Accidentally Hooked (The Naked Truth Series Book 1) (3 page)

Kika gave him his passport back, then tossed her phone in her bag. “It’s a new rule. You know, to protect my ass from foreign clients,” she said playfully.

He shoved the passport in his back pocket. “Fair enough.”

“Okay. I’ll go to your hotel, but I don’t want to be seen.”

He curled up his lips. “No worries. Discretion is my middle name.”

“No. Your middle name is Charles.”

Right now, his middle name was Stupid.

***

I should be locked in a white padded room. Or something.
The man thought she was a hooker, for crying out loud! Kika followed him into the parking garage as he’d suggested to keep their entrance low-key. He slid the room key in the slot to gain access to the elevator from the parking garage. She watched his long fingers and her sex hummed.

When she had heard he stayed at the same hotel Luna worked as a waitress, she’d almost changed her mind. She didn’t want to jeopardize her sister’s job. What if he ran into Luna at the casino the next day? Gosh, that would be super awkward.

His candid confession cut to her soul. After what she’d endured with her brother, she’d become wary of being around addicts.
It’s not like Ryan is offering you a relationship, right? No puppies and rainbows.
He was just her client, in a world where her fantasy was coming to life.

The kiss he gave her…taught her no padded room, no confinement could smother the heat still branding her skin. What else did she have to go home to tonight? Freddy had died exactly six years ago. Her sister stood her up and didn’t have the guts to pick up her cell phone.

Maybe that was why she went along with pretending to be someone else. She badly needed an escape, and by God there were worse ones than Ryan Winters. Her lack of restraint around him was like taking a ride on a roller coaster for the first time. Except she’d had sex before…but never under false pretenses. He didn’t know where she lived, or anything else about her. He wanted to pay for sex, which gave her the freedom of not having to worry about the consequences. Yes, freedom from the clinging thoughts that always fogged her mind on her annual visit to her sister. Like opening that bathroom door and finding Freddy there, his body stiff and pale against the toilet seat. Dead.

A security guard nodded at Ryan, and he waved his key as a mere formality. The platinum shining on the card ensured privacy to whoever occupied the top penthouses.

The elevator doors closed, and he gave her a sexy sideways glance, encouraging her to erase the distance between them, with what she was sure was a very naughty smile on her face. However, a couple of seconds later, the white marbled, panoramic elevator stopped at the second floor, and a few guests joined them.

“Oh, the disadvantages of having a room on the top floor,” she whispered into his ear. Wasn’t there a part of her that didn’t respond to him with the eagerness of a shopaholic on a Black Friday?

He snaked his arm around her shoulders. “Tell me about it.”

Anticipation dripped down her spine and surged all the way down the back of her buckling knees. Another floor and more guests entered. She scooted back, and Ryan held her elbow, bringing her closer to him. He nudged her in front of him, his hand on her hip and with the discretion he claimed so natural to him, he took a millimeter of a step toward her, enough for her to feel his hot erection poking against her ass.
Dear. Lord.

Clamping her lips shut, she suppressed a moan. Each time her heart thumped, her pussy throbbed in a rhythm that was as delicious as frustrating. The voices around her faded in the background.

The elevator stopped at yet another level, and she was about to burst. They scooted back all the way against the glass wall to make room. She could glance behind her and see the Strip, but that meant she’d also have to face him, and just the idea of his azure eyes deepening with desire made her want to rub her back against his chest, and lean against him to give him full access to her neck.

When the elevator reached the fiftieth floor, the sound of her long suppressed sigh filled the space. The old ladies chattered on in French, and left the elevator at the same time as Ryan and her. Ryan stretched his hand to her, and she accepted it. With fingers intertwined, the warmth from his palm engulfed her. He wanted her badly, and that alone had her cursing every tiny step they took until they reached his door. Every. Single. One.

A handful of penthouses occupied that exquisite floor, with small bronze statues on every corner, renaissance art decorating the walls, and a couple of oversized chairs with golden trim. Luxury and decadence in every detail, just like the rest of the property. For all she cared, they could be in a dark alley in Marrakech. If he wasn’t buried inside her fast enough, she’d die.

He pressed the card in the slot area, it blinked green, and he turned the knob. Releasing her hand from his, he motioned for her to enter. A knot thickened in her throat. Was listening to her simmering lady parts the wisest decision she could make? He flicked a couple of dimmed lights on, which set the intimate mood.
Wow. The place is freaking huge.

Without waiting for him, she removed her black-wedged shoes and dropped them at the foyer. She walked past a dining table for six, a set of golden couches in the living area, and the inviting rectangular sleek pool on the balcony.

“Keep going,” he demanded, his husky drawl shredding any remain of doubt lurking in her mind. The man’s accent was porn to her ears.

Behind the French doors ahead was the master suite. Clenching and unclenching her sweaty hands, she strode to the set of doors, and swung them open as if they could leave all her baggage behind her. Tonight, she was someone else.

She curled her toes on the soft carpet, her eyes widening to soak in the Californian-sized bed, impeccably made, with about ten small pillows on the top of the rich bronze cover spread. Lights from the outside skipped in the room. The sliding door to the balcony was a tad open, and let in a draft of dry hot air.

The other furniture, the set of bedside tables, and the chaise longue at the end of the bed, faded in the background. Swept by a sense of empowerment, she turned around to find him leaning against the threshold, staring at her with an intensity that made her shudder.

He took his shirt off over his head, and tossed it to the side. Moisture evaporated from her throat. The planes of his well-muscled chest shifted as he walked toward her. He was chiseled, and plain gorgeous. A gleam of approval coated his eyes, even though she was clothed. By the time he was a heartbeat away from her, his limbs rubbing on hers, her heart galloped.

