Bet Me

Jake fucks me again with infinite gentleness, and I can’t stop the tide of pleasure from rising, the wild tingles starting in my toes and spreading like stardust through my whole body.

“Jake,” I gasp, and I can see it in his eyes, he’s right there with me.

“Lizzie.” He leans down and kisses me, drenched in sweat, both of us riding out this incredible high until it takes over, consuming us, and I come with a cry. Pleasure slams through my body and I feel Jake explode inside me with a strangled cry as I lose my mind in the rush, and how long I’ve waited to feel him, just like this.

Holy shit.

That was incredible.

When can I do it all over again?

Jake collapses on top of me. “Worth the wait?” he asks, breathing hard.

I laugh. “Not bad, for a start. But you know what they say about practice . . .”

“How it only improves on perfection?” Jake rolls off me, pulling me to spoon against him. “Just so you know,” he murmurs in my ear, “I love you, Lizzie Ryan.”

My heart blooms wide open. I twist to face him, grinning so wide I never want it to end.

“Just so you know, I love you, Jake Weston.”

Jake smiles back at me, reaching to touch the necklace—which somehow, amazingly, stayed on through that epic fuck. “It looks good on you.”

“Mmmm . . .” I yawn, my eyes already drifting shut. He chuckles, wrapping his arms around me, and I start to drift into a happy sleep. But something’s tapping lightly against my mind, something I should be remembering right now.

The bounty.

Holy shit!

My eyes fly open. “Oh my god,” I squeal. “That fuck just earned us fifty thousand dollars. We’re rich!”





34





Three Months Later





“We need more drinks!” Della exclaims, rapping her hand on the bar to get Zach’s attention. “Oh, bartender!” she calls out in a lilting voice. “Don’t you know that the first rule of dive bar etiquette is to never neglect your patrons?”

Zach walks back over, bending down to kiss her. “What are you gonna do?” he asks with a cocky grin. “Write me a terrible Yelp review or something?”

“I just might,” Della purrs, leaning in for another kiss. “Slow service, rude staff, but the bartender is fucking amazing in bed.”

And to think I was actually worried about them for a hot minute.

But after Jake and I announced the strike was over, Zach folded, too—to Della’s intense relief. Plus, she’s definitely appreciating Zach more these days. So all’s well that ends well, as Shakespeare might say.

I’m just glad to be plain old Lizzie again, instead of Dapper’s prize bounty. Okay, Lizzie with a hot boyfriend, great friends, a job I love, and my student loans almost entirely paid off, but Lizzie nonetheless. I still watch old movies in my ratty bathrobe and cry at the endings—but now it’s because I know that I was right to believe: you really can find it all. Love, romance—not to mention what just might be the hottest sex on the planet with a guy I’m crazy about. A guy who fucks me up against the wall just because, and who will show up with a bottle of champagne on a random Tuesday night for no reason whatsoever.

And most of all, a guy who really cares about me.

Because that’s all that any of us are really looking for. Someone to see us for our best, and love us at our worst. It may be cheesy as hell, but there’s a reason the classics stick around.

Love never goes out of style.

“Time for a toast!” Miles announces, pulling Tatiana onto his lap. She smiles and strokes his hair like a kitten—instead of the untamed mountain lion Miles was complaining about. I guess that trip they took last month to the Maldives sans baby did the trick, because they haven’t kept their hands to themselves since the moment they walked in. “To the end of the strike!”

“To Lizzie getting laid!” Della hollers.

“Gee, thanks.”

“Or how about we toast the real reason for this get-together,” Jake corrects them. “Here’s to my gorgeous, talented girlfriend, who is finishing up her first week in her position as the new head curator at the Met!”

We cheer. Morgan surprised us all by quitting last month. She just walked in one day, said she was done with all of us, and moved to Paris with her fiancé. I didn’t think I had a hope in hell of such a major promotion, but I guess I was riding high off the amazing Hollywood exhibit reviews, because after a nerve-wracking series of interviews, they just announced today that I got the job.

“You deserve it,” Jake says, leaning down to kiss me. “Who knows? Maybe you’ll find room in the budget to hire me for another project. But I’m warning you, I don’t come cheap.”

“That’s not what I heard,” Della interrupts, and he throws a peanut at her.

I laugh, nestled in his arms, and suddenly, I feel a wave of affection too big to contain.

OK, not just affection. I’ve been horny as hell for him since the night we hooked up, and it doesn’t show any sign of fading just yet.

“Come on.” I tug Jake’s hand. “We’ll be right back!”

“Get a room!” Zach complains after me. “In fact, you have one. It’s right upstairs!”

I hear Della hushing him as I lead Jake into the back hallway. I shove a door open and tug him inside.

“Where are we?” he says in the dim light.

“Storage closet. Now take off your pants.”

Jake chuckles. “Yes, ma’am.” He unbuckles and shoves me back against the wall. Goddamn, but he feels good. He rubs my clit until I moan, biting down on his shoulder.

“Are we ever going to be done making up for lost time?” he asks, easing my thighs wider and thrusting inside me.

“Nope.” I gasp, taking him deep. “Never.”

“Now that sounds like a happy ending to me.”

And it is.



THE END

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GET LUCKY




What happens when you wake up in a hotel suite next to a gorgeous naked man with absolutely no memory of the past twelve hours?

I guess it's true what they say. What happens in Vegas stays in Vegas.

Or at least I hope it stays here. The Romantic Style convention was meant to be a weekend of raucous fun with friends, sun, and enough poolside margaritas to forget about my ex. But now, instead of meeting my fans and signing books, I'm stuck with cocky divorce lawyer Nate Wexler. He's arrogant, infuriating, and I can't keep my hands off of him. Judging by the state of our hotel room, last night was wild. I just wish I could remember it.

A pair of matching tattoos. A cheap wedding veil. A half empty box of glow in the dark condoms.

What the hell just happened?

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Julia