Chapter 2: The Hot Mess And The Hotter British Jerk

༺RAYNE༻

I freeze on my seat, my entire body goes stiff. But my heart lurches and a wave of heat washes through me. I find myself leaning further into the kiss and breathing in the delicious scent of the stranger. He smells so good, so tasteful and so perfect. His lips, my God, his lips are heavenly, warm and delightful.

This is so wrong. Why do I feel good about being kissed by a strange man?

He pulls away from me and I want to whimper from disappointment. The man locks gazes with me as if he's searching for something in my eyes. His mouth parts slightly open, letting a ragged gasp escape and caress my face. I shudder at the touch of his hot breath and feel my legs weaken.

He's gorgeous—I want to say out loud. Dreamy grey eyes, beautiful, soft yet masculine features and lips that call my name without uttering a word. His powerful scent, his aura, everything about him is drawing me in. It's either that or the cocktail is taking a toll on me.

"I've missed you, my little vixen," the man purrs against my ear, tracing delicate patterns on my arm.

My eyes widen and my mouth hangs open, frozen like my face has been temporarily paralyzed. Is he mistaking me for someone else?

I swallow harder than I've ever done in my life, completely overwhelmed by his closeness and the absurdity of this situation. I can't even find the voice to ask questions right now. I'm enjoying this a little too much. I just want to taste his lips again.

Standing up, I bring my hands to his face and kiss him harder than he kissed me. He's rigid for a second or two but he makes up for it by running his hands over my back and sliding them to my ass. I thrust my tongue in his mouth and he gladly sucks on it, making me moan against his lips with total disregard for our surroundings.

A sharp, bitter voice disrupts our moment. "You son of a bitch!"

I come face-to-face with a woman whose glare could cut through steel. She's seething with red hot anger, her eyes darting between me and the stranger.

"So this thing is why you've been avoiding me all week?" She snarls, pointing at me.

What the...?

I glance at the man standing so close to me but he doesn't seem at all bothered. "You'll regret this! I promise you!" The woman yells before storming out of the bar.

I'm left to wonder what all of that was about. Did this man just cheat on that woman with me? Or is it something else?

The man in question turns to me and just as I'm about to open my mouth to speak, he brings out a wad of cash from his jacket and places it firmly in my palm.

Okay now, double confusion!

I stare at the bundle of hundred dollar bills in my hand, my jaw dropping open and my brows furrowing.

"What is this?" I finally ask, struggling to comprehend what's going on right now.

"Money," he replies in a condescending tone and in a rich, sultry British accent.

Ugh! Like I don't know what money is.

I manage to choke out a single word, still looking confused as hell. "Why?"

"For playing along. You helped me get rid of her. This is payment for your services."

I would've swooned about how his voice rolls off his tongue like butter melting on a hot muffin and how his dash of arrogance only makes his accent more seductive had I not been slightly infuriated.

"Services? You think I'm some kind of hooker?" I bark, handing him back his money. I can't believe he used me to get rid of his girlfriend.

He just shrugs and dips his hands in his pockets, refusing to take back his money. "Call it what you want. You played your part and now you're getting paid."

With that, he turns away and leaves me standing there. What a jerk! A hot, good-looking, bloody British jerk!

I go back to drinking and with every sip and gulp of my cocktail, that man is the only thing I can think about. Kissing him did wonders to my body. I can't help but imagine how it'd feel if I fucked him. He's the perfect tool for my revenge. He might be a jerk but he's perfect.

None of the other men sitting here drinking catches my eye like he did. I want to get back at Henry so bad and I want to feel good while doing it. I must find that man. I need to have him tonight. I can tolerate his arrogance and cockiness if it means I get what I want.

Revenge tastes sweeter when it's mixed with pleasure and that man is definitely going to give me both. I down the last of my cocktail, feeling the liquid burn in my throat and begin my search for the man. I'm hellbent on finding him. Henry won't know what hit him.

After scanning the bar and waiting there for almost an hour, I go over to the receptionist to inquire about the guy. I don't even know his name. All I've got is a vivid description. I'm not surprised the receptionist refuses to divulge any information, not even when I plead with her and almost fake tears.

"It's against hotel policy," she says repeatedly.

I give up, tired, defeated and tipsy. I take the keys to the room Henry booked for our honeymoon and stride there. As I'm fumbling with the lock, the door next to mine opens up and I catch a glimpse of the same man I've been looking for. He goes back in immediately after responding to the room service call.

I can't believe my luck!

Without a second thought, I'm marching over to his door and raising my hand to knock. I don't know what possessed me to do this but I bang hard against his door with a force that would wake a hibernating bear. But then a rush of nerves suddenly washes over me.

Is this really what I want? What am I even going to say to him? But it's too late for second thoughts now. The door swings open and there he is, standing there in nothing but a towel.

Fuck, he's so hot, so ripped to the point where his body looks like it's been carved out of marble. Skin glistening, muscles rippling, piercing grey eyes that could undress you a mile away! His dark hair, dishevelled and damp, is just begging to be run through and I want to—

"You again?" His icy voice jolts me to my senses. He looks slightly annoyed, with his eyes fixed on me like I'm some sort of inconvenience. "What do you want now?"

I don't know how to answer his question without sounding like a total fool. I've never done anything like this before. I'm just going to come out and say it.

I take a deep breath and reply, "I want you."

Before he can respond, I close the distance between us, pressing my lips against his. He stiffens for a moment, taken aback by my boldness but he quickly recovers, his mouth opening against mine. He kisses me back with a hunger and a need that matches my own, his hands finding my hips and pulling me into his chest.

He backs me into his room, the door shutting behind us while his lips move hungrily over my face, down my neck. His hands are everywhere, pulling at the zipper of my dress, sliding it off my shoulders, baring my skin for him to do as he pleases. I feel like I'm on fire, my body lighting up with every touch.

I gasp breathlessly when he lowers me onto the bed and rips my panties off my legs. His eyes darken with lust, his lips and hands claiming my breasts, my neck, my stomach, my ass and now working on my most sensitive spot.

"Your lips... they taste so good." He groans against my lips, pushing his fingers deeper in between my thighs. I moan and hold on to him like he's my lifeline. He caresses my mound and slides a finger in between my wet pussy folds. "Do these lips also taste good?"

The next thing that comes out of my mouth leaves me shocked. I've spent just a few moments with this man and I'm already acting like a depraved slut. I can't explain it.

All I can say is I look him in the eye and tell him with the most confidence I've ever worn, "Why don't you taste them and find out?"