Runaway (Wolfes of Manhattan #3) Read Online Helen Hardt

Categories Genre: Erotic, Romance Tags Authors: Series: Wolfes of Manhattan Series by Helen Hardt
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Total pages in book: 73
Estimated words: 75836 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 379(@200wpm)___ 303(@250wpm)___ 253(@300wpm)
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“I just got back from vacation,” Riley added. “Remember?”

I squeezed her hand again.

“We’re all going,” Rock said. “I’ll have Jarrod book everything. Suites for everyone.”

“If you say so,” Charlie said. “I can take care of this instead of Jarrod, if you want, since I’m in the know about all you guys are going through.”

“That’d be great, Charlie,” Lacey said.

“Then it’s settled,” Rock agreed. “Vegas, here we come.”

41

Riley

Tingles.

I got tingles watching Matt react first to the Wolfe private jet, to the glitz of Las Vegas, and finally to the suite Charlie had reserved for us at the Wolfe Premiere.

The Wolfe Cinquième Hotel and Casino was supposed to break ground three months ago, and apparently a local regulation was causing a hold-up, along with contractor issues. I didn’t know or care. That was Rock and Reid’s problem.

My problem at the moment was erasing the crap inside my head so I could have a few beautiful days in Nevada with Matt.

“Baby, I can’t afford any of this,” Matt said to me softly.

“Did anyone ask you to pay for it?”

“I can’t just let you—”

I placed two fingers over his full lips. “I want to. I want these few days with you. We can begin where we left off in Sumter Falls.”

He laughed then. “Riley, this is so not Sumter Falls.”

“True. It’s Las Vegas. But we can find tons to do here. Do you like to gamble?”

“Luke and I play poker with a few guys at home. I’m pretty good at it.”

“Cool. We can set you up at video poker to test your skills, and if you’re that good, we head to the poker room.”

“And play against pros? I don’t think so.”

“Not pros. They stay at the high-stakes tables. You can play at the regular tables.”

“With others who are really good.”

“Some are. Some aren’t. Some get drunk and make stupid moves.”

“So you know poker, then?”

I paused a moment. Then, “I watched my father play many times.”

Matt stayed silent for a few moments.

“It’s okay.” I touched his arm. “I have to be able to talk about it. It’s just poker.”

Finally, he nodded. “Was your father any good?”

“The best. A regular iceman. He had the best poker face I ever saw.”

He chuckled. “You haven’t seen mine yet.”

I didn’t doubt Matt was good, but my father had been ruthless. He took big losses in order to make the smallest gain overall. He was frigid. Icy. Unstoppable.

Just like he was about everything in his life.

I doubted Matt could hide his emotions the way my father did.

Because Matt actually had emotions, and my father didn’t, so frankly, he’d had nothing to hide.

“You’re that good, huh?” I said.

“I don’t like to toot my own horn, but…”

I giggled. “Something tells me you love to toot your own horn.”

“Maybe. Just a little. I have to prove worthy of the beautiful Riley Wolfe.”

“You’re more than worthy.”

Indeed, he was. I was the one not worthy of him, but I didn’t say it. I wanted these few days to be fun. A chance for us to get to know each other a little better. A chance to feel real love for the first time in my life.

“What shall we do first?” he asked.

“Whatever you want.”

“Well, then, I’m starved, but it’s pretty late.”

“It’s midnight in the city that never sleeps,” I told him. “We’ll find you some food.”

We took the elevator down to the main floor and found a twenty-four-hour sandwich shop. Matt ordered a turkey club with all the fixings, but I passed. I’d been eating like a pig the last week, and I still had my career to consider. Fredricka would kick my butt if I put on any more weight. I did have a bite of his sandwich, though. It was yummy. The first thing that tasted good since I got back from Montana.

“Now what?” I asked after he’d finished.

“I’m good and carbo loaded.” He trailed a finger over my cheek. “Now I want to go back up to our room and make slow, sweet love to you.”

I shuddered.

I’d begged him two nights ago and again last night. Instead, he held me, which was really what I’d needed.

Now? I was ripe. So ripe and wet and full of aching need for him.

“Please,” I said softly. “Please make love to me.”

Back in our suite, the king-size bed beckoned.

The white hotel sheets made me pause, but only for seconds.

This was now.

This wasn’t nineteen years ago. This wasn’t even a month ago.

This was now.

I was no longer enslaved to my father in that mind-numbing way.

I was free.

Free to make love with the man I loved.

“Tell me what you want,” he said. “I don’t want to overwhelm you.”

“I want you to overwhelm me. Please, Matt. Show me everything.”

He groaned. “God.” Then he clamped his lips onto mine.

The kiss wasn’t soft and dulcet, like his kisses had been during the past two days. No, this one was full of need and passion, and I met it with all the emotion coiled within me. All the emotion I’d never been able to let out.


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