“Good.” He put a generous amount of liquid soap on his palm and nudged her. “I say it’s time for some scrubbing.”
Yeah, she wanted to scrub him all right… He pulled her to him, and soon his lips were on hers, his tongue stroking hers with an intimacy that shook her to the core. Water slid down her hair and body, and enhanced her arousal.
Priceless. To have her achy tight nipples rubbing against his chest. Reading her mind—something he seemed to have mastered, at least when sex was involved—Ryan cupped her breasts, snagging her hard peaks between his index and thumb. She moaned into his mouth, and it sounded more like a desperate cry.
His cock sprang against her. Soon, she was sandwiched between the wet cold tiles and his large, unrestricted body.
“I have to get a condom,” he said, his sexy Aussie accent more pronounced. Specks of silver surrounded his darkened irises. Dang.
She grabbed his wrist. “No. Stay.”
Frowning, he glanced down at her hand, and she loosened her hold, only to distract him and push him against the wall. Water sprayed from above, but she didn’t care. Her mind was set—she wanted to take him in her mouth, and savor his taste.
Excited, she started to lick the curve of his neck. The marvelous stiffening of his body under her hands was all the encouragement she needed. There was something ridiculously empowering about pleasing a gorgeous man like that. A man who was richer than her. Larger than her. And certainly, after that cupcake episode, better than her. A pang of sadness tugged at her, but she shook it off and continued her exploration. While her hands caressed his chest, her mouth traced a path of kisses, big and small, across the muscles of his chest. A couple groans fled from his lips, and that was all the reassurance she needed.
“You don’t have to do this,” he said, when she ventured lower.
She bent down, kneeling in front of him, then deposited a couple of kisses on his belly button. An innie. Was there a part of him that wasn’t absolute perfection? “I want to,” she said, and lifted her gaze to his.
“Why?” he asked, his eyes on her like a predator assessing his prey. A shudder went through her, and though she tried to face away from him, something stronger, deep in her core, halted. Her heart clenched.
“Because I want to taste you and discover if you’re yummier than the cupcake,” she said, and too much a coward to wait for his reaction, took him in her mouth. The texture of his hard length was smooth as silk.
Soon, he dove his fingers into her hair, massaging her scalp as she licked his cock, which grew even bigger in her mouth. Cupping his hard, full balls, she continued to savor him, her eager tongue running up and down, sliding over his veins. She could feel the blood pumping through them. And loved it.
Rough groans filled the air, and when she tried to take all of him in her mouth, she almost gagged. The man was too big, too excited. Another wave of pleasure surged through her.
“Come in my mouth, baby. I want all of you,” she heard herself saying in a low voice. Sexually. That’s how she wanted him, she rationalized. The creamy tip of his length hitting the back of her throat. He rocked his hips into her mouth, almost violently, his body shaking. Playing with his balls, palming them against her hand, she upped her game and sucked him deeper, harder. Until a guttural sound fled his mouth, and announced his climax.
She swallowed his seed, and as the warm, tangy liquid rolled down her throat, her pulse spiked. I’m screwed.
Chapter Eight
Ryan glanced at his watch. 3:00 pm and no sign of her. She had slept the night and left after dawn.
His gaze ping ponged the huge casino area. A couple of pretty girls talked to guests, but whenever he came close, their chatter shifted into a monosyllabic whisper and they’d vanish. Coincidence? Doubtful.
He’d made sure not to make his presence too obvious but those girls seemed aware of their surroundings as if they had something to hide. For the past two hours he’d lost money in the slot machines on purpose, his gaze following them behind the bar. The blonde and the brunette went in there, and unlike the others, they’d taken a good hour and a half to reappear. What could they have done? There were no clients in the bar kitchen, obviously.
A man paid close attention to them. One of the security guys, whose name tag read Omar. There were surveillance cameras everywhere, and whatever operation was going on, it was smooth. Omar talked into the sleek earpiece, and every so often nodded at the passing waitresses without changing much of his austere, trying- hard-to-look-professional expression.
