Sweet Southern Betrayal (20 page)

Risa was the perfect woman for the job of being his wife.

She was a fighter, strong, and realistic.

She didn’t fit his life, but she fit him. The rest could be worked out.

“Leland, I need your help.”

“I suspect you do. Let me guess. Risa.”

“Yes.” Teague didn’t know if he was relieved or irritated that Leland knew.

“I knew something was up when you showed up with a woman we’d never heard of before. That isn’t like you.”

“It was a sudden development.”

“Again, that isn’t you. And one conversation with her and you know she isn’t exactly blessed with the perfect background. She’s a scrapper because she’s had to be, but there are edges we need to smooth over before she can stay.”

“You’re right.” Teague took a deep breath, knowing his next words would commit him to a path. If he asked for this, he was all in—with the firm and with Risa. No going back. “I want her to stay. I need your help to make that happen.”

“Well, the first thing is to stop the annulment.”

Teague bit back his gasp of surprise.
Of course
they knew. He’d been crazy to think otherwise.

“You knew,” he said.

“Of course we did, and once we knew you’d arranged to have it expunged as well, we let you go with it.” Leland laughed. “I admired your attitude. Taking it on yourself. You wasted a favor, but that’s part of learning the game.”

“Thanks.”

“From now on that stops. We need to know what’s going on. No more lone wolf bullshit.”

“Sure.” Teague knew it sounded lame, but he was a little shell-shocked. He didn’t know whether to be angry with himself for being so naive or pissed that the Big Brother firm was all over his business. Now was not the time to voice any righteous indignation.

“We’ll stop the annulment. We’ve done a full background check on Risa and we’ll put together a plan to fix the problem areas. I don’t think we can give her a Kennedy background, but the homeless/foster care angle will help you with that demographic. This is still America and the rise-from-the-ashes crap plays like gold on the news networks.”

“I’ll talk to Risa about it and we can all discuss it when we get to DC,” Teague said, already planning how he’d broach the topic with her.

Getting married was easy—staying married was proving more difficult.

“She isn’t on board yet?” Leland didn’t pause long enough to let him answer. “I don’t pretend to be an expert when it comes to women, but I find that an orgasm and diamonds seem to do the trick just fine.”

Teague closed his eyes, tamping out any visual of Leland giving anyone an orgasm. “I’ve got that part under control.”

“Fine.” Leland paused. “What are you going to do about Big Tony?”

“I’ve got that under control as well.”

Teague prepared to end the call, but Leland wasn’t finished and his tone shifted, all warmth gone and replaced with something colder, harder. Teague sat up in his chair, the goose bumps that suddenly covered his skin prickling almost to the point of pain. “I kept all this—the background check, the crazy-ass wedding—to myself because I didn’t think the others would be as understanding. I don’t appreciate being blindsided.”

“I understand.”

“Do you?”

“Yes.”

“Next time I pull myself out and leave you hanging in the wind. You just blew your one time with me.”

“Got it.”

“And make sure your wife understands how this works. If she fucks this up, it’s on your head.”

“Leland, if you were any clearer, you’d be made of glass.”

“Get your ass to DC as soon as possible. Playtime is over, Teague. We’ve got big plans for you, and those start now.”

Leland hung up, the echo of his emphatic ending of the call ringing in Teague’s ear. Placing the handset on the cradle, he leaned back in his father’s chair and planned what he had to do.

He knew what he was going to do about Big Tony. If Tony was scared about Teague having secrets on him before, then he would be terrified once he knew what Teague was willing to do with those secrets if pushed hard enough. And the bonus was that his plans for Big Tony would also pave the way for Risa’s staying with him with no interference from Vegas.

Mr. Giambetti wouldn’t like it, but he’d comply when he realized he had no choice.

Convincing Risa to stay wasn’t going to be easy. It would take every skill he had as an attorney to get her to sign on to this life with him. He couldn’t offer hearts and flowers, not yet anyway, but he could offer her what she’d never had. He could give her the life she deserved. And maybe the love she deserved shortly thereafter.

…

“Why aren’t we staying at your place?”

Risa placed her purse down on the king-size bed in the luxurious suite of the Mandarin Oriental Hotel Teague had booked for them. Everything from the gracious entryway to the hotel, to the thick oriental carpets and the staff’s impeccable uniforms screamed five-star decadence and romance. If she’d been facing the most important meeting of her life, she would want to be in her own bed, her own home. But from what she saw at Teague’s place, it didn’t feel much like a home.

“I wanted to treat you to something special.”

“Me?” She spun around to find him leaning against the doorframe in all his tanned, long-limbed glory. The man was sexy as hell whether he was wearing running gear, jeans and a T-shirt, or like now in his custom-made suit. “Why me?”

“Because you’ve been a real trouper these last couple of weeks.”

“Oh, you mean the lying and the pretending?”

“And the stealing of a certain thumb drive to save my ass.”

Oh damn. The ever-present tears filling her eyes every time he was nice to her were back and she blinked to keep them at bay. But she wouldn’t cry tonight, not when Teague was looking at her with the look that set her on fire from the inside out. They hadn’t slept together the last two nights and she was craving his touch.

He moved toward her, turning her to place his hands on her shoulders and push her toward the huge drapery-covered windows. It was late, but she could see lights of the city peeking around the edges. Teague nudged her forward, tapping the side table light to turn it off.

She cried out at the sudden darkness. Teague was there, pressing his solid strength against her, his breath warm against her neck.

“Shh. I’ve got you.” He moved her forward with his weight and she went willingly, always ready to see what this man had up his sleeve. He never failed to surprise her. “Close your eyes.”

