by Lane, Soraya
“Thanks.” Ryder waved Chloe over when she appeared. Her mouth hovered into a frown and he realized she be mimicking the look on his face. “Anything else?”
“Nope, just filling you in,” Chase said. “Nate would have flipped if he’d heard, but if I see Parker I’ll teach him a lesson for you, okay?”
Ryder’s heart started pounding again. He’d pressed his balled fist into the wall, ready to slam the hell out of it. “Don’t bother. I’d rather do it myself, let him tell me to my face.”
“Whatever,” Chase replied. “Now go have some fun. I wanna hear all the details when you get back.”
Ryder hung up and turned all his attention to Chloe. She looked worried.
“Problem?”
He unclenched his fist and bent to pick up their bags, shoving his phone into his pocket. “Yeah. But there’s nothing I can do about it so let’s leave it.”
Chloe didn’t look convinced, but she didn’t push the point. “Okay, how about we go find a cab. Unless you have a car waiting for us?”
“Sure do.”
He laughed as she made a face. “You do realize I’m not your real girlfriend, right? That means you don’t have to try to impress me all the time.”
“Darlin’, this isn’t me trying to impress you,” he told her, nodding toward the exit. “I just don’t like waiting for cabs.”
“Did you live like this when you were riding your way around Texas on your own?”
“No.” He glanced at her as they walked. “I slept rough until I won my first belt, which didn’t take long, then I just rolled with the punches. Hung out with the other riders. But falling back into this lifestyle hasn’t exactly been difficult.”
He clenched his jaw at the thought of losing it all for real. He might have wanted to do his own thing for a while, but it wasn’t because he didn’t appreciate being a King, he’d just wanted to make a name for himself. Now he’d gone and screwed up everything he’d worked so damn hard to prove.
Chloe rolled her eyes and pulled her case behind her. “You’re worried they’re going to find out, aren’t you? Before we win it back?”
“Chase has already heard something,” he told her, waiting for her to walk through the doors and waving to a driver holding a sign with King displayed on it. “Even if I stop them from finding out before you win it back, they’ll find out one day. It’s like trying to stop a train from crashing, and knowing it’ll derail on its own anyway.”
Chloe’s gaze was sympathetic, her brown eyes warm when they fixed on him. She touched his arm as they walked.
“Ryder, they’re your family. They’ll forgive you.”
He doubted it. “Maybe.”
“At least you have a family who loves you. Don’t take them for granted.”
He grunted, not about to argue with her when he knew she’d had it rough with her dad.
“Good afternoon, Mr. King,” the driver said, opening the back door for Chloe then loading their bags in the trunk.
“We’re headed for the Bellagio,” Ryder told him, sliding in beside Chloe.
They sat in silence as the car pulled away, both staring out the window. Soon they were driving through traffic and then they hit the casinos, the tall buildings as extravagant and glitzy during the daytime as they were at night. Ryder glanced at Chloe, watched as she tipped her head sideways and let it rest against the window.
“I haven’t been here in a couple of years but nothing changes, does it?”
She raised her head, still looking out. “Me neither. I haven’t…”
Ryder waited, but she never finished her sentence. “You haven’t what?”
She sighed. “Nothing. I, well, let’s just say I made a promise to myself that I wasn’t ever going to come back here.”
“Because of your dad?”
“Yeah. At the time I didn’t ever want to see another pack of cards or a casino as long as I lived.”
“How about we both make that promise once we’re done here,” Ryder said. Riding in the car with Chloe, the neon lights seemed tacky, the casinos just a reminder of how stupid he’d been when he’d bet more than he should have the other night. “No more gambling, no more casinos. If we ever come back to Vegas it’ll be to see a show or for me to ride rodeo.”
“A Britney Spears show, maybe?”
Ryder grinned back at Chloe, pleased to see she was smiling again. Whenever she talked about her dad it was like the lights went out behind her eyes, and it had been those shining chocolate-brown eyes that had drawn him in the first time they’d met.
