Wildcard: Volume Two (Wilcard, #2) (2 page)

“Really, Charlotte?” I groan. How many more arse jokes can there possibly be?

“I know, I’m sorry. Are you going to introduce me to your friend?” She bats her lashes at me, feigning innocence. I sigh and turn back to Blondie, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear. She giggles, her cheeks reddening.

“What’s your name, beautiful?”

“Lissa,” she replies.

I watch her as she crosses one leg over the other, her short, sparkly dress riding up her tanned thighs. My gaze rolls over her body. She’s fit. The old me would have her back at her place bent over a chair by now, giving her the true ‘Ryder Stevens’ experience.

As much as I don’t feel like that guy right now, I’m determined to channel him. Fake it till you make it, right? The only way I’m going to get her out of my head is by moving on.

“What brings you here, Lissa?” I ask. I half listen as she rattles on, my interest piquing when I hear the words ‘bikini shoot.’ Josh snorts and I throw him a glare. He and Charlotte are enjoying this way too much, but Lissa doesn’t seem to notice as she takes a sip of her champagne.

“Are you staying nearby?” I ask her.

She nods. “Over at the Conservation Hotel. I’m on the top floor,” she adds, her eyes sparkling.

“I’ve always wanted to see Miami from the top floor,” I say smoothly, my lips nearing her neck. Her eyes light up and she bites her lip as my tongue hits her soft skin. I ignore the sniggering from across the table because they’re actually doing pretty well to contain themselves.

“You want to come back to my room?” she asks, her eyes wide with anticipation.

“Sure.” I turn to glare at Josh and Charlotte. “Why the hell not?”

***

“S
o this is how Miami looks at night,” I murmur.

We’re standing on the balcony of her hotel room. My arm is snaked around her. I’m pretty wasted—but that doesn’t stop me from accepting another scotch when she offers.

I follow her back inside the hotel room, pausing when she does. She turns her head and smiles at me, then lets the room key she’s holding roll out of her hands and onto the plush carpet beneath us.

“Oops,” she whispers, her eyes wide.

I raise my eyebrows as she bends over to retrieve it, leaving nothing for my imagination. I can almost see what the girl had for breakfast. I stifle a groan and force myself not to look away.

As she moves toward the bar and begins to prepare my drink, I have another ‘what the fuck am I doing’ moment. This girl isn’t going to make me forget Scarlett. If anything, substandard sex is going to make me miss her even more.

She walks over to me with a scotch on the rocks. I take it from her and slam it down. She giggles, her hand sliding over my shirt and then under. My stomach clenches as her fingers roam over my abs.

Reaching down, I grasp her hair and pull her mouth to mine. My kisses are rough and fast. She gasps, her eyes widening. She hurriedly works to unbutton my shirt while I practically rip her dress from her body.

She’s fucking beautiful—but she’s not Scarlett.

I groan as she gets on her knees and unbuckles my jeans. My cock is hard as fuck; and it’s even harder when her mouth closes around it. She sucks like a champion, her lips moving at an incredible speed.

There should be no problem: I have a sexy lass hanging off my cock that is more than happy to please me. But I can’t fucking get Scarlett out of my mind. It’s
her
I want to fuck senseless. It’s
her
mouth I want to violate.

Shit.

“I’m sorry,” I mutter. I pull up my jeans and grab my shirt, throwing it on as I walk for the door, frustrated that my head is refusing to obey my cock.

Lissa gets to her feet, her mouth hanging open in shock. She’s not fazed by the fact that she’s practically naked as she follows me out of her room and over to the lift.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” she yells, her pretty face turning red.

Whoa. This is not good.

“I’m really sorry,” I begin, but she’s shaking her head.

“You’re leaving? Just like that? What the hell, Ryder?” Her voice is getting louder and louder by the second, and it hits me that I might have picked the most unstable woman in Miami to fuck with.

“I’m sorry,” I repeat. I press the lift button again, aware that the shrill tone of her voice has created somewhat of a scene. People are peeking out of their rooms to see what the commotion is. Some are even bold enough to stand in the hallway, arms crossed, watching the scene unfold.

“For someone who is supposed to be a fucking god in bed, you fucking suck!” she roars. Turning on her heel, she storms back into her room, slamming the door closed with a bang.

