Page 14

THIRTEEN

HIS

NICOLETTE

A s I hurry into the kitchen to retrieve plates, utensils, and napkins, my head is spinning from what he said. I’m your lover now … does that mean this wasn’t a one-night stand? He’s obviously jealous over the other guys I’ve been with before… but why?

More importantly, what happens now?

I don’t know, and instead of asking, I purposely steer the conversation into a different direction.

“How’s your arm?”

Royce glances down at it. He bends his elbow, showing off the swell of his bicep as he gives it a once-over. Is the flexing on purpose? I can’t imagine why it would be. After last night, he has to know that I find him attractive. If Britney can be believed, I’m not the only one, either.

He’s jealous over my previous lovers. Me? I want to shut down when I think about Royce’s. Maybe he’s right. Maybe it’s better for both of us if we keep what’s happening between us between us until we figure it out.

He’s still standing by the table, moving aside so I can place the plates, forks, knives, and napkins down.

“Arm’s fine,” he says. “You got a good swing on you, but I’ll be alright. And now that I know you’re worried about someone sneaking around your house, I’ll make sure to ring the doorbell next time I stay over.”

I fiddle with the hem of my sweater. Like Royce, I haven’t taken a seat yet. “So… that means there will be a next time?”

Royce’s jaw tightens, his easy humor taking a back seat as he looks me up and down. “Yes. There will.” His blue eyes flash, daring me to tell him he’s wrong. When I don’t, he says, “You started something with me last night, Nicolette. I’m not about to walk away from it.”

“If this is about that stupid bet?—”

“The bet only made it so that you’d get used to me. It was never about one night. I need you to understand that, yeah? Sinners play to win. If you ask me, I got my prize last night all right, but it wasn’t you inviting me to stay over. It was you finally figuring out that you’re mine.”

What? “I… I am?”

“You are. You have been. I was just waiting for you to realize that.”

“Royce, I?—”

“Breakfast’s getting cold.”

Breakfast can wait. “We need to talk about this. If you honestly think that we can turn last night into a… a relationship or something, then… we have to talk.”

Royce crosses his arms over his chest. He’d look a little more intimidating with that pose if it wasn’t for the apron, and I wonder if that was another reason he put it on. Kinda hard to be afraid of a mafia man in neon pink.

A half-smile tugs on his lips. “I’ve said what I wanted to say. I’ve considered you mine since the moment you walked into the Playground. I kept my distance since I didn’t think it would be appropriate to use my position of power to convince you to be with me, but I’ll remind you, Nic… you came on to me last night. As far as I’m concerned, I didn’t make you do anything. And if you decide to fuck me because I run the Playground? I’m good with being used, so don’t worry about that.”

“It’s not that,” I begin.

“You sure? You’re not trying to take back last night because I’m your boss?”

Okay. Maybe it is that.

He’s got one thing wrong, though. “Last night… I didn’t go after you because of what you are. My boss, I mean.”

That was actually one of the reasons I stayed away. Like Royce, I was sure that it would be inappropriate if I went after him, especially when all of the other staff at the Playground made it clear that he never mixed business with pleasure.

Then there was the fact that he’s second-in-command to the leader of the Sinners Syndicate. After all those years with Kieran, I almost imagined each of the West Side gangsters to have literal devil horns and tails rather than just the brands on their skin.

But while Royce might have a devil’s tattoo on the side of his chest, the man I’m getting to know is nothing like what I expected—and more than I could ever hope to have.

Which is probably why I’m having such a hard time believing he could ever want me …

As though Royce has no idea how much I’m struggling right now—or maybe he does— he shows he has another one of my favorite personality traits: a good sense of humor.

Smiling down at me, he waggles his eyebrows. “Let me guess: you seduced me because of my good looks, but you just got super fucking lucky when you pulled out my amazing cock?”

I can’t help myself. I laugh again. “Don’t forget you’re so very humble.”

Royce snorts. “Fuck being humble. I know what I can offer a woman. When I decided to make one mine… you won’t want any others. And you, Nicolette, are mine. So I suggest you get over your hang-up about me being your boss since it doesn’t matter, eat your breakfast, then let me eat mine.”

