Get You Back: Part One: Revenge Page 6

What did it matter anyway? This was a "business arrangement."

  Yeah, right. This wasn't business; it was red-hot emotion and chemistry. Already I missed the feel of her.

  Before I could change my mind, I fired off a text.

  Sorry. I'm an ass.

  I almost added, "forgive"? But I wasn't quite there yet.

  My phone rang. Not Lauren, damn it.

  "Hey, big bro. How're things in our nation's capital?" Annabelle's breezy tone lifted my mood immediately. She had that gift.

  "Confusing." I leaned on the railing and watched the cars flip past. I wondered if Lauren had caught a cab or driven in her own car. I wondered where she lived. I wondered if I'd ever see her again. A pit formed in my stomach.

  "Did you see Lauren yet?"

  Uh … yeah. Intimately. So intimately I could still taste her.

  "She's here. I caught up with her at a party."

  "Does she look the same?"

  "Not exactly. No more braces."

  As I knew very well, since I'd slid my cock into her mouth. Oh Lord. I was losing my fucking mind.

  "Look, Annabelle, I gotta go."

  "You sound upset. What did you do? I knew I should have come with you to keep you in line."

  Sometimes I wondered if Annabelle was psychic. She had a sixth sense about certain things. I could picture her perched cross-legged on our breakfast bar. It drove me crazy when she did that. Since I was gone, guaranteed she'd grabbed the chance. "I haven't done anything yet. I haven't even seen Bliss."

  "Well, I just hope that you were nice to Lauren. Whatever happened, it wasn't her fault. She never would have done anything to hurt you. She always had a huge crush on you."

  "What?"

  "Dude. Please tell me this is not a surprise."

  "She was my … she was only …"

  "You were her first crush. And don't even try with the stepbrother thing. We didn't really have that relationship with Bliss and Lauren. It was all so sudden. It was more like they were house-guests."

  "You were only ten, what do you know?"

  "Apparently a lot more than you. She used to write about you in her diary. I know because I peeked over her shoulder a few times."

  I didn't know how to process this information. Lauren used to have a crush on me? And I was treating her like some kind of call girl? That was all kinds of fucked up.

  I decided to see what Annabelle thought of the things Lauren had said. "Lauren says Papa kicked Bliss out, and that they don't have any money to speak of. I'm not sure I believe her."

  "Hmm."

  "That's a cryptic answer."

  "I was only ten, what do I know?"

  I rolled my eyes. "I have to go, Annabelle. How's everything back home?"

  "Fine. Ben hired a new ranch hand who's been following me around. I don't know why I got stuck training him, I have enough to do." Now she sounded sulky. "When are you coming back?"

  "When I'm ready."

  "Talk about cryptic."

  "Get off the breakfast bar."

  "Oh, whatever. Goodbye. Be nice to Lauren."

  She clicked off.

  Be nice to Lauren. I really wasn't sure if "nice" was in my vocabulary when it came to Lauren. Or if it should be. She was still Bliss's daughter. And the facts remained. When Bliss left, my father was crushed, our finances in a shambles.

  Lauren and I still had unfinished business.

  But I'd hurt her, and I didn't feel good about that. I needed a way to make it up to her.

  I knew just the thing.

  8

  Lauren

  When I woke up the next morning, Bliss had already left for the day. I had the condo to myself—heaven. I wandered into our sunny kitchen. An omelet, that's what I needed. Something to concentrate on that wasn't Rye McAllister. I took comfort in the steady hum of the fridge and the chirping of chickadees at the feeder outside the bay window. Maybe it was thanks to my chaotic upbringing, but nothing soothed me like cooking. After a lifetime of random fast-food meals, owning a kitchen stocked with actual ingredients seemed like the height of luxury.

  As I chopped shallots, I turned on my Bluetooth and checked in with Brian's handler, Ram. Ram and I loathed each other.

  "Company luncheon," he told me in that voice that always seemed to be sneering. "Wear the Donna Karan. In fuchsia."

  "Ram, forget it. Brian and I talked about this. He said I can choose my own outfits. I'm perfectly capable, and that way I'll feel more comfortable with what I'm wearing."

