Get You Back: Part One: Revenge

by Juniper Bell

  With a pang, I wondered if anyone would ever recognize my true self. If Rye would. And what that might feel like.

  9

  Rye

  First thing that morning, I'd rented a little Maserati. If I was going to stay in the city—and I sure wasn't about to walk away from Lauren now—I needed wheels. Nice ones. Wheels that said, fuck all you Washington assholes, I'm a baller too. Hence the black Maserati with the convertible top.

  We took Gonzo back to the Colonial, then lowered the top and sped along the buzzing arteries of the capital. I felt like a king with Lauren by my side. She'd changed into a sleeveless top the color of merlot. She'd twisted her hair into a casual knot, but the wind kept whipping loose strands every which way. Finally I handed her one of my bandannas and she tied it around her head, knotting it in the back.

  She was so stunningly beautiful I could barely keep my eyes off her. "How did you grow up so gorgeous?" I asked her. "How?"

  "Um …" She cast me an odd look from under those thick eyelashes. "I didn't have a choice."

  It was such a strange answer. I didn't know what it could possibly mean. "Are you talking about genetics? Your DNA?"

  "Not exactly."

  Mysterious. I worried over her answer like a dog with a bone. Did she mean that Bliss gave her no choice? I got the feeling that Bliss controlled just about everything in Lauren's life. My scorn for the woman increased with every new thing I learned about her.

  Lauren guided me along the thoroughfares until we reached the Tidal Basin park near the Washington Monument. By some miracle, I found a parking meter not too far away. We strolled through the park, passing by graceful trees that I assumed were the famous cherries. We probably looked much like the other couples enjoying the sunshine and each other's company.

  No one would ever guess at all the history and secrets between us.

  When we'd chosen the perfect spot under a sheltering tree, Lauren spread out a quilt she'd brought from her condo. I fingered it as I lowered myself down into a lounging position. "Feels like an heirloom."

  "If it was, then no heirs claimed it. Estate-sale special," she said lightly. "Five bucks."

  I looked at it more closely. Someone had put a lot of care into the craftsmanship. "The woman at the ranch where I live would be all over this. She's a quilter."

  "What's her name?"

  "Alison Parker. She and her husband, Ben … well, they took us in after we left Chicago."

  "Oh." An unsure expression shadowed her lovely face. As if she wasn't sure if she should ask more. As if every conversation was filled with landmines.

  I didn't want that. I'd just have to trust her, at least a little bit.

  "We left Chicago after Papa had his stroke," I explained as I helped her unload the feast I'd acquired that morning at a high-end deli. Wafer- thin water crackers, Brie, fresh strawberries, chocolate- covered Acai berries—whatever those were. "He wanted us to leave. I think he was scared for us, but he wasn't able to say why."

  Her eyes widened. "Were you in danger?"

  "I don't know. Maybe, or maybe he was just delusional. We decided to trust him and head West."

  "So the three of you just left and went to Texas? All on your own?"

  "Actually, I really wanted to hit Vegas first." I flashed her a grin. "My father used to take me there once a year. He had to get his fix of high-stakes poker. I knew I could win some cash that way. But I was only sixteen and they don't let you gamble until you're of legal age."

  She smeared herbed cheese on a cracker and handed it to me. "So what did you do?"

  "Waited five years. It was good for me. I learned patience."

  I popped the cracker into my mouth, then gave her a half-smile to interpret how she wanted. She flushed in a very satisfying way. Every moment I spent with her, I was falling more under her spell. And she wasn't even trying. I knew what it was like to be the object of a woman's flirtation. Lauren wasn't flirting with me. She was watching, listening, paying attention, those striking eyes drawing me in.

  "I bet that was a lot of fun, seeing Las Vegas with Ian McAllister. Your father was always the life of the party, wherever he went."

  "Yeah." It had been a blast, every single sleepless second. "Remember how he always wore a flower on his buttonhole? And sometimes he'd present it to a receptionist or a counter clerk, someone just doing their job?"

  "He liked to make people smile. I remember laughing a lot around him."

