I can’t wait to see her walk down the aisle in it tomorrow. It’s going to be perfect.
Now we’re all in a private room for VIPs in the best steakhouse in Vegas. It’s off the strip and a local hotspot, so you know it’s fantastic. I enjoyed a perfect dinner complete with four vodka martinis with blue cheese olives and great company. I forgot how much I missed our regular girls’ nights with Grace.
“This has been so much fun,” I say after Grace tells another tall tale from our days at NYU.
“I forgot how much I missed our regular LBD dinners,” Grace replies.
“LBD?” Ryan asks.
“Little Black Dress,” Grace answers. “We used to get dressed up and go out to dinner and catch up every other Saturday.”
“Life got intense,” I insert, shrugging off the feeling that life is passing me by. But tonight is not about me, and I’m not going to let it be either. “Speaking of intense. The town car should be here in twenty minutes to take you to the courthouse for your marriage license. You have all the documents, right?”
“Yes,” Cara says, but Rick interrupts her, looking a little sheepish.
“We won’t be needing them.”
I swear to God you can hear a pin drop. Cara’s face goes pale, and I can see she’s thinking what we all thought, which is crazy. Rick won’t leave her at the altar, will he? I never would have thought he’d be the kind of guy to do it; then again, I never thought he’d be the kind of guy to have a secret wife and daughter either.
I look around the table and see shocked faces on everyone. That is on everyone except Jake, who is smiling like a lunatic.
“Why won’t we need our documents to get a marriage license?” Cara asks quietly.
“Because we won’t be getting a marriage license,” he answers with a stupid smile on his face and a wild look in his eyes.
“Why not?” she murmurs calmly.
“Because we don’t need one.”
“Now, excuse me—” Grace wades in, going all mama bear for our girl.
“That’s right—” I add, but Rick cuts us both off.
“We don’t need one, because we’re already married.” He drops that bomb on the table.
“Honey,” Cara says, clearly thinking her intended is drunker than he seems. “I signed divorce papers before they were served to you.”
“I know,” he says, still smiling like an idiot.
“So we’re divorced. And getting married in the morning.”
“We’re having a wedding,” he replies cryptically, making Jake burst out laughing. He’s clearly in on the inside information.
“What’s going on here?” Grace turns her accusations on her husband, who holds his hands up in surrender and smiles as he shakes his head.
“So, funny story,” Rick says. “When I got home and had the divorce papers waiting for me, I was so mad.”
“I know, honey,” Cara says gently. “And I am so sorry.”
“I know.” He smiles at her and places a quick kiss on her mouth. “But that’s not the funny part.”
“Well then, get to it, man!” Grace shouts, clearly losing her patience.
“I looked at those papers, and I just got so fucking mad,” he says by way of an explanation. “And then I got rip-roaring drunk. So drunk that I lit them on fire in the kitchen sink and set off the smoke detector in the old apartment.”
“What?” Cara asks with wide eyes.
“So I didn’t sign them or file them,” he says. “Because I couldn’t, and I didn’t want to.”
“What does that mean?” she asks, and he answers her immediately.
“That we’ve been married this whole time.”
And with that, I throw my head back and laugh.
“I’m just going to go call the car service,” Carter says before standing from the table.
“I’ll go with you and call the courthouse to cancel their reservation,” his husband Todd says.
I have a smile on my face, because all is right in the world of my people. I would do anything for this crazy group, Cara and Grace in particular. I toss back the last of my martini and pick up the little skewer of olives and use my teeth to pluck one from the stick.
“Now it’s Jules’s turn,” Grace says with a knowing look on her face.
“Jules’s turn for what?” Jake asks innocently, and I could kill him.
“To find a man and settle down,” she answers, and I choke on my olive. Ryan slaps me hard on the back while laughing. I have no earthly idea what he could find so funny about this situation.
“Enough meddling, wife,” Jake says as he stands and holds out a hand to Grace, which she takes.
We’ve already squared away the bill in advance, so everyone is free to leave. Gus and the guys are off duty this weekend and decide to take in the sights before tomorrow’s festivities, so they head out. Their stand-ins quietly follow Grace and Jake out of the building after they’ve said their goodnights. And then before I know it, it’s just Ryan and me.
“I’ll see you back to the hotel,” he says quietly, but it’s in a tone that leaves no room for argument.
“You don’t have to do that,” I hurry to say. “I’ll be all right.”
He just repeats his earlier statement. “I’ll see you back to the hotel.”
“Okay.”
Ryan holds his hand out to me, much the same way Jake did for Grace, and I take it. He pulls me up from my seat, and he picks up my black pashmina, holding me to face him, our bodies close together as he wraps it around my shoulders. The move is so intimate that I find myself a little self-conscious. I don’t look at his eyes but instead stare intently at the space of tan skin at the base of his throat that’s exposed by the buttons of his dress shirt undone at the collar.
He makes an amused sound from deep in his chest, and I look up in time to see his sexy mouth twitch. I’m not sure what’s so amusing, but even so, I’m surer that I don’t want to know what he finds so funny, so I clutch the ends of my wrap together at my chest and reach for my beaded black clutch.
