My Fake Vegas Boyfriend

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My Fake Vegas Boyfriend Page 13

by Lori Sizemore


  She bit her lip and studied him. “Don’t you think I know that already?”

  Then he tugged on the belt of her robe until it fell open. He caressed the curve of her breasts bared by the movement, and she arched into his hand. “I don’t want this to end,” he said.

  “I love you,” she blurted out. “Don’t get weird, okay?” Thankfully, he couldn’t run from her because she pinned him to the couch with her weight. He looked like he wanted to bolt. “It doesn’t change anything. I know you can’t love me back, and you know I can’t let myself be in a one-sided relationship. I’d just rather you know why I want to be with you. It’s everything you are. I love you. That’s plenty good enough for tonight, knowing you know.”

  She hoped she hadn’t scared him away, that he wasn’t already mentally down the hall and figuring out how to get her out of his hotel without making her homeless.

  He stood, cupping her behind and surprising her. Guess he could’ve left in the middle of her confession after all. Layla wrapped her legs around him, and they kissed, drifting toward the bedroom. When they bumped into a wall, he pressed her against it and kissed her passionately.

  Her mind reeled away from her, and yet pinpoint-focused on the sensations of his mouth, his tongue working its magic on hers.

  She pulled back, resting the back of her head against the wall. “I really need you to have less clothes on.”

  He mumbled his agreement, carried her to the bed, and dumped her there. She scooted back on her elbows, her robe all but gone as it hung from her shoulders.

  Quickly, he took off his shirt and tossed it away. He lay down beside her and began to lick and nibble on her bare shoulders, a hand playfully stroking her hip. Inside, she grew more and more…tense. She couldn’t think of another way to describe it than she knew that every second he wasn’t in her, she became more uncomfortable. Planting kisses on his exposed neck, she unbuttoned his pants. “You know what’s both wonderful and maddening about you?” she asked.

  “Hmm?” He’d moved to her collarbone, and her eyes fluttered closed.

  “You’re never in a hurry when you make love. Don’t you ever want to rip my clothes off and get to it?”

  “All right.” He reached down, took hold of her panties with both hands, and a loud rip rent the air. She launched herself up on her elbows as he tugged and held up her ruined underclothes.

  “That not what I meant.” Covering her mouth, she struggled not to giggle.

  “I’m in no hurry at all for this night to be over. I’m just going to treat it like time has stopped for us, and we have exactly as long as we want together.”

  “You make my heart light.” She placed a hand to his cheek. “I’m a pretty dark person, so that makes you sort of amazing.”

  He nuzzled her thigh, then began to kiss his way down to the inside of her ankle. “Have I mentioned how much I love these long, luscious legs?” He moved back up, lingering at her hip. “Or the place where your hip curves into your waist?”

  She moaned softly and tugged at his hair. “Come here.”

  When he met her mouth, she pushed him down and climbed on him, her robe long gone. Leaning over him, she nuzzled his ear and said, “Pants off, Mr. Russell.”

  She shifted to sit on her haunches while he pulled his pants and underwear down, lifting his hips off the bed, then shucked them.

  He was so long and lean, all angles and planes. Perfect. “You are a mile tall, you know that? Have I mentioned what a weakness I have for tall, dark, and handsome?”

  “You said something to that effect.”

  Layla let her hands roam his body, loving the feel of hair on his legs, silky under her palm, paired with taut muscle. She slowly stroked the small patch of hair on his lower abdomen, making his erection jerk, then up to his stomach and the hard planes of his chest. “You’re a sight. All this strength, tempered by all of your tenderness. I do love you, Jace.”

  A puzzling expression passed over his face, and his eyes drifted shut. She brushed his forehead. “No, it’s okay. Don’t feel bad. My heart is all bubbly, like champagne. You’ve given me so much. Never, ever feel guilty.”

  “Okay, my patience is all gone. Sorry.”

  “What’s that mean?” The last word came out a breathless yelp as he moved shockingly fast to lean back against the headboard and scoop her up. Slowly, he lowered her until his hard-on pressed at her entrance. “Oh.”