“How about burlesque?” he asked, covering her knee with his hand. “I prefer naked girls dancing to singing ones.”
“I’ll make you a bet then,” she said, all the spark she’d lost before back on her face. “If you can beat me tonight, I’ll go to a girly show with you.”
He laughed. Betting against Chloe was something he was sure he’d regret. Although if the stakes weren’t that high… “And what do you get, if you win?”
“When I win, you have to come see Mariah Carey with me.”
Ryder cringed. “It’s not that I don’t appreciate good singing, but…”
“Kidding,” Chloe said. “When I win, I just want to see the look on your face.”
The car slowed as it approached their hotel and Ryder unclipped his seat belt as they came to a stop in front of the hotel’s impressive entryway. “How about I take you to a little bar that has a mechanical bull? I can teach you how to ride like a cowgirl as a reward.”
He didn’t miss the flush in Chloe’s cheeks as she held his gaze. “I bet you’d like to teach me that,” she said.
Ryder hadn’t meant it dirty, but it didn’t take his brain a second to switch to bedroom mode. And it wasn’t like he hadn’t thought about Chloe sitting astride him, naked and grinding.
“Let’s just see what the night brings, huh?”
She nodded. “Let’s.”
They both stepped out of the car and Ryder helped the driver get their bags out before a bellboy rushed over and took them from him. He touched a hand to Chloe’s back to guide her through the gold-rimmed doors, the building towering above them as they walked inside. Ryder crossed through the lobby, his boots sounding out on the high-gloss tiles as he walked to one of the front desks to check in. There were plenty of people milling about, the entire place oozing money, but when he turned to glance back at Chloe, there was only one person he was interested in. Even the beautiful concierge wasn’t enough to distract him from who he wanted to get back to.
“Mr. King, we have you in the Bellagio Suite. Enjoy your stay and please don’t hesitate to contact me if there’s anything you require.”
He nodded and took the key cards. “Thanks.”
“Please tell me I have my own room?”
Ryder spun around to find Chloe on tiptoe behind him, leaning to look over his shoulder. When he turned, she ended up peering straight at him instead.
“The bed’s a super king. There’s plenty of room for both of us.”
Chloe stroked a finger down his chest before pushing back and turning. “You better hope so, otherwise you’ll end up on the floor.”
Ryder watched her go, pausing so she was a few steps ahead of him before he followed. Her jeans were like a second skin, hugging her butt and showing off her long legs. Black heels made her even taller than she was, even though she barely reached his shoulder, a leather jacket covering the low-neck tee that he’d been so close to getting off of her on the jet. She acted like she didn’t know it, and maybe she didn’t, but the girl was pure sex on a stick. The only thing better than looking at her rear view would be seeing her bare. Preferably beneath him.
“Ready for a cocktail?” Ryder called out.
Her mouth was tipped up into its delicious smile. “Always ready, cowboy.”
Ryder had never found women that hard to read, but Chloe was impossible. One minute she was blowing cool, the next steaming hot.
Chloe listened to
the water running and finally relaxed. Being with Ryder was fun, but she felt on high alert all the time, always trying to come back with a quip to match his, flipping between wanting him and wanting to run every other second. She flopped down on the bed and stared at the ceiling, before sitting up and surveying the room properly. It was old-school luxury—gilded frames, luxurious fabrics, and extravagant furniture. She jumped down and stripped, taking off her jeans and T-shirt and rummaging through her case until she found what she was looking for. The dress was simple, black with a plunging neckline, tight to just below her knee when she stepped into it. Something that she knew would make Ryder stop and stare.
She slipped on her heels, four-inch black suede pumps, and then reached for her makeup, carrying it over to the antique table just past the foot of the bed. A huge gold mirror hung above it, and she bent forward to inspect her face. Chloe unzipped the bag and took out her concealer, dabbing it under her eyes and to her chin, before lightly touching up her foundation. She was distracted only by the view—the suite looked out over the city, and she could imagine how amazing it would look lit up at night. She glanced back at the bed, plump with an oversize comforter and too many pillows—would she be lying in there alone admiring the view come darkness? She smiled to herself and went back to applying her makeup. Unlikely.
