Illicit Temptation (Astoria Royals #3)

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

Trace

“ W hat the hell, Shea-Lynne?” I choke out.

She turns around holding a can of whipped cream. I pinch myself, thinking this has to be a dream.

“Hello,” she says to me in a formal way. “Want some dessert?”

I blink in response, my eyes dying to drink in all of her body, head to toe, stopping at every tempting inch in between.

When I don’t answer, she cackles and lifts the bottle to fill her mouth with whipped cream.

Just you wait, princess. I’ve got cream for you.

With her eyes closed, I feast on her body. Fuck, those tits are nicer than I remember. Full and perky with dark, hard nipples.

She’s curvy with a full waist and a little pot belly. Fuck, I loved how soft she was. I shake some sense into my brain. Shea-Lynne is standing here, naked, going down on a whipped cream can in front of me.

Something’s wrong. This isn’t her.

However, I don’t mind this Shea-Lynne, the sexy siren who gives in to her desires. “Care to share that, princess,” I say to see what happens.

She smiles and wipes that finger across her upper lip.

I grab her hand. “Oh no, princess, allow me.”

With a swipe of my tongue, I taste the sweetness on her lips and my knees nearly buckle.

I drop the can and pull her against my chest, my hands wrapped around her naked waist. My cock hardens so fast I nearly pass out.

She kisses me with a devouring hunger. Like a goddess. Like a slut. Just like in Vegas when she was...

A shock storms through me and everything stops. My world crashes down on me. In Vegas, she got drunk and has no memory of us fucking.

But she’s not drunk. She had one glass of champagne at the gala. One drink wouldn’t do this. Unless someone drugged her.

But I brought over her the drink. Watched the fucker pour it.

Drugs.

The sleeping meds her brother called in. Aww fuck, she’s sleepwalking. I don’t recall her taking anything in Las Vegas, but it’s blacking out just the same.

This isn’t my angel. But it’s the devil woman who will fuck me.

Christ, what a temptation.

“Shea-Lynne,” I whisper, caressing her face. “Do you know who I am?”

Smiling, she dips her head back. “You’re my husband. We got married in the Logan Street Wedding Chapel.”

The clarity in her voice shocks me. I’m not sure the wedding certificate lists the chapel. Just the address and the minister’s signature.

“And what happened after our ceremony, Shea?”

“We went for cheesecake. It’s my favorite.”

My ragged breathing intensifies. Under the influence of these meds, she’s unlocked the memory she lost of our wedding. And our wedding night.

“And after the cheesecake?”

She blushes. “You took me back to your room.”

“Where? Where was I staying?”

“You don’t remember, handsome?” She runs her hands down my chest.

“Refresh my memory.”

“The Millennium Plaza.”

“And what did we do in my room? ”

Her head dips back again. “Oh God. We had such great sex.”

That we did.

It’s so sharp in my memory. “Did you like when I licked your pussy?”

“God, yes.” She grinds her hips against the steel pipe in my pants. “I need to feel that again. All of it.”

My throat tightens. “All of what?”

“Your fingers in my ass. I came so hard.”

Oh my God, she does remember. The memory is stored so far down, she has no access to it.

Until she takes these damn meds.

Fuck, I have to confiscate them from her. Tell Darragh to call in something else to help her sleep. I can’t have her taking these when I’m not around. I press my mouth to her lips one more time. My body is dying to fuck her, but this isn’t Shea. Not the Shea I now know.

And I can’t tell her this happened, she’ll be mortified. I want her fair and square. I want the real her.

The woman who doesn’t know about this impending marriage deal her brothers made. I checked out Nico Scava. He’s handsome, rich, and more powerful than her brothers. Plus, Italians are known for their big cocks.

For all I know, she’ll want to marry the dosser. My professional integrity wars with my loosening morals to ask her about it. Find out how she really feels about the idea of marrying a Las Vegas mafia king.

My eyes wander over this East Hampton palace. Is it too much to ask that she choose an enforcer over a king? A king won’t let her work even though Vegas is party-central. I’ll let her work. I’ll give her anything she wants.

Because I want her .

And this isn’t her . I know that now. I didn’t know her well enough then to understand she was blackout drunk. This is cheating. Christ, what a time to grow a conscience .

“Let’s get you back into bed, princess.” I pick up the can of whipped cream and steer her to her stairs.

On the steps, she walks in front of me, her ass cheeks shifting. A tiny scrap of lace is hiding the only place I didn’t take her that night. I just tested how tight she was with my fingers. Her ass will be my undoing.

In her room, she plops into the bed.

It could be so simple. Just drop my pants and fuck her. Relieve this ache. Give us what we both want. But it will be one more time that the Shea I know won’t remember us fucking. I can’t live with that. Not again.

“Lay down, princess.”

Smiling, she slips under the covers, and I drag them up past her tits because my strength is hanging on by a fucking thread.

“Do you love me, Trace?” Her question hits me in the chest.

She won’t remember this...

“Aye, I do.” And I’m not sure that’s a lie at this point. Given how long I’ve known her and the aching crush I had on her growing up.

“Good, because I love you. I’ve loved you this whole time.”

Startled, a giant lump in my throat threatens to choke me, and I’m ready to burst. “Always?”

“I wouldn’t have married you if I didn’t.”

This is too much to unravel, it’s not her. It’s not real.

“Get some sleep, princess. You can tell me more tomorrow.”

Smiling, her head floats down to the pillow, and in a flash, she’s asleep.

My sexy, slutty angel is gone. The woman who loves me is...

Gone.