Get You Back: Part One: Revenge Page 4

  Fighting back the beginnings of arousal, I strolled to the little mini-bar to peruse the offerings. "We have Grey Goose, Kahlua, and mineral water so pricey it must be from artesian wells in the mountains of Oz. Are you thirsty?"

  She shook her head. I wondered if she was worried about roofies or some other form of vengeance.

  "You're safe from me, Lauren. Whatever I do, I'll be upfront about it. I'm not the underhanded type."

  She narrowed her eyes at my implied insult. "Fine. I'll take a mineral water."

  I snagged a bottle and a tumbler and set them on the low coffee table next to the couch. She took a seat in the low-slung armchair catty-corner to the couch. Interesting choice. Clearly she wanted to keep her distance.

  I lowered myself onto the couch, which seemed like it was made for people who were smaller than me. When I stretched out my legs, my knee came close enough to hers that a sexual vibration came to life between us. Quickly she tilted her knees to the side, like some kind of prim schoolgirl.

  "So.," I said, breaking the ice. Not that it was ice—more like a crust of lava over a still-molten flow. "How long have you been engaged to the senator's son?" Not what I intended to ask, but my brain didn't seem to be in charge at the moment.

  "Not long," she answered vaguely. She fiddled with the cap of the mineral water. It seemed to be stuck. I took it from her hands and flipped the top off with my thumb. Her eyes widened as she received it back from me. "Are you a bartender back in Texas?"

  "What?" I laughed. "No. Just a working guy who's good with his thumbs."

  Pink traveled up her cheeks. You'd think that Lauren would have learned to control her flushes in order to operate in Washington society. Maybe she had, except around me.

  "I've done a lot of ranch work. I've picked up a few skills."

  "It must pay well. The Colonial doesn't come cheap."

  "I got a coupon."

  She snorted. Places like the Colonial didn't do discounts. I could tell she didn't believe me, but I sure as hell wasn't going to tell her about my personal wealth. I didn't trust her for one hot second.

  "How are Elijah and Annabelle?"

  "Is that why you're here? To make sure you didn't doom them to an early grave like you did my father?" Yeah, that was a little harsh. I wanted to smash through her cool façade.

  She jumped to her feet. The water bottle rolled onto the carpet. She ran toward the door but I dashed after her. Grabbing her forearm, I kept her tethered to the room.

  "Come on, Lauren. You came to negotiate. You can handle a little hardball."

  She whirled around and slapped me.

  I stared at her, my cheek tingling.

  "I. Was. Twelve," she said, poking me in the chest with every word. "What exactly are you blaming me for?"

  "You were thirteen. You had a birthday two weeks before you left."

  Her gorgeous lips parted in surprise. I got lost for a short moment in how beautiful she was. The pretty teal color of her shirt brought out the green in her eyes and made her classic bone structure stand out. Slowly she relaxed.

  "We had cake," she said softly.

  "Of course. It was a birthday. Betty always made cake for our birthdays."

  She lifted one shoulder. "Bliss wasn't much for birthdays. I'd never had a cake before."

  All this time, I'd seen Bliss and Lauren as a matched pair, a team of hostiles. I'd never wondered what Lauren's life must have been like growing up with that woman. "Well, you definitely did when you were with us. My father always made a big deal about birthdays. I remember we got you some presents too. Papa—"

  I broke off. I couldn't talk about my father with her.

  "He gave me a kitten."

  I remembered. A little white fluffball with a blue collar. "You left Marshmallow behind when you took off. Stupidest name I ever heard for a cat."

  "I know. I cried for a month. Where … um …" She cleared her throat. "Where is Marshmallow now?"

  I gave her a forbidding look. "I have no idea. I had bigger things to worry about than a kitten. Now are you coming back to the negotiating table or are you done here?" I flung my arm toward the seating area. She hesitated for a long, long moment, during which I sweated a few bullets. Now that she was here, I didn't want her to leave. The fierceness with which I felt that way should have brought me to my senses. But it didn't.