The sound of running water stopped and she hurried to finish, spritzing some perfume to her neck and into her hair, then adding a quick dab between her breasts.
“Is that for my benefit?”
The husky drawl made her turn, heat flushing her body. Ryder seemed to know exactly what she was thinking, and the way he was staring at her with only a towel tucked loosely around his waist was making her squirm. She was sick of telling herself why she couldn’t have him, especially when he looked like that.
“My breasts like it,” she told him, setting down the bottle and squaring her shoulders, “and so do I.”
He raised an eyebrow, his gaze falling to her breasts, then slowly inspecting the rest of her. His body was immobile, the only movement his eyes.
“Well, do you like what you see?” she asked, her breathing raspy.
“I do,” he replied. “You look amazing.”
So do you. She bit back her reply, keeping her mouth clamped shut. It would only take her crossing the room and slipping that towel down to have him naked, and she bet he’d make fast work of her dress.
“Are you going to put some clothes on or do you want to stay in?”
He shrugged. “Up to you. I hear the room service here is good.”
She hadn’t been expecting that response. “I’m ready for that cocktail you promised me, actually.”
Ryder placed one hand over the edge of his towel as he walked, padding across the thick carpet and stopping less than a foot from her. His big body towered over her, his wet hair dripping onto her when he bent his neck low, too low. Chloe held her breath as his mouth hovered over her cleavage, but it was his nose that touched her skin, gently, so that she could barely feel it. Only she was so hypersensitive when it came to Ryder she’d have felt him breathe on her.
“You smell as gorgeous as you look,” he whispered, raising his head just as slowly and stopping when he got to her lips.
Ryder leaned in, his mouth so close to hers, teasing her, but she refused to move, to invite him in. But just as she was about to push him away, to swallow and stop holding her damn breath, he leaned in and kissed her, as lightly as he’d nudged at her breast. His lips were so soft they were almost painful.
“I don’t want to ruin that beautiful lipstick of yours,” he whispered, his mouth barely brushing hers as they spoke. “Not yet.”
Chloe shut her eyes, inhaled the scent of his just-washed hair, the citrus of his cologne. She wasn’t going to beg him, it wasn’t her style, but the more he teased her the more she hated herself for wanting him so bad.
“Maybe never,” she finally murmured back, but Ryder was gone, backing away then turning.
She was about to tell him that he was the goddamn tease, and then he went and dropped his towel, showing off a muscular backsdie that had her sucking in a breath. Chloe bit her lip and just admired the view. He wanted a reaction from her and he wasn’t going to get it—she could punish him later for trying to rile her up. She only wished she’d had a glimpse of the front view as well as the rear.
“Are we going to talk tactics tonight?” he asked, pulling on underwear and then a pair of dark denim jeans.
“Maybe,” she said, wriggling her dress down a little farther to show off more of her breasts. Two could play at this game, and just like Ryder, she was used to winning.
“What are we drinking?” he asked, buttoning up a shirt and watching her at the same time.
“Hemingway Daiquiris. And we’re going now.”
Chloe collected her purse and headed for the door, smiling to herself when she heard Ryder curse, his boots managing to sound out even on the carpet as he hurried after her.
“Ouch!” Chloe spun around when he slapped her on the bum, ready to slap him.
Only the look on his face, the cheeky dimple like a naughty wink staring back at her, made her anger turn into a thrill that ran the entire length of her body. Want swirled in her belly, made her desperate to slam him into the door and press against him. Instead, she put one hand on her hip and glared at him, fighting the smile desperate to take control of her face. She was staying in control whether she liked it or not.
“You,” she admonished, “are a devil. And you’re not even trying to disguise it.”
