Page 21 of Diamonds & Deception

CHAPTER FIVE

We both doze off andwhen I wake, Drake is spooning me, primed and ready to go. We start off slow, my back to his front, and then something in me shifts and I want him harder, faster. He flips me to my stomach and orders me on all fours, then takes me from behind.

I brace myself on my forearms and ram my ass into his cock, loving how he fills me and bruises me from the inside. He rides me rough and hard, and then we collapse again. The next time I wake, I’m no longer cocooned in Drake’s warmth.

I roll over and blindly pat his side of the bed. Empty. The blinds are pulled tight on the window, so I have no idea what time it is. I fling my arm behind me and turn on the bedside light.

I close my eyes as the light blinds me. I give myself a few minutes before opening my eyes again and find a note written on hotel paper left on his pillow.

Stay as long as you’d like. I had to go back to work. Good luck walking today. :-)

-D

This is what I wanted. Freedom to roam about his apartment, so why do I feel like a hooker? Last night meant something to me. To him, I think. His reaction to me was real and raw. I remind myself I’m here on a mission. If I don’t find any incriminating evidence against Drake, then no harm, no foul.

I scramble out of bed and rush to the dresser. It’s only then that I notice the bedroom is simply decorated and holds nothing personal of Drake’s. I pull the blanket off the bed, wrap it around my body, then go into the connecting room.

Disappointment fills my chest. So full of lust last night, I hadn’t even noticed he’d brought me to a hotel room. A suite, rather, and not his penthouse. Is that all I am to him? A cheap hookup? Is this where he brings all the women he screws?

Sets them up in a nice room—a room I’d appreciate if I wasn’t hoping to snoop through his penthouse—and then ditch them with a nice note?

I’m a stupid fool for believing there was anything beyond sexual chemistry between us. I no longer feel guilty about wanting to snoop through his things and stomp back into the bedroom. I can’t find my underwear anywhere and don’t even care about housekeeping finding them.

I wiggle into my dress, strap on my shoes, grab my purse, and hightail it out of the room that still smells of sex. Screw you, Drake Reynolds, for making me feel like a cheap whore. I don’t wait for Uber service and rush through the main lobby and onto the streets of Boston.

I make it to the T station and find the stop closest to Lenora’s place. It’s not until I’m safely in her apartment that I curl up on her couch and let myself cry. I don’t even know why I’m crying, and that pisses me off.

My phone rings from deep in my purse, and I’m tempted to ignore it. If it’s Drake, I won’t pick up. My mom usually calls on the weekend, though, and I don’t want to ignore her. She thinks I’m in Boston on assignment from my paper. I didn’t want to get her and Randy’s hopes up in case I’m unable to track down Carly’s murderer.

I find my phone and stare down at the screen. It’s Lenora. I haven’t talked to her in over a week. She’s my only sounding board, so I accept the call.

“Hello, pretend Lenora. How’s my reputation holding up in Boston?”

“Oh, I’m keeping up your reputation.” I curl my bare feet under my butt and wrap the quilt she keeps on the back of the couch around my shoulders.

“You’re sleeping with all the hot guys in town?”

“Just one.”

“Shut the fuck up. You didn’t. Last time we talked, you bumped into Drake in the park. Now you’re bumping uglies in bed? You tramp.” She sounds pleased, unlike my heart.

“Yeah, well. I’m here on a mission. It’s the only way to find out if he was involved in the murder.”

“Wow. I’m floored. It must be the juju from my apartment rubbing off on you. Even in college, you never did random hookups.”

“It wasn’t exactly random. We had a dinner date last week, then he brought me to the grand opening of a new bar in town. You’ll never guess whose bar.”

“Don’t keep me waiting. I have five minutes before I need to leave. Spill the tea.”

“Owen Donahue.”

“No shit. Carly’s ex?”

“Yeah. And connected to the Irish crime family. Apparently, he and his father are good pals with Drake the snake.”

“Shit. I wish I had popcorn for this. So Drake’s in bed with the Irish mob, figuratively. And you literally. Honey, I love that you’re playing secret agent, but I don’t want you to get hurt. Or worse, killed. It was one thing when you were snooping around, but I don’t know. This could be dangerous.”

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