Wicked: Sweet Temptation [Wicked Series Book 4] Read online

  He grabbed her suddenly, holding her still while he lifted his hips, forcing his cock into her as far as it would go. She gasped, bracing herself against his chest as he pounded into her from underneath. The look on his face was fierce, his eyes locked with her own and she could do nothing but stare back at him and wait for what she knew was coming.

  She felt it minutes later, her stomach clenched as his fingers dug into her hips and he grew thicker inside of her.

  “Faith…”

  That one whispered word uttered past his lips as he ravaged her soft flesh and she was undone. The tension uncoiled in a blinding shower of heat that crawled from her core and lashed out at every pore on her body until she screamed with the force of it. She heard him grunt under her, his hold on her tightening until he threw his head back, his mouth opening in a silent scream as he fucked her near stupid.

  When he stilled, she collapsed against him, panting for breath while his hands spanned her back and his fingers danced in random patterns across her skin.

  The voices of people outside filtered into the room and Faith wondered if they’d heard her screams. Her head pounded as her blood rushed through her veins and the heat coursing through her limbs left her feeling groggy and sated. A week with this man wasn’t enough. The hours they’d spent together were only brief flashes of time she’d never get again. After today, he’d be gone forever.

  He kissed the top of her head, holding his lips to her and mumbled, “I’m going to miss you, Tink.”

  She smiled and hugged him to her. “I’m going to miss you, too, Mick.”

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  Chapter 2

  Mick opened his eyes and stared at the clock before sighing. Faith had been gone for hours and he still hadn’t bothered to get up off the bed. He’d reluctantly let her go after spending less time than he wanted tasting every inch of her skin and couldn’t take his eyes off of her as she gave him one last smile and left his room … and his life forever. The cottage still hung heavy with the musky odor of sex. His sheets smelled like her, his skin was covered in her scent, and he was loathed to wash it off. He knew he’d never see her again and that fact alone left him feeling empty for the first time in years.

  Since the day he realized his ex-wife, Jennifer, had only married him for his money, he’d locked the part of himself that actually cared about women away and had no intentions of ever bringing it back out but one week with Faith and it demanded to be set free. He guarded his heart the best he could but the loss he was feeling now let him know he hadn’t done enough.

  He hadn’t lied when he told her he’d miss her. He already did.

  Sitting up, he stared around the room and snorted a laugh. The room was trashed. Housekeeping was going to charge them a fortune to clean the mess up. An array of assorted liquor bottles littered the room. Various pieces of trash and take-out containers, empty tubes of lube and an assortment of used condoms were tossed haphazardly near the trashcan. He tried counting how many were there but just looking at them made him think of her and thinking of her made his chest ache.

  Standing up, he searched the room for the pants he’d dropped earlier. Finding them near the dresser, he tried shaking the wrinkles out. A piece of paper fell from one of the pockets and he reached down and picked it up, unfolding it before reading what it said.

  His vision was blurry due to the massive headache from his morning activities and the hangover. The words were distorted but squinting, and holding the paper close to his face, brought them slowly into focus. His eyes widened as he read what appeared to be a legal document. His pulse started to race when he read it a second time to make sure he hadn’t misunderstood what he was seeing. The room started to spin suddenly, his heart clenching in fear as the words screeched through his head before he started to scream.

  * * * *

  “No, no, no. This can’t be happening. Please let this be a joke.” Faith shoved the newspaper between her leg and the seat of the plane and stared out the small window, watching the clouds rush by. They were half an hour from Atlanta and the flight from Vegas had been spent recalling the past week and wondering if anyone back home would ever find out what she’d been doing. She’d reassured herself no one would know and had finally convinced herself that her daddy would never find out what a sinful little heathen she was.

  Now this.

  Reaching for the paper, she straightened it out, smoothing her hand over the crinkled paper and once again looked at the picture on the front. She cringed and a pitiful moan eased past her throat.

