Pretty in Kink (14 page)

A gleam of disbelief, rejection and fury swam in the
pale-blue of her eyes. “Life goes on? Life goes on?” Her voice rose to a
screeching octave of incredulity. “Well thanks to you, not for our son it
doesn’t. But being such a selfish bastard, I guess life does go on for you. The
proof is in the picture, that’s for damn sure.”

“What?”

“The picture in your fucking hand. Unwad it, take a really
good look.”

His gaze dropped to the crumpled sheet he’d assumed to be a
small but thick piece of paper. Bit by bit he unraveled it.

What the…

He swallowed a lump, blinked, not sure if he saw what he
thought he saw. The sky flashed, giving him a clear view.

It was one of the photos of Britt.

Bound with a large vibrator sticking up from between her
closed thighs.

He cursed under his breath.

Though she was blindfolded with her long swing of hair
covering her face, there was no doubt who it was. It was a duplicate of one of
the photos he’d seen in the batch he’d brought home that night from the store.
Dread swirled in his abdomen, making him nauseated and dizzy.

“Where did you get this?”

“It’s her, isn’t it? It’s the floozy you just had chained to
your hot tub. What the hell’s wrong with you, you ass?” she hissed. “What’s
gotten into you that you would take such filthy pictures of a woman like this
and put them in a—”

“Carolyn. Shut up.” He fisted the photo in his hand, his
eyes snapping back up to penetrate her surprised ones. “I didn’t take this
picture. And it’s not mine.”

She scoffed. “If you ask me, it looks just like her. Can’t
see the face, but I’d bet it’s her.”

“I said I didn’t take the picture.”

“Then how the hell did it end up in the pictures of Tyler
you brought by last week?”

He widened his eyes.
Shit. Fuck.
The wrong-pictures
mess he thought he’d cleaned up just got cloudier.

He’d known Carolyn’s photos were of Tyler. He had to be sure
they were the correct packet the second time around, and not the racy ones of
Britt again, so he’d looked at them in his office at home before taking them to
Carolyn.

To see the adorable pictures of his son had torn his heart
out. But he knew Carolyn wouldn’t share them with him, so he’d made copies for
himself on his scanner and sealed the originals right back in her envelope.

But obviously, he’d fucked something up. One of Britt’s
negative strips must have gotten misplaced when he’d pulled her pictures out of
her
envelope that same night, and then it had somehow gotten stuck in
Carolyn’s packet.

God
damn
it. What a fucking disaster, and all because
he’d done a favor for his ex-wife.

Carolyn scoffed and slapped her hands on her hips. “That’s
right, I said the photos of Tyler, you jerk. From an old roll of film I found
recently. It was marked “Tyler”.
That’s
the ones I had you pick up for
me last week.”

Yep, he’d figured that out. After meeting Britt.

“After I got the packet from you, I decided I wanted copies
and a few snapshots blown up for frames. And after I got the copies back, right
there stuck in the middle of the stack was this picture and its negative. Oh
yeah, all the others on the negative strip were empty, but this one tells me
all I need to know.”

God, I’m such a careless idiot.

He sighed. “Hey, I’m sorry. Really, I am. Maybe the store
got someone else’s negatives mixed up with yours, I don’t know. But mistakes
like this don’t happen when digital cameras are used. Why in the world do you
keep insisting on doing it the old-fashioned way, anyway? Even years ago before
Tyler was born, there was such a thing as a digital cam—”

“Shut up. I prefer it that way. It’s easier. I don’t like
all that stupid technology. Besides, I’ll do whatever the hell I want. And
this—” She thumped his hand. “This is what came back ‘the old-fashioned way’.
Your smut stuck right between all those sweet little photos of my son.”

My
son too, goddamn it.

Diego’s mind raced. If it wasn’t the shop that made the
mistake, then it had to be him. Britt’s negative had to have gotten scooped up
from his desk with Carolyn’s copies. Bizarre as it was, it was the only
explanation he could think of.

And something that never would have happened if Carolyn
would’ve just agreed back then to use his digital camera instead of always
insisting on him buying her those disposable cameras to take pictures of Tyler.