With a sly smile, he took her fedora off, and her hair fell in waves down her shoulders. “I’ve been wanting to do this for a while.”

“It hasn’t been that long,” she said, her voice a tad nervous.

“That’s where you’re wrong. Ever since I saw you at the bar…every moment I don’t kiss you, it seems like it’s been way too long a wait.”

She chewed on her lower lip, biting it so hard. Maybe the pain would take over the strangely warm sensation pouring through her. Crap. The man had game. Too much game.
I have to up mine.

She glided her fingers down his hard chest and toyed with the hem of his jeans. “What do you want?” she whispered, figuring that’s what a sex professional would ask. Also, if he requested anything too freaky, this was her chance to bolt.

“What I want is right in front of me,” he said, before covering her lips with his and initiating a kiss charged with raw passion. A kiss that spiked her adrenaline even higher than the one they’d shared on the street.

His tongue stroked and wrestled hers with the same intensity. Heat coiled low in her belly, and she matched his eagerness with her own, plastering herself against him, her hands perusing his chest. She made circles with the tip of her trembling fingers around his taut nipples and he tensed up under her touch.

“What do you want, Kika?” he asked, his breath shaky.

Her heart skipped a beat, and she brought her gaze to his, making it race again. This. This was what she could have right now, and what would help her forget everything else. For one night only. “I want you to fuck me.”

Chapter Three

“Too right.” He slammed her against the wall, the coolness of the glass prickling her bare arms. His lips hovered over hers, and she parted her mouth, but instead of going for a full on kiss, Ryan withdrew. Dizzy with desire, her head bobbed toward him.

He lifted her arms and put them behind her head. A wave of anxiety swept through her, and she arched toward him. Asking for help had never been her forte, but damn the man, she needed him to release the volcanic tension boiling in her veins.

Ryan held her arms captive with one hand, and she squirmed. Lowering toward her, he ran his index finger over her face, outlining her cheeks, her nose, her mouth. She slipped the tip of her tongue out, and licked his finger. He threw his head back, and let a long sigh that shred the silence.

Encouraged, she ran her tongue up and down his finger. He stood straighter and faced her. The spark of defiance in his eyes set her pulse on a wild delicious race. Whatever challenged he planned, she wasn’t going to back down.

She sucked his finger, marveling over his rough skin and he groaned. Shaking his head, he yanked his finger from her mouth, and ran the glistening flesh down her neck. She felt her main vein pulsating; he must have noticed because he flashed her a smile of pure male pride.

The moment he pulled up her tank top and fondled her breasts over her black satin bra, she gasped and sagged her shoulders, her body sliding on the glass and producing a squeaking noise. He loosened the grip on her arms till they fell down to her side.

Ryan pulled her bra to the side, and her breasts spilled into view. Licking his lips, he took a small step back, his intense gaze fixed on her dark brown tips. “These are fucking gorgeous.” He glanced at her. “You are gorgeous.”

“How gorgeous?” she whispered.

Smiling, he brushed his palm against her breasts. Oh, how she ached for his touch… Her nipples hardened like diamond tips. After cupping them, he made circular movements on the sensitive skin around her nipples, tugging at the center. Her entire body tingled. Without mercy, her bones melted, one by one.

She leaned her head against the glass, eyes closed. He began a path of kisses, big and small, on her neck that had her quivering for more. Moaning, she raked her fingers in his hair. The buzz cut was a combination of sharp and smooth—much like the man whose tongue tasted her collarbone.

“Yes,” she whispered, arousal ricocheting through her. There wasn’t room for anything else but the two of them. No past, no sorrow, nothing. Just the way it should be.

He licked her nipple, and his hand massaged the other. The moisture from her thighs seeped through her pants, she was sure. A rasping sound flew past his lips when he switched from one breast to the other. This time, he sucked it without delay, grazing his teeth on her tight bud, and increasing the blazing tornado in her bloodstream.

Could it get any better?

He touched her waistline, then his hand perused yet lower and he fumbled to find her zipper. Oh, yes, it could—and would—get much better. She caressed his shoulders, her fingernails scratching his bare flesh.

“Are you trying to distract me?” His voice dropped an octave, his accent even more pronounced. He nipped on her swollen breast, and she smothered a cry of pleasure.

“Is it working?”

Chuckling, he unzipped her pants. The polyester soon pooled at her feet and she kicked them to the side. Ryan continued his exploration, slipping a couple of fingers in her white lacy panties. At first, he drew an invisible pattern on her sex, each time threatening to go lower, each time making her inhale all the air in the room only to exhale at once, clumsily.

She buckled, the promise of a climax fogging her brain. Finally, he inserted two fingers into her warm, swollen walls. She clawed him harder on his back. A coarse whimper pushed past her throat. “More.”

Ryan kissed his way up her neck and jaw line, while adding his thumb to tease her clit. She shut her eyes, the overpowering sensation building and growing in her heart, her pussy, her thighs. Perhaps sensing how close she was, he intensified the stroking of his fingers, which were now coated with her pearly essence. Flicking her clit, he took her mouth in a frantic kiss—as if his lips, teeth, and tongue searched for something beyond what was being offered.

Clinging to him, she wrapped one leg around his torso, and the positioning sent her right over the edge. She caught a hint of the scent of her arousal, and her body roared. He increased the pressure, the rhythm.

A zingy, tingly sensation started to throb her clitoris and spread throughout her body. The dominant surge of pleasure clenched her muscles, curled her toes, and she quivered, letting the air out in panted breaths. A lightness, different from anything she’d ever experienced, washed over her, and lingered when she began to slow her pace.

“Open your eyes,” he commanded.