Free Breaking Beauty (Devils Aces MC): Vegas Titans Series by Celia Loren Page A

after a short trot
in front of the largest suite on the sixth floor—room 668.
     
    “This is my room,” Bryson said. He sounded confident. For a
moment, Romy might have laughed—in any other situation, this would be the
romantic before-the-door-shuts-goodnight-kiss moment. Would she ever have the
chance to date her hero? He was surely all business, playing his
blackjack cards in The Needle. Beautiful women had tottered all around him up
there, shoving breasts and ass and leg in his face—he'd taken no notice of any
of them. She felt foolish again. Like a girl on prom night. It was still too
much to stomach—how she, a smart girl with going on two advanced degrees— had
been bamboozled by human-trafficking gangsters.
     
    Suddenly, Bryson kissed her. He lurched forward like an
exhausted man, letting his lips press fast and hard against her own open mouth.
Romy nearly protested, but the words wouldn't quite form. She was dazed.
    And for a second, there came the smell of him—thick and
musky, like how she imagined the scent of great warriors of an ancient
world...a medieval knight or a conquering Roman Praetorian Guard returning from
battle. His stubble tickled but his kiss felt amazing...with all the passion
and urgency of a young man, but the care and attention of someone with
practice. He reached up to hold the back of her head, tilting her blonde
ponytail playfully to the side. Romy sank into his arms, giving in.
     
    But as soon as it had begun, the kiss was over. Bryson was
glancing furtively up and down the hallway, little shreds of panic moving in
his eyes. Romy heard footsteps. Quickly, her hero removed a key card from a
pocket below his lapel. He pushed her first into the dark suite, then followed
fast behind. The door clanged shut behind them.
    “I need you to walk around while you talk to me,” Bryson was
saying as he paced the room. “They could be watching us from anywhere.” With
his fingers, he probed along the walls. His eyes moved fast across every cranny
in the room.
    “Why? What are you looking for?”
    “Romy, please .”
    And so she paced.
    “Try to look...sexy. Look like you're seducing me.”
    “Flattery will get you nowhere, Bryson.”
    “JUST DO IT.” The edge in his voice was menacing. He paused
for a beat and stared point-blank at a spot over the door, as if propelled by
animal instinct.
    “What are you so afraid of now? You have me. You won ,
right?”
    Bryson wheeled about, inches from her face. His own body was
shiny with the effort of his hunt, the speed of their walk. She'd never seen
him so serious. “Let's get one thing straight: I'm not afraid of anything. But
nobody's won yet. Listen to me. You're in a great deal of danger. Sit down on
the bed.”
    Still dazed, Romy did. He kept murmuring.
    “They know you're smart. Lefty DiMartino knows he took a
chance, hiring a statistics major to be his prostitute du jour. Now spread your
legs.”
    “How did you—? Bryson !”
    “Look at me,” he said, holding her gaze once more in that
safe, consoling way he had. His voice was plaintive now. “I wouldn't do this to
you. Please know that I wouldn't do this to you, ever. I wouldn't do this to
any woman who didn't want it.”
     
    Yet he moved closer. The pads of his feet on the carpet were
silent. Romy felt a new fear now, one similar to the repulsion she'd known when
she imagined making love to The Dap. But if Bryson was going to force her into
anything...which he couldn't possibly be about to do...well, that
changed everything again, didn't it? Who exactly was she supposed to trust?
     
    Now, he was kneeling before her, speaking straight into the
open expanse between her legs. She trembled. The leotard was especially snug
about her nether regions, and sheer—with moisture, more so.
     
    “Romy, what I'm trying to tell you is: there's a security
camera in this room. There are systems in place to make sure that the high-rollers
get their prize . And if the women don't please