Greed (Seven Vices Series Book 1) Read online

  If only Jeri hadn’t meddled, I thought bitterly. But I knew that, truthfully, it wasn’t about that. Sure, Jeri’s twisted words about her relationship with Oliver might have caused an argument. But our real problems had gone deeper than that.

  “You know,” Oliver said suddenly, as we got into the car. “That woman that you saw, the one who was with me at the opening of the Seville? She and I have been friends for a very long time. Ever since we were children.” He paused. “She lives in Europe, so I don’t get to see her very often anymore, which is probably why the press thought she was some new date. Especially since it had been so long since they’d seen me with anyone.”

  Suddenly I was reminded of what Will had said about Oliver mostly having female friends. I blinked over at him. “She wasn’t your date?” I asked.

  “She was, but just as friends,” Oliver said. “She’s always been interested in theater, and I thought she could explain the finer points of the plot to me if I dozed off for half the performance.” He paused. “But there was absolutely nothing going on between us, and there never will be either. She’s like a sister to me.”

  I shook my head, but I couldn’t help smiling.

  “To be honest, I haven’t been with anyone since that night at Le Monde Ensemble’s benefit dinner,” Oliver continued. “Ever since I first met you, I haven’t been able to look at any other woman the same way.”

  I blinked at him, shocked by what I was hearing. That those words were coming out of Oliver’s mouth . . . I never could have imagined them.

  I looked away. “But I’m going to Africa,” I reminded him gently. “We’re probably never going to see one another again.”

  “Then we’d better make the most of one last night together,” Oliver suggested. He didn’t say it in the cocky way that I might have expected. Instead, he sounded uncertain, like he still thought that I might say no. As though it was within my power to deny him.

  Instead, I nodded over at him, not trusting my voice. Oliver put the car in drive.

  The elevator ride up to his penthouse seemed to take forever, but Oliver made good use of the time, pushing me back against the mirrors and kissing me roughly. I groaned as he slid a leg in between mine. I could feel how hard he already was, his dick pressed into the hollow of my hip, and I wanted nothing more than to touch him—but I held back for now, mindful of the fact that we could stop and let on other passengers at any time.

  Oliver didn’t seem to have any such hangups. He pushed his hands up under my shirt, caressing my breasts and pulling me ever closer to him. I shivered at the feeling of his hot palms against my skin, such a contrast to the cold mirror at my back.

  Finally, we reached his floor, and the doors slid open. I gazed around at the place, noting that it was exactly like Oliver had said: it was nice and the furniture clearly had come from some well thought-out catalogue spread . . . but it seemed emotionless and empty, as though it wasn’t a home.

  I shook my head, a small smile playing on my lips. I was already thinking of the changes that he could make. But I wasn’t there to play interior decorator.

  “Do you want a glass of wine?” Oliver asked, suddenly looking curiously nervous.

  “Oliver, what I want is for you to show me to your bedroom,” I said sincerely tired of edging around that for the whole time that I’d known him.

  Oliver grinned at me. “As you wish,” he said, scooping me up into his arms and carrying me down the hallway. In the bedroom, he tossed me carefully onto the bed and then climbed on top of me before I could even react. He began to strip me in earnest, peeling off every article of my clothing until I lay there bare before him. Meanwhile, I had only managed to undo his jeans.

  I laughed. “Come on,” I urged, pushing at his jeans.

  Oliver laughed as well and pulled away for a moment, briskly stripping himself with the same quick efficiency. And for the first time, I got to see him. All of him. My breath hitched as my eyes ran down his body, from his cut biceps, to his beautifully chiseled abs, down to his . . . Oh my. I swallowed audibly and Oliver smiled, looking momentarily shy. I certainly wasn’t disappointed, Oliver Lewin was everything they said and more.

  He covered my body with his naked form. I shivered as skin dragged against skin, as he traced his fingertips along my sides, across my nipples.