The way his pretty blue eyes dart to the crotch of my sweatpants makes it obvious what he’s referring to. And while sex was amazing last night—and I’d be lying if I said I’m not insanely attracted to Royce—I still can’t get over the fact that he wants me.

When I stay quiet, he obviously thinks that I haven’t gotten over that one particular hang-up about him being my boss.

Royce slips his hands into his pants pockets. Honestly, I’m immediately distracted by the way his chest moves, muscles in his forearms flexing as he digs deep, fingers moving around as though searching for something. In the morning light streaming in through the kitchen window, I can just make out a few blond hairs dusting the space between his nipples.

I kissed him there last night. Pressed my open mouth against his pale pink nipple and fell asleep with my cheek nestled against the front of his shoulder. He’s wearing my mom’s apron instead of searching for his shirt, and seeing him standing over a frying pan full of burnt bacon, I realize I’m suddenly very hungry after all—just not for food.

A lump lodges in my throat. I swallow it as Royce jerks his chin at me.

“Hey. Listen… if it makes you feel better, let’s flip for it. Heads, I fire you. Tails, you stay at the Playground and I couldn’t give a fuck what anyone says. I won you, Nic, and I took you. But, you know, we can leave it to chance and blame that.” He lifts his eyebrows, humor—and a dare—written in his baby blues. “Unless you have a preference.”

He’s still too much of a gorgeous distraction. That look on his face makes it hard for me to think right now, and he said something about firing me, and now I’m inwardly panicking. He won me. For a night, at least, and I figured things would go back to normal after that… but I fucked my boss.

How in the world could they ever be normal again?

I don’t know, but the most I can get out in answer is, “I like my job?—”

Before I can finish, he pulls out his right hand. A shiny coin—quarter, I think—is clutched between two of his wicked fingers. A practiced flip, an arc about three feet into the air, and then?—

“Tails.”

Huh. I’m distracted, but that’s pretty fucking convenient. “Can I see that?”

Royce winks, tossing the coin my way. I fumble the catch, recovering before it hits the kitchen tile. It is a quarter, and I’m looking at the eagle. Turning it over, I’m not even a little surprised to see another eagle.

I meet the amusement that replaced the dare in his expression. “You rigged the toss?”

He shrugs, making the apron bunch up around the midsection. “You like your job.”

“Is that what you do? Cheat?” I mean for it to be a tease, but suddenly I’m thinking about the other night at the Playground. “Is that how you beat Miles?”

“I don’t need to cheat to beat a bogus gambler like that. Fucking moron has a tell he’s too dumb to realize. But that doesn’t mean I won’t tip the odds in my favor from time to time.”

“Oh. Okay.” I reach out my hand, offering him his quarter. “Then you’ll probably want this back.”

He takes it, then quickly wraps his fingers around my wrist. “That’s not all I want.”

A gentle yet forceful tug and, suddenly, I’m pressed up against that silly apron as he drops his forehead down to mine.

Our mouths are barely an inch apart as he breathes out, “Don’t think I didn’t notice you trying to get out of kissing me good morning, Nic. I’ll take that now if you don’t mind.”

My cheeks heat up. I didn’t want him to notice that—or think I was rejecting him—but he’s not wrong. I did try my best to avoid his kiss before.

Swallowing roughly, I admit, “I didn’t brush my teeth yet.”

“And?”

“You know. Morning breath.”

Royce snorts. The rush of air is warm on my face as he drops his mouth to mine. Against my lips, he murmurs, “Oh, baby, didn’t you get the hint last night? You’re perfect to me. There isn’t anything about you that doesn’t turn me on.”

Really?

Wrapping my arms around his lower back, mimicking the way he’s done the same to me, I blow out a small puff of breath. “Even that?”

He chuckles. “Even that,” he promises, and to prove it, he slants his mouth over mine, turning a simple good morning peck into a kiss so deep, I forget any of my nerves, my insecurities, and my fears because, when Royce McIntyre has me wrapped up in his embrace, I don’t fucking have any.

Breakfast is icy-cold, definitely burnt, and a little rubbery by the time we eventually get to it—but believe me when I say I’ve never had a better meal.

Or better company.