Wilde Heart (Wilde Women Book 2)

by Halliday, Suzanne

  “Send it back,” he bit out curtly. Liam didn’t know what was going on, and he definitely wasn’t going to play along.

  “I’m sorry?” the startled waiter murmured.

  Knowing what he said, his body language and his demeanor was either on display or would be described on the other end, he slipped on his badass, fuck you, do you know who you’re dealing with persona and looked at the waiter with a glacial expression.

  “Send it back. I’m not in the habit of accepting unsolicited drinks. Or attention,” he added with a sharp edge at the end.

  The flustered waiter almost swallowed his tongue with dismay at Liam’s cold response. Quickly removing the glass and dish, he muttered an apologetic, “Please accept my apologies, sir. I’ll take care of everything.”

  Before he could slide away, Liam stopped him with an imperious hand signal. “Describe this woman to me,” he demanded icily.

  “Oh, uh . . . she’s well-dressed, tall. Blonde. Older but not too.”

  “You said she sent the drink from the bar downstairs. How would a patron from downstairs know who was in the Club Lounge? Isn’t this a restricted access area?”

  “Oh, yes sir. That’s correct. It is a restricted area, but the woman had been on the club floor, as a guest. I noticed her earlier. Perhaps she saw you in the elevator or in the hallways.”

  Yeah, right. Or was stalking him, an uncomfortable thought that brought him up short. He didn’t know for a fact that the drink had come from Kim, but he was pretty damn sure. She would be one of the handful of perceptive individuals who would know to send him his signature drink with the extra olives. Plus, tall and blonde fit her to a T.

  Okay. This was getting creepy now. First, remembering how she’d been insinuating herself into his personal life, then the bitch fest of attitude she had on reserve for Rhiann and the way she’d gotten in his face about it. Several small alarms went off inside him. Jesus. Was Kim a bunny boiler? Had he been so daft and wrapped up in his own crap that he missed signals where his finance director was concerned?

  Oh fuck. This had the potential to get messy.

  Deciding he’d had enough air, Liam rose swiftly, slugged back what remained of the tonic water and headed back to his suite to wait for Rhiann to contact him. If it were Kim hovering in the shadows, he’d find out soon enough. Pulling out his phone, he tapped out a message to Roman, and then dismissed the woman who was fast moving into crazy bitch territory from his mind.

  AFTER TAKING A CAB FROM Nana’s townhome to the Ritz, Rhiann dragged herself into the lobby, feeling like she’d just gone ten rounds with a heavyweight. Brynn had been relentless once Rhi started the Liam confession, barking questions, making pithy comments, and generally riding roughshod over her emotions.

  Having already confessed to the secret affair meant she got an earful of stern outrage from her sister. Calling Liam every name in the book had been the predictable part.

  When Rhi added the ton of new details—about what was happening between them in the present tense—Brynn did a complete about-face. Even suggesting that Liam had true feelings for her and maybe regretted the way things had ended.

  It was easy to see how having a bun in the oven and an adoring man at her side affected Brynn’s thought process.

  The sisterly confessional had been so emotionally draining that she stopped there and didn’t go into the whole hate my job and oh, by the way, I’m writing romance now thing. She figured one shock at a time was enough for the pregnant lady.

  Brynnie, with her spot-on ability to read her younger sisters, stopped Rhi cold with a single question. Was she still in love with Liam Ashforth or was she just trying to win an old battle that was no longer part of her life. “Thanks, sis,” she muttered out loud. Now I’m going to have that damn question stuck in my head.

  She made straight for reception, aware of her black suede pumps tapping a rhythm on the marble floor as she walked. In front of her, a man in a Brooks Brothers suit attending to the front desk looked dwarfed by the enormous soaring columns that dominated the massive hotel lobby.

  He looked up at the sound of her approach and Rhi passively noted the way his eyes lit with appreciation as he subjected her to an uncomfortably audacious perusal.

  Screwing her face into a tight, coolly dismissive façade, she presented herself with a forthrightness she wasn’t particularly feeling. Rhiann wasn’t going to let the smarmy fuck checking her out know that though.