After a childhood of trying to blend, of pretending his mother hadn’t been convicted of murder, Ryan had learned the subtle art of discretion. Learned it enough to recognize when people tried really hard to go unnoticed. And that security guard showed all the signs.
“Drinks, sir?” a friendly waitress asked, her smile widening at him.
He didn’t spare her tray a glance. “No, thanks. Is Kika working today?”
“Kika?” She winced. “I don’t know any waitress by that name.”
“Five foot six, brunette, dark blue eyes. Kika Martinez.”
“Oh. Martinez. You must mean Luna. She’s off for a few days. Got a bug or something,” she said and with a nod, sauntered out of sight.
Luna. Kika. Something didn’t sound right. His gut clenched. He remembered the human resources manager, Alan, the one Blake had instructed him to go to if he needed anything. Maybe he could take a look at Luna’s employee file and retrieve an address.
After a quick phone call, he was in the man’s office.
“Normally I don’t let people in my office, but Mr. Blake instructed me to show you our database software,” the burly bald man said. “Who am I to say no to the boss, right?” He snickered.
Ryan rolled his eyes. Well, if anything at least the man was easily distracted. “Can I play with it a little bit? To see if this would suit my needs?”
“Yes.”
“Let’s say I wanna search for employees. How do I go about that?”
Five minutes later, there she was. There was something odd about the picture glaring on the screen, the same one he’d seen days earlier.
Ice flooded his veins. The close up, professional picture looked a lot like Kika, except for the absence of the small mole on her neck. He’d kissed that particular spot, and grazed his teeth over it. Without tearing his gaze from the monitor, he drummed his fingers on the table. If this was Twitter or Facebook, he could assume a tiny imperfection was photoshopped. Some women were into that. But what gain would her employer have by treating a work picture?
He scrolled down the page, sliding the mouse on the pad. He skimmed the basic information, her resume, and then…her emergency contact information. Francisca Martinez. He sucked in his breath as if someone had just punched his stomach. Francisca. Kika.
There was more than one…and they were twins.
***
Kika jammed her hands in her pockets, hoping that her denim jeans, white cotton shirt, and the long, Indian-beaded necklace falling down her chest gave her enough poise to meet him at the shops in Caesar’s Palace. What was his plan, when he’d texted her to meet him over there?
After the night they shared, she was still too aware of him.
There he was…standing in front of the Greek-like statue. Ryan Winters. Her stomach fluttered, and she blamed the overly-efficient air conditioning for her nipples hardening.
“Is this one of your creations?” He pointed at her necklace. “Or is it Luna’s?” he hissed. “Your sister?”
A shiver went through her. She jerked away—his words were heavier than a loaded weapon. Before she could dash, he seized her wrist. The touch lacked any kind of sexual premise. His jaw clenched. The glint in his eyes spoke of a man who didn’t take no for an answer. A man she could no longer lie to. “Did you know my sister?”
“I saw her at the casino.”
The casino… Of course, that was where Luna worked. She tried to add the pieces of the puzzle
together without giving much away in her expression. She lifted her chin, telling herself control was key. To lose only in the bedroom. But outside…life had taught her the hard way she had to have her eyes wide open. At all times. “That’s why you thought I hooked. When you met me at that bar?”
He gave her a nod.
Blood throbbed at her temples. So he was searching for…her sister? “If all you want is sex, why do you care if I’m not her?” she asked, and wished her voice hadn’t sounded so strained.
He loosened his grip on her wrist, but his scrutinizing stare kept her from moving. “I want to know why you made me believe you were.”
She looked away. “Does it matter?”
Withdrawing his hand from her wrist, he made her turn around and face him, his touch on her chin causing a bucket of boiling blood to spill in her belly. “It must, otherwise you wouldn’t hide it from me.”
“I don’t owe you explanations, you know,” she said, her voice trailing off. Panic flooded her, each time hitting a part of her with more strength. I’m screwed.
