Guilty Pleasures
Authors: Donna Hill
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This story is dedicated, with love, to my sister Lisa Hill, the best friend and supporter a girl could have!
And to my baby bro Daveâdon't try this at home! Luv Ya.
acknowledgments
Big thanks go out to all my writer friends who have been so supportive and inspiring: Leslie (and all her pen names!), Gwynne, Monica (the Web whiz), Lolita, Victoria, my big brothers Vincent and Victor, Francis (for your kind heart), Bernice (I wanna be like you, girl); to all the book clubs and readers who continue to keep me in print (thank you!); my agent, Pattie Steele Perkins, who keeps those checks and contracts coming; my editor, Monique Patterson, who continues to let me spread my wings and grow as a writer; my trio at home, Nichole, Dawne, and Matthew, who keep me humble and in debt! (LOL); my grandchildren, Mahlik and Mikayla, who remind me how wonderful it is to be young; and to Christine, my friend through thick and thin.
Most of all, my thanks to God, who continues to bless me in wondrous ways and who makes all things, big and small, possible.
contents
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1
Sex was the nectar that bound them, sticky-sweet and addictive, as addictive as the thrill of the con that drew them together. It was a dangerous game they played. But danger, living on the edge, was who they were, who they'd becomeâby choice and by circumstance.
For ten years, all of that had been enough. Until Eva Kelly woke one morning and wanted something more, something else. That nagging need sat on the outskirts of her consciousness, nudging her into action. She'd succumbed, but she hadn't told Jake about it. That nagged at her, tooâkeeping secrets from him.
A cool morning breeze from the open patio door of the hotel room blew across Eva's naked body. Goose bumps rose to attention along her spine. She stirred in her sleep, snuggled closer to the warm, hard body next to her.
Sometime during the night, they must have kicked the covers to the floor, she thought, drifting in and out of the haze of slumber.
Oh, what a night. Her body still hummed with pleasure. Eva draped her arm across Jake's bare waist. Her diamonds sparkled in the morning light. The slow dance pounding in her chest was her heart, which beat out this rhythm whenever she thought of Jake. A delicious shiver began in her toes and moved sinuously along every muscle of her body.
From the first time she'd spotted Jake in an Atlantic City casino, she knew that something would eventually happen between them, but it wasn't until a year later that they actually met. It was in this very same hotel in Las Vegas that he'd put some kind of mojo on her stuff that had it talking and doing backflips whenever he was in the vicinity. The mere scent of him got her panties wet, and if he smiled ⦠well, then it was on. That was ten years ago.
Yeah, she was whipped. No doubt about that. So what choice did she have
She had to marry him, had to ensure that she got what he could give her each and every day. It wasn't only the sex, she reminded herself. She loved Jake. Loved the way he made her feel. Loved the excitement of him that flowed through his veins instead of blood. Loved the double-dangerous life they lived. It was a rush like none otherâwell, almost. She snuggled deeper. Closed her eyes. Pushed the secret to the back of her mind. Let her thoughts drift.
She'd been on the prowl at the Bellagio Hotel in Vegas, surfing the crowded hotel for the perfect mark. She'd worked the hotels since she was a teenager, out on her own from the age of fifteen. She was goodâbetter than good. She could spot an easy target with her eyes closed. No, she was no whore, not a prostitute. She was a grifter, and a damned good one. Sometimes she considered herself a modern-day Robin Hood, taking from the wealthy to give to ⦠well ⦠herself. Eva smiled.
There was one thing about the con: one artist could spot another even deep in an African jungle. There was a look in the eyes, like that of a lion choosing its prey from among an unsuspecting herd of animals. The lion is patient, waiting for the moment when the gazelle gets separated from the group. And then
bam!
They'd kept out of each other's way that time in Atlantic City, marking off their individual territories like two dogs that piss around the perimeters of their spaces. But when they ran into each other again in Vegas, something happened. When her gaze connected with his that night, a half smile of acknowledging challenge curved the right side of his wide mouth. He raised his glass in a subtle toast and winked.
Liquid fire slid down her throat when she swallowed her own drink. Her body grew warm. She ran her tongue across her lips, and her clit struck up a beat like a tiny drum between her legs.
She lost sight of her mark. She didn't care. Jake approached. His walk was fluid, reminiscent of Denzel Washington, a slow, slightly swaying, all-man stride that was full of power and raw sexuality.
Lawdhavemercy.
Eva leaned with casual calm against the barâto keep her weak knees from giving out on her.
Jake came up beside her. Resting his back against the bar, he looked out into the crowd. He took a swallow of his drink. “Busy night.”
“Depends.”
“On what”
“On how you want to take it.”
The scent of him drifted to her. Her pulse kicked up a notch.
“Haven't seen you here before.” She turned to the bartender and ordered another apple martini.
“Make that two.” He grinned at her, watched her from beneath half-shuttered lids. “Now we have two things in common.”
“Martinis and what else”
“I want to take you to bed and you want to go.” His hip brushed against hers.
Her pelvis throbbed, needed to press against him. Her gaze drifted up and down his long, lean frame. He was cloaked in all black, devastating. This familiar stranger spewed danger from every pore. His nut-brown complexion, smooth and taut, showed only one blemish: a small scar above his right brow. His chin was square, cheekbones angular to showcase deep-set dark brown eyes beneath a slightly hooded brow. A perfect face, handsomeâalmost too perfect. She liked the way he held his body, easy and relaxed, comfortable in his own skin. Confident.
“I bet you say that to all the girls.” She picked up her second drink and took a long sip.
“Only the ones that appeal to me.” He turned sideways to face her profile, then ran a finger along the line of her jaw. He let out a slow breath. “Jake Kelly.”
She looked at him. Her insides danced like butterflies let loose. “Eva Davis.”
He plucked the drink from her hand and set it down on the counter. He moved so close that she could feel his body heat and the erection that thrummed against her hip. Her eyes remained fixed on his mouth as it moved. He could have been saying anything. Something important. She couldn't be sure and didn't care, so long as she got to taste him.
His features blurred. The faint smell of the martini drifted beneath her nostrils. The taste of it lingered on his tongue when he slipped it into her partially opened mouth. Just for an instant. So brief, she wasn't sure if the kiss actually happened.
Her lids fluttered open as he came into view.
“I knew it.” His voice was husky, intimate.
On a breath she asked him what he knew.
“That you would be sweet.” He took her hand. “I'm ready if you are.”
He could be Jake the Ripper, she thought absently as she entered his suite that night. He locked the door behind them. But she didn't give a damn as long as she got a little bit of Jake Kellyâthen she could die a happy woman.