“Look, again I don’t know how you ended up with it. I didn’t
take the picture. Besides, if I would have, it would’ve been with my ‘modern’
camera, and I would have just uploaded them to my computer, not taken them into
a photo shop to be developed. So you see, you’re jumping to all kinds of
conclusions and it’s pissing me the hell off.”

And you’re threatening my relationship with Britt.

Her lips tightened, her eyes narrowed. “You mean it’s really
not yours?”

He shrugged. “No. Photo shops screw up all the time.”
Believe
me, I can attest to that.

She crossed her arms. The dangling stethoscope nestled atop
her forearm. Even though she was in a snarky mood, he liked her sober so much
better. But there was no telling her so.

“The picture’s not yours, then?”

“How many times do I have to say it? No.”

She closed her eyes and sighed. “You’re not lying to me,
are
you?”

“Why would I lie to you?”

She turned, stood between the open door and her car and set
a foot inside. “Because it looks an awful lot like the woman in your hot tub.”

“Coincidence. And even if it was mine, what business is it
of yours?”

“Yeah, whatever.” She jutted her chin at the bundle in his
hand and climbed in. “Burn that filth for me, would you? The negative already
went up in smoke in my fireplace.”

“Sure.” He squeezed it tight and stuffed it in his pocket.
“Consider it done.”

“Right. See you.” Carolyn slammed her door shut and backed
out of the drive. He stood there until her car went down the winding street and
out of sight.

Rain started with a sprinkle then escalated into pelting
drops. He stood there in the downpour, let out a pent-up breath and swung his
gaze to the house. God, he hoped she hadn’t heard anything. But his hopes sank
to the pit of his gut when he glanced up and saw the open living room window.

* * * * *

“I wouldn’t give it to you kinky like that whore just
did, so you moved on to one who would.”

She’d stopped listening at that statement. She had wandered
into the living room and overheard that one bit of their conversation, but
returned to the kitchen and started putting away the food and condiments.

Whore.

She’d never been called such a derogatory name before. Britt
fumed about it as she scooped the burgers into a storage bowl and sealed the
lid. And by a man’s ex-wife, no less. In fact, she’d never dated a divorcee
before now.

The air around his whole relationship with his ex had just
gotten thicker, murkier. Did heavy ties, if not chains, still exist between
those two? How else could—what did he say her name was? Carolyn? How could she
feel comfortable just bursting in on his privacy like that?

Britt took the bowls to the refrigerator and shoved them in
between a case of beer and a jug of orange juice. She caught one of the beer
bottles just before it tumbled off the shelf. Crap, this whole situation had
her nerves on edge.

She rearranged the bottles and then stood with the door
ajar, staring into the back of the refrigerator.

Volatile as his ex had seemed, she was an attractive woman,
just as Britt would expect of Diego’s taste. But her wild blonde hair had
framed a heart-shaped face with piercing eyes underscored by dark, puffy
circles Britt had been able to see even in the intermittent lightning flashes.
She had appeared to be a woman either under a great deal of emotional stress,
or one who’d taken to neglecting her good looks, drinking, drugs or something.
Though Carolyn had looked to be on the gaunt side with the medical scrubs
hanging from her thin frame, Britt had sensed glimpses of what used to be a
healthy, voluptuous woman.

Had their son’s situation, whatever that was, done this to
her? Britt still wasn’t sure of the details of the boy, or if the he still
lived or not. Diego had one photo of the child in his office, but seemed not to
want to discuss him. At her earlier quick peep out the window at Carolyn’s
sleek white car, Britt hadn’t been able to glimpse anyone in the car with the
woman. The child seemed to be a very sensitive subject for Diego, and she
didn’t intend to breach it before he was ready.

But instinct told Britt the boy might be dead, and that it
somehow had contributed to their breakup. Something in the ex-wife’s manner and
presence told her resentment and anger remained there between them, and since
the child never seemed to be around, Britt could only deduce his possible
convalescence or death to be the reason. Evidently, there were unresolved
issues. It gave her pause and made her wonder if she’d walked into a hornets’
nest. She reached for the ketchup and mustard and plunked them into the fridge
door. Maybe she should move on and not get involved in such an emotional,
still-raw situation?

“I’m so sorry about that,” Diego said as he sauntered
through the patio door. “My ex, she can be…something else.”

Britt closed the refrigerator door, leaned against it. “No
problem, I understand.”

