Wilde Heart (Wilde Women Book 2) (49 page)

Shooting Liam an irritated look; it was his fault, after all, that her robe had been left on the floor for Roman to find, she only kept from snapping some pithy comment at him because he looked as put out as she felt.

At their approach, Roman glanced over his shoulder at them and grinned. Maybe it was that they were holding hands or maybe it was because they came sauntering out of the same room. Or maybe, and she silently groaned at the thought, he’d heard her husky screams echoing off the shower room walls.

A bit of silent eyeball communication arced between the beefy bodyguard and her scowling lover that she couldn’t interpret. Just as well. She didn’t need to know or understand Liam’s every thought. There was so much shit going on in the man’s head that she preferred to focus on the times when the noise quieted and the real man inside the image emerged.

“Meat lover’s breakfast,” Roman announced with a smirk.

Never one to ignore innuendo or overlook a well-placed sexual reference, Rhiann practically choked on the laughter she tried to keep inside. Only Liam’s sulky frown kept her from engaging in some lighthearted naughty banter.

“Morning Ro-Macho,” she joked.

“That’s a new one, Princess,” Roman chuckled. “How long have you been working on that?”

“
Eh,
you know me. It went through several revisions before settling. Not too snarky, not too eye roll inducing. It’s good, though—don’t you think?”

His deep snicker let her know he enjoyed the jest. While he certainly exuded the sort of fuck-with-me-at-your-own-peril vibe that served him well, considering what he did for a living, Roman also had a splendid sense of humor and an eye for the absurd that was a delight.

“Gonna have to change my fucking ringtone,” he grumbled with a smile.

“Oooh, Let me! Let me!” she cried, clapping her hands with excitement. “I know the perfect Justin Bieber song . . .”

“No way, Snarks-a-Lot!” he teased. “You
want
me to get my ass kicked?”

Liam’s amused snort made her happy. Something a little less intimidating was slowly replacing half his normal scowl.

Plopping a platter piled with the crispy bacon on the counter, he suggested they grab some plates and some coffee and head on over to the table.

When they were all seated and Roman’s impressive array of crazy breakfast meat was displayed, Rhiann groaned and mimed the heart attack waiting for both men if this was the way they ate every morning.

“Bacon. Sausage. A mountain of fluffy scrambled eggs. Something that looks suspiciously like wallpaper paste and a basket of warm biscuits. Are you trying to make me fat?” she pouted.

“Don’t answer that, Boss,” Roman taunted. “She’s fishing. Do yourself a favor and say something awesome about her ass if you want to keep the peace.”

Liam’s choking sputter of a mouthful of hot coffee at the mention of her ass had her pounding him on the back.

“My ass is not up for discussion,” she jeered. For good measure, she rubbed the body part with an exaggerated swipe, earning her a meaningful leer.

“So, what’s on the agenda today, kids? We seem to be in a sort of crazy bitch lull at the moment so all suggestions are welcome.”

“We’re going shopping!” Rhiann announced with impish glee.

Liam’s head swiveled to look at her with an amused expression. “We are?”

“Yep, yep,” she sing-songed while piling her plate full of forbidden breakfast indulgence. “Time to drop the maître d’ look,” she told him with a wink. “You stick out like a Secret Service agent at Coachella.”

Roman practically busted a gut with laughter.

“Awww, you two are so fucking cute,” he jested. “Letting her dress you now, huh?” he snarked at Liam.

“Suck my dick, Bishop.”

“Hey!” Rhiann squealed with a punch to Liam’s shoulder. “I told you. No sharing.”

Roman’s roar of laughter brought out her man’s scowl as he dropped his head into his hands and groaned.

“Rhiann,
Jesus.
That mouth of yours.”

“What?” she asked innocently. “No good?”

“We really need to discuss the privacy thing.”

She grinned and stuck her tongue out at him, which had him immediately grabbing her around the neck and diving onto her mouth where he pretty much took control of her naughty tongue.

When he was finished demonstrating who was the boss, he released her and sat back muttering darkly about her lack of decorum.

The rest of their shared breakfast took a businesslike turn as the men discussed the latest news and information with Roman informing them that yet another blind item was making the rounds. This time, however, the insinuation was being made that a certain CEO was getting busy between the sheets with his CFO.

The reminder that Liam had been intimate with that woman did not sit well with Rhiann. Her appetite effectively gone, she stood from the table and walked her plate to the sink.

Avoiding both sets of watchful eyes, she murmured something about needing to get dressed to go out and ran from the room.

Last thing she had heard before the bedroom door closed was Liam snarling, “Are you out of your fucking mind, dude?”

Okay, there was no way to research how to explain his past behavior in a way that would satisfy Rhiann, so Liam just sucked it up and hoped he didn’t make things worse.

He waited a pretty good length of time before following her into the bedroom. Not because he was afraid, but because Roman had quite a bit more to say. They agreed not to share anything about a new picture off Rhiann’s stolen memory card that Marjorie was furious over. This one showed a younger Liam, asleep, covered from the hips down by a ratty looking blanket. Thankfully, he was on his stomach but the placement of the blanket exposed half his butt and only barely hid the crown jewels. Someone was not going to be pleased.

W
HEN HE ENTERED THE BEDROOM, the first thing he noticed was the half-assed way the bed was made. If they went at each other every day the way they had yesterday, they were going to need a surplus of linens.