  "Everyone did." I rubbed the center of my chest, which always got tight when I talked about my father. "He was one of a kind. Irreplaceable."

  She was watching me with a soft, attentive gaze. The light dancing through the green leaves overhead was hypnotic. She was hypnotic. "So one day you were a pampered quarterback, the next you were a runaway with a family in tow?"

  "Pampered?" I pushed the picnic basket away and stretched alongside her. She laughed at me. I got a flash of the sass the thirteen-year-old Lauren used to show once in a while. "Do you know how many times I ate dirt on that field?"

  "Poor baby. I suppose that's what cheerleaders are for. To make it all feel better after the game."

  "That did help," I admitted.

  We were quiet for a while, enjoying the warmth in the air, the sense of time slowing down just for us. After a while she spoke again.

  "What was your girlfriend's name? I remember she used to text you nonstop."

  I searched my memory banks. So much of my Chicago life had vaporized right out of my head. "Pretty sure it was Chelsea. But it could have been Monica."

  She burst out laughing. "Those are two completely different names. You are so busted. You had two girlfriends, didn't you?"

  "I reserve the right to be silent."

  "Oh my God. More than two?"

  "Speaking in the local lingo, I will neither confirm nor deny such baseless accusations and rampant speculation." I grinned at her.

  Her lips parted in a scandalized expression. It sent heat surging into my dick. If she only knew what she did to me …

  "You were a dog!" she accused, jabbing a finger into my chest. "A low-down dirty dog."

  "I was a horny teenager with girls falling all over me. Any guy would do the same in my place."

  "And did you continue your player ways when you got to Texas?"

  The question surprised me and I had to think about it. "Actually, no. I got a lot more cautious about everything. Girls included." I'd never thought about it, but it was true. I still loved women and loved sex, but I was more straight up than I used to be. "I only fuck one woman at a time now."

  A charge of sexual heat flashed between us. It was the word "fuck" that did it. My erection pulsed at the mention of the word. She definitely noticed, because she shifted her hips closer to me. Her pupils dilated and a flush spread up her neck.

  Her voice sounded husky when she finally responded. "Interesting. What you're saying is that you became a better person after you left Chicago."

  She had a point, but I didn't want to admit that. Sure, adversity makes you stronger. That didn't let the Blakewell women off the hook.

  I placed one hand on her hip, my thumb pressing into the soft notch between her hipbones and her mound. I let her feel the strength in my grip. Let her know what I could do with her body. "Better in bed, no doubt."

  She lifted one eyebrow, trying to play it cool. But I saw the unmistakable signs of arousal. Hard to miss when her nipples were peaking under her thin blouse.

  Chemistry pulsed between us. Or maybe that was my aching cock. "I want you, Lauren."

  "Me too," she whispered. "So much."

  She leaned closer, her weight warm against my thigh. One more second and we'd be committing public indecency. "How about we take this somewhere more private?" I managed.

  "Oh my God! You're right." She scooted backwards, her alarm almost comical. "What was I thinking?"

  "Probably the same thing I was." I stood up and held out my hand. When she put hers in mine, I felt the oddest se
nsation. As if she was putting her trust in me. As if I'd shoot myself before I let her down.

  We packed up the picnic basket in record time and practically ran to the Maserati. By the time we threw ourselves into the car, we were speaking in one- syllable sentences between pants.

  "Colonial?"

  "No. Risky. Townhouse?"

  "No way."

  When we passed a cute little B&B with the name of "Ye Olde Meeting House," we didn't hesitate. I pulled into the tiny lot hidden behind it.

  The owner, a plump woman in her seventies with a kind face, wanted to chat us up, but we kept our answers brief. I explained that my secretary and I were in town on business and that we needed a room in which to work until our plane left. I told her we were working on a top-secret merger and were willing to pay extra for discretion.

  Maybe she believed me, maybe not. But apparently she was used to guests asking for "discretion." She gave us her most private room, overlooking the back garden, and promised us plenty of peace and quiet for the day.

  A key, a back staircase, and finally we were alone in a tidy little chamber that I paid absolutely no attention to. I focused like a laser beam on the temptress with me.

