Page 48 of Wicked Lies

“I’m fine.” He didn’t buy Angela’s concern for a minute because she didn’t do compassion.

Angela zeroed in on the rumpled bed. “Still in bed in the afternoon, you must be hurting.” She reached for his hand. “I hoped we could talk.”

“There’s nothing to talk about.”

“Fine, then we won’t.” She placed his hand on the plunging neckline of her skin-tight tank top. “I’ll bet I could make your arm feel a lot better,” she purred, all silky sweet and dripping with an innocence she didn’t possess.

He pulled his hand away. “I don’t think so.” He waited for the pout and the hair flip, and when it came, he easily resisted.

“I don’t understand your attitude.” Then the pout changed to a sneer. “I said I was sorry for getting emotional.”

Typical Angela. He did something she didn’t like, she got pissed off, and she’d apologize a few days later. Sadly, her apologies were fueled by a need to keep her status as the part-owner’s girlfriend—and he just didn’t care anymore. He could easily blame it on Cheryl, but he and Angela fizzled months ago. She just didn’t want to let them die.

“I think it’s best if we call it quits.” He shot a look over his shoulder to the ensuite bathroom.

“You’re just going to drop me? How do you think this makes me look?” She tossed her tangle of ebony curls over her shoulders. And there it was, finally the truth.

“So, you’re just worried about your rep?” He pulled his lips into a cool smile.

Angela loved all her possessions. Designer clothes, purses, spa treatments, all the things his money and status could buy.

“I’m worried about you too.”

Right, Angela worried about no one but herself.

“Frank isn’t going to like this,” she spat out.

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” The gnawing suspicion of Frank and her working together surfaced.

“It means, he likes us together. He thinks we make a good couple, and our relationship helps the club image.”

“That has to be the most fucked-up thing I ever heard. First of all, Frank doesn’t give a shit about either one of us. Unless you and him have aspecialrelationship.”

“No morespecialthan you and I.” Angela loved word games, but he was tired of playing.

He flicked another quick glance toward the bathroom door again, and she caught him.

“What’s the matter with you?”

“I can’t do this now.” He nodded toward the door and then herded her out of the bedroom. “My fuckin’ arm is killing me.”

When they reached the entry door, she looked him over. “You’re going to be sorry you made this decision.”

“Are you threatening me?”

Angela’s cold gaze made good on the warning two seconds before she strutted out.

He closed the door, leaned against it, and regrouped. Throwing Frank in his face, like she expected a reaction. Those days were over. He’d have his own club in a few months and didn’t have the energy for Angela or her drama. And he sure didn’t need a scene with her and Cheryl, the woman he’d just had hot, crazy sex with.

Still basking in his reprieve, he entered the bedroom, sat on the bed, and ran his hand over the rumpled sheets. He’d had tough women, scheming women, broken women, and in a way, Cheryl was all three. But her vulnerability drew him in—the way she’d pleaded for help without saying a word—a force so strong he couldn’t ignore it.

A few minutes later, Cheryl came out of the bathroom dressed. He moved fast, caging her in against the bathroom door, leaving no room for her to move or escape. Her kiss-swollen lips and tangled hair sucked the air out of his lungs and made him want her all over again. There was no way he’d let her leave even if he had to tie her to the fuckin’ bed.

“I need more of you.” He laid his cheek against hers and groaned into her neck. “I wanna fall back into bed and fuck you till . . .” He pushed his hips against her, and a soft, little moan escaped her lips.

“We have to stop.” Cheryl’s palms rested on his chest, but instead of pushing him away, she ran them over his shoulders.

“I got a friend downtown who can hook us up with passports fast and then we’re outta here.” He kissed her, then mumbled against her lips. “You and me on the next plane to Cabo.”

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