Hitched (13 page)

Our breath mingles, tongues barely touching as our lips continue to find brief moments of connection.

And then I pull away and lean back into my pillow. "Was that titillating enough?"

He opens his eyes and grins at me. "Oh yes. And I'll remember that when it's my turn."

A shiver of anticipation courses through me as he draws another card.

"Next question," he says. "Who's my favorite entertainer?"

I have no idea, because even though we both live in Las Vegas, we haven't talked about pop culture much.

"It's actually someone right here in Las Vegas," he says. "David Melton."

"The magician?" I ask, while trying a flaky cheese-filled treat.

He nods.

I grin widely. "He might become a client of Hitched."

His eyes widen. "Really? How?"

I explain about my gift basket and the call and end with my plans to take over the world.

"You're a genius," he says. "I used to watch his shows, and I've been to his live performance a few times. I haven't seen his latest one yet, but it's on my to-do list. I don't believe in magic, but he certainly has me wondering how he does it all without any help from the supernatural."

"I think it's magic," I say. "Real magic. Nothing else makes sense. Some of that stuff just can't be faked."

Sebastian laughs. "It can all be explained, somehow. No magic involved. Just science. Logic. Trickery."

"Remember that time he made that guy disappear and then reappear
in another country with his family!
That was crazy. No way could that be faked. There has to be some deals with the devil or voodoo or something going on." I've always been convinced that magicians of Melton's caliber have some kind of hidden power none of us have. It's too amazing to be otherwise. I know this makes me sound silly, but not everything in the world can be explained and rationalized.

Sebastian leans over and kisses me. "I believe in one kind of magic, and that's the magic of how you make me feel when we're together."

"You have a way with the words," I tell him.

"I want to have my way with you."

I pull out of his grasp. "Not until we finish our game."

He groans and sits back in his spot. "Have you seen Melton perform live?"

"No. Believe it or not, I haven't seen any shows on the Strip since moving here."

"Seriously?" He asks.

"Seriously. We've either been too busy or too broke. Or both. I want to though. Especially
Le Reve
. I hear it's beautiful."

"That's one I haven't seen either, but the reviews are terrific. Looks like we just found our next date night." He winks at me and draws another card.

Which, of course, I answer incorrectly. Again. And I have to strip. I choose my shoes—first, because my feet hurt, and second because I want to tease him before taking off anything too revealing. I quickly learn after a few more turns that while I don't suck at guessing things about him that are simple, I still can't remember more than fleeting glimpses of that night. I also learn that the purple cards will mean one of us has to take off some clothes.

I'm hoping I guess a few more questions correctly as I watch him strip his shirt off, his muscles ripped and oh-so-sexy. I guessed his favorite food—Italian. And for that I get a nice view of the abs. I feel very lucky right now.

My luck does not last though, and it isn't long before I find myself wearing only the lingerie he had delivered to me. I don't feign embarrassment; instead I sip at the champagne, my fourth glass, and bite into a piece of dark chocolate, nearly moaning with the pleasure at the bittersweet flavor.

"I like watching you eat," he says. "You make love to food with your mouth. Though I admit to being jealous. I'd like that mouth on me."

Before he can distract me with another kiss, I grab a card from the deck. The question makes me pause. "What's my greatest fear?"

I hold my breath wondering how well he really knows me. Not just the trivia, but also the real me.

"The night we met, you told me it was ants. Which I find amusing, I must admit."

I'm about to tell him he's wrong, with some outward gloat, but an inward sadness. Sometimes we all want to be seen. Truly seen, you know?

But before I can talk, he reaches for my hand. "I don't think that's true, though," he says softly. "I think your greatest fear is becoming invisible. Losing yourself, your life, to someone else's dreams or plans. I think your greatest fear is not fully realizing every potential you carry inside of yourself."

My breathing stops, and my eyes fill with unwanted tears. I curse them. And him. And everything.

He leans toward me. "I see you, Kacie Michaels. And I don't want to change you. I want to love you as the amazing woman you already are, and I want to witness what else you accomplish with all that spirit you have. I want to be a part of that, not thwart it."

The game is forgotten then. As is the food, and the whipped cream. I thought we would fuck tonight. I thought we would get naughty and eat things off each other's body and do all manner of illicit and erotic things to each other.

But what is happening now is more than that. It's more than fucking as he stares into my eyes and slowly peels off what's left of my clothes.

It's more than sex as he lowers his powerful body over mine.

It's more than mutual pleasure as he pushes his cock into me.

As we become one.

As our flesh joins together, our hearts locked in the same rhythm, breathing each other's breath.

As we make love for the first time.

For the next few weeks, Sebastian and I spend nearly every night together. As I slink into the house one morning after a particularly late night talking, laughing, watching our favorite movies, making love… Tate corners me in the kitchen as I add sugar to my coffee.

"The prodigal sister returns, and not in the clothes you were wearing last night. Did the good doctor give you a drawer?" he asks, looking around for my bags.

"Yes, actually. And a key to his house." Which I'd been reluctant to accept, but it made the most sense, since he lives alone and we spend most of our time at his house.