  “You’re so beautiful Sophia . . .” he sighed.

  His gentle touches left a trail of goosebumps in their wake, my whole body reacting to the sensation.

  He nudged my legs apart and knelt between them, sliding his fingers into me without any warning or preparation. But I was ready for him, my body desperately craving his proud manhood, which jutted between us, the promise of more. For now, he plied my insides with his digits, making me arch and moan. He really did have a way with his fingers.

  I wrapped my hand around his cock and was rewarded with a full-body jerk, as he pumped his hips so his dick slid through my hand. He muffled a groan against the side of my neck. “Fuck, Sophia,” he swore.

  Slowly, an idea began to form in my mind. I knew I didn’t owe him for what he’d done to me in the car, but it did feel unfair that he had already explored my body so thoroughly when I had barely experienced his. Even when we’d had sex before, he had been the one wholly in charge, and I hadn’t even gotten to see his cock. And now that I’d seen it, all I wanted to do was taste it.

  I pushed at him until he was on his back, and then I kissed my way down his body until I came to his dick. I’d never been one to be so forward, but with Oliver, I felt urges that I’d never had before. I wanted to consume him, and have him consume me.

  Slowly, I took him in my mouth, moving inch by inch, flicking my tongue at the very tip. I could taste precum already leaking lazily from his slit. That, along with the musky scent of him, made me moan as I started to suck at his length. I had Oliver Lewin in bed—in my mouth—and he was completely at my mercy. I used every trick that I knew, pressing my tongue along the underside of his cock, plying my lips against the tender skin of his tip. I grazed my teeth lightly along his skin and was rewarded with a groan with each pass through my lips.

  When I looked up at Oliver, he blinked down at me, looking somewhere between shocked and desirous. After a moment, he seemed to collect himself, catching my arms and pulling me back up his body. He positioned my hips so that I rested over his stiff member, and I slowly dropped myself down onto him.

  I gasped, feeling his bare cock fully inside of me. My eyes fluttered shut. Slowly, I began to move, and the feeling of his thick length shifting inside of me was almost too much. I moaned and fell forwards, clinging to Oliver’s hands for balance.

  He helped me back upright and then used his heels to drive down into the mattress, pushing his manhood deep into my body. His thrusts were quick and sharp, and they resonated through my whole body. I cried out breathlessly, my body tensing, as Oliver continued to pound into me.

  He finally slowed down, letting me catch my breath for a moment and then flipping us around again, so that I was lying on my back beneath him, his cock still inside of me. Slowly, he began to slide his hips back and forth. He leaned forward to nip and bite at my nipples, the exquisite pain making me moan his name. Again, I found myself breathless with sensation, helplessly overcome. I shivered just on the brink of orgasm, but Oliver was teasing me, just stopping short of bringing me there.

  “Oliver please,” I whimpered. My voice sounded rough, as though I’d been screaming.

  Oliver bent down and kissed me, but he didn’t change the rhythm of his movements. He did, however, begin to build up the force behind them, until each slide back into my warm pussy ended with a sharp thrust that had me crying out with pleasure.

  Oliver bit sharply into the side of my neck and I mewled, fingers scrabbling desperately at the sheets, seeking something to anchor me. I found it in the firm strength of his forearms, wrapping my fingers around his wrists and using him for leverage so that I could meet his thrusts.

  We
came at the same time, both with muted cries of pleasure. The sound of Oliver’s guttural groan and the way his eyes rolled back into his head was almost enough to bring me to the brink again. My vision washed white and then dark as a kaleidoscope of sensations burst through me. It was heat and pleasure and slick desire, all bundled into one—alongside all of the mixed and tangled feelings that I had for him. I wanted to be angry with him, for saving something like this for our final night together, when we knew we would never see one another again. I wanted to lie there with him forever, to tell Javier that I wasn’t going to Africa.

  But I had made commitments, and when this night was over, I needed to leave. Oliver and I had had our chance, and nothing had come of it.