  Instead, I used the time to eat up every detail of the girl in my hotel suite. Her toes, nails painted a sophisticated silver, peeked through her casual strappy sandals. Long, dark lashes shielded her eyes. Her breasts rose and fell under the fabric of her shirt. Tension vibrated through her slim body. She looked as if she might take flight, literally. Fly off my balcony into the muggy Washington night.

  Finally she seemed to come to a decision. She nodded sharply, marched to the armchair and sat herself down, then beckoned me to the couch. "I think we should put our cards on the table," she told me when I had settled back down. "I think I know what you want. You said you wanted to ruin my life."

  I shifted, adjusting the sprawl of my legs under the coffee table. That wasn't exactly right. "Just Bliss's."

  "It comes down to the same thing, I'm afraid." She didn't quite meet my eyes. "I'm her … proxy, I guess you'd say. In business terms."

  "You mean you're her puppet."

  "Fine." Her lips tightened. "Use whatever words you like. Bliss and I go together. So whatever you do to her, you do to me. And vice versa."

  That sounded … kinky? Dysfunctional? Unfair? "Nice happy family you've got going there."

  She ignored my sarcasm. "You said you want to ruin her life. I don't know what that means, specifically, or why you feel that way, but there's one area I absolutely must protect. My engagement."

  "You just can't give up all that power and money, can you?" The intensity of my disappointment shocked me.

  "It's not what you think. Those things mean nothing to me. If you interfere with my engagement, people will be hurt. And I'll be …" She pulled her bottom lip between her teeth. She looked so troubled that I had a sudden impulse to tumble her into my arms and comfort her.

  "You'll be what?"

  "Stuck," she finally whispered. "Maybe forever."

  I didn't get it. "You mean if you get married you'll be stuck."

  "No. Look, I can't explain. It's complicated and personal and not your business. All I want to say is, I'll do whatever it takes to keep you from doing something to jeopardize my engagement."

  This conversation was giving me the willies. I didn't like it. I didn't like my role in it. I didn't like what I was doing here. I stared at my boots, wishing I was kicking horse shit in the stables instead of here in this "boutique hotel" in Washington.

  Lauren's soft voice penetrated my consciousness. "And that's how you know I'm being honest here. I'm giving you my bottom-line right off the bat. So what's your bottom-line?"

  Not a bad question. I couldn't find an answer right away.

  "You want revenge for what happened twelve years ago?"

  Partly, but also … "I want to make sure Bliss doesn't end up running the fucking White House."

  She laughed incredulously. "The White House?"

  The sight of Lauren's stunning face lit up with humor took my breath away. The tilt of her head exposed the long curve of her neck, and I wanted her. Badly. I wanted my tongue on her pulse; I wanted to leave my mark on her perfection.

  I shoved aside my attraction. Back to business.

  "Or the Senate. I don't want her anywhere near the controls of this country. It's screwed up enough as it is. The last thing we need is Bliss stage-managing behind the scenes."

  Lauren threw up a hand as if taking a vow. "Amen to that. I wouldn't want that either. What if I can guarantee you that won't happen?"

  "Based on what? Your word?"

  "Maybe I'm willing to back up my word with something else."

  I scowled. Now we were getting to the nitty-gritty. This was the reason she'd shown up at my hotel room
. "What do you mean? What else?"

  "Money, for starters. I'll pay you to leave us alone."

  "No," I bit out. I stood up, ready to call off this farce. "I don't want your money."

  She jumped to her feet. "Forget money. There must be something else."

  Her nerves showed in her quickened breath, the rise and fall of her chest. She must have caught my quick glance down her body. The feel of her tits was still seared into my memory.

  "Okay, that," she whispered.

  "That?"

  "This." She trailed her hand between the lovely mounds on her chest, down her stomach.

  My cock pounded. What the fuck was she saying? "Are you whoring yourself out to me, Lauren?"

  She flinched for the briefest possible moment. It was such a tiny movement that most people would probably miss it. Not me.

  "I know you want me, Rye. I felt it, back at that party. So here's my offer. Do whatever you want to me, with me, in private. But nothing in public. Nothing that would disrupt my engagement."

  What the fuck? "The things that come to mind would definitely disrupt your engagement."

