Peyton Riley by Bianca Mori Read Free Book Online

away on soft footfalls. A pause, and then fumbling and rustling: the sound of clothes being stripped and flung on the floor. Then the whine of the hinge as he opened the bathroom door. After a few more moments the sound of running water hissed through the room, and she drifted off to sleep again.
    It seemed only a few moments later when she woke to feel the bed shift and her nose fill with the smell of soap and damp skin.
    Carson breathed heavily as he gingerly lowered himself on the bed and settle under the duvet beside her.
    Peyton tensed, still in the evening dark, willing her breathing to even out and mimic the rhythm of deep sleep. After a moment she felt the ghostly presence of his hand, wavering above her nightshirt, a centimeter above her leg. A hitch in his breath and a tentative whisper: "Peyton?"
    She didn't answer and kept still, training her senses on the sound of his steady, even breathing. Then came the touch of his fingers, cold and hesitant as they walked up her thigh and stole under her nightshirt to caress her hip.
    There was an ache between her legs and her body broke out in goosebumps. She felt him slide closer to her, and the warmth of his body flush against her back pitched her breath—the sleeping rhythm she'd tried to feign disappeared. Then his lips touched her ear and heat coursed through her, a fiery glow from where his mouth delicately kissed the shell of her ear.
    She stirred and shifted to lay on her stomach—to quell the ache and deny him access—and she heard him sigh.
    "Wish things were different between us," he whispered, before he slid off the mattress and down to the trundle bed.

Chapter 6
     
    She woke to the sound of panting and sat up, alarmed, to find Carson vigorously doing push-ups on the floor.
    "Morning," he groaned.
    "Morning," she mumbled, groping for the robe she kept under her pillow and tying it over her nightclothes. She felt awkward, after the little scene that night, with her legs bare and her body naked underneath the nightshirt, but she felt thwarted, too. A part of her wished that she'd responded to him, given in to his ministrations and taken pleasure in his arms. It was all so stupid. Randomly choosing to sleep with the first hot guy who'd drooled over her bikini was exactly why she was in this mess. Never again.
    And yet, watching him now, clad only in a pair of shorts and glistening with sweat as he switched from push-ups to V sit-ups, she felt that maybe there wasn't such a thing as 'never.'
    "How's your arm?" he said, grunting as his outstretched fingertips met his toes over his core.
    "Better, thanks," she said, successfully (on the third try) tearing her eyes away from the sight. "So what happened last night?" She went to the kitchen and busied with the kettle and a packet of instant oatmeal.
    A pause in the sound of his exertions. "Last night?"
    "The Bruges? You uh…never got the chance to tell me."
    "Oh," and the sounds of sit-ups began once more. "Well, our theory's right. He's in big money trouble. He had to hock a watch before heading to the tables."
    "The Bruges is a casino?"
    "The same way a sidewalk shell game is a poker tournament."
    " Ooh-kay . Did he play?" she asked, stirring in some sugar into the porridge.
    "No. Just handed the money over to the house man."
    "And? Did you get to hear anything?"
    "What do you think of me, an amateur?" He got up, dried his face with a towel, then bent to a downward dog. "He owes something huge. From what I heard, at least a quarter mil."
    She nearly dropped her spoon. "That much? What is he, a moron?"
    "Looks like one." He lay on the floor and began stretching his legs. She turned her eyes away from the sight of his rippling thighs. "From what I could understand, he'd had a good run, didn't have the good sense to stop, bet against the house, lost it all. Had to borrow money from some of those roving sharks on the floor. Of course, none of those guys are going to send you a strongly worded demand letter, should you