Exquisite Betrayal Read online

  When he spins me around, those green eyes of his consume me and I want to tear his clothes off right then and there. I can feel the strength of his arms as he pulls me close. His touch sends fire scorching across my back that dives straight between my legs. My panties become damp. Shit, that’s never happened to me before. I can’t stop staring at his mouth, those full lips that I’m dying to suck, because I know any second now, he’s gonna let me go and walk away. This time turns out different, though.

  I’m suddenly tasting whiskey and peppermint as his tongue plunges into my mouth. And, hot damn, it’s a heady combination. Not a bit of my mouth escapes untouched, either. I never knew a kiss until Ryland. My arms don’t creep, they don’t inch, they suddenly latch around his neck like it’s a lifeline and I’m drowning. In a sense, I am. I’m immersed in him… in his lips and tongue as they move, suck and kiss me as though he means it. He’s not playing nice; he’s pulling out all stops here.

  I clench him to me and my hands are in his hair, tangled in dark blond waves of thickness. When the music stops, I only know it because he breaks off the kiss. We’re still wound together like twines of a rope as he whispers to me, “I think we need to move away from here. We’ve drawn a bit of attention to ourselves.”

  “Huh?” I couldn’t care less, but I look up to see dozens of eyes on us.

  He threads his fingers through mine and then we head to the back bar where he orders us up another round. I can’t speak, I’m still blown away. He is so fuckable that he has me tied up in knots; my body on the verge of imploding with the sensations I’m experiencing. My vision is distorted by his extraordinary sexiness. Every nerve ending screams for his touch while the hollows of his cheeks beg for my lips to kiss them. His eyes are like magic the way they tunnel straight into my soul.

  My heart thrums and electricity shoots through me as he plays with my wrist by skimming his fingers back and forth. I shiver. His hands could have me on my knees, begging, in seconds if he only knew.

  “Cold?” He hands me my shot and my drink.

  I shake my head and thank him.

  “You’re beautiful. Almost unbelievable.”

  His words are unexpected and I nearly choke on my shot.

  “You’re surprised.”

  It’s not a question but a statement. I nod. My dorkiness emerges and I can’t speak due to the burn of the tequila. What I want to do is scream, however then I’d really look like a moron.

  “You okay, love? Your face is quite red.”

  “Yes.” It comes out as a hiss and he starts laughing.

  “Tequila a bit rough then?”

  I nod and he laughs again as he pats my back.

  “Whew,” I’m finally able to get out. I down quite a bit of my vodka drink, beginning to feel the effects of the liquor as my buzz kicks in.

  “So, where’d you learn to kiss like that?”

  The question catches me off guard, so I throw it back. “From you.”

  Green eyes widen and then he lets loose a good belly laugh. “Then I must be a bloody good teacher.”

  “Or a good leader and I’m a good follower.”

  His eyes darken and those thin, golden striations brighten as he stares at me. My fists are clenched because it’s taking that much restraint not to run my hands through his thick, wavy mop of hair, or to slide them under his shirt and feel his muscles tighten beneath my fingers.

  His tongue swipes his lower lip and then he takes it between his upper and lower teeth. That’s exactly what I want to do to it. He reaches for my glass and sets it down. The next thing I know, his hand is wrapped in my hair and I'm tastinghim all over again. His arm hitches me against him and I can feel the hard length of his body from my knees to my chest.

  It’s my most fervent desire to be naked with this man. I would gladly hand my virginity on a platter to him right here, if he’d take it. So, to let him know I’m willing, I press myself into him and melt. I can feel the vibrations of his groan. Oh hell, didn’t that just make me feel good now?

  He pulls away and says, “Little Fallon, you’re a dangerously sexy woman. I could do all sorts of dirty things to you right here.”

  I bite the corner of my lip. “Like what?”

  His knee is nudging my legs apart, not very wide because I have a skirt on, but just enough for his leg to fit between. Then he hikes me against it and we’re dry humping. I freaking moan. Out loud. I end up putting my face against his shirt to muffle the sound, though. Hot damn. His hand on my ass and his leg rubbing me in that spot are going to make me come if he doesn’t stop.