Fuck me.

The lift doors finally open and I practically fall inside, pressing the close door button repeatedly as the whole top floor of the Conservation Hotel stares at me. I groan and lean against the back of the small lift, my head spinning.

Well, that didn’t go according to plan.

R
yder

“Why the fuck did you let me drink so much?” I mumble.

My head is throbbing. I literally can’t even lift it off the couch that I’m sprawled across.

Josh laughs, and I hear him sink into the seat next to me. “Like I could stop you,” he protests. “Besides, since when you do struggle to hold your drink?”

Since I’d been so preoccupied with Scar the past four weeks.

“Fuck you,” I mumble instead.

“Here.”

I open my eyes and gratefully take the coffee Charlotte is holding out for me.

“Things didn’t go too well with Lissa?” she asks, trying not to smile.

I groan as I remember the outburst. God, I don’t even want to think about it.

“I don’t wanna talk about it.”

“So, now isn’t a good time to tell you you’re on TMZ?” She giggles, covering her mouth. Her bright eyes are laughing at me.

“What?” My head pounds as I struggle to sit up. I take the laptop she’s holding out for me, and I sigh. Of course someone had snapped a photo on their phone. The photo shows Lissa mid-scream in all her naked glory while I stand at the doors to the lift with my head lowered, my hand covering my face.

The headline reads ‘
Another One Bites the Dust.
’

“You have to explain,” Charlotte begs me.

“I couldn’t do it. And when I tried to leave...mid-blowjob, she went fucking nuts.”

“You left her mid blowjob?” Charlotte screeches. “Couldn’t you have faked it or something?”

“Faked it how?” I protest. “Should I have pretended to shoot semen into her mouth?
Gee, sorry, honey, you must have swallowed it already
. She was ditzy, but not
that
ditzy.”

“Surely you’ve faked an orgasm before,” she scoffs. She glances at Josh in support, who is being strangely quiet. He shrugs helplessly. “And plenty of guys orgasm without ejaculating. Josh does it on occasion.”

Oh, God.
I cover my eyes, unable to look at my friend.

Way, way, way
too much information.

“
Char
,” Josh growls, his face turning a deep shade of red.

“What?” She huffs. “Why don’t guys talk about this shit? No wonder you’re all so fucked up.”

She storms off, leaving Josh and I alone for a very awkward minute until my taxi arrives. We both look relieved as the horn blasts outside.

“I’ll speak to you soon,” I say, slapping him on the back. He follows me to the door. I get halfway down the path and turn back. “Good luck with your match tomorrow, blankshooter!”

***

I
arrive at the airport just in time to make my flight. After checking in, I’m spotted by a group of fans demanding autographs. I take the paper they’re holding out for me and groan.

It’s the same photo from the TMZ website, only this headline reads
‘Another Day, Another Woman.’
I sign it and pose for a couple of photos before sprinting to the boarding gate, only to realize the plane is running late.

With a sigh, I fall into the nearest seat and catch my breath. My phone rings. I see it’s Matt, and press answer.

“You’re not there to fuck your way through the US.”

“I’m pretty sure I’ve already done that,” I chuckle. “Besides, my private life is my business.”

“Until you make it public,” he retorts. “Sometimes I wonder if you say things to wind me up, or if you’re genuinely that dense.”

“It won’t happen again,” I mutter. I’m so not in the mood for a lecture.

“It always happens again. What happened to the girl you flew over here? The one with the kid? She seemed nice.”

“It didn’t work out,” I reply, my voice tight.

Why does everything come back to
Her
?

***

I
throw my keys onto the small space above the minibar and take off my jacket. My phone vibrates in my pocket, and for the briefest moment I find myself wishing it were her. I pull it out and see that it’s Mum.

I groan, because I’ve just realized she has no idea where I am.

Fucking great.

In the haste of wanting to surprise Scarlett, it had completely slipped my mind to let Mum and Dad know where I was going. I could almost hear Scarlett’s voice in my ear, chastising me for not telling them, as I dialed Mum’s mobile.

“Where are you?” she says, annoyed. “I sent Hailey around with some groceries and she said you weren’t there.”