“Ready?” he asks, and I can hear his smile in his voice.
“Yes,” I mumble. “Thank you.”
And then Ryan leads me through the restaurant and out the side door to a waiting town car. The driver opens the rear door, and I slide in with Ryan following behind me. Once the driver closes the door, I realize Ryan has moved so close, not giving me space on the bench seat, so I scoot to the door. I get about a half an inch away before his firm hand grips my thigh to stop my movement and then, to my shock, hauls me right back.
I gasp at his highhanded move, but Ryan says nothing. He also doesn’t move his hand for the entire ride. And what should have been like a bucket of cold water over my head, coupled with the copious amounts of vodka in the martinis I drank with dinner, it only serves to turn me on more.
The car stops at the secret side entrance to the Paris Hotel, because we’re still trying to keep a low profile. The driver pulls the door open, and Ryan slides out before turning to offer me a hand to help me from the car.
“Thank you,” I say quietly, my hand still held tightly in his. I think he’ll let go of me and be on his way. We haven’t spoken much—not more than a few words here and there—since he cornered me after the meeting, so it surprises me when he doesn’t immediately let me go. Instead, he looks into my eyes, and whatever he sees there seems to make him come to some kind of resolution. What, I do not know.
What I do know is the look he’s giving me sends a tingle shimmying up my spine.
But it also scares the shit out of me.
“I’ll see you to your room,” he finally says.
“That’s all right,” I reply quietly as I try to extract my hand from his. “I’ll be okay.”
“I’ll see you to your room,” he repeats as he did at dinner, and there is a determined look rolling across his handsome face, so I relent.
“Fine.”
And with my hand in his, Ryan walks me through
the casino and to the elevator bank, where we ride the car to the twenty-eighth floor. He watches me with an intent look on his face I can’t decipher.
When the elevator doors glide open, he follows me down the hall to my suite. I pop open my clutch and fish out my room key. My heart races in my chest, and it’s so loud I think that maybe Ryan can hear it too as he stands right behind me, the heat from his body scratching my back.
He plucks the key from my hand, deftly unlocks my door, and pushes it open for me. I step into the room, and he follows me in, letting the door click closed behind us. I toss my bag onto the coffee table in the sitting room. My hands shake just a little as I take off my jewelry.
Ryan slips his dark suit coat down his arms and tosses it over the back of the sofa before he slowly stalks toward me, step by step, herding me like a sheep dog toward the bedroom.
“Ryan—” I start, but he just keeps prowling toward me, one step at a time.
“I want you,” he says. “And I know you want me too.”
I gasp. Not only because of the way he’s speaking to me, the audacity and the arrogance, but also because he’s right. I fear there will never be a time I don’t want Ryan Back as badly as I do.
“Do you?” he asks softly. “Want me?”
“Yes,” I whisper.
“Then take off your dress,” he orders as he reaches to his wrist and unbuttons his cuffs.
I reach for the buckle on my wide belt and unclip it, letting it fall to the floor. My dress is made of hundreds of folds and pleats of black tulle cinched at my waist so that it looks like a big ruffle at the top and bottom, giving the illusion that one might get a peek of flesh if I lean the wrong way. They won’t; the inside is fitted and lined, and it zips up the back, but the illusion is sexy as hell.
I watch as he slowly unbuttons each button of his shirt and shrugs it down his shoulders. He reaches for the buckle of his leather belt, and it clanks as he opens his suit pants and lets them fall to the floor. He steps out of them and his shoes and stands before me in nothing but a pair of dark-gray boxer briefs, and the outline of his full cock makes me clench my thighs together.
Ryan sees my move and smirks, and I hurry to reach behind me and pull down the zipper of my dress. The material parts, and I let it fall to the floor.
“On the bed,” he says, his voice rough. “Now.”
I kick off my heels and hurry to lie down on the center of the bed. Ryan climbs onto the bed from the foot and peels my panties down my legs. I allow them to fall open for him, and he circles my opening with his fingers.
And then finally, he drives them deep inside me.
“Ohhh… yes. Yes!” I chant as he thrusts two fingers into my pussy. My hips arch up to meet him. “Please!” I beg him for more.
“Mmm.” He chuckles, low and throaty, because he’s enjoying teasing me, keeping me on the edge. Ryan is playing with me tonight, toying with me to drive my passion high and higher.
“Please!” I need him so badly.
I have never wanted anyone or needed anyone the way that I need Ryan Black. If someone had told me, back in New York, that I would become addicted to the body of a man and the way that he uses it to bring me pleasure, a man that I’m not always sure that I like or he likes me, I would have laughed in their face. But it’s true. I don’t just need him, I’m addicted to him. And I have a sinking suspicion that I will never be the same again after being at the sexual mercy of Ryan Black.
Ryan pushes his underwear down and grips his thick, veiny cock in his fist before rubbing the flushed tip through my wetness then up to stroke my clit, making me bite my lip to keep from crying out, because my torture only seems egg him on.
“Ahhh,” I moan as he finally notches the very tip of him at my center and slides in all the way.
