I almost laugh in answer. If she wants me in her hotel room, it’s not because she has plans for my body or my cock. She’s definitely planning to fuck me, but I doubt it’s in the physical sense.
‘We can discuss what it is you want here, Jayne.’
‘It’s Gianna.’ She narrows her eyes, and I decide not to point out the tiny crow’s feet her Botox nurse seems to have missed. ‘How many times do I have to tell you, Keir? It’s Gianna. And this is too public a venue for what I have to say.’
‘Not for me, it isn’t,’ I retort.
‘Trust me, Keir, it is.’
I don’t trust her, not one bit, but something in her tone has the hairs on the back of my neck sticking up. So I take her advice but not for my sake. I do it for the daughter she has yet to ask about.
We don’t speak in the lift, nor in the corridor. And I don’t look at her as we reach her room. Instead, I stare at the green light on the door.
‘Come in, sweetie.’ Says the spider to the fly. But the fly isn’t buying what she’s selling today. And the spider? She’s got herself a hotel suite, not a room.Maybe a sugar daddy to boot.
‘What is it you want, Jayne? I’ve got other shit to do today. How much?’ Because it always boils down to cash—money to fund her lifestyle. She left to become an actress, and though I’ve yet to see her in anything of note, I think she must live like Hollywood royalty. She received a hefty settlement when we split and has since been back for more. Several times.
‘Who said anything about money, Keir? Why do you have to be like this?’ she whimpers, looking for the world like she’s about to cry.
‘Call it a sixth sense. Or better still, experience.’ Because this is what it always comes down to. ‘I’m not in the mood for your games, and I’m too busy to bend over for you today. How much do you want?’
‘Oh, you wish you could get rid of me that easily,’ she taunts. ‘No, Keir. This is much better. Perfect, in fact. A friend sent me a links to the articles. So of course, I got on the next flight home. Who would’ve thought the mighty Keir—Keir, the upstanding; Keir, the moral; the man I’d entrusted my baby’s care to—could be fucking Robin Reed’s fiancée?’
‘She’s not his fiancée,’ I reply in a bored tone. I sit in the seat by the window. ‘They weren’t even together when we met.’
‘But darlin’,’ she says, laying on the transatlantic twang. ‘It’s better than that. The newspapers say she’s now doing porn. Of course, I think, especially after seeing pictures of her, it’s probably the homemade stuff. You always were a little kinky, though, right?’
‘You’re boring me,’ I reply, straightening my shirt cuffs as I cross my legs.
‘Boring? How about we try it the other way? Maybe I don’t want you to bend over for me,’ she says, her narrow hips swaying closer. Her hand lifts between us, her pink painted fingernails raking through my hair. ‘You used to like it when I bent over for you, as I recall. You liked it when I grabbed my ankles... spread myself wide.’
She’s not beyond using our past as a weapon, and the memories flash through my mind, each swiping like a rapier.Rapid and poisonous tipped.
Jumping up, I grab her hand, pulling it from my head and pushing it away. ‘You must be desperate.’ Or delusional. It’s been a while since she’s used sex as a bargaining chip.
‘I’m not desperate. I think in the eyes of any court, you’d be the desperate case. Maybe I’m feeling benevolent. Have you thought of that? You look a little hard up, baby.’ Her hand reaches for the front of my pants, though I catch her wrist before contact. ‘You must be desperate if you’ve resorted to fucking small-time porn stars.’ Shetsks, a playful click of teeth and tongue.
‘Funny, I don’t remember fucking you.’ Not in some time, at least. Not since a weak moment when Sorcha was small.
Her expression tells me I’ve hit a raw nerve. Maybe it’s worse than casting couch recordings she’s stared in. I might feel sorry for her... if it wasn’t for the fact that she tore out my heart. Not when she left me, but when she abandoned our little girl. We might not have been perfect together, but the little girl we made was that very thing. Pure and innocent and in need of our love and protection. But she left. And I’m the wicked fuck who paid her to.
‘Wait. I know,’ she says. ‘Maybe your deviancies have driven you to fucking cam girls now. Because nice girls don’t like the things you like, Keir. The ropes. The pain. The degradation.’
Her barb is well aimed and hits me hard. I’ve keep my sex life on a tight leash all these years. Tamped down to nothingness. Even the couple of times I tried to date—tried to fuck casually—I held it all back. But with Paisley, I can feel it leaking out. The letter I wrote. The things I want to do with her and to her—it’s all true. I want to see her crawl on her hands and knees to me. See her tied and at my mercy. But I also want more nights falling asleep with my arms around her curves. Wake to her messy hair and goofy smile. But I’m not a deviant, no matter whatGiannasuggests, unless a little rope and dominance extends to that. In which case, I guess I’m a deviant to a good portion of the world.
‘That’s strange.’ I fold my arms as though considering something. ‘Because I remember you used to like it when I fuckedyoulike that. But... wait.’ I snap my fingers as though remembering some point. ‘I forgot you’re not a nice girl.’
‘I used to be a nice girl,’ she retorts, her eyes flaring as I step towards her. The look she slides me isn’t one of fear but of excitement. And my siren’s call.
I slide both my hands into her hair, grasping tight at the base of her skull to pull her head back. ‘I know a nice girl when I see one, Gianna.’ I drag her name out with disdain, tilting her farther still to examine her face, her flushed neck and chest, her hard breasts pushed up against my chest. Her darkened eyes. ‘And I know I’m not looking at one right now. You’re anything but a nice girl.’
My words are harsh in her ear, though she whispers a rasping, ‘Yes!’
In a fit of confusion and annoyance, I push her down on the bed. It takes me everything in my power not to follow her. To place my knees against the mattress. To slide my hands around her throat. I don’t want to fuck her but maybe fuck her over. Fuck her up. Torture her a little as payback.
‘Want to know why you’re not a nice girl?’ I ask, towering over her.
Her reaction is unexpected as she spreads her long legs, running her hands over her chest. And if her reaction is unexpected, her words are even more so.
