by Aleah Barley
“I’m going to be inside you when you come, remember?”
“Oh, damn.” Daisy’s entire body shivered and then he was tasting her again, bringing her to the edge but never letting her go over. The entire time his hand kept moving on his cock, dragging back and forth, teasing himself with the same slow rhythm he was using on her.
Daisy wasn’t a blushing virgin, but the sensations Ryan was introducing her to? They were all new.
Her hips bucked against his mouth as she cried out, desperate for more, for deeper penetration. She needed Ryan to push his way inside her, to bury himself to the hilt and call out her name.
She wanted to make him lose control.
Her fingers twined in his hair. “Please, Ryan. Please.” Was this what he had meant by begging? She couldn’t be sure. All she knew was that she needed to bring their bodies closer together and finally, finally find release.
Ryan wasn’t a cruel man, but—fuck—he liked bringing Daisy to the edge. The soft moans that escaped her mouth, the way her body quaked under his touch, and the sweet taste of her surrender were all intoxicating. He wanted to show her there was more to life than one-night stands and more to sex than penetration.
Of course, that didn’t mean penetration was off the table.
In fact, if they didn’t get to penetration soon, Ryan might just come on the floor of the hotel room.
What a freaking waste.
After what felt like an eternity, he pushed himself up onto his feet. His knees were weak. His body was ready to explode, but he still managed to maneuver Daisy over to the bed and fumble for the supplies on the nightstand. He shucked off his clothes and rolled back toward her.
She’d managed to take off her bra, leaving her completely naked in front of him. She was a modern-day Snow White with her pale skin, dark hair, hard nipples, and lips bruised red from his kisses. The image was undeniable, unbelievable, and so damn sexy. And then her dark eyes met his and her hand fumbled down to reach between her legs.
Damn. There was no friction on his dick—no heat. The only thing touching him was air. But if Daisy kept stroking herself, she wouldn’t be the only one to get off.
“No,” he growled at her before batting her hand away. “That’s mine.”
“Kinky.” She let out a soft gasp.
“A little.” He’d said as much to her already—telling her he was twisted like a corkscrew—but he’d only been guessing when he’d said she was just as twisted as he was.
Now he knew.
The game they were playing might be kinky as hell, but Daisy hadn’t objected once. Fuck, it seemed to have turned her on. If he didn’t hurry, she’d come without him.
Not a chance in hell. He hurried to finish with the condom and then grabbed her petite body. There was no time to be gentle, no time for anything except the need racing through him. He pushed his way inside.
“You’re so damn hot. So tight.” His hips bucked against the heat from Daisy’s core—once, twice. And suddenly, all the prep work he’d done had been worth it. Her inner muscles shook with spasms, and she screamed something unintelligible against his throat.
Perfect. Ryan put a little twist in his hips, keeping her soaring as long as he could, but Daisy wasn’t the only one worked up from the foreplay on the rug. He needed to slow down or he was going to come like a schoolboy after less than a minute inside her.
“So beautiful,” he growled against her.
And then it didn’t matter if he embarrassed himself. Hell, they could do it again and again, all night long. He wanted her bent over the bureau and gasping in the shower. He wanted to make her come a hundred—no, a thousand—times. He’d do his best to make it happen because for tonight at least, they were alive and together.
“So fucking beautiful.” He groaned as he spilled into her, every muscle in his body shaking and shuddering as if he’d been hit by a stroke instead of an orgasm. “So beautiful and so strong. I love—” His voice broke off before he could ruin their night together with three little words. Daisy didn’t do relationships, and he wasn’t foolish enough to think she’d fallen for him just because they’d slept together. He wasn’t about to scare her off by declaring his love right after sex.
Even if—yeah—it was kind of how he felt. It wasn’t just the sex, either. It was the way she played poker like a machine and smiled when she thought he wasn’t looking… And her strength.
Because Daisy must have been very, very strong to have made it this far in life. He’d be damned if he ever let anyone steal the iron from her spine.
“I love this.” Ryan rolled to the side and collapsed onto the mattress. “What about you? Feeling good, sweetheart?”
“Yes,” Daisy said. “That was unexpected.”
Her tone was so damn dry, Ryan’s heart seized. She’d enjoyed it. Hadn’t she? But then she was curling around him and pressing her lips to his neck, nuzzling against the heat and sweat they’d formed together.
Oh, yeah. She’d liked it.
Chapter Eighteen
Sex with Ryan rocked her world. It was on Daisy’s list of top five lifetime experiences, right up there with getting her first PhD, getting her second PhD, earning tenure, and running the tables at the Rollio. Only, sex with Ryan wasn’t a one-time thing with kisses, crying, and smiling for the crowd. Sex with Ryan was personal, private, and—most importantly—it was repeatable.
In fact, they’d repeated themselves a few times during the night.
Sleeping with Ryan, on the other hand, that was an entirely different level of pleasure. It was calm and peaceful, and when Daisy woke up, she didn’t want it to end.
So, she nestled into the crook of his arm until his breathing changed from slow and even to…interested.
“You’re still here.” Ryan dragged her back even closer, pressing his morning wood against the curve of her ass.