“Right,” I begin. “Matt set me up with some sponsorship crap over in the states. I’ll be here for three weeks.”

“Oh. Well, that’s good,” she says.

I laugh, because I know she’s only happy I’m off my arse and actually doing something productive. “Thanks, Mum. I’ll call you in a few days, okay?”

I hang up and order some room service. I’m not hungry, but I have to eat something. I give the girl my order and I’m told it will be up in twenty minutes.

I’m fucking wrecked. Two huge nights on the piss and my body is making me pay for it. I curl up on the couch and wait for my dinner so I can go to bed.

R
yder

The knock on the door startles me. I laugh, because it’s been over an hour since I’d ordered, and although I’d forgotten about it, I’m angry because I don’t like being made to wait.

How long does it take to fry some fucking fish?

I open the door and wander back inside without looking up.

“Just leave it on the table,” I mutter.

“Ryder.”

I freeze. I had to be hearing things, because that sounded a fucking awful lot like
her
. I turn around slowly. She’s standing in front of me. The first thing that enters my head is
where’s my fucking fish
, which is crazy, because I’m
still
not hungry.

“What the fuck do you want?” I ask. My voice is cold and I don’t make eye contact with her.

“I-I want to explain,” she pleads.
Her fingers are trembling.
I look away. No. I refuse to let her drag me back in.

“You don’t contact me at all in the past forty-six hours and I’m suddenly supposed to drop everything because you want to
explain
?” I laugh. I take a step towards her, because I can’t deny the part of me that needs to hear what she has to say. “How did you find out where I was?” I ask.

She blushes. “I called Professor Howes. He gave me your dad’s number, so I called him.”

“You spoke to my dad?” I say, surprised. How the hell did
he
know where I was?

“Yes. He didn’t even realize you weren’t in the country, so he gave me your manager’s number.”

Matt
. I’ll fucking kill the bastard.

“Is there anyone you haven’t spoken to?” I growl. “Wait, that’s right:
me
.”

“I never wanted to hurt you,” she whispers. Her emerald eyes are pleading with me.

I look away, because if I stay focused on her I just might break. “Who is the guy?” I ask. I’m so close to her, close enough to kiss those fuckable lips. I close my eyes and steady myself, because now is
not
the time.

“Jake’s father.” Her voice cracks.

“What does he want?” I ask.

She doesn’t answer. Instead she bows her head, letting the tears roll down her pale cheeks. I laugh, because I no longer need an answer. That look says it all.

“It’s not that simple.”

“So why are you
here
?” I grit my teeth and force myself to look at her.

“Because I
needed
to see you,” she says softly.

She needed to see me? What about what I need? I laugh and shake my head. What am I supposed to do with this shit? She didn’t mean to hurt me? Bullshit.

“Please, Ryder, let me—”

“Let you what?” I growl.

I back her against the wall and glare at her. I can feel her heart race as shock overcomes her features. She’s scared of me. Before I can comprehend what I’m doing, I press my lips against hers. She gasps as my mouth devours hers.

I rip at her shirt, popping open the buttons. She moans as I tear her bra off her chest. Wrapping my arm around her waist, I roughly pull her toward me. She obeys as I lift her mouth to mine, kissing me back with her sweet, soft lips.

Dragging the shirt down over her shoulders, I toss it on the floor and lift her into my arms. She whimpers as my lips close around her nipple, gasping as I bite down. Hard.

“God, Ryder,” she cries. Her hands are raking through my hair as my tongue circles her nipple, teasing her.

I clear the small, round table and throw her on top of it. She groans as I unzip her skirt, shrugging it down over the curve of her hips. She sits up and kisses me as I unbuckle my jeans. I reach into my briefs and pull out my erect cock.

My fist grabs at her lace panties as I rip them clear off her. She cries out, her arms closing around my neck as I thrust myself deep inside of her.

“Ryder, oh God, yes.” She gasps when I fill her pussy. Her eyes are wide as they meet mine. She’s struggling to understand what the hell is going on—and to be honest, so am I.

I roll her over because I don’t want to look at her. All I want to do right now is fuck her out of my head. Because in some strange, fucked-up way, I actually believe fucking her will make it easier for me to forget about her.