“You should call him,” her sister said, not fooled in the least. “You’re miserable—don’t deny it, I know you too well. He’s miserable too, in case you wondered. I know you got spooked when he asked you to move in, but there’s a lot of safe ground between living together and breaking up. I think you should talk, now that you’ve both had some time to calm down and consider things.”Safe ground? What a joke. Because of her, and the choices she’d made before she ever met Ian, there was no safe ground for them. So for once in her life, she’d done the noble thing, the selfless thing, the most painful thing imaginable. She’d set him free before she ruined his life by dragging him and the family he loved through a humiliating public airing of her not-so-upstanding past. Miserable or not, he must have realized he’d dodged a bullet when she’d broken things off, because he’d done nothing to try to change her mind, and Ryan could be relentless when he wanted something.“I adore you, Anaisse. I re
Ryan Ferrer closed his eyes and let the hot spray of the shower rain down on the top of his head. Maybe it would pound some resolve into him, because he was uncomfortably close to chucking his “wait Annabelle out” plan, tracking her down, screwing her brains out, and, somewhere in the process, telling her he refused to allow her emotional baggage to sink their relationship. Unfortunately, if he did that, he might as well hand his balls over in a pretty pink gift bag.Irritated to find his thoughts traversing this same well-worn trail for the billionth time since their breakup, he grabbed a bottle of liquid soap from the recessed tile shower shelf and squirted some into his hand. The smell of Annabelle’s fancy soap filled the small space. Nice going, stud. Wrong bottle. The scent provoked memories, just to mess with his head. One fine Saturday morning she’d stood right there in his shower and washed him from head to toe, with some un-fucking-forgettable detours in between, because when
He wanted to stride in, toss Annabelle over his shoulder, and walk out…and not put her down until she told him she loved him and begged him to take her back. Then they’d turn the damn letter over to a forensic team, pick her brain for a list of suspects, and talk her into adding personal security to her entourage until the threat was resolved. But Annabelle would dig in her heels and refuse to cooperate if he tried the shoulder-toss tactic.“You go in and find Anaisse. Stick to her, because she and Annabelle look so much alike, if some sicko has his sights set on Annabelle, there’s a chance he’ll mistake Anaisse for her, which puts them both in danger. I’ll find Annabelle, stay close to her, and ensure nobody tries anything. At the first opportunity, I’ll try to wrangle her outside so we can move to a more secure location and question her about the letter.”“Okay. I’ve got your six. How do you plan to get her to leave with you?”“I have no clue, but I’m figuring the ski mask might com
The vacant spot he left behind offered her a view of the club. She spotted Anaisse and Tommy cuddled up together by the bar. The sight of Tommy brought unwanted thoughts of Ryan Ferrer flooding back. Was he here too? She scanned the room for one ridiculously painful heartbeat. No sign of him. A heavy sensation sank through her chest to settle in her stomach. She labeled it relief and turned back to the stage.The second drink kicked in, giving her a nice buzz. She raised her arms over her head and looked up to watch the shadows they cast in the purple lights shining down from the ceiling rig. Someone behind her chose that moment to give her a hip bump, and toppled her off balance. She stumbled forward and might have fallen, but two strong arms caught her and pulled her up against a hard, male chest.Her breath clogged her lungs for a moment, then burst out in a rush. “Thanks,” she managed and looked up at her rescuer. A black ski mask obscured his face. A soft, black, long-sleeved shi
She reached the first VIP room and realized the door might be locked. A weak part of her whispered that might be for the best, but luck was on her side. The knob twisted under her hand and the door popped open. She smiled and led Ryan into the private room. He closed the door behind them and the sounds of the party immediately receded to a muted chaos punctuated by the relentless, pumping bass lines. Perfect. Not so quiet as to facilitate, God forbid, conversation, but not so loud it felt as if they still stood in the middle of the dance floor.Her hands wanted to shake, so she propped them on her hips and took a moment to look around the once-familiar space. Not much had changed. The small, softly lit VIP room served one main purpose—to give clients a place to sit back and enjoy a private dance with the entertainer of their choice. A costly indulgence, at an upscale gentlemen’s club like Phoenix, and the decor, while restrained, acknowledged the price of the luxury. A comfortable da
Now her temper spiked. He’d let her walk out of his life. Yes, she’d broken up with him, but dammit, he’d always been able to read her like a large-print novel. He always understood her motivations, and even if for once he didn’t, the bottom line was he hadn’t cared enough to fight for her. Who was he to judge how she conducted herself now?“I want you to fuck me blind.” There, Ryan. Swallow that. “Do you think you can manage that one little thing?”He stayed still and silent for so long she figured he knew, and was going to call off the whole charade. Screw it. She reached for his mask, but he caught her hands.“No. That’s one thing you don’t get, Angel.”Yes, she was a passably good actress, but how could he still not realize she knew it was him? Or maybe that was just how he wanted to play it? Temper edged up another notch, and so did desire. Game on. Good actress or not, she could portray a pissed-off, not-getting-what-she-wanted version of herself in her sleep. She ground against
Annabelle rode out the last trembling aftershocks from the mind-numbing orgasm—the kind of full-body meltdown only Ryan could deliver. Shaky, sweaty, and tingling like she’d been struck by lightning, she barely registered when he lifted her and put her on his lap. She opened her eyes and immediately tumbled into his. Dammit. He pinned her with an expression she couldn’t fully read, but made her heart want to flip over in her chest and expose its soft underbelly. Which only proved she was, in fact, her own worst nightmare. No faceless stranger could lay claim to the title. She held that honor all on her own.Was that what you were looking for, Angel? He’d spoken quietly, but she heard the test in his voice as if daring her to push him even one more inch.Oh, she dared. Pushing him was about the only thing she dared do at this point because she knew full well her resolve would collapse like a house of cards if she came clean about their charade. And God only knew what confessions would
The insult stung. Did he really think he’d fooled her up until they’d danced? Like she only recognized him by the feel of his cock? “I knew it was you the minute I saw you. Letting you think otherwise was just”—she lifted her shoulder in a casual shrug—“an entertaining little game. But the game is over and, ultimately, doesn’t change what I want.”Apparently, she could sting him back, because his eyes narrowed. Then he ground his hips against hers until she bit her lip and moaned.“You’re sending mixed signals, Annabelle. You don’t know what you want.”Sadly, she did—she wanted far too much, more than he’d offered—but her stupid, traitorous hips lifted, seeking more from him.“Careful. The condom…” He reached down between them and pinched the base of his erection, holding the latex in place. But when he started to pull out, she panicked.“Don’t.” Her hands flew down to his hips, and her fingers dug in to hold him still. Don’t leave me empty. Not yet.“Annabelle…” He swore under his br