  “You have to stop, Ryland.”

  “Tell me you don’t want me to,” he breathes in my ear, “and then maybe I will.”

  “Oh God, I don’t want you to,” I say.

  He stops, but his mouth claims mine again, like he is the sole owner of the damn thing. And I love it. When he releases me, my knuckles are white as my fingers are gouging into his arms.

  “That’s the kind of dirty I was referring to.”

  “Fuck.” There are no other words that come to mind. When he then throws back his head and laughs, I want him to kiss me instead. I’m shaking with need.

  He hands me my drink and I down it before I look at him, and over his shoulder, I see we’re about to have company. Damn, just when things have heated up too. Talk about bad timing.

  “There you are. We’ve been looking all over for you,” Mandy says.

  “Um, yeah. We’ve just been over here. Everyone this is Ryland.” I hope I don’t sound as breathy as I think I do. Although, they’re all looking at me and giving me the eye, so I guess I do. They all tell Ryland their names as I look on. R.T. merely stands there and grins like she has a huge secret. What’s that all about?

  After the introductions, Amanda orders another round of shooters. This time it’s Redheaded Sluts for everyone. I know she’s sending me a message, so I try my best to shoot daggers at her. I was never good at that, the nice in me overriding everything bad. We down those and I look up to see her hand me another one with a wink. This is going to be very bad indeed.

  My eyes land on Ryland and he’s wearing a lopsided grin. I’m not sure if it’s natural or alcohol induced—on his part or mine—because, at this point, everything is lopsided to me. We all head to the dance floor where the music is blaring as we sing. I can’t tell what song is playing, I only know we’re singing. Lord help those that are next to us.

  The rest of the night turns into an alternating round of dancing and doing shooters. When my lips go numb, I know I’m in serious trouble.

  I look around, not seeing my girls, only two Rylands. I’m perfectly happy with that because, while one Ryland is gorgeous, two are stupendous. Unfortunately, I don’t get to enjoy two Rylands too long. The last thing I remember is trying to decide which Ryland to dry hump on the dance floor before my lights go out.

  The jackhammer wakes me up and I can’t figure out where the noise is coming from. Wherever it is, I want it to stop, and fast. It’s splitting my head right open and my brains are spilling out. I inch open my eyes and slam them back shut. The brightness kills me. It sends my stomach churning and the pain in my head worsens. I realize it’s not a jackhammer after all. It’s the throbbing my own skull is producing.

  I moan and roll to my side. That tiny movement causes the most violent surge of nausea to roll over me that I’ve ever experienced in my life. I’ve got seconds to get to the toilet. I move to jump out of bed, but I only manage to get my legs tangled in the sheet. My face slams into the floor as I erupt like Mt. St. Helens. I’m not sure what hurts worse now… my throbbing head, my stinging face or my guts. I heave again and then I hear that British accent.

  “Bloody fuck, not again. I thought we were over this by now. Thank God I moved the rug.”

  The rug? What’s he talking about. Where am I? I give one last gurgle and heave again, and this time it’s nothing more than saliva. I’m now in the dry heave stages of a hangover. I’ve never been this bad before. Truth is, I’ve never thrown up from drinking before, and the way I feel now, I don’t ever want to do it again. I groan in agony. I seriously don’t know which way to turn, I’m that miserable.

  “Hang on, I’m getting a cloth.”

  Moments later, a cool cloth appears and is bathing my face. It feels nice. But when it leaves, I moan in its absence.

  “Better now?”

  I nod, careful to move my head slowly.

  “Come on,” he starts to untangle my legs, “let’s get you in the bath.”

  When my legs are freed, he helps me stand before we walk towards the bathroom. I still have no idea where we are.

  “Where am I?” I croak.

  “In my hotel room at the Bellagio. You were quite plastered last night, love.”

  My thoughts shift back to the night before and my stomach seethes with the simple reminder of those redheaded sluts. Damn Amanda. Or maybe it was Mandy. Hell, I don’t remember anymore, Fact is, I can’t remember a freakin’ thing.

