Someone Like You (Someone To Love Series) (21 page)

I peak deep inside her body and tremble in a perfect moment that turns this bed, this entire damn hotel into the type of paradise I’ve only dreamed about. I don’t think I’ve ever felt this impossibly satisfied before. I think those three magic words took us to a whole new level that neither of us expected.

“That was great,” she bleats as I collapse over her.

“That was fucking fantastic,” I pant.

Nope. I can’t leave Ally Monroe.

We’re going to make this work. I can feel it.

I just haven’t figured out how.

A splash of uninvited sunshine penetrates the honeymoon suite where Ally and I unofficially moved our Facebook status to “in a relationship.”

I groan and pull the sheets up over our heads.

“You’re still here.” I say it groggily, trying to sound sarcastic, but it comes out just this side of an insult.

“You sound disappointed, Mr. Jordan.” Ally glows like a soft peach as she gives an impish grin. Her mascara is smudged to the point of igniting another boner in me before I have the chance to stretch into a new day.

“Nope, not disappointed. It’s just this is the part where you usually morph into Molly.”

She gives a playful slap to my chest as she laughs. Ally rips the sheet off of us in the event I was having difficulty identifying her.

“But I’m glad you’re you.” I pull her in tightly and land a playful kiss over her lips. My hands ride lower between her thighs until my fingers land in the warmth of her body. Ally bends her neck back. Her mouth opens with a gasp.

Her hair is wet, and tiny beads of water run down her back.

“You took a shower?” I dip my hand between her legs, working my thumb over her slick folds until she groans.

“Had to.” She pants, brushing over my ear with her teeth. “You defiled me.”

“Trying to show me up in the hygiene department?” I run my hand up until I’m cupping her soft tit. I dip down and land my mouth on her quivering flesh, running my tongue over her sugared nipple until she’s nice and hard. “I’m going to bite you.” I graze her with my teeth and pull at her until she’s stretched beneath me at least an inch.

“Ouch,” she says softly. “And, oddly, it kind of feels good.”

“I think you’re going to like all the ways I plan on hurting you.” I gently flip her onto her stomach and ride my finger down her backside before slowly inserting it into her bottom. She’s so tight, I’m pretty sure there’s no hope of my plan taking flight.

“Out,
now
.” She says it sternly, like she might rip my balls off if I don’t comply. She turns her head slightly to look at me. “That’s a no-fly zone, buddy.”

“Got it.” I prop her up on her knees and take a seat behind her to enjoy the view. Ally’s pink folds glisten in the morning light, calling out to me like candy.

“What now?” She sounds less than slightly amused.

“I’m in the mood for breakfast.” I land a soft kiss over the most intimate part of her, and her body writhes with pleasure. I raise her even higher and indulge in another series of clean sweeps with my tongue that leave her audibly moaning like a dove. “Is this a no-fly zone, Ally?” I plunge my tongue deep inside her, and she lets out a strangled cry. “Do you like this?” I glance over at her with her lips scraping against the pillow as if she were in pain. “I can’t hear you.” I touch my lips to her moist flesh and she flexes as if she’s just about there. “I can hold out like this all day if you want. What’s the magic word, Ally?”

“Please,” she whispers into the pillow.

I trace my lips over her thighs. “I’m sorry. I didn’t hear you.”

“Yes, dammit,
please
.” She gives a hard twist, and I almost drop her. I land her softly on the bed and turn her around—the look of disappointment rife on her face.

“You
did
say please.” I give a wicked grin as I push her knees apart and swim down toward her thighs once again. “Get up on your elbows.” I instruct and she’s quick to comply; her chest rises and falls like a catastrophic event is about to unfold. “You’re going to watch, Ally. And if you don’t, I’m going to enter the no-fly zone, and I’m betting you’ll like it.”

“Right.” She squints as if calling out my bluff. “You need safe words for places like that, and we don’t even have a safe word,” she says, looking cute as hell, and it takes everything in me not to laugh.

“The safe word is
faster
.”

“Faster?” Her eyes widen. “That doesn’t sound like a safe word.”

“No it doesn’t, so I suggest you do as you’re told.” I dip my mouth down over her belly, dropping down past her soft curls before hitting the slick I’ve been craving to get back to. I glance up and her eyes enlarge as if shocked to see me. My tongue finds a home over her, and I roll her around in my mouth, never wanting to stop. Her hips swivel as she moans with a satisfying rhythm.

I glance up and she’s right there at full attention, unable to take her eyes off mine.

“Faster?” I ask, holding back a smile.

“Faster?” She looks perplexed. “No,
no
, not faster.” She intensifies her gaze just this side of a glare. “Jordan, you are going to pay for this.”

“I hope so.” I push in with a heated kiss before flicking my tongue over her until she lets out a scream that sounds like an entire choir has been waiting to erupt from her vocal cords since the beginning of time.

“Morgan.” She groans, putting me in a headlock with her knees.

She turns to the side, and I swim up beside her.

“You did good.” I melt a kiss over her lips and die a little.

Ally Monroe.

The breakfast of champions.