  “Please inform Mr. Ashforth that Miss Baron-Wilde has arrived.” The look she used was less than friendly.

  When he glared back at her, picked up the phone, and tersely informed the person on the other end that, “A Miss Baron-Wilde is at the desk,” she knew from his snarky tone that he understood the message in her gaze.

  She didn’t have to wait long wondering how quickly Liam would wipe the shithead’s smile off his face because it happened pretty damn quickly. All of a sudden, the Brooks Brothers suit found some backbone and stiffened to attention. Rhiann heard him mumble, “Yes, sir,” and then he replaced the phone with one hand while gesturing to the hovering bell staff with the other.

  Looking at her but not really seeing her, he nodded in Rhi’s general direction and instructed the elaborately liveried bellman to escort Mr. Ashforth’s guest to his suite.

  Oh my, my. Looks like Brooks Brothers had his ass handed to him on the phone.

  The ride in the elevator took only moments, and before she knew it, the friendly hotel bellman was tapping on a door that immediately swung open with Liam standing framed in the doorway. Had she gasped? Probably.

  After hurriedly dealing with the bellman, Liam moved her into the large living room and practically forced her to sit down.

  “What’s the matter?” he demanded.

  Was something the matter? Hell. Everything was the matter at this point. Could he read her that easily?

  She was exhausted.

  And over-fed.

  Wrung out emotionally from her conversation with Brynn, ogled by some random nobody, and then thrust into close proximity with the man who was making Rhi question her underwear choices.

  She looked up at Liam. He’d removed his jacket, revealing a form-fitting vest that forced her eyes on a downward trajectory until she was studying how the buttons formed a straight line with his tie and the perfect way the two inverted angles of fabric on either side of the buttons framed for the front of his trousers. And what lay beneath the fabric.

  It was an innocent observation that turned quickly erotic. One glance and she was in a swoon. Especially since he had the sleeves of the bright white shirt he wore rolled back to his elbows and his tie loosened. His oddly casual appearance squeezed at her emotions.

  And that was really what was the matter. At that moment, Rhi wanted to climb him like a tree—wrap her legs around his hips, and rub on his body. The notion of tearing his clothing off bit by bit, revealing the masculine perfection hidden from her view until casual gave way to gloriously naked, played out in her mind.

  Damn. Those kinds of thoughts were going to get her in trouble. She dropped and lay her head on the back of the sofa. “It’s nothing. I’m just tired, you know? Long day. Too much rich food. Too much talk.”

  A small smile crossed his face. “All talked out?”

  Yeah. All talked out. She nodded at the question.

  “Well, that’s going to make the drive home even better!” he teased.

  Oh, no, he didn’t! “Eat me,” she muttered with a smirk.

  His head jerked back at her jest, and she smiled. The great and powerful Liam Ashforth was used to everyone treating him with white glove deference. Even when it came to teasing.

  He got her back but good though when he responded. “Oh, sweetness—would be my pleasure, and yours, to do just that.”

  Rhi sat upright and fixed Liam with a direct look. It was too easy to fall into a pattern of flirtation with him. Far too easy.

  “I told Brynn about us,” she blurted quick
ly because she felt he needed to know.

  Second head jerk in less than two minutes. Wow. She was hitting them out of the ballpark.

  He sat down cautiously, right next to her on the sofa, putting one arm along the back and almost around her shoulders.

  Turning toward her he said, “I don’t know what to ask first. When you say you told her about us—what does that mean?”

  He seemed to be holding his breath. Heh. She understood.

  “I kept it mostly in the past. We talked about . . . well, you know.” Rhi shrugged and studied the hands in her lap. “She wasn’t happy.”

  Liam went stiff as a board. Rhiann looked sharply at him to see what was wrong.

  In a belligerent, matter-of-fact tone, he brusquely grumbled, “She didn’t think I was good enough for you.” The way he said the words shook her up. So, too, did the mask of fierceness that appeared on his face.

