Deception. Betrayal. Mistrust.
It seems the closer Rayne gets to the truth, the more she finds herself wanting to run away from it. It's complex and terrifying-more than she ever fathomed.
New family members, good and bad, pop out at her like a br...
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𝗖aycee stood before the abandoned hotel, breaking her neck to gaze at the barren windows and empty rooms. The sounds of crickets chirping and the feeling of the breezy night air comforted her as she placed one foot in front of the other and entered through the spinning glass door.
It was unconventional to meet a man for a first date at a place as sketchy as the one she was entering right now, but nothing she ever really did was based on societal norms. All her life, all she's known is risk – she was never given a break; she never learned how to respondas opposed to react. That minor fact was what had her where she was currently – risk and reaction.
The edge of her lacy less-than-a-dress rolled up her upper thigh, showing off more of her black tights as she stepped onto the stairs and began making her way to the tenth floor. The silk of her dress stuck to the skin of her abdomen with perspiration from the exercise, but she enjoyed it. When she picked out her outfit, she knew she wanted something dainty, breathy, but also easily-accessible.
Her thoughts weren't drawn out the way she imagined them to be, but she didn't mind.
And besides, who doesn't like a woman slick with a thin layer of sweat?
Her red pumps clicked against the linoleum floor as she rose to the tenth and descended the long hallway. She was to meet her match at the center door – it was supposedly a penthouse.
Running her hands through her wolf-cut, fluffing it up, she plastered on her fakest, yet sweetest smile and knocked on the door. She purposely turned to the side and put the heel of her left foot against the back of her right calf.
When he opened the door, he not only got an over-the-shoulder look clouded by her faux locks, but also a sexual aphrodisiac. After investigating the man in the doorway, she knew that he was the type to like childish things and childish beings. Men were disgusting, but if there was one thing she knew how to do best, it was to pretend to be everything they desired.
"Bree?" he asked.
He did not bother to hide the once-over.
"That's me," she flipped her hair and turned, "You must be Harrison."
Stepping out of the doorway, he nodded and grabbed her hand; his palms felt calloused and rough, but not in the way that meant he knew how to please a woman – it read more like displeasure. Still, keeping her smile firm, she faked a blush as he kissed the back of it.
"You look beautiful."
The pillow-case-shaped dress was doing its job.
She flirted with her eyes, allowing him to pull her into his arms. He pressed his hand across the small of her back, smiling as it slid like butter. Keeping her breath steady, and not hitched at the smell of his personal fragrance, she tilted her head at him and parted her lips.
He rested around six feet, so they were relatively at the same height – just a two-inch difference.