  A flush rose in her cheeks. "Not if they're in private."

  Everything about this seemed like a bad idea. So why was heat racing through my veins, pounding into my cock?

  "I don't understand. What about Brian Clayton?" I managed.

  "We agreed to take advantage of our freedom until the wedding."

  She had an answer for everything. I scrutinized her face, looking for cracks in her poise. She was so cool, so controlled. Whereas I could barely see over the blood pounding through my temples. "If I have you alone in private, I'll want to fuck you. And I don't sleep with unwilling women."

  Finally, a crack. A quick intake of breath. A glimmer of heat in her green eyes. "You won't be. I'm … attracted to you, Rye."

  The quiet way she said my name amped up my arousal even higher.

  "Why should …" I had to clear my throat. "Why should you trust me? Why wouldn't I just take what I want from your body and then ruin you anyway?"

  "Why? Because you're Rye. You're a McAllister. McAllisters always keep their promises. I lived with you for ten months, and even as a bratty teenager you were always straight up. I'm choosing to trust you, Rye."

  "You don't know what you're getting yourself into," I warned. "I like what I like. You might not be okay with how I do things between the sheets."

  She ran her tongue across bottom lip in a quick movement that made my blood sing. "I'm not a child, Rye. I want you. I'll do whatever you want. And … I'll like it."

  It was as if a sheet of flame went through me. Or a sudden 105-degree fever. I wanted her on her knees, blindfolded, servicing me with those soft lips.

  I pushed the vision aside. Time enough for that. Right now, I wanted to see if this was all a seductive, lying act. Lauren might lie to me, but her body wouldn't. I wanted to make sure she was willing. Actually willing.

  "Unbutton your pants," I ordered her.

  Her chest rose and fell as she slowly released the top button of her white jeans. Her small hands trembled. Nerves? Excitement? Little of both?

  "Reach inside and touch your pussy. Slide your finger across your slit. Just once. No getting off. One swipe, then pull your hand out."

  Lips parted, eyes half closed, she did as I said. In the dense silence, I thought I could hear her pulse. Outside, traffic murmured, a siren sounded. In the corridor outside the suite, footfalls hurried past. It all seemed very far away--remote and inconsequential. Lauren and I had entered a private space where only two people counted.

  When her hand emerged from her jeans, I snagged her wrist. I brought her hand close and saw her creamy juices coating her fingers. The heady scent of aroused woman made my mouth water. She wasn't faking it. She really did want me. Want this.

  I touched my tongue to her finger. Her hand shook in mine. That one taste wasn't nearly enough, and suddenly I knew exactly what I wanted from her.

  "Sit back down. Pants off," I said brusquely, because I wanted to see those slender legs bare and wrapped around my back.

  She lowered herself into the armchair and kicked off her sandals. I helped slide her jeans off. It was a little awkward because we were both overexcited and clumsy.

  I adjusted the crotch of my sweats over the swelling bulge of my cock. It felt like I'd never been this hard before. She noticed it too. She was eyeing it with wide eyes.

  "Did you do anything after you got home last night?" I asked her.

  "Like what?"

  "Like get yourself off. That's what I did."

  She shifted her hips. Clearly I was getting to her. I traced the line of her panties along the achingly soft skin of her inner thigh.

  "Well." She sighed. "I didn't." She pushed her hips up. Color came and went in her face. "I guess that means you owe me."

  I laughed at her daring. First she came to me offering her body, then she told me I owed her? You gotta love a girl with brass balls.

  Or at least appreciate her swagger.

  "I owe you, huh? You want me stick my hand down your panties and make you come?" I brushed my fingertips across the damp fabric clinging to her pussy.

  "Yes." Her chest heaved. "Please."

  Watching her squirm was unbelievably satisfying. I toyed with her some more. With my fingernail, I drew circles around her clit. I pinched the little button of flesh through the fabric and squeezed lightly. She drew in a long, shaky inhale. Her legs trembled. I couldn't wait to watch her fall apart before me.

