Wicked Need (The Wicked Horse Series Book 3)(37)
“He signed this two weeks after we were married,” she says, still looking at the document.
“We need to go through the rest of his stuff,” I tell her as I squat down at the drawer that’s still open and start rifling through the contents. “If there’s another will or trust agreement or whatever the f*ck you call it dated after that one, you’re screwed.”
“But if there’s not, Kevin’s screwed,” she says, and my head turns toward her because of the icy tone in her voice. She narrows her eyes at me and in a voice bristling with anger, she says, “That * kicked me out over five million dollars and a house? When Samuel’s estate is worth billions? What a f*cking douche bag.”
I give her a wry smile. “I think it was more about controlling you than the money. The fact he wanted you to stay at the house tells me all I need to know. He was banking on you crawling to him for help.”
“Bet he was stunned I didn’t,” she says quietly.
Nodding in agreement, I turn back to the drawer, eager to get this over with and get the hell out. I start flipping through hanging folders containing tax returns, bank statements, and deeds of trust. Folder after folder of the story of Samuel Vaughn’s wealthy life.
“Thank you, Rand,” Cat murmurs. It’s so soft I barely hear it, yet my entire body feels like it’s been punched by the depth of emotion in her words. My head rises and turns to her as she sits in the massive leather chair that swallows her up. “If you hadn’t have taken me in, I might have gone to Kevin for help.”
“No way,” I say with a soft smile. I don’t reach out and touch her like I want to, because I don’t want to give any credence to her suspicion of what she might have done. I know Cat. She’s stronger than that and would have never given Kevin the ability to control her. So I stay reserved so she knows it’s a ludicrous thought. “The Cat Lyons I know wouldn’t have ever done that. You would have figured another way. Hell, you did figure another way. You sold your jewelry and you came to Vegas to find the truth. So f*ck you very much, Kevin Vaughn. This woman doesn’t need you.”
Her beautiful, brown eyes crinkle and she can’t help the deep laugh that erupts. “Yeah. Fuck you very much, Kevin Vaughn.”
Now I laugh with her and totally can’t resist reaching out to wrap my hand around her neck, pulling her forward. I kiss her hard and knock the laugh right out of both of us. When I pull back slightly, I nip at her lip and ask, “Would it be bad form for us to f*ck in this house?”
She snickers. “I don’t think I could get wet for you in this house.”
“Then I insist when we leave here, we head over to the Bellagio. My treat. We’re getting a nice suite with a view over the lake, and I’m going to f*ck you on a bed stuffed with feathered down and covered in silk.”
She sighs and her eyes are closed with a dreamy expression on her face when I pull all the way back. That look… right there. I want her to have that on her face all the time. Regardless of where this creature lands in life, be it here or back in Jackson, I want this woman to walk through the rest of her days with that look on her face.
I step up behind Cat as she looks out the window at the Bellagio lake below us. It’s timed water show set to music is quiet right now, and besides, it’s better to see that stuff at night. Of course, she’s from Vegas so she’s probably seen it a hundred times before. But I’m glad we’re staying here. It’s a good way to celebrate.
Celebrate that we didn’t get arrested.
Celebrate we found the signed trust agreement leaving her money and the house.
Celebrate we didn’t find the one that supposedly cut Cat out.
Of course, it didn’t mean there wasn’t one, but it wasn’t in Samuel’s house. We had to figure out our next move, but we could do that later, and besides… I want Bridger’s input on that. He always has a cool head and a chess-like mind, and this is all about maneuvering into the right spot at the right time.
My hands go to Cat’s waist, and I press the front of my body against the back of hers. She didn’t give me any argument about coming to the Bellagio for the night and letting me pay.
That’s progress.
Her head falls back and my chin drops to rest on her shoulder. “You know, I think feathers and silk are overrated. I’m perfectly fine just f*cking you up against this window right now.”
Many women would laugh, blush, and coyly banter with me.
But not Cat.
Taking one of my hands, she drags it across her stomach and pushes it down in between her legs. She chose to wear a pair of camel-colored pants with wide legs and matching heels to our scouting mission at her house. Her ivory-colored blouse and pearls made her look every inch the rich wife, and she quipped that if she were going to get arrested, she was going to look damn good doing it.
I agreed. She looked damn good, but now I’m bemoaning the fact she’s not wearing her simple floral skirt she had on yesterday for the ride. It would make things so much easier.
Still, I remain undaunted and because her hand insistently pushes mine right to where she wants me, I reward her with a hard press of my palm against the bottom of her zipper. I estimate her clit is right about there and I know I’m on the money when she moans and tilts her hips into me.
“How about we get these pants off you?” I ask her, but I don’t wait for permission. Instead, I bring both hands to her button, where I easily open it and pull the zipper down. I push the material, making sure to grab her panties with my fingers on the way down and squat right alongside. Pulling past the smooth, silky skin of her thighs until it’s pooled around her feet, which are still encased in four-inch heels.