  “You are so dead, Faith Weston. The Reverend is going to kill you.” She moaned again and stared down at the picture. The low cut blouse she was wearing in the photo was enough to make her daddy preach her ears off but the way she was straddling Mick, and the fact he had two handfuls of her ass and his face half buried in her breasts would cause him to send her straight to the nearest convent … and they weren’t even Catholic!

  What had she been thinking? You weren’t apparently. She frowned before sighing heavily. This is bad. This is beyond bad.

  The only thing she could hope for now was that no one at home ever saw the photo. Giving Mick a lap dance in a crowded hotel bar for every man and woman within viewing distance to see hadn’t seemed like a bad idea at the time but someone had photographed it! Sure the picture was in a local Vegas paper but she wasn’t stupid enough to believe that the photo wouldn’t eventually get sold to some magazine.

  And then her real troubles would begin.

  Everyone at home would know she’d spent her week in Vegas partying with a rock star. Mick Sheppard to be exact. The baddest of the bad. So much trash had been written about him, he made everyone else look like saints. It was all lies, according to Mick, but the people living in the small town she called home would believe every word they read.

  And this article painted her in a very disturbing light.

  And why shouldn’t it? she asked herself, sighing as she stared at the picture. She barely even remembered the night they’d spent partying in that bar, something she wished they hadn’t done now. Sneaking around to meet in private was one thing, going out in public was something completely different. She should have known better.

  Of course, it was hard to tell what she had been thinking at the time. She was experiencing a total blackout for most of the night. She remembered Mick calling her and asking her to meet him at the bar and she’d practically run the whole way. When she woke the next morning she had a hang over so bad she could barely see straight. She’d tried to wake Mick for half an hour to tell him she had to leave before giving one last look to him laid out naked on the sheets and left his room to sleep off her hangover.

  And here she was. A week of blurry memories later and photographic evidence that she hadn’t been the good girl her daddy thought she was.

  The seat belt sign came on moments before the pilot said they were approaching the airport. Her stomach tightened into knots thick enough to cause cramps and she swallowed the lump trying to choke her. Shaking her head, she crammed the paper into her bag and hoped no one she knew ever saw it. It wasn’t like Mick would tell. She’d never see him again and it took more energy than she wished to ignore the pain that thought caused.

  The plane landed with only a few bumps and the fight through the crowd in the airport didn’t help calm her nerves. By the time she’d reached the baggage claim, sweat was rolling down her back. When she saw the Reverend, she nearly choked on her tongue.

  “How’s my baby girl?”

  “I’m fine, daddy,” Faith said, forcing a smile onto her face when he hugged her.

  “You don’t look fine,” he said, pulling away from her and holding her at arms length. “You look a bit pale. Was the flight bumpy?”

  “Aren’t they always?” she said.

  He grinned. “Most of the time. Come on, we’ll find your luggage and get you home. Mabel has been at the house all morning cooking up a storm. No matter how hard I’ve tried,
I can’t get that woman out of our kitchen.”

  “That’s cause she’s sweet on you,” Faith said, grinning as they walked toward the baggage carrousel.

  “Pftt. Now don’t go spreading that rumor around,” he said. “Half the congregation has been trying to get me to court her. I don’t have the time or inclination for such things at my age.”

  Faith laughed. “Daddy, you’re not too old to date and Mabel is a lovely woman.”

  He raised an eyebrow at her and grinned.

  “Okay,” Faith said. “So she’s ten years older than you and has more chins than you and me combined, but she’s sweet. And she can cook.”

  “Having a sweet cook isn’t enough to make me want to marry a woman. Especially Mabel. She’s too bossy and tries too hard and no, before you even say it, her weight doesn’t bother me. It’s what is in a person’s heart that matters, not the exterior, but I’m not interested in remarrying.”

  “The fact you just said that makes me believe you’re trying to convince yourself you aren’t sweet on her, too.”