  "Well, sugar, Brian isn't paying you, is he?"

  I gritted my teeth. This. Job. Sucked. I was dying to tell Mr. Political Genius to take his fashion advice and shove it up his ass. Keep your eyes on the prize, Bliss had said. Good advice. "Fine. Fuchsia."

  "And you really need to connect with some girlfriends. Can you arrange a spa day? Maybe a Happy Hour somewhere with your sorority sisters?"

  "I hate you." Ram knew perfectly well that I'd never been part of a sorority. I'd never gone to college. I had friends, but not the kind he had in mind.

  I tried to picture Courtney sipping a Cosmo at Bar Pilar , but since she was currently in hiding due to an unfortunate bank-hacking incident, she probably wouldn't want her photo in the gossip pages.

  "Rest assured the feeling's mutual, sugar."

  "Your hatred is wasted on me. Even once I'm out of the picture, Brian's never going to go for you." I'd seen the way Ram looked at Brian, and how Brian never looked at Ram.

  "You're insane."

  "You know, Ram, I think I'll wear the black Diane von Furstenberg wrap dress. It really sets off my highly observant eyes."

  "Thornton and Lyme, one o'clock."

  He clicked off, and I savored my stupid victory. So much of my life offered me no choices, or at most shitty ones. Even choosing something as minor as an outfit felt like a triumph.

  I did a little soft-shoe as I flipped my omelet. At least I had a few moments of peace before I had to gear up for my day. I could take a bath, do some Pilates, read a book, remember everything that had taken place between me and Rye …

  The doorbell rang.

  I jumped in surprise. People didn't just drop by our place without warning. Drop-ins weren't done in Washington. Everyone was too scheduled for something so casual. And it wasn't a package delivery. We were careful never to reveal our address online.

  Girl Scout selling cookies? Jehovah's Witnesses? Assassin sent to take down the girl who was helping Senator Clayton win the election?

  Scolding myself for being needlessly paranoid, I padded quietly across the hardwood floor to the front door. I relaxed at the sight of the array of locks. No one could get in unless I invited them. I peered through the peephole and saw the strangest thing.

  A tiny animal face covered with white fur.

  What the …?

  I was still trying to make sense of that vision when another face appeared. This one was entirely human and very male. Rye.

  He wore a shit-eating grin.

  My own lips twitched into a reluctant smile. So the mighty Rye McAllister was here with an apology. Or something.

  I flung open the door. Yup, there was Rye, holding the tiniest, fluffiest white kitten this side of Marshmallow.

  "Is this your way of saying you're sorry?"

  "This is my way of saying 'happy birthday.'" The kitten huddled adorably in the crook of his arm. Rye wore a black t-shirt and jeans that hugged his ass. A faint shadow of scruff darkened his jaw. So different from the smooth and well-tended men who populated my current existence. He was one tall drink of intoxicating man planted on my front stoop.

  "It's not my birthday."

  "Not yet. But it will be, some day within the next year." Oh my God, that smile. How was I supposed to resist it?

  "What makes you think I'm still a sucker for kittens?"

  "You're still a girl, last I checked." He flicked a glance up and down my body and right away I felt my nipples respond.

  "I don't have room
in my life for a kitten." Even as I said it, my hands were reaching for the little scrap of fluff. I'd secretly cried for Marshmallow for months. Yearned for her. This little creature wasn't identical to my beloved kitty, but close enough.

  "That's okay. He'll always have a home with me. The staff at the Colonial is already half in love with him. You might have to fight them for him. Come on, pet him. You know you want to."

  Of course I wanted to. But what if I got attached? I didn't know where I was headed next, or if a kitten would be welcome. But I couldn't resist those round eyes and funny little whiskery eyebrows. I stroked a finger across his silky head and was lost.

  I opened the door farther and let those two sneaky charmers inside. As if claiming our condo for his own, the kitten jumped out of Rye's arms onto the catch-all table, then down to the floor. He set off to explore, while I turned my attention back to Rye.

  "How did you find my place? We're not listed."

  "I noticed. I tried regular channels, then I had to get creative. I'm not easy to get rid of, I should warn you. Especially when I'm highly motivated." He seemed to fill our little hallway with all those muscles and all that vibrant energy. I took a step away. It was either that or take two steps closer.