“I’ve got nowhere to go,” she lied. “We don’t have to be downstairs until two.”
“Good,” Ryan said. “I had a dream about you.”
“Was it good?”
There was a long pause, so, his dream hadn’t been good.
Fuck. Daisy straightened, trying to pull away, but his strong arms refused to let her go.
“Can I ask a question?” Ryan said, his voice little more than a rumble.
Daisy didn’t reply, but she was so close, there’d be no mistaking the tension in her body or the way her head quirked to the side. Almost as if she was nodding her agreement.
“Your story the other night. You didn’t tell me the end.” Ryan’s fingers were digging into her hips hard enough to leave bruises, not that Daisy would notice with the mess of love bites he’d left there the night before. “The strip club manager? Tony? Do you know where he is?”
Her throat went dry. This wasn’t the question she’d expected at all. “You sure you don’t want to ask if I have any STDs? Want to know if I’m taking the pill?”
“I’m just wondering how far I’m going to have to go to beat the man’s ass.” His mouth nuzzled against her shoulder. “And what cops I’ll need to avoid when I get there.”
Daisy took a deep breath. She’d already told Ryan her darkest secret and slept with him more than two nights in a row. She’d given the man her body—there were bite marks on her hip that she hadn’t minded so much after he’d stopped to kiss them better—so what were a few more words to bleed the tension off her soul?
“Every good story has to have a plot twist…and a hero.” Daisy’s fingers curled into fists. “You sure you want to hear the ending?”
“Extremely,” he said.
“Promise me something,” Daisy said.
“Anything.”
She wanted to ask him not to think less of her, but that was unrealistic.
He was going to hate her. After all the things he’d said about Bullet—all the questions he’d asked—there was no way he’d respect her afterward. It didn’t matter. Ryan deserved the truth.
“You can’t a
rrest anyone.” What was the statute of limitations on using someone else’s ID? Daisy couldn’t remember. It was probably less than the statute of limitations on assault. Her teeth dug into her bottom lip. “Promise.”
“Anybody die in this story?”
“No.” Daisy was emphatic.
“Then we’re good.”
Right. She let out a breath she hadn’t known she’d been holding. “You remember when you asked me what Bullet would do if he caught someone messing with his poker tables?”
“Vividly.”
“Two days after Tony walked out of the trailer, I stole Lily’s ID and my mom’s tips. I went to the Rollio—the casino where Bullet used to work—and I sat down at the poker table. I played for sixteen hours straight, until my legs were numb.” She snorted. “I thought money would solve all our problems.”
“Money doesn’t hurt.”
“At least it would have gotten us out of Desert Pines.” Daisy closed her eyes, remembering the sound of chips clacking together and the electricity of the game table. “I won two million dollars.”
Ryan let out a low whistle. “Impressive run.”
“It was…right up until Bullet pulled me into a back room and double checked the ID I was playing under.”
“Fuck.” His entire body shifted. Weight slammed into her side and her muscles tensed. He must have used one of those whacky martial arts moves because when Daisy opened her eyes, she was flat on her back and he was staring down at her with wide eyes. His lips pressed together in a tight line. “How old were you again? Fourteen? You could have been killed.”
Damn it. The FBI agent wasn’t going to listen quietly. He was going to add commentary.
Daisy rolled her eyes. “You want to hear the rest of my story?”
“I want to lock you up in a dungeon where I know you’re safe.” He blew out a long breath before settling on top of her, the weight of his body covering hers completely. “But I’ll settle for the rest of the story. What did Bullet do?”
“He gave me fifty bucks—on top of my original stake—and drove me home. The next morning, he drove me to school. He brought me breakfast.” She smiled at the memory. “He took an interest. He said I was so damn smart, and it was his responsibility to make sure I got an education the honest way instead of in jail… He was there when Tony came back.”
“And?”
“Tony was banging on the door. It woke me up. He was calling out for my mom and Lily—he was screaming all the things he was going to do to them.”
It had been a nightmare. Her mother hadn’t even been at the trailer at the time; Cherry had been out all night trolling for her next boyfriend. It had just been Daisy and Lily locked in the bedroom, huddling together on Daisy’s single bed.
Then the black sedan had pulled down the street.
“Bullet drove up onto the grass when he saw what was happening. He didn’t even turn the car off, he just jumped out and tackled Tony to the ground. Broke his nose. Broke his arm.”
“Good for Bullet.”
“I don’t know what Bullet said after that—he still won’t tell me—but Tony left town the next day. He even left the fucking state.”
And that’s why Daisy would do anything Bullet asked for the rest of her life. It was why she spent every Christmas and Thanksgiving in a city she hated. It was why she’d canceled her meetings for the week and headed to Las Vegas based on the old man’s gut feeling.
It was why she’d see this thing through to the end—finding the problem at the poker tables—even if it meant losing any possible future with Ryan.
“I’m buying Bullet a beer,” Ryan said easily, but the tension in his body told her he wasn’t unaffected.
Fuck. Daisy’s teeth worried her bottom lip. “You’re mad.”
“Not at you. Never at you.”