  “Don’t even start young lady.” He found her bags and lifted them from the carrousel, groaning at their weight. “What do you have in here?” he asked. “An Elvis impersonator?”

  She laughed. “No. He wouldn’t fit. I brought you a showgirl instead.”

  “Oh, I can see me explaining to the church come Sunday what I’m doing with a Vegas showgirl on the front pew.”

  “Just tell them what you always do. ‘Brothers and sisters, pray with me and help this child find her way from the sin that’s corrupted her life!’”

  He stopped and turned to look at her, giving her that look that said she was getting too sassy for her own good. “I can already tell that trip has ruined you. I should have sent Jacob along to chaperone.”

  Faith ducked her head and hoped he didn’t see how red her face was. She knew without being told her cheeks were glowing. She could feel them burning. “There wasn’t a reason for me to be chaperoned, daddy. I was a perfect angel.”

  “And now I know you’re lying,” he said, grinning. “You’ll have to spend a week praying for your soul.”

  A week? More like years, she thought with a grin. The things she’d done with Mick alone would buy her an express ticket to hell. She looped her arm through her father’s and laid her head on his arm as they walked out of the airport. “Don’t worry about me, daddy. My soul is perfectly safe,” she lied.

  * * * *

  He was having a heart attack. He knew it as sure as the nose on his face. The pain in his chest grew, constricting until he felt dizzy and the room spun out of control. Someone was screaming and strong fingers were biting into his arm.

  “Mick! Calm down, man. Look at me!”

  Luke’s voice sounded miles away but the pressure on his arms increased until he finally looked down. The screaming stopped and he realized then it had been him making the noise.

  The look on Luke’s face was one he’d never forget. He looked terrified. A glance around the room showed the same look on everyone’s face. They were all staring at him with a look of horrified fascination and curiosity. How long had he been screaming? How long since he’d seen…

  “Breathe man. Nice even breaths.”

  “His color doesn’t look so good,” Christian said. “He’s purple.”

  “He’ll be fine if he just breathes,” Luke said, giving him a few shakes. “Come on, Mick. Take a breath.”

  Mick did as told, the vice-like band of terror wrapping around his chest fading little by little. His breaths evened out and the room stopped spinning.

  Christian and Devin were standing just behind Luke and he could see the girls by the bed. Curt and several security guards rushed into the room and he saw Roxy walk over to them, speaking in hushed tones before the room became deathly still.

  “Sit down,” Luke said. “Devin, find something to cover him up with.”

  He slid to the floor, his naked backside skipping along the wall until the carpet formed a solid cushion under him. A blanket was tossed over his lap and he wrapped it around his waist to hide his nudity from the girls.

  “Here. Drink this.”

  Mick looked up and took the glass from Christian. Water. Figures. What he needed was a bottle of whiskey. Maybe two. Getting real good and drunk was the only cure for the gut wrenching agony he felt.

  “Better?” Luke asked.

  He laughed. It was a small chuckle at first but grew until tears leaked from his eyes and he once again couldn’t breathe.

  “Is he high?” Curt asked.

  “No, he’s not,” Luke said, heatedly. “He doesn’t do that shit anymore.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Man, if you aren’t here to help then get out.”

  Luke turned back to Mick when Christian tried to get Curt out of the room and took the now empty glass from him. “Better?” he asked before saying, “What happened?”

  What happened? Mick laughed again and said, “What the fuck didn’t happen?”

  “Meaning?”

  He sighed and leaned his head back against the wall and closed his eyes. Flashes of memories came back to him in disjointed pictures. Meeting her for the first time in the hotel lobby, talking to her in the limo after the concert, fucking her damn near silly hours later and night after night of sneaking around. Only one night was a blur. Wednesday. He remembered asking her to meet him in the bar and her showing up looking sexy as hell. He remembered the casino and pushing her behind a tall potted plant in one of the lobbies and fucking her to a whimpering mess before….

  He couldn’t remember. It was all a fuzzy haze after that.