The next thing he saw was Rhiann as she came from the walk-in wearing a pair of jeans that emptied his brain of thought. Since she wore mostly dresses and skirts due to her love affair with shoes, he hadn’t seen her in anything else, except the baggy sweats she wore the day he arrived. Sneakers, yes. She always had a pair nearby for traipsing through the city streets but the jeans? Uh-uh. Not since she was a coed.

By the looks of the well-worn denim, they probably fit a bit on the loose side but as he’d already noted, the weight she put on gave her a healthy glow and filled out her already deadly curves. In jeans—those curves should be declared illegal.

“Get dressed,” she snapped. “We leave in twenty minutes.”

Oh, boy.
Liam already recognized that tone. He was on borrowed time when he heard it.

“Rhiann. Come here,” he said with his hand extended. He could have just scooped her up and forced her to sit on his lap, but he wanted her to have a choice. Used to getting his own way, he was really making an effort to check the arrogant CEO at the door and just be . . . him.

She glared at him as she fastened a pair of small dangling pearls at her ears. The heart that hung around her neck seemed to mock him until he noticed that her critical glare had a distinctive forlorn edge to it.
Shit.

She didn’t come to him right away and instead stood her ground, arms crossed with a pouty expression.

“No.”

“You know damn well I can make you—but I’d prefer you did it because you wanted to. Isn’t this part of all that . . .” he waved his hand for emphasis, “relationship crap? The talking? No more secrets and make-believe. Right?”

The glare deepened. He’d call that a direct hit. But what worried him more was the doleful look in her eyes.

Holding his hand out again, he murmured, “Please.”

Her exasperated, “Oh, okay,” broke the stalemate as she reached for his hand.

Pulling her to one of the armchairs, he sat and placed her gently on his lap. Reaching to push a wayward curl from her neck, he tried a reassuring smile on for size and just about crumpled when he saw her lip quiver.

Oh, fuck.
If she started to cry . . .

“Why her?” she suddenly barked. “Why’d you have to sleep with that vicious twat?”

Good question. One that required a bit of explanation if he wanted to move them past this particular issue, but honestly, what the hell was he supposed to say? No amount of flowery words was going to explain what had actually gone down with Kim.

“I didn’t
sleep
with her,” he mumbled.

“Really, you asshole? Don’t fucking parse the phrasing, Ashforth,” she bit out.

Yikes.
Dealing with Rhiann when her mouth was at full throttle was a scary place to be. And it never boded well for him when she called him by his last name.

“You had sex with her—whether sleeping was involved is immaterial.”

He squeezed his eyes shut and felt his forehead crease with a frown. In his mind, even calling what they did
having sex
was a stretch.

“Okay, look,” he mumbled as a sheen of unexpected sweat gathered at the back of his neck. “I know this may sound like a lame excuse, but I was shitfaced drunk.”

Her derisive snort gave him the chills. “Try again, pal. I’ve seen you knock back a bucket of vodka and be able to navigate upright afterward, so how is that an explanation?”

“You’re right.” He gave her that one. “But my cocktail of choice wasn’t on the menu that time. It was the tequila, the Devil’s own brew, that did me in.”

“Hm
mph.
Pussy.”

“And then there’s that,” he agreed. “But in my own defense, it was a celebratory occasion and an overabundance of high-octane alcohol took my better judgment out with one punch.”

“So, you got drunk and fucked her.”

“Uh . . .”

“No?” The thoughts running wild in her head were there on her face for him to see, as plain as day.

“Oh, my god!” she suddenly screeched. “Was this an oral thing?”

He had to hold her still when she practically leaped off his lap.

“Rhiann, no. I swear.
NO.
”

“Well, what the hell is left if it wasn’t that?”

The sweat gathered in intensity.
Fuuuck.
Looking at her with an embarrassed shrug, he tried not to say the words.

The last thing he expected her to do was burst out laughing—but that was exactly what happened. And the laughter? It was real and growing louder and more raucous with each passing second.

Wiping away hysterical tears, she sniffed and tried to reel it in with little success.

This time when he held her on his lap, it wasn’t to stop her from running away, but to keep her from falling over as her giggles turned to snorts.

“Holy fucking shit! Backdoor Kimmy got it in the pooter?” She was screaming with hysterical laughter now. “
Ewwww!
”

Well, he was glad she found it funny. At least one of them did.

Wrapping her arms around his neck, she buried her laughing face and cooed, “Oh, baby. You really
had
to have been drunk. At least you didn’t have to look at her frozen face while you did her.”

Witch. Only Rhiann would find any humor in this.

“For the record,” he added in a surprisingly priggish voice. “I wouldn’t characterize what happened as
doing her.
It was more like being conveniently there while she did it herself.”

Whoops of laughter filled the air. “And,” she snorted on a choked laugh, “even better!”

She composed herself with great effort, giggling intermittently as she pushed her hair behind her ears and bit her lip so hard he was sure there’d be blood.

Taking a deep breath, she fixed him with a serious green-eyed stare. “So, just the once?”

“Yeah. Once. And it was years ago, at that.”

He might have been insane to add anything to the tawdry confession, but he blurted out the next before thinking through the wisdom of his words.

“And nobody took their clothes off. It wasn’t like that.”

Knowing she could have taken what he said the wrong way, Liam was relieved when a look of smug satisfaction lit up her face.