9

ROCK BOTTOM

Ally

T
o say that Morg
an and I have taken flight on a shooting star that burns with passion would be propagating a lie. We are so much more than that, bolstering ourselves higher and higher, and for sure neither of us ever wants to come back down to earth.

On Thursday night, Rock Bottom is pumping like a hot New York nightclub that people actually fly in to visit. Morgan tried to lure me back to the honeymoon suite the last few nights, but I assured him I’d rather save the money and give Kendall and Cruise a run for theirs. Suffice it to say, we’ve tested the mattress springs back at the cabin and created our own heartbeat into the night with the clatter of the headboard.

I’m chatting it up with Steven at the bar when I spot Tess barreling toward me, her blonde hair whipping through the establishment like a flame.

“Here we go,” I whisper. This can’t be good.

“Well, hello there,
sis!
” She says it with a bitchy smile on her face like she’s about to impale me with one of the whiskey bottles within reach. I scuttle away from the bar. “Leaving so soon? Aren’t you going to give me a warm welcome? Perhaps a guided tour?” Her eyes widen as she pulls me in by the elbow. “Kit was nice enough to let me in on your little secret when I asked why we had eight different girls call in sick on the same night.”

“Eight?” I press my lips together because I know I’ve got a lot of explaining to do.

Her gaze wanders for a moment as she squints over at the bartender himself.

“Steven?” She screeches it out in a fit of disbelief. “What have you done, Ally?” Tess clamps her hands to her hips as she sweeps the room with an interrogating gaze. “Oh, hon, Dell is going to
kill
you. And I mean that literally. You need to stop right this minute and send everybody back to Pretty Girls where they belong.”

“This isn’t a hostage situation, Tess. They’re here because the pay is better. Plus there’s no house fee.”

Her mouth drops to the floor, and for a moment I think she’s considering her options.

“Look, I’m warning you, Dell isn’t going to sit around with his thumb up his ass once he finds out what’s happening here.”

“Please don’t tell.” An image of her moronic boyfriend mowing Morgan down with his Camaro bounces through my mind. “Morgan is leaving soon. His mom’s wedding is next weekend. It’d be sacrilegious to slaughter him before then.”

“Relax, I’m not telling, Ally.” She rolls her eyes at the idea. “Dell’s got his ways of finding out on his own. Believe me, that man knows everything. And if
you
know what’s good for you, you’ll leave town right along with your newfound boy toy.” She pulls me in gently by the neck and sighs. “Are we still on for Ruby’s birthday?”

“Of course.” I shake my head at her. “I’d never deny you that. You and Ruby are the only real family I have.” I hate to relegate Derek to the realm of distant other, but he sort of did that to himself when he harvested his own pharmaceuticals. Of course, Morgan feels like family too.

She leans in and presses a tender kiss just above my cheek.

“Be careful, okay?” Her blonde locks are swept to one side, hiding her eye in a sexy way. I wish to God Tess wasn’t chained to Dell like some kind of explosive device. Too bad she can’t see he’s ready to blow and take her with him. “I love you, sweetie.”

My heart thumps unnaturally when she says those words. I don’t believe Tess and I have ever said
I love you
to one another.

“I love you too, Tess.” I pull her in and offer a death grip of a hug. Something huge is about to happen in our lives, but I can’t pinpoint what. I just hope somehow we both get our happy endings.

Tess runs out of the club as if it were on fire, and I shudder thinking about her cryptic words. If Dell finds out, both Morgan and I will have a demon by the tail.

“Hey, bitch.” A female voice booms as she twists me around by the elbow. It’s Molly. Her lipstick is smeared, and her hair looks as if she’s been dancing on her head all night. “I heard you’ve been screwing around with my boyfriend.”

“And who would that be?” God, she’s tanked. Where’s Cruise when you need him?

A hard slap ignites over my cheek, and I feel the sting long after she’s distributed it.

I touch my fingers to my numb face. It feels raw as a steak—already swelling. Just past her shoulder I spot Blair. I think I know who lit Molly up like a stick of dynamite. Lighting the fuse is Blair’s favorite sport.

“What the hell?” Kendall appears and helps support Molly, to keep her from falling flat on her drunk ass.

“Looks like our favorite power bitch is up to her old tricks again.”

“
Molly
.” Cruise pops up, pissed as hell at his sister’s state of unsober being.

“Get her home,” Kendall snaps. “I’ll wait here with Ally.” A touch of an evil smile twitches on her lips.

Cruise doesn’t protest the idea and hauls Molly’s slaphappy ass right off the premises. I think I’ll tell Cal she’s no longer welcome. I’m pretty sure Cruise won’t fight me on it since she’s underage. Chalk another one up on the felony scoreboard.

“What has she done?” Kendall asks me, shaking with anger while glaring at Blair.

“What hasn’t she done? She tried to destroy you and Cruise, and now she’s after Morgan.”

“Poor under-laid Blair.” Kendall feigns pity. “I think maybe
we
should show her a good time instead.”

“
Kendall
.”

“Not like that.” She averts her gaze. “Follow me.”

