Accidentally Hooked (The Naked Truth Series Book 1) (10 page)

“I can see that. I haven’t had much luck in relationships myself,” she said, then lifted her hand to her lips, as if she had shared something she wasn’t supposed to. He was about to question her, when she continued, “Prior to the double life of course.”

Double life. The two words burnt a hole in his chest. “I reckon you use the double life not to get close to someone. Not to get hurt,” he said, and hated the pang of accusation in his voice.
Let her live her life and work however she wants to.
What she did or didn’t do wasn’t any of his bloody business. None.

“Do you moonlight as a shrink or is that a hidden talent?” She winked at him.

“I have all sorts of talents, love. Just need to show them to the right person,” he said, his tone too damn genuine. Shit. Instantly, the air around them shifted and he had to swallow a couple of times to push past the nagging pulse in his throat. She had one too, he realized, lifting his finger to hover over her delicate flesh. What the hell was he talking about?

Throwing double innuendos like this wasn’t his thing—they were whenever he meant a sexual joke, sure. But to hint there could be more to them…

Someone bumped against his back, and he turned around immediately. The middle-aged woman began to gesticulate, and she had a gray haired gentleman next to her who flashed him a close-lipped smile. “I’m sorry. We were trying to get a good shot.”

“No worries. If you’d like, I can take a picture of the two of you.”

“Why yes, that would be lovely,” the lady said, and she positioned against the breath-taking backdrop and held her husband’s arm. “Look at the camera, dear,” she coached her husband, and the man followed her instructions like it was no big deal.

Ryan snapped a couple shots, and realized they were against the sun so he ushered them to the opposite side. The woman apparently didn’t mind the attention a single bit, but the husband just went along with it. The old man sighed with the serenity of a long-term spouse, no doubt.

When he handed her the tiny digital camera, she offered, “I would be happy to have a picture of you and your wife.”

He realized she was talking about Kika who stood in the same place as before, except her eyes trailed over him. When his gaze met hers, she looked away as if she had been caught doing something she wasn’t supposed to. “She’s not my wife.”

The woman’s face flushed. “Of course. I’m sorry, dear. Girlfriend. You never know these days.”

“No, you never do,” he said more to himself than to her. He managed a smile and waved at Kika, who joined them with furrowed brows. “Darling, let’s take a picture.”

***

Kika inhaled. How come, even though she hiked in front of him, it felt like she dragged six feet behind him? Because she knew he could outrun her with a couple of strides. Because she didn’t need to glance over her shoulder to know he had his eyes on her, on her every move—which stripped her from the misleading idea she could be ahead.

During the next two hours, they had lunch at a casual restaurant near the visitor center and talked about movies, music, and current events. She was impressed by how much they had in common, and how much they didn’t, in some ways. Spending time with him without focus on sex should had been strange, yet it oddly wasn’t. Maybe because they were always surrounded by people—guided tours, visitors, the staff.

Chica. You’re asking to have your heart broken.
Her mother hadn’t been strong where men were concerned. She had been a strong woman, mother, and sister. Not smart in the sausage department. Chose the wrong one to knock her up, then even though she fled to the US for a better life, he was always on her mind. He had even visited her a couple of times, but never stayed. Her father had been a gypsy, and Kika wondered if she had decided to follow his misguided footsteps after Freddy’s death.

Right now though, she couldn’t afford weakness. That could be the end of her and her sister. Ryan was a man for whom money was no object, hence the crazy amount he was paying her for a few days of passion.

Maybe paying for sex was
his
way to avoid emotional attachment, but she decided to keep that nugget of amateur therapy to herself. What was the use of discussing things as if they had a shot at a real relationship? Theirs had begun with lies, starting with her pretending to be someone she wasn’t.

“You’re quiet,” he said behind her. His sexy drawl pulled her from her musings faster than she could blink. “Should I get you a cupcake?”

“They are hard to resist. Although I doubt we’ll find one handy.” She reached for the bottle of water in her bag and took a swig. They had hiked almost all the way to the bottom, and when she lifted her gaze to the rocks, she had the impression they were slightly moving.
Must be exhaustion
. She’d think all the sex with him would have given her a crash course in fitness, but nah.

“You’re a chocolate kind of girl? Vanilla?”

She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. “Red velvet.”

***

“How about a shower?” he asked, and she couldn’t refuse. There was a layer of dust clinging to her body she couldn’t wait to get rid of. Shamelessly, he started to remove his clothes and toss them on the floor as he made the way to the bathroom. After flying back to Vegas, his suite seemed too familiar. Wanting to like, or to stay places she slept in, was always a liability. In this case, more than ever.

A red velvet cupcake sat on the bedspread with a note that read,
For those moments you’re afraid.
She outlined the strokes of the masculine handwriting. When had he bought it? How had he placed it on the bed? Her shoulders sagged, and her stomach dropped all the way to the floor. A flood of pure joy went through her, one she didn’t want to understand or analyze.

Wriggling out of her jeans, she tossed it to the side, and pulled off her shirt. Another look at the cupcake and her heart raced like a foolish teenager after being asked to the prom.

A cloud of steam swirled around the walk-in shower box, and she found him with eyes closed, head back as the hot water glided over his body. He must have heard the click from the glass as she joined him, yet said nothing.

“Thanks for the cupcake.”

He winked at her. “Anytime.”

“When did you get it? I was with you the entire time.”

He reached for the high-end liquid soap and squeezed it out. Without fanfare, he spread the soapy liquid on his chest and shoulders. Her throat dried, and her gaze slid down his body, so deliciously wet and foamy. “I had the concierge buy it, but I wrote the note when you went to the restroom in the plane. And had the driver hand it to the concierge.”

