screaming orgasm and she’d forgotten why she’d been upset in the first place.
Grace snapped back to reality as the car made its way through late afternoon Vegas traffic. The chill she’d gotten at the memory of her handsome husband’s talented lips was slowly but surely turning to anger at his absence. It was the story of her life. When he was with her physically it was rare but even then it was like he wasn’t "there" emotionally anymore. It frightened her. The memories crashed in, tossing her under waves of lust and frustration.
****
Four weeks earlier
The Saturday morning after their wild night post Grace's research reading, Ryan sent her a text.
“Picking you up at eight. Stuck in meetings until then.”
She went back to reading some of the drier psychology stuff and sighed, answering him back.
"Why? I’m too tired to go out. Can’t we just stay home?"
"No. Party. Required. Wear the new Lauren."
He’d bought her a new dress last week, one that was forcing her back into the gym in order to do it justice.
“Fine.” She shut the damn thing off, determined to finish her research.
By seven, she dashed into the shower, pulled her unruly brown hair up into a semi-formal chignon, patted on her usual minimal makeup and squeezed into the sexy silk dress. Turning around in front of the huge mirror in her bedroom, she sucked in the last bit of gut she couldn’t seem to lose then teetered down the spiral staircase to the front door. Ryan was obsessively punctual and got pissy if she kept him waiting.
Once ensconced in his low-slung silver Cadillac, Grace tried to relax and not think about the fact she’d rather be reading, researching and formulating plot outlines for her new series. Once she wrapped her head around her characters, her fingers itched with need to bring them to life. She jumped when Ryan put a hand on her thigh.
"Relax."
She took a sip of the water she’d grabbed before leaving the house and stared straight ahead.
"I know you didn’t want to come out tonight but I think you’ll enjoy it."
"Whatever," she snapped, knowing he didn’t deserve it but unwilling to call it back.
When they pulled up to a huge mansion, Grace glanced at him, a puzzled expression clouding her face.
"Where are we?"
"A friend’s house. It’s a private party."
The valet opened her door and helped her out before Ryan tucked her arm into his and patted her hand.
"Ready?"
"Sure," she said, now more curious than angry.
Ryan leaned over to kiss her lips, lingering a tad longer than Grace thought was necessary in public and she pulled back.
"What the hell is this, Ryan?"
He grinned, his adorable, lop-sided grin and merely guided her into the cavernous foyer. Music thrummed through the place, bouncing off marble and granite surfaces making Grace’s heart pound. A model-perfect woman clad in a diaphanous blue gown that left nothing to the imagination wafted by and took their wraps and Grace’s small handbag. She started to protest, not willing to let her smartphone go, but Ryan plucked it from her shoulder and handed it to the nearly naked woman without a word before leading her into a large room dominated by a bar made of ice blocks staffed by shirtless men who could easily pass for some of the guys on the book covers she’d been reading.
Grace felt her heart flutter at the sight of the handsome men who were all staring at her and she sucked in her gut again, self-conscious beyond all imagining. Ryan leaned in to her ear again, brushing it with his breath.
"I’ll get us a drink."
She let go of his arm reluctantly. The atmosphere was charged with something she couldn’t place. The lighting was subtle, just enough to see the bar and the vague outlines of the room. There seemed to be alcoves around, shrouded in the same sort of flimsy material that "covered" the girl at the door. A few couples stood in the open, drinking and laughing or
Grace snapped back to reality as the car made its way through late afternoon Vegas traffic. The chill she’d gotten at the memory of her handsome husband’s talented lips was slowly but surely turning to anger at his absence. It was the story of her life. When he was with her physically it was rare but even then it was like he wasn’t "there" emotionally anymore. It frightened her. The memories crashed in, tossing her under waves of lust and frustration.
****
Four weeks earlier
The Saturday morning after their wild night post Grace's research reading, Ryan sent her a text.
“Picking you up at eight. Stuck in meetings until then.”
She went back to reading some of the drier psychology stuff and sighed, answering him back.
"Why? I’m too tired to go out. Can’t we just stay home?"
"No. Party. Required. Wear the new Lauren."
He’d bought her a new dress last week, one that was forcing her back into the gym in order to do it justice.
“Fine.” She shut the damn thing off, determined to finish her research.
By seven, she dashed into the shower, pulled her unruly brown hair up into a semi-formal chignon, patted on her usual minimal makeup and squeezed into the sexy silk dress. Turning around in front of the huge mirror in her bedroom, she sucked in the last bit of gut she couldn’t seem to lose then teetered down the spiral staircase to the front door. Ryan was obsessively punctual and got pissy if she kept him waiting.
Once ensconced in his low-slung silver Cadillac, Grace tried to relax and not think about the fact she’d rather be reading, researching and formulating plot outlines for her new series. Once she wrapped her head around her characters, her fingers itched with need to bring them to life. She jumped when Ryan put a hand on her thigh.
"Relax."
She took a sip of the water she’d grabbed before leaving the house and stared straight ahead.
"I know you didn’t want to come out tonight but I think you’ll enjoy it."
"Whatever," she snapped, knowing he didn’t deserve it but unwilling to call it back.
When they pulled up to a huge mansion, Grace glanced at him, a puzzled expression clouding her face.
"Where are we?"
"A friend’s house. It’s a private party."
The valet opened her door and helped her out before Ryan tucked her arm into his and patted her hand.
"Ready?"
"Sure," she said, now more curious than angry.
Ryan leaned over to kiss her lips, lingering a tad longer than Grace thought was necessary in public and she pulled back.
"What the hell is this, Ryan?"
He grinned, his adorable, lop-sided grin and merely guided her into the cavernous foyer. Music thrummed through the place, bouncing off marble and granite surfaces making Grace’s heart pound. A model-perfect woman clad in a diaphanous blue gown that left nothing to the imagination wafted by and took their wraps and Grace’s small handbag. She started to protest, not willing to let her smartphone go, but Ryan plucked it from her shoulder and handed it to the nearly naked woman without a word before leading her into a large room dominated by a bar made of ice blocks staffed by shirtless men who could easily pass for some of the guys on the book covers she’d been reading.
Grace felt her heart flutter at the sight of the handsome men who were all staring at her and she sucked in her gut again, self-conscious beyond all imagining. Ryan leaned in to her ear again, brushing it with his breath.
"I’ll get us a drink."
She let go of his arm reluctantly. The atmosphere was charged with something she couldn’t place. The lighting was subtle, just enough to see the bar and the vague outlines of the room. There seemed to be alcoves around, shrouded in the same sort of flimsy material that "covered" the girl at the door. A few couples stood in the open, drinking and laughing or
Similar Books
