Beneath These Lies (Beneath, #5)(65)

Had to go take care of something. I’ll be back when I can. Didn’t want to leave you this morning.

It was unsigned, but Rix didn’t need to sign a note for me to know it was from him. The timer on my coffeemaker tripped and the delicious scent filled the kitchen.

While I sipped, my brain sped from one possibility to the next. The daring woman who’d made an appearance last night wanted to come out to play again, and I was embracing her. I’d finally shed the remaining threads of victimhood and I was whole. Rix hadn’t healed me, but he’d given me the motivation to heal myself.

For that I would always be grateful, but it wasn’t why I loved him.




Eight hours packed with customers and sales later, there was still no word from Rix, and I was frustrated by the silence. I wanted to celebrate this amazing day, and I wanted him to celebrate with me. I understood that much of his world would never exist for me, but at times like this, I felt completely in the dark.

But that didn’t mean I couldn’t tempt him to finish whatever he was doing by sending a helpful text. I flipped the OPEN sign to CLOSED and considered my alternatives.

According to Rix, I had an unseen man watching over me, so I fearlessly walked the streets toward a club on Bourbon Street that I knew would be packed with tourists even at this hour. The chances of me seeing a single familiar face were slim to none. I sent the text as I settled onto one of the few free bar stools.

The text included three pieces of information. Where I was, the fact that I wasn’t wearing panties, and how badly I wanted him inside me right now.

If that couldn’t shake the man loose, I didn’t know what could.

Several tough-looking guys filled the bar, and I surreptitiously glanced over them, wondering which one was my babysitter for the evening.

What if I didn’t have any? What if I was riding on a false sense of security and completely vulnerable to Rix’s enemies?

No, this was where trust came in. He could assess whatever threats were out there better than I ever could, and I absolutely trusted he wouldn’t leave me unprotected against something he could prevent.

Still, I kept my guard up.

I was nearing the end of my first margarita when a prickle of awareness skittered over my skin. Tossing my heavy hair over my shoulder, I looked to my right. Dark, tattooed arms leaned against the bar.

“Can I buy you another drink?”

Rix’s deep voice wrapped around me like rough silk.

“I don’t usually let strangers buy me drinks.”

One dark eyebrow went up at the word strangers. Yep, I wanted to play, and he got the message loud and clear.

“Then I guess that makes you a pretty smart lady, because most strangers are just trying to get you liquored up so they can cop a feel in an alley and take you back to their hotel.”

Pushing my empty glass forward, I met his gaze. “But not you?”

Rix signaled to the bartender, and he appeared within seconds. Nothing like the five minutes it had taken me to get service when I’d first sat down. “Another margarita for the lady, and I’ll take a double shot of Patrón.”

He didn’t respond until the drinks were in front of us and he’d slid a large bill to the bartender.

“I already know what’s gonna happen, so there’s no trying involved,” he said.

“Is that right?” My tone was flirty and full of challenge as I accepted the margarita on the rocks he offered up. The sweet liquid hit my tongue. “Do I look like a sure thing to you?”

Rix knocked back his shot and set the glass on the table behind him. Turning my bar stool to face him, he slid between my legs. My skirt inched up my thighs. The movement had me hyperaware of my lack-of-panties situation. The hand that landed on my knee and slid up under my skirt kicked my awareness into extreme need. I drank deeply, draining half my glass.

The beat of club music thumped around us while tourists partied and laughed, paying no mind to what we were doing. It made me bold, made me want him to touch me in ways I shouldn’t want to be touched in public. I thought of the enclosed booth last night, and how if I’d been bolder, I would have grabbed his hand and pushed it under my skirt and let him touch me while we watched the erotic scene onstage instead of luring him into a storeroom.

Heat slicked my center, and I wanted him to feel how wet I was for him even now. One more gulp and I finished my drink. Liquid courage coursing through my veins with the need, I scooted forward on my bar stool, my legs spreading further around his knees, and Rix’s eyes widened for a fraction of a second before he slid his hand higher.

“You tempt a man, duchess.”

“Good thing he’s the man I want to tempt.”

His fingers were within an inch of where I wanted them, but still he didn’t touch me. The bartender’s voice interrupted, but I didn’t move.

“Another round?”

“Yes.” Rix reached his free hand into his pocket and tossed a bill on the bar top. He used the movement to get closer, and I bit my lip as one finger slid across my slit and stroked.

Silver fire flashed in Rix’s eyes, and I wondered if mine sparked darkly. I wanted him. Needed to feel him.

When the bartender returned with our drinks, Rix nodded to the money. “We’re all set.”

He ignored his shot as he handed me my drink.

“You’re never gonna think of margaritas again and not remember how I finger f*cked your tight little cunt until you came against my hand,” he whispered in my ear.