Tate pulls himself up and sits on the counter, watching me wipe up spilled sugar. "It's getting serious." He doesn't say it as a question, but as a statement. And with his grown-up voice, as if to emphasize the actual seriousness of the situation.

"It's a summer fling. What have you been up to?"

"Nope, that's not going to work this time. This isn't a fling, and you know it, and you need to be honest with this guy if you're really planning on breaking his heart at the end of the summer. He doesn't deserve that."

I push down a flare of anger at being lectured by my womanizing brother on how to treat people in a romantic relationship. "Says the guy who doesn't bother calling a girl the next day. Look, Sebastian knows how I feel. Why does everything have to be defined and decided on now? Can't we just enjoy getting to know each other without all the pressure? I'm sick of it."

I'm about to stalk out of the kitchen, when Tate hops off the counter and stops me. "You're right; I'm sorry. I'm not in a position to judge anyone. I just don't want
you
to get hurt."

I soften my scowl. "I'm fine."

I walk to my desk and flip through the messages Tate left. There's one that catches my eye. "Mom called again?"

"Yeah. I didn't want to bother you, but apparently our beloved grandmother is getting worse. Mom insists we come visit."

I raise an eyebrow. "Insists? And she'll do what if we don't?"

He shrugs. "I'm just passing the message along. We also got a few new client calls."

I sink into my leather desk chair and fire up my MacBook. "Let's focus on that and forget all the drama, shall we? I need to lose myself in work today."

He nods and takes a seat at his own desk. We spend the rest of the day working hard, making plans for several other parties we have booked and placing ads in newspapers locally and in California, since a lot of Californians use Vegas as their last minute wedding destination.

At the end of the day, Tate brings me another cup of coffee and sits on the edge of my desk. "Are you gone again tonight?"

I realize he looks lonely. "No, Sebastian has to work tonight. I'm all yours. What do you want to do?"

He smiles, his blue eyes brightening. "How about Chinese take-out and movies?"

"Sounds perfect," I say, returning his smile. "Shall I invite Vi? We haven't hung with her in a while."

He nods, pulling out his phone. "I'll order food, you order the dominatrix."

"Haha! But fine. Order extra orange chicken. She always hogs it."

An hour later, the three of us are stuffing our faces with the best Chinese in town and laughing at Channing Tatum as he grabs his partner’s ball sack, thinking it's a grenade. Oh comedy—gotta love it.

After dinner, while Vi and Tate argue about the next movie choice and whether Adam Sandler or Channing Tatum is funnier (Channing always and forever, obviously, so in this I have to side with Vi), I liberate a few bottles of wine from our well-stocked cellar. I'm totally kidding here. We don't have a cellar, let alone a well-stocked one, but wouldn't it be cool to say that? No, I just pull the last two bottles of cabernet sauvignon out of our pantry, where they were stored next to our emergency macaroni and cheese boxes for nights when nothing else will fix life but mac and cheese from a box. Fortunately for my thighs, those nights don't happen often.

My phone buzzes while I pour three glasses. I check it, my pulse already accelerating in anticipation.

That brat. It's not Sebastian, as I'd obviously hoped, but rather Vi telling me to hurry up with the wine. "You're cruel," I holler from the kitchen as I cork the wine and balance three glasses.

"Oh, did you think it was from lover boy?" She bats her eyelashes and flips her long red hair dramatically.

"Fuck you," I say, handing her a glass.

"Thems is fighting words, but I'll forgive you now that I have this." She holds her glass up to her lips and sips. "Drink of the gods," she sighs.

Tate thanks me for his, smirking at our exchange, and I flop between the two of them. "Okay, what did you two decide for the next movie?"

They share a conspiratorial look and turn on the movie.

I laugh. "Gross Anatomy? Really? We're doing 80s movies now?"

Vi nudges me. "No, we're doing hot doctor movies now. We thought you might be in withdrawal, since it's been at least fifteen hours since you saw him last."

The sad thing is… I am. I miss him and am bummed he hasn't texted. But I'm not going to be that girl who can't go twenty-four hours without a guy. Nope. Not me.

My phone buzzes, and I jump to check it.

It's him.

My heart lifts, and I smile, knowing my twin and my best friend are mocking me. I don't care. Because apparently I
am
going to be that girl who acts like a crushing thirteen-year-old every time Sebastian texts me.

Missing me yet?

My fingers fly over the keypad.

Hadn't thought about you all day, actually. :P

His response comes quickly.

Pity. I've been thinking about you all day. And all the things I'm going to do to you when next we see each other.

My heart flip-flops.

And when might that be?

Ah, so you
are
missing me, then?

Maybe a little.

I have a proposition for you.

I pause for a moment before replying.

Does this involve another drunken wedding?

In a manner of speaking. My uncle is getting married at my parent's house in a few weeks. I was wondering if you would like to be my date. We'd be there from Friday to Sunday at the end of the month.

Wow. This is huge. Too huge. Meeting his whole family? Attending weddings together? We'd be like—I gulp—a couple.

Vi grabs the phone from me before I can react, and she reads the messages out loud. Then she types on my phone and clicks send. I pull the phone out of her hand.

"What have you done?"

She smirks at me. "Made things easier for you. You'll have a blast."

I look at my phone.

I'd love to. :) Sounds wonderful. When do we leave?