phone said not to worry about being late. He said he was sorry for my loss, and that he understood. I feel my breath coming up short as a lump grows in my throat. Fuck! What the hell am I going to do? Fucking Rick, leaving me with this shit to deal with. I wish I could just fucking hide as these damn tears start pricking my eyes. My hands start to shake as I realize I’m trapped in the bookie’s suite and I owe him more money that I don't have.
“Aw, doll. Don’t cry. We can work something out.” Her bottom lip’s trembling, and her gorgeous hazel eyes are brimming with tears. I feel like a fucking asshole for taking advantage of the situation. But then again, what the fuck did she expect? First, she made a bet with a bookie – not fucking smart on her part. Then she's late with handing over the dough. She had to know there’d be consequences. She parts her lips to respond, but she’s too shaken up. My heart clenches looking at her small frame quaking with worry.
I’ll make it good for her. She looks like a girl I could keep. My brow furrows as I reach out to brush her cheek with my hand. I’m not sure where that thought came from, but the more I think about it, the more I like it. She closes her eyes and leans into my touch as I wipe away the tears trailing down her sun-kissed skin. As I reach her lips, I part them with my thumb.
I hate the bastard tears that’ve escaped. I feel too raw and vulnerable. I can’t help but love the warmth of his skin. How long has it been since someone’s touched me with kindness and looked at me with desire? I need this. I need to be held, if only for a little while. His thumb brushes my bottom lip, and I instantly part them for him. He can hold me for a moment. I can pretend it’s more. I can pretend he really wants me. I can pretend he loves me.
Fuck, she’s so damn perfect. She's leaning into me like she really wants me. Like she needs me. She radiates sweet innocence, but there’s something more about her, something I can’t quite put my finger on. A sting of loneliness pulses through me. I was playing with the thought of having her on her knees in exchange for payment. But I want more. I want her to fucking love what I do to her. I’ll make her want me when it’s over. A coldness sweeps through me. Women always act like they want me after, but it’s the money they want, not me. A sad smirk plays at my lips as she licks my thumb and massages the underside with her hot tongue. Fuck, I’ll take it. If she only wants me for my money, I’ll take it. I feel a burning need to keep her.
My brows creases with anger at my thoughts. My fucking heart is turning me into a little bitch. “Strip. Now.” My words come out hard, making her take a hesitant step back as I pull my thumb from her lips. I instantly regret being the fucking asshole I am. But I can’t take it back. I turn my back to her, to lock the door. I slip the gun out from under my belt and easily hide it from her sight to set it down on the table by the door. God knows what she’d think if she got a look at it.
My body flinches as the hard sound of the door locking echoes through the room. He moves with power and confidence, his gaze like one of a predator. I swallow my pride and slip off my cardigan. I don’t need pride and self-respect right now; I need a man to desire me. The thought and his hungry eyes on me have me peeling off my dress without hesitation. I don’t care if this is a payment or if he’s just using the interest as an excuse to fuck me; I want this. Or at least I want him.
As I reach behind my back to unhook my bra, he reaches for me, wrapping his strong arms around my body and molding his hard chest to mine. His lips crush against mine, and I part them for his hot tongue to taste me. He kisses me with passion and need. His