  Ryland leads me into the bathroom as I blindly follow him, not daring to open my eyes to the blazing light. If I do, I know I’ll be facing a searing pain so severe that I’ll scream. He picks me up and sits me on the counter, then strangely, I feel cool air wash over my skin. How odd.

  I crack open one eye and squeal. I’m topless, my boobs playing show-and-tell and proud of it, too. My nipples are pointed and happy as can be. I swear I can hear them giggling. What the fuck?

  He hears me squeak and nonchalantly says, “Sorry, love, but you puked all over your shirt. I had to get it off you and you were braless.” Then he shrugs like he hasn’t a care in the world. And why should he? He’s not the one with his boobs laughing and joking with each other. I slap my hands over them, trying to quiet them down. “A little late for that, don’t you think?”

  I don’t know what to think. All I know is that I’m half naked in Ryland’s hotel room at the Bellagio. Holy schmoly. For a second, I wonder if I lost my virginity, but I realize that’s a stupid thought because my panties are still on. Panties. I’m in my panties. Thong panties. Sitting on his counter. And that’s all I have on. Holy fuck. Why me?

  He notices my face. I’m sure it’s scarlet, but it feels like it’s going into a nuclear meltdown right about now.

  “It’s okay, Fallon. Everything’s gonna be fine. Don’t worry.”

  “Who’s worried? I’m not worried. I’m embarrassed, Ryland. Look at me.” Why the hell did I just say that? “No, don’t! Don’t look at me. That’s why I’m embarrassed.”

  He grins and, damn, he’s hot. “And you’re really something to look at, Fallon. Even if you have thrown up all over the damn place and passed out cold on me. This magnificent view was worth that price.”

  My face is going to melt right off. I cover it with my hands.

  He hands me a toothbrush covered in toothpaste and I start to brush away. He does the same. When we finish, he looks at me thoughtfully. “I need to get you something to eat and drink. You’ll be sick if I don’t.”

  “I’ve been sick. A lot, it seems.”

  “Right you are. But it’ll be worse. You need something back in your stomach.”

  He picks up the phone in the bathroom—we are in the Bellagio after all—and orders room service. Coffee, orange juice, coke, ice water, toast and pancakes are on the way.

  When I feel his fingers hook under the elastic in my panties, my eyes fly open.

  “What are you doing?” I sound like a three-year-old on steroids.

  “Relax. You’ve been sick. It’s in your hair—everywhere, really. I was going to get you in the shower.”

  “Oh.”

  By this time I figure, what the hell, the man has seen most of my bits, all except for my hoo-hah. A shower won’t reveal that unless I’m planning on doing some fancy acrobatic moves, which I’m not. So I let him strip me and carry me to the shower. I almost choke when he drops his britches and follows me inside.

  “Fallon, you spewed all over me, too.”

  It’s hard not to look at him in all his naked perfection. I read a lot. Way too much, probably. Every romance novel describes the guy as having chiseled this and cut that and the V to heaven. Well, Ryland is chiseled, cut and his V goes straight to a mouth-watering hard-on that, even in my hung-over state, has me wet between my legs in zero point two seconds.

  Before I even know what I’m doing, my hand closes around him and I say, “Ahh,” just like you do in the doctor’s office. By now, I’m positive he thinks I’m a nutcase. But what the hell, I’m leaving today, so I may as well go for it. My eyes search his out and his green ones connect with mine.

  “Fallon,” is all he says before his tongue is in me. The soap is smoothed all over me and I do the same to him, making sure I spend extra time on his dick because it’s so amazing. It’s the first time I’ve ever touched one and I’m mentally kicking myself for waiting this long. “Bloody hell, Fallon.” He pulls my hand off him. “Darlin’, you have to give me a second.” His chest heaves as he struggles to gain back his breath.

  Then his eyes narrow and he flattens one hand against my stomach, pushing me against the marble wall. My butt makes a slapping sound, but I don’t care. I’m only concerned with what his mouth is going to do. When he drops to his knees and buries his mouth against me, I cry out as this is a whole new thing for me. And praise to all hot mouths!