  “What?” she sputtered confused and bewildered.

  “I get it,” he continued. The growl was getting louder. “She was unhappy because you could have done so much better.”

  Rhi shook her head trying to make sense of what he was saying. “Liam!” she snapped. “What in the hell are you talking about? That’s not what made Brynn unhappy.”

  After more thought, she choked out, “Oh, my god! Do you imagine anyone thinks you’re not good enough?” He was kidding, surely. Right?

  Navigating warily around his outburst, she suddenly thought, Holy crap! First, he admitted to battling nervousness and social anxiety. And now this. He actually thought he wasn’t good enough. What was is about her made this powerful, magnetic man so unsure?

  “I’m not good enough for someone like you, Rhiann.”

  She hated the sound of miserable despondency in his voice.

  “Liam . . .”

  He waved her off, and she grew silent. Unhappily so.

  “You deserve a whole man. Not an empty shell with fucked-up baggage.”

  Oh, for god’s sake. Enough! She couldn’t bear to see this magnificent kingly beast of a man suffering self-doubt because of her. If nothing else, she had to set him straight on this one thing.

  “Shut up, Ashforth,” she barked. “Just shut the fuck up!”

  Rhiann jumped up from the sofa and boxed him in where he sat staring up at her with a wary expression. Shaking her finger at his nose, she ripped into him.

  “You are not an empty shell, and the last time I checked, we all have fucked-up baggage. Climb down from the ivory tower for a minute and join us real folks, okay?”

  The startled expression of disbelief on his handsome face was goddamn funny. As far as Rhi could tell, Mr. Liam Ashforth spent far too much time thinking he was all that and then some.

  “And for the record, you whiny bitch, Brynn would never say or think such a thing. Don’t go sticking your crazy bias on her. That one’s all on you. One hundred percent Liam Ashforth bullshit. Something I know quite well.”

  On a roll, she figured she might as well just say what she was thinking, so Rhi slapped her hands on her hips and glared down at him. “Oh,” she continued with a highly evident smirk. “And, by the way . . . ego much?”

  His jaw actually dropped. Good. Arrogant, self-centered jerk. She could allow for the conflicts from his childhood but the stick up his ass? He’d always been a bit on the cadet-in-training side of things. Proper. In control of himself. But this self-righteous attitude that he was top dog . . . even in his thoughts, pissed her off.

  “News flash, Ashforth. . . . not everything is about you! Sorry to burst your little I’m Not Good Enough bubble, but Brynn being unhappy had zero to do with Y-O-U,” she spelled out. “God! You’re so damn full of yourself!”

  She was growling in his face, teeth clenched—ready to jump on his stupid ass and shake him for being so thick.

  “She was unhappy because I kept her out of my life, you dense fucker. Because I thought I was in love and didn’t share that with her. And one more thing for the official record,” she murmured as she eased off. “She suspected something was going on so if she, as you say, didn’t think you were good enough, wouldn’t she have interfered?”

  There must have been a clock ticking somewhere in the room because, besides the sound of their breathing, that was the only other thing she heard.

  Then, without warning, his expression changed from shocked to aroused. She saw it in the way the blue-grey eyes boring into hers shadowed and turned to dark smoke. When his focus shifted to her mouth, the one that had just been snarling at him, she felt her legs begin to tremble.

  That look. Oh, sweet God. She knew that look. It lived deep inside her. Tucked away in a secret dark corner—a remnant from a time long past.

  “I’ve a mind to tame that damn mouth of yours,” he grumbled in a voice that matched the dark smoke in his eyes.

  Sense, whatever she had left anyway, deserted her with haste when she snorted and bit back on a reflex, “I’d like to see you try.”

  The second the words left her mouth, she wished them back. Had she meant the taunt to sound so provocative because it sure as hell did. Swallowing hard, she waited in the tense silence for his response.

  His answer, when it came, took what was already a difficult day and pretty much shot it all to hell.

  “This isn’t a game, Rhiann,” he told her in a low, deep growl that stole her breath.