Wow. She twisted her hands together, eyes locked in his. “You went through a lot of trouble. Why didn’t you just email the concierge and have him write the note?”

He looked away. “Can’t you just accept it?”

“I’ll try,” she said, and a deep part of her doubted she was talking about pastry.

“Good.” He put a generous amount of liquid soap on his palm and nudged her. “I say it’s time for some scrubbing.”

Yeah, she wanted to scrub him all right… He pulled her to him, and soon his lips were on hers, his tongue stroking hers with an intimacy that shook her to the core. Water slid down her hair and body, and enhanced her arousal.

Priceless. To have her achy tight nipples rubbing against his chest. Reading her mind—something he seemed to have mastered, at least when sex was involved—Ryan cupped her breasts, snagging her hard peaks between his index and thumb. She moaned into his mouth, and it sounded more like a desperate cry.

His cock sprang against her. Soon, she was sandwiched between the wet cold tiles and his large, unrestricted body.

“I have to get a condom,” he said, his sexy Aussie accent more pronounced. Specks of silver surrounded his darkened irises. Dang.

She grabbed his wrist. “No. Stay.”

Frowning, he glanced down at her hand, and she loosened her hold, only to distract him and push him against the wall. Water sprayed from above, but she didn’t care. Her mind was set—she wanted to take him in her mouth, and savor his taste.

Excited, she started to lick the curve of his neck. The marvelous stiffening of his body under her hands was all the encouragement she needed. There was something ridiculously empowering about pleasing a gorgeous man like that. A man who was richer than her. Larger than her. And certainly, after that cupcake episode, better than her. A pang of sadness tugged at her, but she shook it off and continued her exploration. While her hands caressed his chest, her mouth traced a path of kisses, big and small, across the muscles of his chest. A couple groans fled from his lips, and that was all the reassurance she needed.

“You don’t have to do this,” he said, when she ventured lower.

She bent down, kneeling in front of him, then deposited a couple of kisses on his belly button. An innie. Was there a part of him that wasn’t absolute perfection? “I want to,” she said, and lifted her gaze to his.

“Why?” he asked, his eyes on her like a predator assessing his prey. A shudder went through her, and though she tried to face away from him, something stronger, deep in her core, halted. Her heart clenched.

“Because I want to taste you and discover if you’re yummier than the cupcake,” she said, and too much a coward to wait for his reaction, took him in her mouth. The texture of his hard length was smooth as silk.

Soon, he dove his fingers into her hair, massaging her scalp as she licked his cock, which grew even bigger in her mouth. Cupping his hard, full balls, she continued to savor him, her eager tongue running up and down, sliding over his veins. She could feel the blood pumping through them. And loved it.

Rough groans filled the air, and when she tried to take all of him in her mouth, she almost gagged. The man was too big, too excited. Another wave of pleasure surged through her.

“Come in my mouth, baby. I want all of you,” she heard herself saying in a low voice. Sexually. That’s how she wanted him, she rationalized. The creamy tip of his length hitting the back of her throat. He rocked his hips into her mouth, almost violently, his body shaking. Playing with his balls, palming them against her hand, she upped her game and sucked him deeper, harder. Until a guttural sound fled his mouth, and announced his climax.

She swallowed his seed, and as the warm, tangy liquid rolled down her throat, her pulse spiked.
I’m screwed.

Chapter Eight

Ryan glanced at his watch. 3:00 pm and no sign of her. She had slept the night and left after dawn.

His gaze ping ponged the huge casino area. A couple of pretty girls talked to guests, but whenever he came close, their chatter shifted into a monosyllabic whisper and they’d vanish. Coincidence? Doubtful.

He’d made sure not to make his presence too obvious but those girls seemed aware of their surroundings as if they had something to hide. For the past two hours he’d lost money in the slot machines on purpose, his gaze following them behind the bar. The blonde and the brunette went in there, and unlike the others, they’d taken a good hour and a half to reappear. What could they have done? There were no clients in the bar kitchen, obviously.

A man paid close attention to them. One of the security guys, whose name tag read
Omar
. There were surveillance cameras everywhere, and whatever operation was going on, it was smooth. Omar talked into the sleek earpiece, and every so often nodded at the passing waitresses without changing much of his austere, trying- hard-to-look-professional expression.

After a childhood of trying to blend, of pretending his mother hadn’t been convicted of murder, Ryan had learned the subtle art of discretion. Learned it enough to recognize when people tried really hard to go unnoticed. And that security guard showed all the signs.

“Drinks, sir?” a friendly waitress asked, her smile widening at him.

He didn’t spare her tray a glance. “No, thanks. Is Kika working today?”

“Kika?” She winced. “I don’t know any waitress by that name.”

“Five foot six, brunette, dark blue eyes. Kika Martinez.”

“Oh. Martinez. You must mean Luna. She’s off for a few days. Got a bug or something,” she said and with a nod, sauntered out of sight.

Luna. Kika. Something didn’t sound right. His gut clenched. He remembered the human resources manager, Alan, the one Blake had instructed him to go to if he needed anything. Maybe he could take a look at Luna’s employee file and retrieve an address.

After a quick phone call, he was in the man’s office.

“Normally I don’t let people in my office, but Mr. Blake instructed me to show you our database software,” the burly bald man said. “Who am I to say no to the boss, right?” He snickered.

Ryan rolled his eyes. Well, if anything at least the man was easily distracted. “Can I play with it a little bit? To see if this would suit my needs?”

“Yes.”

“Let’s say I wanna search for employees. How do I go about that?”

Five minutes later, there she was. There was something odd about the picture glaring on the screen, the same one he’d seen days earlier.