He cleared his throat and stepped back from her, hands on his waist. “What if I tell your boss at the hotel you’ve been passing as someone else?” An icy shiver zapped down her spine. Then all of this would have been for nothing. Her sister would be jailed, and God knew what else. If she had to spill the beans over the operation, there was no way either of them would get out of it alive. If Omar was right, and he was just the middleman, if someone else was responsible for the organization…
“You wouldn’t,” she hissed.
“I want the truth, Kika. I won’t use it against you.”
Was that why he’d chosen a public place other than the hotel? So they could talk without surveillance? So he could drill her with questions without her being able to cop out by using the only thing he seemed to be interested in so far, her body?
Can I trust him? Cold sweat slicked her palms. Trust him? She didn’t have a choice. Her body throbbed, the need to share the burden of the last few days with someone battled the self-preservation that clung to her marrow. “I’m not a call girl. Never was. You’re my first client,” she spit the words out.
He narrowed his eyes. “But your sister hooked.”
“Yes and I had no idea. She needed the cash to pay for our aunt’s hip replacement surgery. Didn’t make the wisest choice. Obviously.”
He scratched his chin, glanced at the floor for a minute, giving her time to take a deep inhale and get ready for more. Raising his eyes to hers, he continued, “Why did you play along that night when we met?”
“I don’t know. Sexual fantasy. To escape reality.”
He rubbed the back of his neck. “Is that why you’re doing this now? To escape reality? Even taking over your sister’s work at the casino?”
“No. She got in trouble with her…manager and she needs money to get out of this life and get a clean slate. You kind of fell in my lap.” She threw her hands together in a soundless clap.
“The guy from the hotel?”
“Yeah.”
“Tell me about him.”
She chewed the inner part of her cheek, her teeth biting into it so hard that a sharp pain stabbed at her. The sound of Omar’s disgusting snickering along with the image of his slimy smirk formed in her head, triggering a flow of sour acid in her stomach. Protecting Omar wasn’t her priority. Protecting herself and Luna was. “Look, I’ve told you enough. Since we’re trying to get out, the last thing I can do is to jeopardize that goal. I hope you can understand,” she said, her voice lacking any attitude or pretense.
He offered her a half-smile. “Okay.”
Okay? Was that good enough? The post-venting rush subsided to an exhausting sensation tightening her chest. Doubts inundated her overworked mind, and she shoved her fidgety fingers into her pockets. “How did you figure out I had a twin?”
“I asked someone about you. They never heard of a Kika. I connected the dots.”
“What are you going to do?” she asked, heart skipping a beat.
He removed her right hand from her pocket, and covered it with his, provoking a sting on her flesh that resounded in her coagulating veins and sent little thrills within her body. Thrills she needed to tame. Asap. “I don’t want to hurt you. And I don’t want you sleeping with me for money when that’s not your thing. Unless…you want to sleep with me. Because you want me. Do you?”
Clumsily, she withdrew her hand from his, and rubbed the back of her neck. Wanting? Wanting wasn’t part of the bargain. Or at least, admitting to it out loud. If she admitted she craved for him, that would open Pandora’s messy box. What future did they have? He would go back to Australia, and she would redeem herself for being a distant sibling and start over with her sister. Her little sister. “No. Thank you for being so…understanding given the situation. Having sex for money isn’t my thing.” Then a thought occurred. Now they were on friendly terms, would he use that against her? Was that his plan? “About the money—”
He gestured with his hand. “I’ll give it to you at the end of my stay as promised. There’s still something I want you to do for me. I’m in town for a wedding… You can be my escort.”
“Escort?” she repeated, cringing at the double entendre. “For a wedding?” She shot him a skeptical glance. “I’m sure you could have invited someone else.”
The sigh he let out sliced the air, and after a quick hesitation, he focused on her eyes. “Having someone like you, who doesn’t have romantic expectations, will put me more at ease, given everything.”
“What is everything?”
“My ex girlfriend Lynn is one of my sister’s maid of honors.”