  "What's in it for me?" I asked casually, as if I wasn't in the process of tormenting her. I moved the panties to the side to expose her flesh to the air. Her sex was virtually hairless, just a strip of smooth, silky dark hair adorning her sweet lower lips. They were swollen with arousal. My mouth watered and I lowered my lips so they hovered above her pussy. I sent a stream of warm air over her clit.

  She moaned and clenched the arms of the chair. "For God's sake, Rye, will you just … what's in it for you is whatever you want! Please … you're driving me crazy."

  Is there anything as arousing as a woman on the verge of an orgasm, just begging for you to get her over the edge? No, there isn't, especially when it's a woman who has your full attention. And Lauren had that ever since I spied her across the ballroom.

  "I'll make you come. Don't you worry." As I spoke, my lips brushed lightly against her clit, making her jump. "Just do one thing for me."

  "What?" She was practically yelling.

  "Pull your top up and show me your tits." At the crude word, she startled. "What, your rich Washington boys don't call them tits?"

  "Shut up." With a fierce look, she pulled her top over her bra, which was a simple scrap of white cotton. Her dark nipples were twin shadows behind the cups.

  "Pinch them. I want them to stand up tall. When I lick them, I want them already hard against my tongue. Go. Just lower your bra out of the way."

  She hesitated. To encourage her to do what I said, I lowered my face to her pussy and drew my tongue across her slit in a long, slinky-slow stroke. As if I had all day to lick her clean. The swell of her clit against my tongue put my cock into overdrive. I slid my hand down to circle my shaft.

  In a hurry now, she followed my instructions. Bra, lowered. Nipples, taken carefully between her thumbs and index fingers. She pinched, gasped, then pinched harder. Her head fell back against the raised pattern of the upholstery. God, she was gorgeous. So flushed and beautiful, legs askew, every part of her open to my scrutiny.

  "Let me see." I told her. "Cup your breasts for me."

  She presented herself to me, her generous full tits filling her small hands. Her nipples were dark, decadent red, rising proudly above her fingers. Just how I wanted them. Sensitized and stimulated.

  "Good girl. Now keep pinching them. Don't stop. And whatever you do, don't hold back. Make all the noise you want, sweetheart."

  That endearment slipped out without permission. I didn't know
where it came from. Except I thought I was seeing a side of Lauren no one ever saw. A wild, unrestrained side. It gave me tender feelings I didn't care to analyze.

  She gave a desperate little cry the instant her fingers touched her nipples. She was dying for relief. And I was dying to give it to her.

  I pushed her legs further apart. She didn't protest. I'm sure she was too busy playing with her nipples to object. I was too busy burying my head in her pussy to check. I dragged my tongue across the hardened nub of her clit, back and forth, then up and down her slit. Plump, juicy flesh filled my mouth. I'd always loved going down on a woman. All her secrets are laid out before you. Nothing's hidden. It's so intimate it's like a high.

  Maybe that's why I wanted Lauren this way. Truly at my mercy. Her pleasure at my command. I knew she was close. She started pushing hard against my mouth. Seeking more pressure.

  Fine, I'd give her pressure. I planted my thumb on the upper part of her clit, near the hood. My tongue stayed where it was, stroking her fast and furious. I pressed my thumb into her clit and gave her just enough friction so she screamed. And then her body bucked and she hollered again. Long and loud, a sound of relief and freedom and gratitude.

  I stayed with her, tonguing her clit, working her with my thumbs until finally her orgasm petered out and her body relaxed. She slumped back against the chair. Her hair was a damp tangle, her hands splayed on her chest. Her cheeks glowed pink as cotton candy. So sensual, so erotic. And her lips …

  I got to my feet and kicked out of my sweats. I rested one knee on the armchair cushion and I moved forward until my balls hung heavy over her face. My dick pointed straight out in front of me.

  "My turn." My voice sounded like a gravel pit. "Suck me off. Let me see what you can do."

  Her sex-dazed eyes fired up at my challenge. She slid up a bit so my cock was positioned right at her lips. The full, sensual lips I'd been craving since I'd first seen her at that party.

  A thought crossed my mind. We hadn't even kissed. Not really. That kiss in the hallway didn't count. It was a kiss of anger. She didn't deserve that.