Kendall is a woman on a mission, and judging by the way she’s stomping over to Blair, I’d bet a serious ass-kicking was about to start. Blair is going to require tons of pain meds and years of psychiatric treatment to recover from the surprise this evening is about to produce.

Kendall links her arm through Blair’s, and I do the same on the other side as we sweep her off toward the back.

“Okay, I get it, you’re pissed,” Blair says, shuffling her feet in the air because we’ve resorted to airlifting her to our final destination. I’m hoping an incinerator is involved. If I’m going to fry, it might as well be for something big and, in Blair’s case, totally worth it.

Kendall swings open the door to the Exotic Room and speeds us inside.

A red light strobes through the darkened environment, tinting the room and everyone in it a sultry shade of sin. I spot Rutger and Woody Bates—an appropriate pairing when you consider this very room is a magnet for assholes. Bates gives a slight wave as if he’s still got a chance. Creepy.

“Attention, everybody!” Kendall’s voice shrills high like a whistle, and the girls slow their movements to a crawl. “My friend here would like to strut her stuff, but she’s feeling a little shy, so I thought maybe you could help her out?”

Help her?

“What’s her name?” Cinnamon, one of the girls from the club, belts it out like a song.

“Blair.” Kendall is quick to divulge her victim’s name.

“Bodacious Blair,” I add, and the room lights up with laughter because, well, the irony is evident.

So that’s it? Kendall’s big revenge is making Blair swivel her hips in front of a couple dozen wasted men—maybe scoring some loose bills in the process? Unimpressive. I doubt this will shred the fiber of her rotten being. Most likely it’ll just breed the need to delve further into exhibitionism.

The girls break out in a choir of “Go, Blair, go Blair,” and it all sounds a little too cheerful, like this is some sorority event engineered to bolster her morale instead of ushering her into public humiliation as intended. Kendall obviously needs some assistance in this department so I gladly step in.

Kendall braces Blair by the shoulders, ready to launch her into the growing circle of bikini-clad dancers, and the only thing I can think to do is pants her. Only she’s not wearing any, so I opt for the next logical solution. I pull her dress off over her shoulders so fast that Blair is clear across the room before she notices it’s missing.

“Oh my God,” I gasp. Not only did Blair go commando, but she seems to be deficient in the boulder-holder department as well. Not that it matters much because honestly? What’s there to hold?

“Our work here is done,” Kendall hisses as she speeds us out of the Exotic Room and deep into the mix of bodies clear across the club.

We laugh our asses off for the next twenty minutes straight. It was a thing of beauty watching Blair flail and gyrate while trying to cover her bits and pieces, and I do mean bits.

But I have a feeling our little act of revenge is going to be reciprocated, sooner than later. Blair Lancaster doesn’t go down easy. Nor does she fight a fair fight. Boyfriends and doctoral degrees have been known to vanish under her wrath, but I say bring it. I’ll expect anything and everything. She’s out for a hell of a lot more than simply humiliating us. She’s out to snake our boyfriends from underneath us—at least one of them, and I’m betting that one is mine.

But one thing I know for sure: Morgan Jordan isn’t going anywhere.

Except of course to Oregon.

Saturday, I set off for my playdate with Ruby. I’m so grateful the Christies don’t mind me spending time with her that I hug Janice, her mother, to death each time I see her.

The Christies live in Farmington, about a two-and-a-half-hour drive away. Nothing but country roads stretch out before me, like silver snakes that slither on for miles. I never seem to mind the drive because every minute brings me that much closer to seeing my sweet rose-faced cherub.

Ruby has an adoptive older sister named Merrill and a younger sister named Kayla. Janice asked if we could all hang out together because Ruby’s sisters were jealous she was getting her nails done, so of course I said yes. I opted for Morgan’s genius suggestion of a mani-pedi playdate along with my equally genius plan of sneaking in some ice cream and a movie.

Morgan. I can’t seem to get him off my mind, and with each passing mile my heart aches just a little bit more knowing I’m that much farther from him. Funny, the only one who’s ever elicited those feelings in me before was Ruby. It’s as if Morgan has managed to graft himself over my heart almost as firmly as my own flesh and blood. For a moment I fantasize that Ruby was ours, mine and Morgan’s—that she lived with us in married housing over at Garrison. Then in a viral assault on my emotions I remember that he’s leaving in less than two weeks and all of the good times, the club, the way he rocks that damn bed, will up and leave with him, right along with my heart.

I arrive at the oversized house with its proverbial white picket fence and stretch my limbs before heading toward the porch.

Ruby runs out at top speed, laughing and clapping her hands, happy to see me.

Her hair is entwined in an intricate French braid, and she’s sporting a touch of a summer tan. Her lips are a testament to her name.

“My beautiful girl.” I pick her up and offer a spin before planting a big wet kiss on her cheek. “Are you ready to get pretty-pretty?” That’s what she calls going to the salon, getting
pretty-pretty
.

She holds out her nails and waves them through the air as if they were already drying.

Janice comes out with the girls, and we pile in her minivan and head into town.