  With one hand, he spreads me apart while the other is on my ass and his tongue is playing with my clit like it’s never been played with before. Teasing and then sucking it, he goes round and round, back and forth, until I explode into an orgasm of epic magnitude. Holy wow! Ryland takes me on a magic tongue ride and I want it to last forever.

  He kisses his way back up to my mouth. I can taste myself on him.

  “Christ, you’re amazing. Tell me you like the way you taste on my tongue.”

  “Yeah. I do.” I’m surprised by that, too.

  It makes me want him more. Like now. I grab his dick again, but he brushes my hand away. Now his head dips down and starts having sexy time with my nipples. I thought the meltdown I just had when I came was fabulous, then he introduces me to something totally different, although equally as erotic. My nipples are as hard as diamonds and I’m scorched as desire bursts through me like a raging inferno. My voice catches in the back of my throat as a guttural sound emerges.

  “I want you, Fallon. Can we…?” he asks.

  So this is finally it. “Yes.”

  “Don’t move.”

  He leaves and then comes back, rolling on a condom. We crash together in a fiery kiss as he walks me up against the wall again. He takes my hand and slowly raises it above my head as he entwines his fingers with mine. Then he tugs my thigh up and brings it around his hip.

  “You’re beautiful, love, all wet like this. That mouth of yours could make men move mountains.”

  He kisses me again and then I feel him inching into me. I tense for a second, but his mouth takes my mind off it as his tongue takes over. And suddenly he thrusts into me and I yelp, “Ow, ow, ow!”

  He immediately stills. “You’re a virgin?” His breathing is erratic.

  I nod. The pain is easing now. I squirm my hips around, wanting him to continue, but he doesn’t. His eyes drill into mine, making me uncomfortable.

  “Why didn’t you tell me?” His tone is terse. “Warn me at least?”

  He’s upset. I didn’t expect this reaction. “I didn’t think it was a big deal.” Our moment is slipping away.

  “Bollocks! If it weren’t a big deal, you still wouldn’t have been one.” Point well made, Ryland.

  He starts to back out of the shower and I say, “Wait. Don’t go.”

  He stops and looks at me for a second and then turns and walks away.

  I watch him leave as my stomach feels like someone put a blender in it. This time it’s not because of my hangover, though.

  The water runs down me as I stand there, rinsing the last bit of suds away. So much for my precious virginity. A bitter laugh escapes from me before I clamp my mouth shut, cutting it off. His reaction is tearing into me and I honestly don’t get it. Confusion crowds my mind. I’m lost in the flood of it. How should I handle this? Should I apologize? Did I actually do something wrong? Losing one’s virginity didn’t seem like such a dramatic thing before all of this. At least, I’d never heard any of my friends describe any kind of reaction like this.

  I lean against the same wall that, only minutes ago, was the hottest place I’d ever been. Now I’m shivering even though the water that pours over me is burning hot. What I’d like to do is stay right here and hide forever, but I know that’s not possible. So I open the shower door and scan the room for a towel, but I don’t see any. The rack and the counter are nothing except empty spaces. Then in the bathtub I spy a pile of them, but they’re all dirty. He must’ve used them on me last night.

  Leaving me no choice other than to walk around naked, I stiffen my spine and head out the door. When I enter the room, he turns and looks at me. I try not to flinch, however his eyes are so penetrating that I feel myself unraveling, so I cross my arms over my chest. I wish I could simply disappear.

  “Um, there weren’t any towels and I don’t know where my clothes are.” My voice catches in my throat. The last thing I want to do is cry, so I swallow the threat of tears.

  He hands me a robe and says, “You soiled your clothes to the point that they’re ruined. I’m sorry. Can I go back to your hotel and pick up some things for you?” Clearly, that’s the last thing he needs to do.

  “Uh, what time is it?” I remember my flight is at one.

  After a quick glance at his watch, he says, “It’s eleven.”

  “What? Eleven? My flight’s at one!”

  “You’re going to need to call the airlines and change it. You’ll never make it.”

  I plop on the bed, my head in my hands. “Do you know where my purse is?”