The muscles in his thighs and ass flex and ripple as he pulls out to the tip only to thrust back in, making my tits bounce like a porn star. He grips my hips so tight in his hands that I know will leave marks on my body, and I don’t care one bit.
He pumps into me over and over again. My hands grip the sheets of the bed tight as I arch my back while he fucks me into oblivion. No one has ever been as good as Ryan, and I feel deep in my soul that no one ever will.
My jaw drops down on a silent scream, and my eyes close as I find completion in his arms. Ryan drives deep once, twice, before he plants himself deep as he comes.
It wouldn’t be until much later that I realize he never held me close, he never let us touch skin-to-skin, and how much I would miss it. Instead, I curl up into the covers and fall asleep thinking Ryan would join me when he came back from the bathroom. Instead, he never does.
I shouldn’t be surprised really. My life is nothing but empty promises and disappointment.
“Rumors Circle that a Certain Press Secretary and Former Senator Spent the Weekend Holed Up in Romantic Cabin”
Chapter 12
Rumor Has It
Washington D.C.
“Jules! Jules!” a reporter I know shouts when I walk out of my house this morning.
Not this again.
I was hoping that after a long weekend away, they would have finally given up their post on my front lawn. It was wishful thinking. Soon, the world will catch wind of Cara and Rick retying the knot, and as awful as it sounds, I hope the press gives them a little love for a while. We could all use a feel-good story right now. Anything to get the nation’s minds off HB 2250 and why people would back something as crazy as that.
“Jules! Rumor has it you spent a romantic weekend with a certain former senator,” someone else calls out.
“Guys,” I say, rolling my eyes. “Really?”
“What?” my ex asks from off to the side, drawing my attention to him. “America wants to know.”
“Gunner!” I say with a genuine smile for a friend. “What are you doing here?”
I walk right up to the man who was once my lover and wrap my arms around him. He picks me up off the ground and swings me around. We were close when we were dating, and while we drifted apart after we broke up because there was someone new for him to share that closeness with, I still hold no hard feelings. I care for Gunner and want him to be happy. I want him to be who he is and be free to do that. There are no hard feelings on my end and there never were.
“Your impending nuptials to the president’s father has the network’s bigwigs drooling,” he says, and the smile falls right off my face.
“Et tu, Gunner?” I reply, letting him see my frustration play out on my face. “Not you too.”
“We all have to eat.” He shrugs. “So how about an exclusive for an old friend?”
I shoot him my sternest glare. “The exclusive is that there is no exclusive,” I say loud enough for everyone to hear me. “Come on, you all know how busy our careers are. I have literally no time to be involved with anyone.”
“Sure, Jules,” Gunner says. “But if I find out you’re lying….” He lets the words hang in the air, and a shiver wracks up my spine, because I wasn’t completely truthful. Then again, how could he know I’ve spent a few evenings with the president’s aide-de-camp?
I smile brightly. “There’s nothing to find out, guys. Now, I do hope you’re all prepared for this week’s briefing on House Bill 2250.”
After a jaunty wave to the rest of the news crews in front of my house, I beep the locks open on my car and jump in. I pull through my favorite coffee place on my way to work and have just about finished my favorite skinny vanilla latte, a splurge for me, when I pull into the staff lot.
I make my way through security and into my office. I’m keeping my mental fingers crossed for a slow news day, but even I know that’s wishful thinking. I haven’t heard from my parents yet—although they’re still blocked on my cell phone, but they have their ways.
I fire up my computer and see I have an email from my brother, Gil.
Hey, sis.
I’ll be in town on business this week. Want to catch dinner with your big
brother? Also, Mom’s been asking about you. Do your favorite brother a favor and call her to get her off my back if nothing else.
Love you, sis,
G
Frustration pours through me and I feel something ugly slither in my belly and it’s not nice. My whole life, Gil has been the golden child and I’ve been the red headed stepchild. Gil has never once received the sharp end of her tongue. He’s never been told to watch his weight or to not bother with an education because someday he would make a pretty bride in the society pages. He’s also never held our father’s disappointment. That mantle is solely my own to wear. So the fact that he’s asking me to get mom off of his back does not endear his cause to me, whether he’s joking or not.
Hey, Gil,
Yes to dinner. No to calling Mom. You’re just going to have to suck it up, buttercup. I’m not bending to her wishes this time. She’s yours now.
Love,
Your favorite sister
I don’t think about it once I’ve typed out my response, and I hit Send before I can doubt myself. Gil has always been a great big brother and my friend growing up, even though he’s so much older than I am. He’s always looked after me, even if he never protected me from our parents. Actually, he’s the same age as Ryan when I stop to think about it.
The phone on my desk rings.
“Hello?” I answer.
“Ms. Fairchild, the president would like to see you in the Oval in ten minutes,” the secretary on the other end of the line says without greeting. She’s kind of a bitch. I know that’s not nice of me to say, but I think she has a thing for Ryan. Well, good for her. She can have him. I’m done with men.
“I’ll be there,” I reply, and as soon as the words are out of my mouth, I hear the line disconnect and hold the receiver out in front of me like it’s a poisonous viper. “Good talking to you too. Thanks for the gab.”
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