Charity Case - The Complete Series - Piper Rayne Page 0,270

up to rest on the bench seat. After arranging the nozzle so the water doesn’t fall right on him, he lowers himself to his knees and proves that not only does he have a wonder cock, but a wonder tongue, too.

My screams echo against the glass and it’s not because of the hot water that I’m flushed when I finally step out of the shower.

Roarke stays in after I leave having let me wash myself up first.

“Thanks to you, I only have a half hour to get ready.” I joke as I wrap myself in a plush towel and head into the bedroom.

“You’ll be beautiful no matter what,” his voice echoes out from the bathroom.

“You don’t know my mother.” I pick up my clothes from yesterday, shoving them in my overnight bag and pulling out my bra and panties for today.

“I can’t wait to meet them.”

“You won’t think that afterward, I promise.” I see his clothes laying on the chair next to his side of the bed. So unlike him. “Getting sloppy now?”

“What?” The water shuts off and I hear the towel being taken off the rack.

“Your clothes from last night.” I pick them up along with my towel to put in the hamper in his closet.

“I was in a rush to get into bed with you,” he says, his voice still traveling out of the bathroom.

I head to the closet and throw in my towel, but his clothes are still in my hand.

Don’t do it.

Do it.

You’re looking for excuses.

You need to protect us.

The war in my head wages on and I pull the shirt up to my nose. The familiar scent of Roarke’s cologne relieves my worries.

You’re being stupid.

Now you feel better, right?

Dropping the jeans in his hamper, I lift his shirt to my nose and inhale, but this time it’s not only Roarke’s cologne I smell. There’s a faint hint of another fragrance. And since this was a freshly washed shirt when he put it on last night, I know it’s not mine. Am I smelling things? I sniff again, my nose traveling all over the fabric like the insane woman I am, the foreign scent more pronounced around one collar.

“What do you think about getting you a dresser?” His voice is suddenly close, and I drop the shirt into the hamper.

He steps into his closet, his eyes on the clothes in the hamper. There’s no suspicion to his gaze, only amazement that I put them in there. “Thanks, baby.” He kisses my cheek and heads to his rows of meticulously arranged clothes.

All the while my insides are shattering like a sledgehammer to glass.

Roarke is definitely lying to me.

Chapter Twenty-Eight

I decided not to confront Roarke right away.

Stupid?

Maybe.

I know who I’m dealing with and I want to make sure I have everything in order before I nail him, which means hiring a private investigator to follow him. I want to see with my own eyes and have the proof in hand so he can’t sweet talk me into believing something isn’t going on.

“Are you allowed to tell me who your clients are?” I ask.

He glances over as we ease off the I-90 in the north suburbs. My tone is curt and he’s probably wondering what changed from the shower to now. The fact that I confirmed he’s a cheating bastard is what, but he doesn’t need to know that yet.

“Depends, but I can’t see why you’d care.”

“Does the name Quinton sound familiar?” I still want to find out if he’s going to screw over my friend or not.

“Quinton?”

I blow out an annoyed breath and his eyes shift my way once more with a ‘what the fuck is wrong with you’ expression.

“Yes, Quinton,” I snap impatiently.

“Yes. I’m representing a Quinton.”

Ha. I knew it.

“David Quinton?”

Again his gaze lingers on me as we stop at the light to turn left toward the club. “Did I miss something?”

“What are you talking about?” I cross my legs, then my arms over my chest. My body language is more along the lines of when we left to go to Wisconsin weeks ago. Before I fell in love with this man and well before he disappointed me.

“I thought your sourness was because you’re nervous for me to meet your parents or the fact you don’t seem very fond of your mother, but this line of questioning as though I’m on the stand has me thinking I must have missed something.”

“I’m just making conversation. I figure you might screw over some of my friends and I have