  Oliver gave one final thrust and pulled out, falling to the side and rolling onto his back. We both lay there for a moment, trying to catch our breath. Finally, Oliver looked over at me, a crooked grin on his face.

  I couldn’t help grinning back at him, as I rolled closer, putting my head on his chest. I wanted to memorize this moment, the feeling of his body against mine, my curves against his hard planes. The scent of his aftershave—musky and spicy—mixed with the scent of our sex. For a moment, I let myself think of what it would be like if I didn’t have to leave, if we could continue to have these moments, just like this.

  But that was impossible. Even if I stayed, Oliver would get bored with me now that he knew he could have me. He had only ever been interested in the chase. And I only knew how to give my all to my work.

  Oliver gently stroked my hair, reaching out with his other hand to twist his fingers with mine. “What time is your flight?” he asked.

  “11 o’clock tomorrow morning,” I sighed.

  “Then I guess we’d better make the best of the next twelve hours,” Oliver said, a glint in his eye.

  I couldn’t resist.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  The dream was always the same: I sat there on my flight to Africa, watching out the window as the New York City skyline retreated behind me. We rose high up in the air above the water. There were never very many details; it was just this flash of watching the city disappear that stuck with me night after night. All I could think of, every morning upon waking, was how flying dreams were supposed to be such a good thing, but instead, every time I woke up from them, I just couldn’t help thinking about everything that I’d left behind.

  I couldn’t help but remember the vulnerability in Oliver’s voice on that last morning in New York, when he’d asked me to stay. And I still left . . .

  To come here . . .

  I sighed and sat up, disentangling myself from the mosquito net and climbing out of bed. We were off in the backwoods of Central Africa, working on a project of building houses and wells for a small community that had suffered at the hands of one of the neighboring tribes. I knew that the work we were doing was meaningful, but I just couldn’t seem to relate to any of the people in the village—not least of which because only one of them had a very limited grasp of English. The rest couldn’t communicate with us at all beyond hand gestures.

  It wasn’t just my lack of connection with the project that was getting to me, though. In fact, I had a feeling there were other factors in my life that contributed to my inability to make this project mean something to me.

  Things between Javier and I had started out great. But over the course of the month that we’d spent together, I had started to realize that I just wasn’t interested in him, for all that I thought I should be. He was . . . dull, to be honest. Predictable. He cared about helping people, but that was really all that he had to talk about. He didn’t have any other interests or passions; he didn’t have time for hobbies. He went to work and worked all day. When work was done, he might go for a beer. Then he would go back to his tent and go to sleep, and the next morning, he would wake up and do the same thing all over again.

  When you weren’t part of the project that he was working on, I was sure what he had to say was interesting. I had enjoyed hearing about his projects in Central Asia, after all. But now I felt as though I’d heard all the stories a dozen times, and I didn’t need to hear them again.

  I swallowed hard and pulled my hair up into a messy ponytail, getting myself ready for the day.

  “What’s on the agenda for today?” I asked Javier as we moved through the breakfast line.

  Javier pursed his lips, looking unhappy. “Same as yesterday, for you and I. But apparently our new benefactor has decided to come here to check up on our progress.”

  I blinked at him in surprise. “Our new benefactor?” I asked. This was the first I was hearing about that.

  “You know, the guy from the company that bought mine,” Javier said impatiently. “Their CEO or whoever. Apparently itemized lists of what we’re buying and what projects we’re completing aren’t enough for him; he has to come down here and see things for himself.”

  “What’s so bad about that?” I asked, still not understanding what Javier was upset about. “I mean, the guy is pouring quite a bit of money into these projects, isn’t he? And maybe he’s really interested in what we’re doing. Maybe he’ll even want to pitch in a little.”

