingers pumping into her as my tongue flicks rapidly over her sensitive bud. Her moans grow louder, more desperate, filling the room and undoubtedly carrying through the phone.

"Come for me, Olivia," I command against her slick flesh. "Let him hear you come on my tongue."

Her body obeys, seizing beneath me as she cries out my name. With her back arching off the table, her thighs clamp around my head as pleasure rips through her. I don't let up, drawing out her orgasm until she's trembling and pushing weakly at my shoulders.

From the phone, I hear Rhett hiss out a curse before the line goes dead.

I rise to my feet, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand as I look down at Olivia. She's breathtaking — flushed, panting, her hair spread out across the table like a dark halo.

"You're mine," I tell her, my voice rough with desire. "And I'm yours. No one else gets to touch you, to taste you, to hear you come apart like that."

I lean down, capturing her lips in a fierce kiss, letting her taste herself on my tongue.

"Mine," I whisper against her mouth.