He spun her before she knew what he was doing, pinning her arms to her sides, her back hard against the door. His body pressed into hers, hips locked forward.
“So they say,” he muttered, letting go of one of her hands to run a finger down to her breasts, then dipping between them. “Now stop wiggling that sexy butt at me and let’s go get a drink.”
“So tell me,” Ryder asked, pushing Chloe’s cocktail toward her and leaning back. “Why are you so terrified of something happening between us?”
She spluttered on her drink. “I’m not terrified.”
“No?” he asked, trying not to take pleasure in how rattled she was. She’d regained her composure now, but she was looking more interested in the bottles lined up behind the bar than she was in him.
“Is it just me or all men?”
Her eyes found his this time, her annoyance obvious. “I don’t have a problem with men.”
“I’m guessing it’s daddy issues,” he mused. “I get it, believe me.”
She sighed and took a sip of her drink. “I’m not denying I have daddy issues, but I don’t have a problem with men.”
“So it is just me?”
Now she looked ready to punch him. “Is your ego so big that you can’t deal with the fact a woman can turn you down?”
“Yeah,” he admitted. “It’s never happened before.” Ryder shrugged. “And don’t look so surprised.”
“Ugh.” She took another sip before pushing her drink away and leveling her gaze on him. “You’re so full of yourself it’s sickening.”
“Come on, just tell me why you’re so scared of something happening between us. If it’s the gambling, I get it, but it’s not that.” His smile was infectious. “And I’m only offended that you turned me down because I wanted you so bad.”
“How are you so sure?” she asked, but he could tell she was softening, that she was going to open up. “About the fact that I have issues.”
Ryder moved his hand, his fingers finding hers and closing over them. He didn’t just want to bed Chloe. She was the most goddamn intriguing woman he’d ever met, and he wanted to know what made her tick.
“Because one minute you want me and the next you’ve got this look in your eyes like you’re about to get it on with the Big Bad Wolf.”
She laughed. “My dad did kind of screw me up where men are concerned. He always let me down, and the last time he did it I vowed never to let a g
uy have that kind of power over me again. I guess we both have that in common, huh? Wanting to prove ourselves? Only I’m trying to pretend my only family member doesn’t exist.”
Ryder watched as she slid her fingers away from his. “You’re too beautiful to be alone for the rest of your life.”
“And you’re too charming,” she quipped, sipping her drink again.
They sat in silence for a moment, Ryder staring at Chloe’s face as she stared at the bottles.
“I want to make it myself, Ryder. I love men, but I don’t want a relationship. Not with you or any man, so don’t take it personally.” She looked up. “If you want some fun for the next few weeks, then I say hell yes. But if you want more?” She shrugged. “Then you’re out of luck.”
It was impossible for him not to smile. “I didn’t think you wanted to be my bought-and-paid-for mistress.”
Now it was Chloe smiling, her face lighting up as she leaned in toward him. “Sugar, I’m not your mistress if I’m the one calling the shots.”
Ryder slapped his hand on his thigh. If she was trying to imitate him, she was doing a damn good job with that faux Texas accent.
“Sweetheart, as long as you want to be in my bed, you can call all the shots.”
“Well now that’s settled and you know all about my daddy issues, why don’t you tell me about yours?”
Ryder groaned. “Seriously?”
“My dad swindled people out of money all my childhood and he taught me to be a damn good hustler. Only I wasn’t so good as to see that I was about to be hustled myself, by the one person I trusted. Whatever your dad was like he can’t have been any worse than mine.”
Ryder drained the rest of his cocktail before answering. “Your dad sounds like an asshole, but so was my old man. Just in a different way.”
“Tell me,” she asked, moving her barstool closer to his and leaning in toward him.
“My brothers had it worse than me. I didn’t really know what was going on a lot of the time, until the day my grandfather announced that he and Grandma were going to be our legal guardians. He offered my dad money to walk out of our lives and not come back, and the bastard took it without a backward glance.”
