Loving the Odds (What Happens in Vegas) (5 page)

“And I’m not one of those people who uses literally when they mean figuratively,” she added.

“I’m sure you use the correct word at all times.” His lip twitched but he managed to keep a straight face.

“Oh, I try to. Grammar is very important and not enough people take care with it.” She paused. “Hang on; you’re teasing me, aren’t you?”

“Me, never.” He put a hand to his chest in mock sincerity. “I’m a total gentleman.”

The fine arch of her brows said it all. “Riiiight.”

“You wound me.”

She laughed. “Want me to kiss it better?”

It was a saying, a colloquialism…he knew that. But those six little words managed to suck all the air out of his lungs and disconnect his body from his brain. He stepped forward and her breath hitched. The blacks of her pupils ate away at the electric rim of blue around them.

“What did you say, Bailey?” His voice came out roughhewn. Edgy.

“I just meant…” She sucked in a breath and mashed her lips together.

Desperate desire rushed through him. He wanted to press his lips to her throat and see if her pulse was racing the same as his. What would it be like to drag his lips across her skin? Would she taste as clean and fresh as she smelled?

“It was a joke,” she whispered. Her tongue darted out to touch the corner of her mouth and that flash of pink totally undid him. “I think.”

The space shrunk between them as he closed in. “You think?”

“I don’t know.” She stood rooted to the ground. “What if it wasn’t?”

“Are you saying you want to kiss me, Bailey?”

Her lips parted as if in invitation and her hands came up to his chest automatically. The soft, feathery touch of her fingers through his T-shirt stoked the fire inside him. She moved her hands over his pecs and up to his shoulders. The movement was gentle, but passion flickered across her face like a flame.

“I’m still deciding.” She pressed her sweet little body against him, her bare thighs lining up with his.

The delicate swirl of her hips forced his blood south. He was hard as fucking steel. “You’re
still
deciding?”

“Well, I don’t usually kiss random men. Actually, I’ve never been one to kiss much and there’s a chance I may not be good at it.” Her brows creased but her hands fisted into the cotton of his T-shirt. “At least that’s what I’ve been told.”

“You’re giving me some very mixed signals right now.” His face hovered inches from hers, their breath mingling in the air between them.

“I want to kiss you, but…” Her lips quivered. “I’m scared.”

“Why don’t we take it slow?” Lance brushed his mouth over hers. It was more a whisper than a kiss. “Glacial, even.”

“Glacial,” she sighed as he slid his hands up the back of her neck to cradle her head. “I like that.”

His thumbs stroked her ears as he kissed one corner of her mouth and then the other. Slow. Soft. Her fresh scent curled around him.

“That feels good,” she murmured, her eyes fluttering shut.

He traced his tongue along the seam of her mouth and she opened for him, her lips glistening and shiny like ripe fruit. When he leaned in again, her tongue came out to meet his and he moaned into her mouth.

“God, Bailey. You taste so sweet.”

“Hmmm,” she hummed in agreement.

Her tongue slid over his, exploring. Tasting. Her lips were pillowy, luscious. His hands dropped to her back, sliding down the soft cotton that smelled of him and her together. Curving over the swell of her buttocks, he pulled her closer. His cock throbbed in time with his heartbeat, creating an insistent thrum of desire.

“Oh,” she gasped as he pressed against her.

“See what you do to me, Bailey.” He peppered kisses along her jaw. “You’ve got me so goddamn hard.”

“Yes, I can feel that.” Her voice had taken on a dream-like quality. “It’s very hard.”

The combination of her innocent shock and the heat of her kiss were like the headiest of drugs. He wanted to drown in the taste of her, in the heat of her. Holding her tight, he backed them up until she hit the armchair. She sat on the arm and he nudged her legs apart with his thigh.

He hadn’t known how she would react, but the low, keening moan that came from the back of her throat was the ultimate reward. Her hips rolled and she pressed her sex against his thigh.