  Jace held her there, hands on her waist, while he let his eyes travel over her naked form once more, causing her nipples to tighten in response. He cupped her breasts, squeezing then brushing the tips, over and over. “Ready?”

  “So ready.” She lowered herself, and he slid into her slick opening, inch by wonderful inch. He filled her, and that beautiful feeling uncoiled inside her once more, spreading all the way to her fingers and toes. Finally, when her bottom rested against him and she’d taken all of him in, she arched her back to the attention of his hands. “I don’t know how to… I’ve never been up here.”

  “I’ll show you.” Clutching her hips, he moved her forward and up, then brought her crashing back down. After a minute, she asked breathlessly, “Can I try?”

  His hands stroked her back while she tried new ways to move her body forward, back, up, and around until she found a rhythm that drove her toward the same explosion she’d experienced last night on the terrace.

  Jace fisted his hands in her hair and moaned her name. That sound, that realization of the power she had to make him so aroused he seemed lost in it, pushed her, and it was only moments before her insides clenched around him, and he filled her world. She broke then, shards all around him. She cried out, and he clutched her hips again, driving himself into her until his body spasmed beneath her while he gasped her name.

  Falling to his chest, she tried to piece herself back together and slow down her panting breaths. “Oh, God. Are you the only one who knows how to do this?”

  His throat rumbled with a laugh. “I’ve never taken a poll, but I doubt it. Besides, that wasn’t all me. It was us.”

  She smiled drowsily. “Us,” she repeated.

  16

  Layla woke up, an arm slung around Jace’s waist and his arm hooked around her shoulder. She rolled over and slipped out of the bed. Last night had been nothing short of beautiful for her. But now it was a new day. The longer she stayed here, the harder it would be.

  She took another shower, washing away the smell of him on her skin with a little sadness. But she had to talk herself down. She was not going to let this make her crazy. Some people went their whole lives without meeting someone like him, without love, without a night like that. She’d accept what she got with grace.

  Out of the shower, wrapped in a towel, she went through her bag. She finally pulled out some black cigarette pants, a red blouse, and her black pumps. After she’d dressed, she combed her hair and ordered up some coffee.

  Sipping on the strong, black coffee, she tried to read through the paperwork on the table. The most she could make out of it was no one could make financial decisions or sign paperwork for her except for…well, her. That should make sure the seven dollars from her pocketbook got well spent, then. What in the devil was all this about?

  Jace walked in from the bedroom then, slipping into his shirt, wearing his wrinkled black suit pants. “I woke up and you weren’t there.” He smiled at her. “I missed you.”

  Oh, God, her heart lurched. She had to stay firm on this point, though. One night she’d consider a blessing. Another? Then it would be just one more, over and over.

  She cleared her throat. “I thought I should get the day started. I’ll need to find a different room. Find a job. Have you explain the purpose for this document. Busy day and all.”

  He looked at her for a long moment, his face not betraying any of the heartbreak she experienced. “Of course,” he said.

  He took a moment to pour himself a cup of coffee, pour more into her cup, and asked if she wanted breakfast.

>   “No. I…” What though? What could she possibly say? She needed out of their love nest here? She needed to get on with her life as quickly as possible before her heart broke all over his nice couch? “I should really get going with all of those things. Tell me about this paper. I don’t get it. I told you last night I have no money.”

  Scowling, he sat down beside her. “Except you do. You inherited a million dollars from your grandfather when you turned twenty-five. I have a business associate who can find out just about anything.”

  “That’s impossible. I haven’t heard a word about any money.”

  “There’s a document like this on file that says you give your father control of your money, all of it. Did your father have you sign anything recently?”

  “Papà would never do that to me.”

  “Would you sign anything your mother asked you to?” His voice had taken on the lilt of someone talking to the exceptionally naïve.

  “Of course not.” She thought it over and remembered a day or two after her birthday. Her papà had stayed home that morning. He had still been reading his newspaper when she made the trek to the house to see Mrs. C.

