Page 50 of Wicked Intentions (Wicked Games 3)
“—is rescuin’ people from bad situations.”
I think for a moment. “Like the Karpov situation?”
His eyes narrow. “You know him?”
/> “No. You mentioned him the night we had dinner with your friends at the resort restaurant.”
Ryan looks pleased. “You were payin’ attention.”
Like a big baby, I hide my face under his forearm. “I paid attention to everything you said.”
“Yeah?” he murmurs, his voice warm. “And why’s that, Angel?”
I don’t reply. What can I say? Because everything you said was interesting? Because I was infatuated with you from the moment I laid eyes on you? Because you’re so beautiful and sexy and adorable, it melts my black heart?
No. Obviously I’m not saying any of that.
Ryan dips his head and nuzzles my ear. “Just admit it. I dazzle you,” he whispers, then softly laughs.
“Shut up.”
“Make me.”
“Take off your clothes.”
“Bossy!”
“We’ve already established that you like that, so do as you’re told and get naked, cowboy. This room is only rented for one night.”
There’s a wicked gleam in his eyes that hints at secret plans. But he’s not the only one with plans. He might be a good bloodhound, but I’m an even better escape artist. No matter what he’s got planned for me, I’ll be gone before he can play it out.
I don’t want to go, but doing what I want is a luxury I don’t have. I’ve got the world’s largest blue diamond to steal within ten days. Time’s a wastin’.
“I think you should take off my clothes,” he says, “since you have so much makin’ up to do and all.”
“If I do, will you tell me how you found me?”
“No. Duh.” He pauses. “But I will if you leave with me tonight.”
“Leave? What do you mean, leave?”
“You’ve got a nice big vocab, Angel. I think you know the meanin’ of the word.”
My heart thuds at a thunderous volume, like a fat person clomping down stairs. Is he saying what I think he’s saying? “So…just to clarify…”
“You come back to New York with me and let me take care of your situation so we can get started on our happily ever after.”
My mouth is open. I can’t get it to close. I can’t get any words to come out of it, either. I just stare up at him in disbelief while he smiles calmly down at me like he’s just suggested we order in for pizza.
“You’re cute when you’re speechless, Angel. Can’t wait to see what happens when I get down on one knee and—”
“Stop it! And stop calling me Angel! Get off me!”
“No, no, and no.” He refuses to budge as I try to wrestle him off. The damn man is too big, too strong, and too stubborn to move an inch.
In that maddeningly reasonable way he has, he continues. “You think this kinda shit happens every day? You think two people meet and have thermonuclear chemistry and make each other laugh and have mind-blowing sex, and then one of them steals a fifteen-million-dollar necklace and disappears and the other one finds the first one within a few days and breaks into her hotel room and almost gets stabbed but ends up on top of her in bed?”
I don’t respond because I’m too mind-fucked to answer.
