Dangerous Flirt(Laytons Book 2)(25)

“Stick with me. We have to get out of here now.”

“Whateva you say, husband.” Beth giggled, oblivious to the threat about to emerge from the chapel.

He hailed a passing cab and climbed inside after Beth, keeping his body between her and the chapel door. “The Palms. We're in a hurry.”

“Yeah, I felt the same way after each one of my weddings.” The female driver chuckled in the front seat and merged with traffic.

For once when he sat next to Beth, tension rather than lust locked his muscles tight. He didn't know why those guys were following them, but something bad was going down.

No way could he leave Beth alone at her hotel. She was coming back with him and he was going to find out what the hell was going on.





Chapter Eleven




Who’s following you and why?” Hank watched as Beth tossed her glasses on the nightstand and flopped onto the king-size bed in his hotel room, wishing like hell he could join her.

Her brown hair fanned outward, contrasting with the crisp white of the comforter. It reminded him of a black-and-white cookie, but it wasn't his stomach that was hungry for her. He shifted uncomfortably, trying to give his hard dick some more room in his black trousers.

“The only man following me is you, all the way from Dry Creek just to marry me. How romantic.” Beth giggled and extended one long leg his way, revealing a mind-boggling amount of upper thigh.

On her foot was some type of impossibly high-heeled shoe. She pointed the opened-toed red shoe at him, revealing glittery, hot-pink-painted toenails. “A little help pleash, hubby.”

Pulled forward like a deer to a saltlick, he grasped her ankle and went to work on the thin strap of material circling it. “We’re not married.”

“You’re so funny.”

“Answer the question. Who’s following you?”

“Your fingers feel so good.”

Fuck. Staring down at the long leg in his grasp, he accepted that he wasn’t going to get any information out of her right now. He marveled at the smoothness of her leg and the strong calf muscle hidden underneath her soft skin that flexed as she rotated her foot. His cock twitched in response.

She hiccupped twice before giggling again.

“So how much did you really have to drink tonight?” Fumbling to unhook the strap, he tried to get his body to calm down. Hank gritted his teeth and recited the Miranda Rights in his head because if anyone needed that warning right now, it was him.

“Only one glash. I don't like to drink.” Laid out on the bed, Beth arched her back and stretched her willowy arms toward the wine-colored fabric headboard. A soft moan escaped as she extended her upper body.

White-hot desire ripped through Hank's body as suddenly as a thunder clap. If there was a reason why he shouldn't sink down to his knees and run his hands up her supple thighs, he sure as hell didn't remember it. The shoe dropped from her foot. He stared at the high arch curving upward from her sole and fought to remember why this was wrong.

Beth sat up, pulling her foot from his grasp. “Claire and I are sishters now.” She clapped her hands and giggled. “That's awesome!”

Yeah. That's why Beth was off limits. She was his sister's best friend and she was blasted out of her mind. So while there was nothing more he'd like to do than strip her down and fuck her silly, he couldn't do it.

“We did not get married.” He took a step back from the bed and the possibilities it provided.

“That's not nice.” Beth raised her other leg. “I have one more shoe, then you can help me get my dresh off.”

Hank's insubordinate cock jumped at the idea. If he looked in the mirror right now, he was afraid he'd see a bug-eyed, panting, cartoon-style caricature of himself. Furious at his reaction, he grabbed her ankle and yanked off her shoe without undoing the strap. “Time to sober you up. Come on, in the shower you go.”

She grinned wickedly. “I'll scrub your back if you scrub mine.” Her hand traveled up her right leg, disappeared under the hem of her dress and stopped just short of her pussy. “Unless you'd rather just watch.”

Blood rushed south from his brain and his balls tightened immediately.

Her fingers danced underneath her dress, tormenting him with mental images of her sneaking a finger into her panties. The unknown tormented him. Thong? Bikini? Lace? Satin? Was she slick already, waiting for him to bury himself deep within her?

Another soft moan sent his blood pressure through the roof as she arched her back off the thick comforter. “My favorite thing to think about when I touch my clit is you going down on me, licking your way around my wet pussy.” Her fingers sped up their undercover rotations. “As soon as I saw you with that beard I wanted to feel it scratching against my inner thighs as I came.”