  Her father’s briefcase had sat beside him on the floor, and he’d pulled a document out. “Sign this, figlia.”

  “What is it?” she’d asked. That was clear in her memory. He didn’t often call her that or even speak in Italian.

  Layla wouldn’t even have known the language if it weren’t for Mrs. C. Neither of her brothers could speak it because their parents simply hadn’t taught them.

  And she’d never signed anything for her father before. It had struck her as odd he’d ask now, when she was twenty-five years old.

  “I’m setting up accounts for you in case something happens to me. I want you to be taken care of.”

  She’d hugged him, hugged him for caring about her needs, and signed at the bottom of the last page without a glance at the contents.

  “Oh, my God. How could he?” She covered her mouth and breathed slowly to ease the shock barreling through her.

  “I don’t know. Maybe he needed it; maybe he thought it should’ve been his.”

  “Maybe. My brothers all got money and stock from my grandfather. Well, they got all of it. He didn’t leave my father a thing. They’d been essentially estranged since he got my mother pregnant.” Now, her heart seemed like a vacuum, sucking all the color from the world. Her father had been her constant, the only man she could depend on, for so long. How could he have betrayed her this way? Tears streamed down her cheek. “So, is this why my father has been considering institutionalizing me?”

  “Probably. But when you sign this, the jig is up. His document on file will be proof he’s not considering your best interests. And, if he pushes it, I’ll testify on your behalf.” She barely heard him. She’d become wealthy and lost her father’s love in mere minutes. She touched Jace’s cheek as the truth struck her. “You were determined to make sure I’d be okay. That’s how you found out, isn’t it?”

  He gave the tiniest of nods.

  She sniffled and said, “I love you. And I guess I don’t need a room after all. I can find a hotel anywhere in the city.” She signed the document and dropped the pen on the coffee table. “Now what?”

  “The attorney I hired will file it for you. You should stay here until you find a permanent place.”

  “I’ll find somewhere in a day or two. Until then, this town is lousy with hotels.”

  “I love when you’re all fresh, like this.” He fingered her wet hair, started to kiss her, but she jerked back.

  “We can’t be lovers. Didn’t you hear me? I’m in love with you.”

  “And we made love. That makes us lovers.” He gave her a playful grin. He really didn’t get it.

  “Not if it’s only one night.” And that was all she could give him, or he’d tear her heart apart. He already had. She pushed the papers to him and dropped the negatives on top before standing. “You may be the best thing that’s ever happened to me. Thank you. For everything.”

  He stood slowly, a confused look on his face. “At least stay until I get this stuff filed and can give you the information to access your money.”

  “I can’t.” She rolled her eyes toward the ceiling and fanned her face. “Leave the name and address of the attorney you’ve been working with at the front desk. I’ll take the papers there and get them filed myself.”

  Just one more hug, she decided, and wrapped her arms around his neck. “I told myself I wouldn’t cry,” she mumbled into his shirt.

  He kissed the top of her head. “See you around, doll.”

  With that, he grabbed his suit jacket from the chair, and walked out of her life.

  Jace stood outside her door, struggling to breathe. His chest hurt, his lungs burned. And his legs wouldn’t move. He’d walked out the door, but he couldn’t make himself go another step. It occurred to him he hadn’t kissed her goodbye, not really, and he almost went back. Except, she’d made it clear that drawing this out would only hurt her further. And he couldn’t do that.

  Not to mention how pathetic he felt outside her door, wishing he could hold her again. Images, sensory memories flashed through his mind. The first time he’d seen her by the pool. Holding her close while they danced together. The silly list she’d made. And the way it hurt him to find her bloody, miserable, and alone.

  Jesus, he’d fallen in love with her. That got him moving.

  He strode quickly to the elevator and jabbed the button. Love didn’t change his view on the world, his life experience. Sure, he loved her now. But in a year? Two? Thirty? He never wanted to resent her, to see the hurt on her face because he’d lost interest. No, she was right. Ending things now, breaking it off clean, was the only way to proceed. He went to his room to shower and change, unable to get her off his mind.

