Call Me TiffanyWhen I picked up Ryker in that bar, I had an endgame in mind. I’d use him to get out of the colossal mistake I’d made getting mixed up in the con at the mansion. The sex was just a spectacular perk. I got him as far as my car, heading for the border and freedom. A crash. Then blackness. I’ve woken with a stiff of a husband, a surly, sexy bodyguard—Ryker—and no memory of either of them. I wouldn’t say I’m the type to sleep with the help, but Ryker can’t keep his hands off me—and the feeling is deliciously mutual. When everything in my life feels wrong, Ryker’s touch is my reality. Apparently my name is Tiffany Peterson…. |
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afraid amnesia arms Audi bedroom Bennett body bodyguard boots breasts breath Carlos Rivera cartel caves Cheetos chest closed clothes Connor damn dead didn’t Diet Coke dinner door dropped everything eyes face feel felt fingers Ford Taurus Frank frowned gasped glared Glock going grabbed hair hand hard Harley Harley's he'd head hell hips hummus husband John Smith keep kill kissed knew laughed leaned legs lifted lips looked Lubec ma'am mansion Marissa minutes missed motel mouth neck never nodded opened pants pushed remember Rivera Ryker didn't Ryker smiled Ryker took Ryker watched scared scowled she'd shirt shook shoulder sleep smell Smithie someone sorry stared stepped stood stop Tamblin tell thing thought threw Tiffany Peterson Tiffany's told tonight touched trembled trust turned Vodka waiting walked week wiggled woman wondering worried Yeah