Sweet Southern Betrayal Read Free Page A

couldn’t stop watching her. The graceful way she moved, the line of her back, the sway of her hips. He shook himself out of his stupor. It wasn’t as if he’d never seen a hot, naked woman before. “What are you looking for?”
    “My phone. From the empty condom wrapper on the bedside table and what I can remember, I’m anxious to get a look at my pictures to see what else we got up to last night.” She gave a triumphant yell and waved around a little black purse. “Got it.”
    “There are four more in the bathroom,” he said, taking his turn to smirk when she looked at him over his shoulder, wide-eyed. “Four more condom wrappers.”
    She let her gaze do another slow walk over his body before shrugging and looking back at the phone in her hand. “Like I said, I have amazing taste in men.”
    Teague followed her lead, his mind turning over all the possibilities of what he could have done last night—besides Risa. This was Las Vegas after all, and the menu was a buffet of trouble for a man who had political aspirations. Things even worse than marrying a stripper. His hand shook as he closed it around his own phone, entered the pass code, and thumbed his way through the photo album.
    His best friend Lucky and his little sister, Taylor, dressed in their wedding clothes, looking happy and ready to jump each other. Michaela and Jack in their newlywed bliss. Beck with his arm around the waist of a pretty cocktail waitress. Then a series of photos of the night after the wedding—last night—when he’d spent the evening partying with Jack and Beck on the dime of Tony Giambetti. They’d gone to dinner, the casino, and then a show and—bingo—that’s where he’d found the lovely Risa.
    There she was on his screen, dressed in the glamorous sequined costume of the dancers in the shows, her glorious breasts showcased by the gold bra-like top and her long legs ending in the highest pair of heels he’d ever seen. She was smiling, her face lit up with fun and carefree joy. In the next photo they were together, Risa now in a gorgeous emerald-green dress and Teague leaning in close, his face now lit up with the same excitement and worry-free expression.
    He almost didn’t recognize himself.
    What the fuck had he been thinking?
    “You’re a dancer,” he mumbled as he flipped through the remaining pics, stopping on the final one. He and Risa were leaning against the headboard of the bed in this room, the camera held over them as they kissed each other. The screen was filled with skin, desire, lust—blatant and unrepentant. Teague could feel the sizzle and wondered why his phone didn’t melt in his grasp. He licked his lips and swallowed down the groan of desire bubbling up.
    He must still be drunk.
    “Yep. At the Gold Coast Casino.” She sighed with relief. “Thank God. No wedding pics. I think what happened in Vegas is going to stay in Vegas.”
    “Jesus.” Teague slumped with his own relief, closing his eyes and feeling the full impact of the residual alcohol in his system. He turned to look at her fully, finally seeing a chink in her bravado as she sagged against the couch and lifted a shaky hand to push hair off her face. She looked younger, vulnerable, and as freaked out as he was.
    “Were you worried about that? Being married?” he asked.
    “I never do this.” She waved at the bed and him, her mouth twisting into a grimace. “If I was crazy enough to go to the Scary Elvis motel with a stranger then hell knows what else happened.”
    “Well, you sure did play it cool.”
    “I’m good at looking like I don’t give a shit.”
    “Me too.”
    He locked eyes with her, each of them sizing up the other, recognizing a kindred spirit. Risa understood the game. “Never underestimate a cynic,” his father used to say. “They know the score and will play whatever side is the winner.” He’d bet money that Risa Clay was a winner most of the time. This was a dangerous woman, and that flipped every one of