“It’s already dark.”

“Do you want to argue with me or get your surprise?”

“Ball-buster.”

“Takes one to know one.”

She laughed, savoring the rumble of his laughter along her back, closing her eyes. She felt him lift his right arm, heard the heavy swoosh of the curtains pulling to one side, the glow behind her eyelids shifting from an inky black to a reddish glow.

“Open your eyes.” His words, puffs of warm air against the bare skin of her neck, were felt more than heard, but she obeyed them anyway.

“Oh.”

“You like?”

“Yes.” The memorials—Jefferson and Lincoln—glowed in the space below. White, clean, suffused with romance and peace. They called to her as they had the first time she’d seen them. They were so different from the garish neon monoliths on the strip, representing things she could never have. “You gave me the memorials.” That kind of beauty was reserved for the right kind of people, the ones from nice families. The ones who didn’t have ugly secrets to dirty up pristine marble.

“Hey.” Teague moved behind her, his arms spanning her waist. “Stop thinking so hard. Just enjoy.”

She did, and focused on the lights below, the reflections of the monuments on the rippling water of the Tidal Basin. The sway of the trees along the edge of the shore with the breeze of early fall.

She swayed with it, into the hard strength of Teague. Into his warmth. Into his acceptance of her. For as long as she could hold it close, she would clutch at it with both hands. Imprint him on her skin as he was already engraved on her heart.

God, she loved this man, with all her heart, all her soul. And she was going to lose him when he got what he wanted tomorrow. She couldn’t make him happy. She wasn’t what he needed and he would find it out sooner or later. But she could pretend for another night.

“I’ve missed you, Risa,” he murmured against her skin, punctuated by a soft kiss.

“Teague.” She grabbed his hand, drawing it upward until it covered her breast. His groan against her skin made her thighs clench together in anticipation. “Touch me.”

“Your mouth. I need it.”

Risa turned her head, lips open and searching for his tongue, his heat, his passion. He possessed her, turning her breath into whimpers of pleasure she didn’t bother to suppress. She wanted him to have it all. She needed to give him everything, because no matter how long she lived, no matter who came after, she would always be his.

The chill of the window raised goose bumps on her skin as the weight of his body pushed her into it, the heat of his kiss a perfect counterbalance. It raced her to the edge fast, the slick arousal on her thighs a testament to her need. She humped back against him, riding the fat length of his cock in the cleft between her ass cheeks. Damn, that was good.

“I’m going to take you here, Risa. Against this window. Hard and deep.”

“Yes.”

“People might see us. If they look up, they’ll see me fucking you.”

“Oh God, yes.”

His left hand abandoned the span of her waist, fingers long and rough shoving up her skirt, pulling down her panties. She tried to shift, to help him ease down the scraps of silk that now seemed like the dumbest idea in the world, finally reaching down and tearing them off and throwing them to the floor.

“Goddamn, baby, you’re killing me here.” Teague mouthed the back of her neck, biting her skin, the metallic jangle of his belt hitting the floor and the telltale crinkle of the condom wrapper the sounds other than their heavy breathing. “I planned it slow. Champagne. Room service. On the bed.” He fucked into her hand when she reached around, stroking him as best she could at this angle. “Not like this.”

“Now, Teague. Now.”

“Greedy. My Risa, always so greedy.”

“Just hurry before room service shows up.”

“Yes ma’am.”

And then he was there. Hard, blunt, hot, fat—pressing against her and then sliding in. Filling her. Making her feel good. Giving her a memory that would never be erased from her memory.

Teague thrust into her, the hair on his thighs tickling the sensitive skin on the back of her legs. She reached around, trying to find a part of him to grab, to ground herself in his space, something to tether herself to the here and now. The glass of the window was slick with their passion, but now warm with their body heat.

She cried out. No words. Pleasure this good had no name, no description that she could think of in this state.

“You’re close.” Teague breathed against her skin, his fingers digging into her hips as he thrust deep and fast into her. “You’re grabbing me so tight. Feels so good, Risa. You feel so good.”

“Teague, please.”

“Yes.”

The memorials, his sweet gift below her, him inside and behind, covering her with his body and making her feel safe, desired. Loved. Her eyes closed, the sparks from her orgasm flashing behind her eyelids like a fireworks show, which matched the shudders of pleasure taking her knees out under her.

Teague stiffened inside her as he came, the power of his ecstasy pinning her against the glass for a few moments until the weight of his satisfaction brought them both to the ground. A tangled web of arms and legs, he pulled her close, kissing her mouth, cheeks, eyelids as their breathing returned to normal.

“That was not how I planned it,” Teague whispered in her ear.

“But it was awesome.”

“Yes, but…”

A knock on the door followed by a terse “room service” interrupted him and made them both jump. Laughing, Risa pushed him up, rising to scurry into the bathroom before she gave the waiter a tip that was way beyond the usual 15 percent.

She slapped his ass as she walked past, dodging the swipe he aimed at her. “Answer the door and we can do this the way you planned, Romeo.”

Chapter Seventeen

“Do you want your present?”

A late supper of Maryland crab cakes, asparagus, and white wine had hit the spot. Dessert—the first course, at least—consisted of creamy cheesecake with a dark chocolate crust. Dessert—the second course—was laid out alongside him in the bed, her auburn hair spilling over the white pillowcase. She looked like a goddamn painting.

He should have been in his office at work, preparing for tomorrow, showing the senior partners he was the man for the job. Rather, he was here, in an expensive-as-fuck hotel room with the best view of the memorials to try to convince Risa not to leave him. If he could just get the guts to ask her.