I roll her over me, rubbing her clit against my skin until she’s mewling like my feral little spitfire. Her pussy grips my cock with a series of tight squeezes that has heat searing in my balls and fire burning my thighs. I hold her still and drive into her, causing water to splash out of the tub in waves.

My climax bursts out of me, and I sink my teeth into her skin as I pump every drop of my release into her wet heat. When she’s teetering on the precipice, I pull her off me and set her on the edge of the tub, spreading her legs so I can feast on her dripping center. The taste of our release coats my tongue, making my heart pound in my chest. “Fuck. We taste so good, corazón.”

“Nate,” she whimpers, threading her fingers in my hair and riding my face. I flick her swollen clit with my tongue, and she comes apart for me, shaking so hard I have to work to hold her in place.

Lying back in the tub, I pull her to straddle me again and slide my tongue into her mouth, letting her taste how good we are together.

“I love dinner with your family.” She lets out a contented sigh. “Can we do this more often?”

I press a soft kiss on her head while tracing my fingertips up and down her spine. She lies on top of me, naked and thoroughly fucked for the second time tonight. “We’ll do it as often as we can, corazón.”

She hums and presses her cheek into my chest.

“Now tell me what the deal is between you and your brother.”

She tenses in my arms, but I only hold her tighter. “What do you mean?”

“You’re always on edge around him. You bristle when he comes near you. Do I need to kill him?”

She pokes me in the ribs. “No!”

I give her another tender kiss. “So tell me.”

She wriggles. “He’s just not a nice guy.”

“Yeah, I’m going to need more than that, Spitfire.”

She lifts her head and stares into my eyes. “You really want to know?”

I arch an eyebrow at her. “You think I would’ve endured that awful movie about cheerleaders if I didn’t want to talk to you after?”

She presses her lips together like she’s trying not to laugh and then rests her head back on my chest. “He was always a bit of an asshole, but I never saw him much when I was a kid. He was always out with his friends. Then after Dad was killed—” She sucks in a shaky breath. “He said it was my fault. No, he convinced me it was my fault.”

Anger vibrates through my entire body. “He did what?”

She shifts, and I allow her to roll onto her side and turn to face her. “We were all supposed to be at the beach that weekend, but my best friend Hayley was having a pool party for her thirteenth birthday. I begged and pleaded to stay home so I could go, but my mom said no. I threw an almighty tantrum.” A tear leaks from the corner of her eye. “And Dad said I didn’t deserve to go to the beach or the party, so we both stayed home. But the next day, Dad let me go to the party. I realized he scolded me for show and had always been on my side about the party thing. I swear he was always so understanding of teenage girl drama.” A sad smile flickers over her face. “But if we had been at the beach like we were supposed to be, he never would have been home when those men tried to rob us. He’d still be alive.”

I wipe the tears from her cheeks with my thumbs and cradle her face in my hands. “Jesus, Mel. You must know that doesn’t make it your fault.”

She sniffs. “But if I hadn’t acted like a spoiled brat—”

Jesus. I could murder that prick with my bare hands for making her carry this guilt around all these years. “You were thirteen years old. Acting out is what you’re supposed to do.”

“I know that, but … I don’t know, Bryce made me believe it, you know? He’s used it against me my whole life. And the truth is if it wasn’t for me … If we’d all gone along with Bryce’s plan to go to the beach that weekend, my dad wouldn’t be dead.”

A spark of suspicion ignites. “It was his idea to go?”

“Yeah, he was so mad when Dad decided to stay home with me. He even tried to convince me to tell him that I changed my mind, but I was desperate to go to that party.”

I band my arms around her and pull her closer. “And today?”

“He was just his usual asshole self. I doubt he could go a whole day without saying something cruel to me.”

“Would you like me to have a word with him?” And by a word, I mean I’ll break his jaw.

“God, no. Please don’t. I’m fine, and I won’t be seeing him for a while. I’d much rather spend time with your family.”

“Your family too now, Spitfire.”

She smiles, and Jesus fuck, it melts me. She calls me Ice, but all I feel is fire in my veins when I’m with her.

Chapter

Twenty-Nine

NATHAN

Ihead for the office at the back of the Emerald Shamrock nightclub, looking for Shane Ryan, one of the four brothers who owns the club. He also happens to be one of my best clients.

He’s perched on the edge of his desk, and he eyes me over the rim of his coffee mug when I step inside his office and take a seat. He places the mug down and jerks his head toward the coffee machine behind him. “You want one?”

I shake my head. “I’m good, thanks.”

He sits behind his desk and leans forward, his hands clasped on the table in front of him. His huge biceps strain the fabric pulled taut over his arms, and I instinctively rub my jaw, recalling how he almost knocked me on my ass the last time I saw him. I’ve been on the receiving end of this man’s right hook many times, just like he has mine.

“Haven’t seen you at the gym for weeks, buddy.” He arches an eyebrow at me. “Did I kick your ass a little too hard last time?”

I run my tongue over my teeth. “You fucking wish.”

He laughs. “Congratulations on the wedding, by the way. That was … unexpected.”

I shrug. “What can I say, I’m a hopeless romantic at heart.”

That makes him laugh harder. “Yeah, right. You should bring her to the club sometime. Jessie would love to meet her.” Jessie is his wife, and she’s the reason I’m here.

I narrow my eyes. “And which club are you talking about?”

He smirks. “Whichever one you prefer, buddy.”

As well as owning the Emerald Shamrock, the most exclusive nightclub in New York, Shane and his brothers also own a private members-only club. Some would call it a sex club, but it’s much more sophisticated than that. “Maybe. We’ll see.”

“Well, let one of us know if you need a booth reserved.”

An image of me fucking Mel in one of the private booths at The Peacock Club burns itself into my brain, and I shake my head to clear it. I never used to be distracted this easily.

Shane smirks at me. “Enough pleasure. I assume you’re here to discuss business?”