“At Bullet—”
“Not at Bullet, either” The FBI agent shook his head. “Hell, I might have to buy him another baseball bat.”
But the expression on his face didn’t change. The man was pissed.
Daisy tried to roll away, but Ryan refused to move. The body that had seemed like a cozy blanket a few minutes earlier now held her captive.
“It was a shitty situation,” he growled. “You were a kid. You shouldn’t have had to deal with that crap.”
Daisy rolled her eyes. “So, tell me about your perfect childhood.”
“That’s not what I meant.” Green eyes flashed. “You could have been hurt—you could have been killed.”
It was like looking in a damn mirror. Daisy blinked as she recognized the same tight expression she’d worn when Ryan had talked about the shooting.
The fear was absolutely irrational and completely bone-chilling.
If something had happened to either one of them, they might never have met…
Daisy swallowed hard. “I’m okay.” She gave him the reassurance she hadn’t been able to ask for the night before. “I’m alive—I’m safe—I’m here.”
And then she kissed him softly, pressing her lips to his until his entire body softened and he relaxed enough to let her in.
Chapter Nineteen
Ryan had tossed and turned half the night, dreaming about a dark-haired girl he couldn’t protect. Ten years earlier, he’d been nineteen years old and in college, hitting the books hard and partying even harder. It had been his first year living on his own and he’d made the most of every day—and every night.
If he’d ever made it out to Las Vegas back then, he would have spent the entire time gambling and flirting with showgirls.
He never would have gone out to Desert Pines.
That didn’t stop regret from filling his belly.
When he’d asked Daisy where Tony was, he’d been half afraid the man would still be in town.
Close enough for Ryan to curl his fingers around the man’s neck.
But Bullet had already taken care of the problem.
Ryan hated to admit it, but he was beginning to genuinely like the old casino manager.
Kissing Daisy, he levered himself up onto his elbows. “You are a strong, beautiful, woman. I’m going to take a shower—then we’re going out to breakfast.”
Daisy had told him more than once that she didn’t “do breakfast.” This time Ryan didn’t wait for her to get out the words. He vaulted out of bed. “Don’t go anywhere.” He hustled into the bathroom. “And don’t run away!”
“Why would I run away?” Daisy asked.
“I have no idea.” Ryan’s head popped back out of the bathroom. “Why did you run off yesterday?”
“I had a meeting with Bullet.”
“And the day before?”
Okay, that one might have been a little irrational. Daisy made a face. “I’m not going anywhere. I promise.”
“Good.” Ryan disappeared back into the bathroom. The shower started up, and she could hear water pounding against tile. Daisy had promised not to leave, but now all she could think about was getting back to her room, her clothes, and the laptop that would keep her entertained until the last round of poker started in the afternoon. What the hell was she going to do in Ryan’s hotel room all morning?
She checked her cell phone—no juice.
She turned on the television. News. News. A morning show trying to pretend it was news. Cartoons. She hadn’t watched cartoons since she was a kid, and even then, they’d been more Lily’s thing then hers.
She turned the television off.
There were papers on the bureau. A stack of file folders and computer printouts with an FBI logo on them. Daisy shouldn’t look at them. Really. Ryan hadn’t told her not to, but he didn’t need to. She was a grown-up. She knew the difference between public, private, and top secret.
The files were definitely top secret.
She stood up and walked over, dragging a finger over the nearest manila envelope. Ryan had already told her everything, about the mafia kingpin and the shooting in the warehouse. The scar on his shoulder blade ha
d been raised and raw under her fingertips. The folders might contain all sorts of deep, dark, government secrets, but she already knew the worst of it.
Didn’t she?
Her gut churned. Her breath was coming faster. She should just go back to bed and watch cartoons.
Instead, she flipped open the top folder and started to read.
Five minutes later, she was still trying to make sense of the files. So much information filled her mind. It was all so harsh and violent, clearly written out in black and white. Then there were the pictures. She really shouldn’t have looked at the pictures.
The picture of Ryan covered in his own blood—his face pale, his eyes closed—would haunt her until the day she died.
Her hand shook as she turned over another photo.
This one was different. The man in it was alive. Undamaged. Whole.
A slender red-haired man in a buttoned down shirt stared out at her.
He was good-looking in an odd way, his features too fine-boned to be called handsome but the scar under his eye keeping him from being pretty. His lips were full. His hair was so damn bright, like a copper penny.
He looked familiar.
Daisy’s brow furrowed.
She didn’t hang out with gangsters or mafia dons. She was a college professor half a country away from the Morelli family. Where had she seen this man before?
There was no mistaking that hair.
The bathroom door opened and Ryan stepped out, fully dressed and drying his hair with a hotel towel. He stopped short when he spotted her. “You shouldn’t be looking at those.”
“Yell at me tomorrow.” Daisy held up the photo. “Who is this?”
“None of your fucking business.”
Her stomach clenched. It hurt to hear the words. She might not be an FBI agent, but she cared about Ryan. She didn’t want to see him hurt.
She wanted this whole thing to be over so they could get out of Las Vegas and go—where? Los Angeles? New York? It didn’t matter, as long as they were both safe and happy.
She made a face. “I’ve seen him.”