Page 5 of Sweet Deception (Irish Kings #4)

Chapter Five

Leaving the reception with Darren Kelly has got to be on par with leaving a zoo with a mountain lion.

I’m barely breathing as we stand before a set of gold-embossed elevator doors. He’s keeping me close, his hand still planted on my lower back.

The elevator arrives. I know I’m on the cusp of another terrible mistake the second the doors close and Darren’s lethal fingers trail up my spine, settling on the back of my neck.

Something low in my belly trembles at the contact.

Bozhe moy, what the hell am I doing right now?

To calm my thundering heart, I watch the numbers on the elevator monitor climb up to the top floor of this whole hotel. Thirty-five.

I only agreed to come with him for another opportunity to clone his phone, but knowing the kind of effect he has on me? I’m self-destructive at best, fatally idiotic at worst.

Pushing a languid, silent breath past my lips, I will my body to chill.

I am not screwing Darren Kelly. Not happening.

No matter what, I will not do it.

I’ve only come up here to trick him. I’ll go along with whatever he’s got planned, then I’ll get him to shower first. And while he’s showering, I’ll nab his phone and run.

Yes. That’s exactly what I’m going to do.

Tread water in this lake of lust brewing between us long enough to snatch that phone and hightail it out of this hotel.

The elevator doors open with a ding , and Darren guides me along a lonely, pin-drop-quiet corridor to the last door in a line of a few. And then he proceeds to key into the fanciest hotel suite I’ve ever seen.

This would be a three-million-dollar apartment in New York City. Easy.

Sprawling floor plan, multiple rooms, a balcony, a kitchen with a breakfast bar…

Marble columns hold the place up at random intervals. It’s as though we’ve entered a fresco from ancient Greece.

Plush furniture upholstered in ivory leather breaks up the space. One seating group faces an absolutely massive flat-screen television that probably cost more than a new car.

I turn toward the tranquil trickling of water tickling my senses and find, rather than an expensive painting adorning the wall, a ceiling-to-floor water display lit by recessed lighting. Tendrils trail from the top of the wall into the bottom, where all the drops are recycled into fresh falls.

It’s not the kind of luxury I ever expected to see in my lifetime. I can’t help but feast on the sight for a few moments.

My, how the rich live…

Crime really does pay.

Darren’s hand disappears from my neck as he strides into the suite like a king introducing me to his kingdom. I expect him to stop and swing back to face me, but he doesn’t. He walks clear across the room toward the balcony doors. Gossamer curtains obscure the view.

He pauses, peeling himself out of his tuxedo jacket and snatching the bow tie from his strapping neck. After undoing a few buttons at the top of his shirt, his hand descends to his wrist and unfastens the cuff links.

Honestly, the man looks like a GQ spread in motion.

I’m trying not to stare, but when you’re trapped in a palatial suite with a mountain lion, you’d be a fool to avert your eyes. Not unless you want to become that predator’s next meal.

Dropping his discarded clothing on a beige, low-to-the-ground leather sofa, he straightens up and faces me, something raw and powerful glowing in his eyes. “Want something to drink?”

His words startle me. Once I absorb the question, I summon a smile. “Some water might be nice.”

He steps into the shadowy kitchen and returns with a clear glass, ice tinkling against the sides. Our fingers brush as he passes me the drink. I turn away and allow the cool water to soothe my parched throat.

Who knew a mobster could be considerate toward his nightly conquest?

“Care to join me on the balcony?”

The question coils around my neck like a snake and slowly tightens as I watch him yank open the doors and step out into the night air, leaving me alone to reevaluate my life choices.

How did I get myself into this mess? It’s not too late to retreat. I could sneak back into the reception to find a different target, but why does that seem so much more impossible than just walking out onto that balcony?

After a few deep breaths, I set the glass down, slip out of my heels, and pad across the cold marble floor toward the open door.

You can do this, Nika. Get him into that shower and swipe that phone…

Outside, the stunning, glittering view of the Vegas Strip set against the dark desert sky stills me. Colorful neon lights illuminate the night like a living painting, and the beauty steals the air from my lungs.

I only get a few moments to absorb the wonder before Darren pounces.

One iron arm wraps around me, slamming me into his body with unyielding strength. He’s so solid everywhere that the experience is akin to smacking into a cement wall.

He crushes his mouth to mine, and every thought in my head swirls to nothing. God, his kiss…so potent and powerful.