She squared her shoulders. “So what if she’s one of the maid of honors? Are you still into her?” Why did she care? Okay, so Ryan wasn’t a bad guy. He deserved to be happy. God. Had the past few days really made her that soft?
“No. Right now, I’m into buying you a few dresses for the events. Tonight there is a dinner to welcome all out-of-towners,” he said casually, and pointed at the imposing Gucci window. “Shall we?”
Shall we my ass. She accepted the hand he offered, and the dampness in his palm hinted talking about his past was no easy task. Keep it together, chica. Out of all the things she should do, caring for him wasn’t one of them.
Chapter Nine
Are you still into her? It had been a full day since he heard those words from Kika. Since he’d seen her. Since his lunatic proposal of having her, the doppelganger prostitute, around for Charlotte’s wedding. Taking sex out of the equation would be painful, but not as much as hearing from her she didn’t want it with him anymore. Why did it matter so much? A few more days, and he’d be out of her life. Forever.
A lump of dry sand sat in his throat. At times, the tiny silver flecks around her black eyes shimmered, and he wondered why she had chosen not to sleep with him without getting paid. Was she afraid? Nonsense.
He adjusted the cufflinks of his sleeve and clung to rationality. Hanging out with Kika in a social ambience had to help them talk so he’d find a way to get out of that mess. Seeing through his goal without incriminating Luna’s sister. He knew enough about the operation to tell Charlotte. There was Luna, the real prostitute, and that shady security guy who probably had something to hide. The pimp.
Yet, to accuse Blake without a direct reason involving him didn’t get Ryan anywhere. At best, he would get his sister to look into it, but without critical information, who would pay? The couple of small fish. Luna and Kika.
Kika’d trusted him by admitting her participation. The strained look in her eyes when she’d talked about her sister haunted him every time he closed his own.
He called for the elevator down to the lobby where he’d agreed to meet Kika before the dinner. He’d only exchanged a couple of text messages with Charlotte, who had arrived in Vegas the previous night, to confirm the floor. Avoiding douche bag Blake was no problem. His stomach turned as if he’d just eaten bad Indian food.<
br />
Having Kika with him would also make for a comfortable shield. The last thing he wanted was his sister worried about him, what with Lynn coming to the festivities with her husband.
Glancing at his watch, he paced. He small talked to a few of the dressed up guests strolling inside the restaurant. Every couple seconds, his gaze skimmed the entrance door, and his heart slammed to a stop when she sauntered past the front door.
Kika. Wearing the dressy gown they’d picked the previous day. She looked exquisite. Her hair fell in waves to one side, and women’s tricks like black eyeliner and a shameless cherry-red lipstick enhanced the beauty of her face. The turquoise Kimono-style knee-length number outlined her delicious curves as she swayed her way to him with an upped brow and an enigmatic half smile.
“I take it I scrub up well?” She winked at him, and the mention of scrubbing brought to mind luscious images of her licking him in the shower the other night like he was the last ice cream cone on a scorching summer day. Damn her. Damn her.
Without much thought, he planted a kiss on her cheek, and lingered enough to catch a whiff of her intoxicating scent. Her shiver didn’t go unnoticed by him, and he savored the smile spreading across his face. Could there be a part of her that wanted him, without the money? His stomach clenched tight. What if she does?
“What are you doing?” she whispered.
“I reckon some intimacy should help you relax, and pretend the role you’re here to play.” He said the words his common sense urged him to.
“Of course. Though having sex is easier than intimacy,” she said, her voice strained.
He stretched to his full height, studying her face. With fluttering eyelashes and clamped lips, Kika had never been lovelier. Or more scared. He opened his mouth, unsure of what to say. Conflicting emotions rolled inside him like a cement mixer. Hope. Regret. Desire. “Kika—”
“Good evening.” The hostess materialized in front of them, wearing a swanky cocktail dress and impeccable hair knot. With a couple of superficial greetings, that woman had popped their bubble of awareness. She showed them into the five star venue, and they had no option but to follow.
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