“Did you, uh, hear any of her rantings?”

“No.” Britt stared at him, pondering whether or not to spill
it. Honesty won out. “Well, actually, I heard the part where she called me a
whore. But hey, I’m sure anyone would’ve thought the same thing to see me
strung up in a hot tub getting screwed outside in front of the whole world.”

A muscle in his jaw twitched. “First off, it was none of her
damn business. She had no right spying on us or calling you a whore. Second, no
matter the manner of it, I was
making love
to you, not screwing you. In
spite of the language I might use during the act, there’s a big difference
between lovemaking and screwing in my book.”

She paused at his declaration, but she’d reached her quota
of nerves for the night. “I um… I need to be going now. I have an early-morning
shoot. I’ll just call a cab.”

He backed her against the fridge when she started for her
purse to dig out her cell phone, caging her in by planting his hands on either
side of her head. “No woman of mine’s leaving my home in a cab.”

His mouth touched hers, dragged back and forth. It made her
breath clog in her lungs. She fisted her hands in his shirt to keep from
sliding down the fridge. “Woman of yours?”

The corners of his mouth lifted in a sly grin yet the
sentiment didn’t quit reach his eyes. With his mouth a mere centimeter from
hers, he whispered in a near snarl, “Yes, woman of mine. All mine. And even
though I can see those exotic eyes of yours searching for a way out, you’re
stuck with me, babe. The tall, slender—” He hitched her up so she straddled
him. “Hot and sophisticated model with the long-haired, hoodlum biker dude.
Imagine that.”

“Diego, I…oh gawd.” He’d shoved her shirt and bra up and now
suckled on one nipple. She went instantly hard, from every muscle in her body
from her nipples to her clitoris. Blood engorged her knot and her panties
dampened in response. Her fingers dove into the thick tresses of his wild hair,
holding his head to her chest. She groaned out in ecstasy and wrapped her legs
around his hips.

“Uh-uh.” He ripped her legs away and set her on the floor.
“The pants, take them off.”

Now that his strong arms and hot flesh no longer held her
captive, she had her bearings back. Somewhat. Britt searched his expression,
trying to decipher his odd mood. She struggled to clear her mind, to remember
she’d been about to call a cab. “I…I’ve got to—”

“Shh, quiet.”

Damn him, he knew she wanted exactly what she tried to deny
him. But he didn’t wait for her completed protest. Instead, he did the job
himself. Diego yanked her pants and panties down in one swipe, pausing to pull
one shoe from her foot to free her leg of the garment. He hitched her back up
and slammed her against the cool refrigerator. Already, his arousal bulged in
his jeans. The stiff denim abraded over her bare cunt. She cried out at the
sudden contact. Her shirt and bra were still shoved above her breasts and Diego
went back to work, tasting one, then the other. His mouth made a devastating
trail from her nipple, up the column of her neck to her jaw.

He claimed her lips, covering her mouth in a ravaging swoop.
His tongue explored, dove, sucked. She stiffened, tasting the remnants of her
own flavor still clinging to his taste buds. But he gripped her wrists with one
hand and held them over her head, hooking his fingers on the top of the freezer
door. He jerked her back against the surface a second time, shoved his free
hand between her legs and slid one finger inside her, slow, so freaking slow,
and all the while his mouth continued to plunder hers.

She whimpered, trying to release the one breath that had
lodged in her lungs. Wicked fire torched her womb and she dribbled juices all
over his finger and palm. Thunder rumbled and rolled closer. Humid, tropical
evening air rushed in through the open patio door and brushed over her
perspiring, naked flesh. But it did little to squelch her uncontrollable
libido. Instead, it fanned the flames of desire. It made her crux throb until
she swore she heard distant drums pounding, urging the fires to lick higher.

“Jesus, so wet all the time,” he rasped against her lips.

His roughness didn’t surprise her. He finger-fucked her
there while holding her against the refrigerator, almost bringing her to the
crest of release. But some sort of raw emotion driven by sudden aggression had
him yanking his finger from inside her right before she gave herself up to
oblivion. She groaned at the disappointment of being left empty and
unfulfilled. Oh but it didn’t last long. He fumbled with his zipper. And in one
swift, upward stroke, he buried his shaft inside her. Her damp back slid up the
cool, stainless steel.