His insistent tongue coaxes mine to play, and the heat our kiss generates spreads like liquid honey to other parts of my body.

A moan escapes me, and Darren growls in reply.

His strong hands stroke my neck with a combination of surprising gentleness and demand. They slide down my shoulders and skim the sides of my breasts, approaching but never quite touching my hardening nipples.

He continues his leisurely exploration of my body, working his way down to my hips. I quiver with anticipation, wondering where those hands might venture next.

The touching grows more possessive, as if he’s marking me as his with every flick of his tongue, with every caress of his fingertips.

I’m so far out of my league, it’s not even funny.

I whimper when he sucks on the sensitive skin of my throat and his big, nimble-fingered hands cup my ass and squeeze. It feels good, I almost cry out his name.

What kind of madness is this? The man doesn’t even think I know his name.

I do my best to shake the erotic daze. I need to free myself from this seductive web he’s weaving. I have to…I need to tell him…

Darren’s hand runs down my thigh and grabs a fistful of my dress, suffocating the fledgling protest in my throat. He yanks the material with enough force to whirl me around until my back’s plastered to his chest and I’m facing the balcony door.

The excess momentum forces me to slap my palms against the glass to prevent a fall. My reflection acts like a truth potion, staring back at me with wild eyes and flushed cheeks.

This is pure heaven.

This is a catastrophe.

Now that I’m bracing myself against the door, Darren’s huge erection digs into my ass as he trails rough kisses over the back of my neck.

I arch my spine to increase the delicious pressure, and that’s when it registers.

Sex is inevitable. The only things holding us back are my dress and his tuxedo pants.

He wraps both muscled arms around my waist. One hand snakes up between my breasts to clamp around my throat. The other one slips between my legs over the chiffon, unerringly locates my swelling clit and starts circling.

“I don’t think…” I gasp, dropping my head in defeat. It’s good. Too good. “Oh, please .”

“Isn’t this what you wanted?” His question crawls into my ear as his teeth clamp down on the lobe. “Isn’t this why you came up here with me? Not to think, but to feel?”

I want to tell him to stop, that this crazy game has gone far enough, but then he tightens his grip around my neck and words fail me as desire trumps all cognitive functioning.

The show of dominance lights me up like a bonfire. It’s as if he flipped a switch inside me—one I didn’t even realize existed.

The floodgates open, and wild, rampant lust unleashes itself with a vengeance.

Fine. If he wants me, he can have me. But I won’t go quietly.

I refuse to be the only one losing control.

Pouring my weight into my hands, I push back, shoving my ass harder against his rigid dick.

Darren groans. “You’re so fucking sexy.”

His hands move to settle on my hips, squeezing as I work my ass against his hard length.

The pleasure grows with each buck of my hips. Nothing short of an earthquake could stop me from grinding against him, especially when Darren bucks into me.

Just that one small thrust sets me off like a firework.

Worst of all, I already know how amazing it’s going to be between us.

What’s wrong with me? Why has lust overwritten every logical thought in my mind?

Our breathing grows ragged as he maneuvers one of his hands under my dress and into my panties. The sudden brush of his rough fingers against my bare flesh makes me fling my head back and snap my eyes shut. As soon as he begins stroking me, though, my eyelids open to half-mast.

Belatedly, I realize I’m standing with my dress up around my waist in front of a glass door. Guests on an upper level in the hotel across the strip could probably see us if they cared to look.

That should yank me back to my senses. Instead, the knowledge that someone might be watching only builds the growing ache between my legs. “Oh my god…”

“Yeah? You like that?”

Darren plunges two fingers inside me and curls them, triggering a tremor through my thighs that almost collapses my legs. The moan that flies out of my mouth prompts a dark chuckle. His other hand slides up my back and neck until he gathers a fistful of hair. He tugs until my scalp almost stings.

Our reflection damns me even more, as does the wicked expression on his face that appears from over my shoulder.

With my arms pressed to the glass like this, I’m like a criminal being fingered before arrest.

He purrs in my ear. “Mmm, look at yourself. Sopping wet for me .”

I close my eyes, overwhelmed by the sensations coursing through my body.

“Don’t…” I can barely string a sentence together as he adjusts his position. “Don’t…say that kind of dirty stuff.”

“Why?” He chuckles again before curling his fingers. “It’s the truth.”

I sob in reply as I come undone.

He releases my hair and unzips his pants.