Free Wicked Games by Samanthe Beck Page A

coming out tonight without any security, dancing with total strangers. Letting them put their hands on you. Especially now, with some freak sending you threats and ultimatums, possibly stalking you. What the hell is wrong with you?”
    Feeling miserable and mean, and more than a little humiliated by her own actions, she said the first thing that sprang to mind. “The only stalker I see tonight is a jealous ex who can’t stand to let me have some fun.”
    He released her face as if she’d burned him. “Why do you always do this? Why do you have to take genuine emotion—genuine concern—and twist it into something ugly?”
    “It’s my special gift. Thank God you’re rid of me—”
    He slammed his mouth down on hers. Whatever else she might have uttered flew right out of her head. Good. She didn’t want to think anyway, and she definitely didn’t want to talk. She speared her fingers into his hair and kissed him back, reveling in his rough, barely controlled response. Time spun away, and she let it go without a backward glance, until the sweet, hot tension between them turned urgent. Something had to give.
    Unshed tears burned behind her eyelids because she knew that something couldn’t be her. She tore her mouth free. “Admit it. The letter is the only reason you’re here.”
    On a strangled oath, he abruptly rolled off her and rubbed his hand over his face. She recognized the bone-deep fatigue and pent-up frustration in the gesture and tamped down on the impulse to gather him into her arms and tell him it was okay. He was the best thing that had ever happened to her, even though he’d ripped her heart to shreds without even trying. Instead, she stood and concentrated on putting her costume back in order.
    When the silence stretched to the point she thought her nerves would snap, she broke down like the masochist she was, and pressed for a confirmation she really couldn’t bear to hear. “Nailed it on the first guess, right? You’re here because Kylie told you about the letter. Well, you can take yourself off bodyguard duty. I’ve got my shit handled.”
    Ian sat with his head tipped back against the seat of the chair, staring at the ceiling. “I’m here because I’m in love with you. I couldn’t stay away.”
    She fumbled the wings. They slipped from her shaking hands and fell to the floor. This was starting to sound like a grand gesture. But for all the wrong reasons, an unsentimental inner voice insisted. Look at the timing. He did a fast, easy fade until the stalker cropped up. Now he’s worried about you, and you just fucked his brains out. His protective instincts are driving this, not his head or his heart .
    “Ian—”
    “And you love me.” He raised his head, his eyes full of challenge. “Don’t deny it. God forbid you ever say the words out loud, to me or anybody else, but don’t look me in the face and deny it.”
    Panic started in her stomach and rolled into her chest, creating a sudden tightness. “I-I don’t—”
    He simply shook his head. “You’re a good actress, Stace, but not that good. Why are you doing this to us?”
    Tears streamed down her cheeks, but there was nothing she could do about them. “It’s not you. It’s me.” God, did she really just say that?
    “Did you take off because I asked you to move in with me? Because that’s negotiable, in terms of timing, and location, and—”
    “No.” So much for grand gestures. “Ian, it’s nothing you did, or said.”
    “Was it—” He stopped, drew in an unsteady breath, and she knew, she just knew, whatever he said next was going to break her heart into a thousand pieces. “Was it…meeting my parents?”
    Confessions, apologies, insecurities…the whole ugly mess…lodged in her throat like a cold, hard ball. She had to get out of there now, before she dropped to her knees, spilled her guts, and made a fool of herself.
    “Your parents are wonderful,” she whispered. “They’re perfect. And I’m…I’m