Page 90 of The Red-Hot Stakes

We tumbled to the bed.

Chapter Twenty-Three

I woke up the next morning with Liam’s familiar scent in my nose. And his face lay between my naked breasts, his mouth inches from my nipple. Shit. I froze.

His eyes fluttered open, fixating on my bare chest. “Why is your boob in my face?”

“I think the better question is, why is your face on my boob?”

He pushed himself upright, giving me a delicious glimpse of his wonderfully naked self. “Did we…?”

I was naked, too. The events of last night rushed back in bits and pieces. I nodded. “Yeah. We did.”

“Are you on the pill? I hope.” His face paled.

“No.” I hurried to continue as he paled even more, “I have an IUD.”

His face was the definition of relief as he quickly moved off the bed, pulling on his boxers. His defeated expression hit me low and hard, churning my already slightly nauseous stomach.

“Are you all right?”

He shook his head. “I can’t do this, Gina. I’m not in it for the short haul. I can’t keep at whatever fucked-up game we’re playing.” He rubbed a hand over his face as his words hit me with enough force to knock the wind out of me. “It’s like I’m a block of Liam cheese, and you’re a cheese grater, not content until I’m a pile of shreds at your feet.”

“Liam.” His name held all the pain I felt, but I quickly dialed it back in, dropping my chin when he looked at me.

He yanked on a T-shirt then a pair of shorts and stalked out of the patio door, leaving me naked and emotionally bleeding in the bed. Our bed.

I couldn’t keep doing this to him. It wasn’t fair. Today was the dress rehearsal, tomorrow the wedding, and no matter what romantic plans Avery had for us, this charade had to end. Not only was every moment an actual risk of setting the blackmailer’s dominoes in motion, we were gambling with our biggest stakes yet. Our hearts.

I’d book my own flight back after I saw her married. No one could fault me staying for that. I just hoped the group learned their way around by then.

I poked my head out to let Liam know the group was going for breakfast. He came in to get ready, but ignored me the entire time. Not easy in a space that small.

As we’d finished eating, Avery laid down the law. “We have rehearsal dinner tonight, so no one can get shit-faced today. Not like last night. Afterwards is fine, but everyone needs to be in good shape for the wedding tomorrow.”

Once she had our solemn promises, she broke into a smile. “Good. Now that that’s out of the way, we have a surprise.” She glanced at Derek, a conspiratorial look passing between them. “No pool today, we’re having a beach party!”

They’d made arrangements to have a bash on the beach with a couple of other resort groups here for special occasions. There was a private bar set up, beachside chairs, music, and possibly a limbo contest. We all chattered excitedly on the way back to our rooms. Except Liam, his pensive scowl firmly in place.

Avery frowned at him in concern, then looked at me, as if knowing I was the cause. I ducked my head, essentially admitting my guilt before I followed Liam to our room to change.

* * * *

I waded into the ocean, needing a break from the noise of the festive island band. The beach party was in full swing, and I adored the steel drums, but I wanted some quiet to think. I hiked up the wrap that matched my turquoise bikini.

I loved this suit—the halter top gave me great cleavage, the bottoms covered everything while accentuating my hips, and the color contrasted so well with my tan skin. The waves lapped at my calves, dampening some of the fringe that hung down. Swimming didn’t interest me. I preferred my Great Lakes, with no sharks and no salt.

I stared at the horizon, where ominous storm clouds gathered. Several people had commented that we were in for a storm, but I hoped it’d blow over.

Two other groups from the resort mingled with us, another wedding party and a group celebrating a thirtieth birthday. We all chatted while we stood in line for drinks or on the dance floor, but mostly stuck to ourselves. Especially Liam, who sprawled in the shade of a palm tree, his feet hanging off the edge of the lounge chair.

Despite his relaxed pose, I knew he was brooding by the pout on those full lips and the slight hunch to his shoulders. One of the cute drinks they were serving today was piña coladas in actual pineapples, reminding me of the first time I’d heard Liam sing.

He’d surprised the crap out of me that day. We’d even talked about coming here. I’d told him he didn’t look like the kind of guy who drank piña coladas. He’d said I didn’t know everything about him.

And how right he’d been.

We’d made a truce for the wedding, and we needed one now more than ever, so I stepped into line, ordering two of the fruity drinks. Then I walked over to kneel next to Liam’s chair, holding out my peace offering.

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