  "Wait," she said, throwing up a hand. She went to the windows and drew the drapes. The light in the room immediately dimmed. It felt as if we were in a cave. When she turned back to me, her eyes had gone wide with anticipation. They glowed, almost like an actual source of illumination, though I knew they were just reflecting the ambient light. "Okay," she said softly. "We're safe."

  "Sweetness," I prowled toward her, "you are anything but safe."

  Fire flared in those tiger-striped eyes. "Is that right? Should I make a break for it?"

  "You can try. But I plan to make you beg to stay."

  The muscles of her throat moved up and down. My cock remembered what that smooth, satiny channel felt like. But I wanted something different this time. I wanted to feel her from the inside. I wanted my cock buried in her heat. I wanted all of her.

  10

  Lauren

  I saw the hot intent in every taut line of his powerful body as he stalked toward me. This was it. What we'd done up to this point was just fun and games. Mouths, hands, kisses, touches. Now, we were about to take an irrevocable step— – and he had no idea. To him, it would mean nothing. I'd be one in a long string of women who had succumbed to the charm of Rye McAllister. To me, it would be a landmark event. Something I'd never be able to forget. Never want to forget.

  As long as my heart didn't break in the process.

  I knew only one way to make sure it didn't shatter. Build a wall. Separate myself. Body, go have fun. Heart, take the day off. Mind, shut down the warning system. I got this.

  Pinned like a butterfly by his hungry stare, I swayed as he approached. Swayed toward him. As if he had a magnetic field drawing me in.

  Go with it, Lauren. You made a deal. And you want this.

  Oh, how I wanted it. I was so on edge with desire that my skin fairly burned. When he ran his hand down my forearm, I felt the shockwaves resonate all the way to my toes. He took my hand and led me to the bed. He stripped my clothes off me, piece by piece, kissing each body part as he exposed it. He nibbled lightly on the knob of my collarbone. Cherished my breasts with sweet, warm sweeps of his tongue. Breathed in the perspiration rising from my skin.

  Maybe with someone else I would have felt embarrassed by his open, earthy appreciation of every bit of my physical self. But Rye made that impossible. His frank sexuality made me let go of my usual inhibitions. I abandoned myself to his relentless exploration.

  No, I did more than that. I opened up like a flower experiencing the first sunshine of spring. I arched as he clasped the small of my back. His fingers fanned across the upper part of my ass. He lowered his hot mouth to my nipples. I murmured encouragement. "Suck them, Rye. Hard, harder. Oh my God, yes."

  I rolled over when he told me to, rubbed my stiff nipples against the sheets as he commanded. Stretched out flat, pussy and nipples burning against the silken fabric. Moaned when he stroked the delicate line between my ass and my upper thighs. Opened more so he could caress my inner thighs. The pleasure of his touch was exquisite. Addictive. All-encompassing. Everything else faded away except the slow drag of his fingers across my skin.

  When he stroked a finger through my slippery folds, I thought I might come immediately. But since we'd entered our arrangement, he'd already brought me to orgasm twice with his hands. He knew just how much to push me. I felt it in his touch.

  "Roll back onto your back, sweetness," he said hoarsely. "I want to see your face when I take you for the first time."

  I did as he asked, wondering if I had enough control to hide the truth. Maybe it would be okay. Maybe there would be no need. Just in case, I schooled my features into a "This Feels Amazing" expression—-- #57.

  Luckily, he was looking down my body and didn't see my careful facial preparation. He was too intent on getting inside me. I grabbed the chance to admire the incredible sight of his ripped body poised over mine. His upper body was packed with solid muscle. Those wide shoulders reminded me of his football past. His biceps flexed as he braced himself above me. His deeply tanned neck contrasted with the paler skin of his chest. The pattern of a man who spent time outdoors. A scattering of curly chest hair definitely proved he had no use for manscaping.

  This was a man, through and through. Rugged, tough, hardened. But also tender and loyal. The combination was absolutely lethal.