  Javier scoffed. “Pitch in?” he asked incredulously. “You can’t really believe that some rich guy would want to do that. I mean, he might pretend to pitch in, pose for a couple photos and shake some hands. But any guy with millions of dollars to throw around isn’t going to get his hands dirty building houses with us.”

  I had to assume that Javier was probably right.

  “He probably isn’t even coming here to just inspect the work,” Javier said, lowering his voice. “He’s probably got some high-brow ideas of how we should be doing things. He’ll put us weeks behind schedule with his stupid ideas that he read about in some book, mark my words.”

  I had to hide a smile as we sat down at one of the communal tables to eat.

  To make the situation worse, I still couldn’t stop thinking about Oliver. He was the one constant, relentless, subject of my thoughts, and I couldn’t shake him off. I wondered how he was doing, if he was with some new girl now. I wondered if he sent flowers to her at her office, and if they had been on their second or third date yet.

  I compared the two of them incessantly: Javier and Oliver. Javier was a hard worker, and I still could never imagine Oliver working on a project like this. But Javier was predictable, even when he’d finally made a move on me. Oliver had always kept me guessing, had always kept me interested. I had lied to myself, that final morning when I’d gotten up at dawn to go pick up my suitcases and go to the airport: I’d told myself that all Oliver and I had was physical chemistry—that it was nothing else.

  Still, I knew that old saying, that opposites attract. It had certainly been that way for my parents. I had started to think that maybe it was a good thing that Oliver and I butted heads the way that we did. Maybe that was why I couldn’t seem to get interested in Javier: because we were just too alike.

  Not that I was considering starting anything with Oliver. We might be opposites, but we wanted different things too.

  I now had had time to analyze every conversation, every date that I had ever had with him. I was starting to realize that part of why he frustrated me was because no matter how different his worldview was to mine, I couldn’t help being interested in him, wanting to hear all about his thoughts and beliefs, wanting to find a way to mesh them with mine.

  It was too late to be thinking about things like that, though. I had ruined any chance that I had had with him.

  After breakfast, I walked toward the makeshift bathrooms that we’d built, intending to brush my teeth before getting started with the day. I froze in surprise, shading my eyes to stare up at the helicopter coming in for a landing in the open dirt close to the village. That’s strange, I thought. It wouldn’t be supplies coming in—those came in on trucks that rattled over the unpaved roads. The volunteers came in similar vehicles.

  That meant there were two o
ptions. The first was that this was a medical evacuation helicopter. It wasn’t painted to look like one, but then again we were in the middle of nowhere. As I took a look around the village, everyone else seemed just as surprised, and there was no one bustling towards the makeshift helipad with some injured soul on a stretcher or anything. I should have heard something over the radios if there was a problem.

  The only other option . . .

  My mouth twisted. I thought back to Javier’s disdain for this CEO who thought they could come in and check up on our project, as though they might have any idea what they were doing. If the guy had flown in in a helicopter, he clearly was totally out of his depth.

  And what a stupid, ostentatious display of wealth, I thought, shaking my head. Showing up in a helicopter to a village where people were lucky enough to have clean water.

  I stayed watching for a moment longer as the pilot touched down and the chopper blades spun to a stop. As the passengers hopped out, I went to brush my teeth, subconsciously having decided to turn my back on these newcomers.

  “ . . . and over here we have our bathroom facilities—newly built, with running taps thanks to a rainwater collection pail . . .” Jenna, our site supervisor, was telling the newcomer as I finished up my morning routine. I wondered why she was even bothering to take him on a tour of the village, but I supposed she was probably just trying to keep him happy so that money continued coming in for our project.

  I rolled my eyes—but spat out my mouthwash as I heard the rich guy talk: “Sounds like there have been a lot of changes, even in the last week,” he said approvingly.

  Something about that deep voice, those rounded vowels . . .

  I spun around quickly, gaping at the man dressed in dark blue slacks and a business shirt, rolled up to his elbows. He looked totally out of place in this setting, but he was far too familiar to me.