“I have to feel you,” he growled, slipping a hand under the hem of the T-shirt.

Warm skin greeted his palm and he traced her, drawing a line over her stomach and ribcage until the weight of her breast molded into his touch. The hard press of her nipple drew his attention and he swirled the heel of his palm against it in slow circles.

“Lance,” she sighed into his mouth. “Oh my…this does not feel glacial.”

No, it certainly did not. He brushed his thumb lightly over her nipple and she gasped, her hips jerking against his leg. Her fists had released their hold on his T-shirt and were making their way down to the waistband of his tracksuit pants.

Dear God, yes!

A sharp knock at the door made Bailey jump so hard that she teetered backward and nearly fell off the seat. He righted her and stepped away, raking a hand through his hair.

“Room service,” announced the voice on the other side of the door.

Chapter Five

Bailey touched her fingertips to her cheeks. Her skin was fever-like, hot and tender, and that was only the outside. Inside, her bones felt like marshmallows and her stomach was doing more summersaults than a circus performer.

And that was only a kiss…

Lance’s voice sounded from the door as he greeted the room service attendant and carried the tray containing their dinner into the room. If she’d been attracted to him before, being exposed to his talented hands and tongue made her want to lay at his feet and offer herself up. Even the way he walked across the room, the fluidity of his stride and the ease at which he moved around, was utterly tempting.

“I got some sliders, a few satay skewers, some fries, fruit, these little cake”—he held up a
petit four
—“things.”

“Thanks.” It was a miracle she’d been able to find her voice to respond.

Her hands fluttered at the hem of his T-shirt. Wearing it made her feel as if he was embracing her again, wrapping her up in his deliciously rich, masculine scent. Holding her tight against him so she could feel every hard plane, every bump, every ridge.

There’s no need to get all hormonal about a kiss. It’s not a big deal.

But it was a big deal and now Lance was acting like nothing had happened between them. She drew a deep breath to slow the beating of her heart.

“There are a few drinks in the mini bar.” He paused and looked at her, his brows creasing when he saw that she hadn’t moved an inch. “Help yourself to whatever you like.”

A horrible thought zinged across her brain. What if she was a terrible kisser? What if he’d been saved by the bell and now he was focusing on the food because the thought of kissing her again was grossing him out?

What if she kissed like a wet fish?

She pushed her glasses farther up her nose and swallowed the doubts. Freaking out about a kiss wouldn’t solve anything and she was under no obligation to care about what Lance thought—of her kissing ability or anything else. Her stomach grumbled in response.

He handed her a plate and let her have first pick of the food while he pulled a half-bottle of wine from the fridge. “Would you like some wine?”

“That’s going to cost a fortune. Did you know that alcohol is sometimes marked up over three hundred and fifty percent in hotel minibars compared to what you would pay in a store?” She selected a slider with chicken and bacon in it and put it on her plate. “Now a lot of hotels are getting rid of minibars because of the high instances of theft.”

He raised a brow. “So was that a yes on the wine?”

“Please. I love wine.”

He chuckled as he opened the bottle and poured two glasses. “I’m glad we ran into each other.”

“Really?” She paused as her hand hovered over the desserts. Okay, so maybe he didn’t think she was a terrible kisser.

“It’s certainly made the convention more interesting. Don’t get me wrong, I love my job but things at the office have been a little…” He tilted his head as if considering the best option.

“Awkward?”

“I was going to say
Game of Thrones
.” He carried the wine glasses over to the small coffee table by the window. “I feel like I’m Jon Snow when—”

“No spoilers! I’m not up to date.” She took one of the two armchairs—boldly patterned with purple, green, and white diamonds—and balanced her plate in her lap. “Seriously, you try to have a normal conversation and then
wham!
someone spoils you. Totally uncool.”

“How are you not caught up?” The clacking of plates moving sounded behind her and he reappeared a moment later with his meal.

“I work late.” Her teeth sank into the soft bun of the slider and the rich flavors burst in her mouth.