  “Mick? Come on man, talk to me.”

  He opened his eyes and looked Luke dead in the face. “Kill me. If you’re my friend then just kill me. Do it quick. I’m so numb I’ll never feel it.”

  “What the hell are you talking about?” Luke asked. “I’m not going to kill you. Now what happened?”

  “I know,” Devin said.

  Everyone turned to look at Devin. He was standing in the middle of the room reading the piece of paper in his hands. When he lifted his head, a smile so bright crossed his face, Mick wanted to slap him down.

  “Someone has been a busy boy,” Devin said, looking down and waving the paper in his hands toward Mick’s face. “I hope like hell you took precautions this time, my friend.”

  “I don’t even remember doing it,” Mick said, knowing what Devin held in his hand. “How the hell am I supposed to know if I took precautions?”

  Devin laughed. “Then you’re screwed. You’re only hope now is that she isn’t a gold digger like the last one.”

  “Who?” Luke said. “What the hell are you talking about?”

  “This,” Devin said, holding the paper out to Luke. “Seems like Mick didn’t get enough of married life the first time. He’s gone and married another groupie.”

  * * * *

  “The front desk says she checked out hours ago,” Jessi said.

  “Does she have a cell phone?” Roxy asked.

  Jessi shook her head. “No, not that I’m aware of.”

  “Okay,” Roxy said, looking over at Mick. “Tell me everything. From the beginning.”

  Mick looked at Roxy over the top of his sunglasses and sighed. The sun wasn’t helping his hangover but the table on the pool deck was the only one large enough to sit them all and gave him the luxury of smoking, which he’d been doing non-stop since his paralyzing fear had released his muscles and left him only slightly numb.

  “Did you sleep with her?”

  “I don’t remember ever sleeping with her,” he said, sarcastically. “I did a lot of other things though.”

  “Was that night the only time you’ve been with her?”

  He glanced at Faith’s best friend, Jessi. “No.”

  “When was the first time?”

  “The night of the concert.”

  “You were sleeping with her all week?” Jessi aske
d, her eyes widening with shock.

  He nodded and leaned back in his chair. “Every night this week,” he said. “I lost count after the first few days.”

  “She didn’t say anything,” Jessi said. “Why didn’t she tell me?”

  “Well, you weren’t exactly around for her to tell, now were you?” Mick said, giving a pointed look to Christian. “And she didn’t want me to say anything for some reason, so I didn’t.”

  Jessi blushed and looked away.

  “It doesn’t matter when or where,” Roxy said. “Do you remember actually marrying her?”

  “No.”

  “How can you not remember getting married?” Luke said.

  “If you didn’t noticed,” Mick said. “I haven’t been exactly sober this week.” That fact alone should have been his warning bell. Past experience should have told him his luck was about to give out but like always, he never paid much attention to that little voice in the back of his head. No, he listened to the other. The head that pointed to the nearest wet hole that would let him close enough to sink into its warmth. Not remembering marrying Faith made the whole ordeal seem like a dream. Sure the girl was cute and sassy and he’d spent every minute of the past week either fucking her or thinking about fucking her but how had he gotten so blind drunk that he’d married her?

  “Do you think she planned it?”

  “No, she did not,” Jessi said, flashing a heated glare at Devin.

  Devin held up his hands in mock surrender. “I’m just asking,” he said. “No one here knows Faith but you.”

  “She’s not like that,” Jessi said. “She wouldn’t deliberately trap a man into marrying her. If anything, she’d fight it for as long as she could.”

  “Why is that?”

  Jessi snorted a laugh. “If you ever met her family, you’d know why.” Her eyes widened a moment later before she turned to look at Mick. “Oh man. Your death wish will be granted once they find out.”

  Mick raised an eyebrow and leaned his head to one side. “Why is that?” he said. “They’re not like the Manson family, are they?

  “Oh no,” Jessi said. “They’re the perfect, God fearing kind.”