  He glanced up at me, catching me in the act of shamelessly ogling him. His eyes darkened to a passionate charcoal. "Everything okay?"

  "More than okay. You're quite a sight, Rye McAllister."

  "Nothing compared to you, Lauren."

  We paused for a moment, captured in desire like amber, poised on the edge of something tremendous. He broke away first.

  "Nearly forgot." He reached for the nightstand, where he'd tossed a handful of condoms. With quick, efficient movements, he tore open the little package and rolled the thin latex over his erection. It was fascinating to watch him handle the thick spear springing between his legs. His movements were so casual, when the sight of it literally took my breath away.

  When he'd finished, he moved back into position between my legs. I swallowed surreptitiously. I couldn't have him knowing how nervous I was. My heart was fluttering madly. Even though I was still plenty turned on, my anxiety level was rising fast. I threw my head back and closed my eyes so he couldn't see. Hopefully I looked like a woman swept away by passion, instead of a woman trembling with uncertainty.

  "Lauren," he whispered as he eased inside me. I hid my wince. I didn't want him to stop. "I don't think I can go slow this time. I want you too much."

  "It's okay, Rye." Fast would be better anyway. "You've satisfied me so many times already. I'm not worried about it."

  "I promise I'm good for it."

  My inner flesh strained to accommodate him. I was slippery with arousal, more than ready, but still, this was new for me.

  And I flinched.

  He pulled out right away. "What's wrong, Lauren?"

  "It's okay," I gasped. "Keep going. I'm fine."

  "The hell you are." He looked down at his engorged flesh slick with my juices-- and a tiny smear of blood. "You're a virgin?"

  "You don't have to say it like that." I hit him on the shoulder with a pillow. "Lots of people are virgins."

  "Yes. But not a sophisticated woman like you. Not Bliss's daughter."

  "What is that supposed to mean?" I pushed myself up so I rested on my elbows.

  "You're engaged. Are you telling me you've never had sex with your fiancé?"

  "Clearly, I've never had sex with my fiancé."

  "And you were willing to have sex with me? Even though you've never been with anyone before?"

  God, this was painful. "I've been with people. But I've stopped short of full penetration."

  "Why?" He ran a hand across the back of
his neck. He looked absolutely flabbergasted. "You're a passionate, sensual woman. Why haven't you had sex with anyone?"

  A hundred reasons ran through my mind. Each one valid, all of them too intimate to share. Bottom-line—I hadn't ever trusted anyone enough. "It's none of your business, Rye. Now do you want to fuck me or not?"

  "Excuse me?"

  "Oh for Pete's sake." I swung my legs over the side of the bed, poised for a quick exit. "You're making such a big fuss about this. If my virginity is going to put such a big damper on things, never mind. We'll skip the sex."

  "Hang on one ever-loving second." He wrapped an iron arm around my waist and tumbled me backward against his chest. "You said you'd do whatever I wanted."

  "And I tried." I struggled to escape. No go. "You pulled out. That's as good as a rejection."

  "That's nothing like a rejection. Now hold still and stop squirming. You're turning me on all over again."

  "Too bad you didn't get off while you could." At that point, taunts were all I had.

  He scooped me up and laid me across his lap. His strength blew me away. "I'm holding you to our deal. You have to give me what I want, as long as we're in private. This is completely private and I want answers. How many boyfriends have you had?"

  "That's not the kind of thing you're supposed to ask a woman."

  "How many?"

  "I've had my share."

  "And yet you've never engaged in sexual relations with anyone."

  I raised my eyebrows, clinging to my cool for all I was worth. "Depends on how you define sexual relations."

  "I define it as a cock in your pussy."

  "Well then, no, Mr. Way-with-Words. I've never had … that. Until just now."

  "Oh, the blue balls you must have left in your rear view mirror."

  I twisted on his lap, struggling to escape this mortifying conversation. "Screw you."

  He laughed and held me tighter. Those strong arms formed an iron chain around me. "I'm just teasing you, Lauren. To tell you the truth, I find your virgin status kind of exciting." Judging by his raging erection, he wasn't lying.