  "But seriously. How?" Clearly it was a security loophole we needed to close.

  "I have my sources." He grinned at my frustration. "I hate to break it to you, babe, but when you get engaged to a senator's son, the media makes a point of finding you. I happen to know someone who works for the local news."

  I sighed. Great. I really hated being on the media's radar. I'd warned Bliss about the risks of such a high-profile job, but she felt it was worth it.

  "I'm not here to make trouble," Rye said. "I felt bad about my rudeness last night. I'm trying to win your forgiveness with a kitten. Did it work?"

  "There's nothing to forgive. You said what you thought. I can't hold that against you."

  "It's not that simple." He put his hands on my hips and drew my unresisting body close. "I'm confused. I thought I knew the truth. It was black and white. No questions. But now …"

  "Not so black and white?"

  "No. Now it's more … Lauren-colored. Pink lips. Green-gold eyes. Dark hair I want to bury my face in. I didn't mean to hurt you last night."

  Oh my. I felt faint. These weren't words of revenge. This was something else. Something I couldn't quite handle. I had to push him away. Get him back on familiar ground.

  Ironically, that meant coming closer. I brushed the front of my body against his and ran my fingers across the bulge in his jeans. "Maybe that's because you've never had an arrangement like ours before."

  Just like that, his expression went dark. "Remind me again what this arrangement consists of?"

  "Whatever you want it to. Whenever you want it." My heart was doing a rat-a-tat rhumba. I hoped he couldn't hear it.

  "Like now?"

  "Now would be a good example." I wanted him to take my bait. I wanted him to go straight for the sexual, away from the personal. And yet I also wanted the opposite.

  That's how confused he made me.

  Rye didn't seem confused at all. A muscle ticked in his jaw. Dark command glinted in those gray eyes. "Then I want you to turn around and put your palms against the wall above your head."

  I couldn't breathe, couldn't speak. I turned and did as he said. Behind me, I felt cool air as he lowered my sleep shorts just enough to expose my ass. I closed my eyes and nested my face in the soft skin of my inner elbow. In the darkness, my other senses leaped to higher awareness.

  With the most delicate touch imaginable, he caressed the globes of my ass. Soft, soft strokes, like swan feathers drifting across my skin. I was already aroused— – had been from the moment I heard his voice— – but now moisture leaked from the juncture of my legs. When I tried to bring my legs together, his touch grew firmer. A hard thigh encased in denim came between them. And oh, the brush of fabric against my pussy was excruciating. Exactly what I craved, but hadn't known I needed.

  I tilted my hips back so more of his leg could intrude between mine. He hummed his approval deep in his throat. In the meantime, he was still fondling my ass in a way that made my blood sing with anticipation. Something was coming. I didn't know what or when. Every hair on my body stood up, waiting, watching. Nothing existed except that slow, warm hand exploring every inch of my skin.

  Then it came. A short, sharp spank.

  I cried out. It felt so good. Why did it feel so good? I didn't know. Didn't want to think about it. He didn't give me a chance to think before another sharp sting landed on my other cheek. Another, then another. All short, brisk, just this side of pain. And I loved it. I ate it up. The release, the freedom, the who-the-hell-knows-what. It carried me away to another place, a place where I had no worries and no shame.

  I don't know how long he kept on, but my ass must have been bright pink by the time he stopped. But then he still didn't give me a chance to catch my breath. He gripped my hips between those rough hands and pulled my ass toward him, scraping my sex against his thigh. The intense sensation made me shudder uncontrollably.

  And then, oh please yes, then one hand came around the front of my body. He reached between my legs and found my clit. Between the pressure of his thigh and his fingers on my sizzling bundle of nerves, I nearly blacked out. My body arced like a bow, I threw my head back, still remembering to keep my palms where he wanted them, and ground myself against his hand.

  "Get it, babe. You want it, you get after it." His voice rumbled above my head, somehow making me even hotter. Pleasure shot along my nerve endings. His fingers slid along my slick folds, trailing magic with every stroke. "I want to fuck you," he said in a voice as deep and dark as cowboy coffee. "Fuck you until you come, over and over, fuck you in every way I can."