  On the ground floor, he stalked to his office and called the attorney he’d hired for Layla to tell him she’d personally be by his office today and to ensure he’d be available for her.

  Jace went out and handed his secretary a piece of note paper on which he’d scrawled the attorney’s name, address, and phone number. “Take this to the front desk for Layla Rosas. Got it?”

  “Yes, sir,” she replied, taking the paper from him.

  That was it. He was done now.

  He went back into his office and glanced down to see the negatives on his desk. He needed to call Mr. Stone right away. He had one more piece of business to attend to before he could put this all behind him. He wouldn’t think about it anymore. Move forward. Except, thoughts of holding her, the sound she made when she got excited, her fresh and real beauty when she was just out of the shower overwhelmed him. Her vulnerability, her ability to surprise him and touch something in him no one ever had.

  Jace snatched up the phone and had the switchboard connect him.

  “Mr. Stone? It’s Jace Russell. May I come to your bungalow?”

  “To be honest, I’d rather meet in the bar.”

  Jace glanced at the clock. 11:30 in the morning. “The bar’s not open yet.”

  “Then it’ll be private, and we can get a drink, yes?”

  “Okay, yeah. That’s not a problem.” Jace stuffed the negatives in his pocket. He stormed out of his office and paused in front of his secretary’s desk.

  She stopped typing and glanced up at him. “Yes, Mr. Russell?”

  “Get someone behind the bar in ten minutes.”

  “Right away, sir.” She picked up the phone and took care of it with an efficiency he admired.

  He got there before Stone and ordered a rye whiskey while he waited. It might be early, but on this day, he needed a drink. After about five minutes, Stone settled on the stool beside him. Jace laid the negatives in a clean ashtray with a book of matches. “I thought you might want to do this yourself so you’d know it was done.”

  Stone took the negatives and held them up to the light. “Shame I can’t keep these as a memento. But, we’ve g
ot to do what we’ve got to do, right?”

  Jace nodded.

  Stone threw the matchbook into the ashtray, lit one match, then used it to light the whole book. Finally, he dropped the negatives on top. They quickly turned to ash and melted celluloid.

  After a moment, Stone said, “And how is the photographer? You’re right; she was true to her word.”

  “She’s going to be fine. I think this has been a good experience for her.”

  “What about you?”

  “Me? I’m fine, too. Of course, I’m fine, Mr. Stone.”

  “And your ‘experience’? Was it awful, pretending to be in love with her?”

  “Easier than you might think.” Jace drained his glass.

  “I don’t doubt that. So, I’ve got to admit, I’m a little surprised. The eyes you two made at each other yesterday, I was sure you’d end up together. She loves you; that’s obvious. You don’t feel the same?”

  “All due respect, Mr. Stone, it’s really none of your business.”

  “That’s true. But I’m a sucker for love.”

  Jace couldn’t see how love had been very useful to Stone. “Is that right?”

  “Look, you’re an idiot. I can’t ever have more than stolen moments with the person I love. No walks on the sand, kissing in the moonlight, slow-dancing with…someone, and knowing that surrounded by people, there’s only the two of us there. I have ashes.” He gestured at the ashtray with his empty glass. “And you know what? Love still makes it worthwhile. So, yes. You’re an idiot.”

  Stone got up and left without another word, and Jace sat there, miserable.

  Once Layla finished getting dressed and doing her hair, she swiped some mascara on her upper lashes and some gloss on her lips. That would be good enough. She had to give Jace that. He’d made her feel more comfortable in her own skin.

  No, no, no. She wouldn’t think about Jace. She didn’t want to cry about something that had essentially been a wonderful experience for her. She needed to call her oldest brother. Anthony would tell her she was imagining things, but Dominic might just believe her.

  Maybe she should have confided in one of them sooner. But Anthony would have ratted her out about Jace. He’d never believe their parents were capable of what they’d done. She could hardly believe it.

 

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