  She didn’t move. Not a single muscle. As each silent second passed, Rhiann became more acutely aware of just how overwhelmingly masculine he was for in those moments she glimpsed the jungle cat, sizing up its prey, and knew she didn’t stand a chance against him.

  Because she’d been all up in his face while yelling at him, Rhiann was standing close enough that when he finally decided to take her down, all he had to do was reach out and grab hold. It was that easy.

  In one deft move, he gripped her hip, guiding her to his lap while the other hand wrapped possessively around her neck, his thumb pressing into her nape. She dropped like a stone—only, instead of falling gracefully onto his lap, she’d lurched forward and landed with one of his thighs thrust between her legs as her dress rode up, exposing the lace tops of her stockings.

  Having zero control over the situation, Rhiann gasped when she thought of her dampening core covered by woefully insufficient panties, rubbing against his thigh. Distracted by the naughty thought, she missed the determination on his face and was broadsided when he swooped in and took her mouth with savage intensity.

  At first, she let the sensation of his fierce possession fill her up. He was that good. Instead of rushing headlong into an invasion of her mouth, he seduced her senses with a passionate onslaught that turned Rhiann to goo. His lips demanded her complete surrender—nibbling, sucking, biting, licking.

  When his tongue sought deeper access, she moaned, went limp in his arms, and crumpled. Was it a surrender? Absolutely.

  Rhi trembled. He was controlling her, and she was letting him. And enjoying it. With one hand holding her head and the other mapping her barely covered ass, he dove deep into her mouth. She couldn’t get enough of his hot, hungry tongue invading and exploring her so intimately.

  A husky groan split the silence and she realized when the fingers on her hip dug in that she’d been squirming on his thigh in a most unladylike way. Their mouths separated to draw in lungfuls of air, but he never released her head—holding her face an inch from his as they each quaked and shuddered.

  “Rhiann,” he groaned, making her name into a plea. The sound tore at her heart.

  In a husky whisper, she told him, “You were always good enough, Liam. Better than good enough. Whatever you think you were . . . none of that was evident to me. Truth was,” she admitted breathlessly, “I always felt like I never quite measured up.”

  The eyes boring into hers clouded even more.

  “I was in awe the second I saw you. You were so smart and handsome and mature and I was this silly boho college girl.”

  “Are you fucking ki
dding?” he growled sharply.

  In one smooth move, Liam flipped them until she was on her back, his thigh wedged firmly against her core, one of her calves hooked behind his knee. She instantly melted under the feel of his body pressed against hers.

  “You were not some air-headed coed, milaya moya,” he said thickly. “Not to me. From the moment we met beside the pool in your yard, I was fucked.”

  He kissed the tip of her nose. “You captivated me with your wit and yes, that wicked mouth.”

  Next, he kissed each of her eyes. “You were endlessly curious and so much like me . . . able to be totally in the moment and engaged.”

  Running his tongue on the skin around her lips, he ended with a soft kiss on both corners of her mouth. “You were perfect. The failure was all mine. Something I’ve regretted every day since.”

  Ahhh. He was making her core throb with need. What did he just say? He regretted the end of their affair? She couldn’t focus, dammit. He was running his fingers lightly along the tops of her stockings, teasing her skin with gentle caresses until she felt her flesh pucker.

  Nuzzling into her neck, he moaned against her skin, as he placed damp kisses wherever his lips landed.

  It felt so good. All of it. The way he covered her with his big body. His hands on her skin. His hot breath close to her ear. And then her heart remembered and she whimpered softly. “You broke me in two, Liam.”

  “I know, milaya,” he murmured. “I know. Let me make it better, Rhiann. Let me show you how sorry I am.”

  “Oh, Liam,” she cried. “Please don’t hurt me again.”

  LIAM HAD NEVER GIVEN AN actual fuck about any of the harm his actions might have caused on his climb to power. To him, it was collateral damage—nothing more. With his eye focused on the vengeance of his goals, he’d never even so much as slowed down and adjusted the rearview for any sort of postmortem. He couldn’t afford to.