  "Yes," I whimpered, pushing my poor pussy against his palm. Nothing had ever felt that good. In that moment, I wanted to permanently attach his hand to my sex. "Fuck me. Please."

  I never said that kind of thing. I'd never said it before in my life. No one had ever gotten past my wariness before.

  His hot mutters in my ear made me even crazier. I was letting out strange sounds, something between a moan and a curse, but that didn't matter. I wanted more. More rough, more hard, more friction, more pressure, more release, more …

  I exploded. That's how it felt. Like one moment I was one person, the next I was coming apart into smithereens. Intense pleasure shot through me. The world behind my eyelids turned white, then gold, then black, then red. Orgasm in Technicolor.

  Rye kept me together. He kept me sheltered in the cradle of his body, pinned in the safety of his embrace. He murmured to me as I floated back to myself. Held me up when I slumped, dazed, against the wall.

  What in the world did this man do to me? It wasn't real. It couldn't be.

  I rolled so my back was to the wall. He pulled up my sleep shorts. "Are you okay?"

  "What was that?" I was too wrung out to pretend I had orgasms like that all the time.

  "That was you, finding release," he said with a wry smile. "You're under a lot of stress, aren't you?" He had no idea. And I had no plans to explain. "You're so wound up with all your worries. Sometimes a little sexual release is the best medicine."

  "I … I'm embarrassed."

  "Don't be. That was the most beautiful fucking thing I've ever seen. If you get embarrassed, I'll have to spank you again."

  My face flamed. Because that sounded like a great plan. Which totally shocked me.

  "You're probably under stress too, what with this whole revenge quest you're on." I cupped him. It was a strangely vulnerable feeling, being the only one to climax like that. I wished we'd both been on that ride together. He looked like he might be in some pain from the enormous erection distended the front of his jeans.

  "Oh, I'm tense, it's true. But I'd rather claim my turn when you least expect it."

  I shivered. That sounded both ominous and juicy. "Within
our parameters, you mean. Nothing the public would ever get wind of."

  He nodded. "I brought a picnic lunch. If anyone asks, you'll be showing with your long-lost former stepbrother the cherry trees."

  "The season is over …"

  "Yeah, yeah, so I hear. There must be some nice twigs or branches to admire. I'm not picky. As long as you're with me, I'm sure I'll be plenty entertained. I even brought a little leash for Gonzo."

  "You did not name him Gonzo."

  "Of course not." He flashed an irresistible smile. "Naming Gonzo is your job."

  I wagged a finger at him. "Nice try. But I'm not going for it. I wonder where little Fluff-a-licious went?"

  He followed me as I cruised through the condo looking for signs of a white tornado. "You wouldn't."

  "Remember I'm the girl who named my last kitten Marshmallow."

  "Watch out." He caught me before I stepped in a little puddle of pee. I grabbed a paper towel and mopped it up.

  "Are you telling me the Fluffster isn't litter-trained?"

  "He is. But he's probably confused by the lack of a litter box. I have one in the car, but I wasn't sure if you'd let me in the door. Should I grab it?"

  "No." I spotted Gonzo's mischievous little face peeking out from the pantry and dashed after him. Of course he thought I was playing. It took quite a few feints and darts before I managed to scoop him up. "Let's get out of here. I'm not sure how Bliss is going to react to another living creature in the house. It might be better if he stayed with you until I can soften her up."

  "Lauren." He stopped me with a hand on my arm. "You're … what, twenty-five?"

  "Yes."

  "Why is Bliss in charge of every decision? Shouldn't you be able to adopt a kitten without consulting her?"

  Oh, such a complicated issue. I could never tell him the truth about me and Bliss, My top priority was to.keep Rye from causing any trouble. Keep the Clayton job on track "Oh come on," I said lightly, as if he was making a fuss about nothing. "Haven't you ever had a roommate? It's just common courtesy to check in. Here, hold the Fluffster while I change."

  "Don't listen to her, Gonzo," I heard him whisper as I fled toward my bedroom. "She'll recognize your true self soon enough."