“You must have
some
down time. It’s only on once a week.”

“I’m at the office most nights until after eight-thirty. Then, by the time I get home and think about eating something for dinner, I’m too tired for TV.” She reached for her wine glass. “And on the weekends I’m trying to do all the stuff I didn’t have time do during the week, like laundry, vacuuming, paying bills.”

God, could her life sound any more pathetic? She’d basically admitted to Lance that she was a reclusive cat lady minus the cats. Maybe this was why she couldn’t seem to hold down a steady relationship. It wasn’t only Julian who’d given up on her. She’d had two serious boyfriends before him and she’d been the dumpee every single time.

“Then you throw all that aside to come to Vegas on a whim?”

“It wasn’t a whim. I figured that the only way I would get the watch back would be if I caught Julian by surprise. It was a risk, but not a whim.” She sipped her wine. “I weighed the pro and cons. I made a budget and planned how to get here.”

“You should try following a whim some time.” His eyes shifted to gray in the room’s dim lighting. Like the color of the sky right before a storm rolled in. “You might have fun.”

“I don’t think so.” She took another bite of her slider and chewed. “I like to know that if things go wrong, I have a plan B and you can’t have that if you don’t have a plan A.”

“You’ll miss out on some amazing opportunities,” he warned, taking a sip of his wine.

She wondered how it would taste on his lips, mingling with his unique flavor. Would his kiss be cold, chilled by the wine? Or would he be hot, burning up the alcohol and leaving only the sweet taste of grapes?

What would have happened if they weren’t interrupted?

A pulsing heat swept through her. She couldn’t visualize what they would look like together, since her experience was limited to dark rooms. But her body ached where she imagined his hands. His lips.

She may not be able to see it in her mind, but she could most definitely
feel
it.

Since when do you have sex on the brain? Stop acting like a starved animal.

“Has acting impulsively worked out for you?” she said, shaking off the temptation.

“I stand by my choices.” He placed the wineglass back on the table.

“But you said earlier that you had a bad reputation when you were young. Surely you regret whatever it was that gave you that reputation?”

His face seemed to go blank, as though a mask had slipped over his features and concealed any clues to what he might be thinking. “Regret is a waste of time. The best thing I can do now is keep taking action so people know I’m not that same person.”

“What happened?”

“I was a dumb kid who didn’t want to be in school. I started skipping class, started smoking and getting into trouble. I got kicked out of one high school for fighting.” He raked a hand through his hair. “Then there were a few break-ins in our neighborhood. Some stereo equipment was stolen and I happened to have bought myself a new game console that week. People said I pawned the stuff but I never stole anything. I had a job but that didn’t stop people talking. My parents ended up sending me away to live with my aunt for a while.”

“That must have been hard.”

“Yeah, I had a teacher once tell me that she never thought I’d amount to anything because I was a ‘bad seed.’ A rotten apple.” He shrugged, but hurt glimmered in his eyes. “I guess that’s why I’m so pissed that my boss blames me for what happened with her daughter. She’s like that old teacher.”

“Maybe you’re a bad boy,” Bailey said with a smile. “I hear they’re popular.”

“I’m a risk-taker.”

“That’s not always a good thing. Just my opinion, of course.” She held up her hands, not wanting to insult him but more reminding herself that Lance was not the kind of guy to get entangled with…no matter how tempting he looked.

“You didn’t seem to mind me acting a little risky earlier,” he said.

“I was having trouble arranging my thoughts.”

“I wonder why.”

She had an overwhelming desire to abandon her food and climb into his lap. To kiss that smirking mouth into submission. To take and take and take until her body was sated.

But now she had the distance and clear head to think about whether or not kissing Lance was a good idea. He was handsome, sure, and he had a body like a God. Not to mention his talented mouth. But she was relying on him for help this weekend since it was clear that she couldn’t work up the courage to confront Julian on her own.

Jeopardizing that was all kinds of stupid.

What’s your primary objective?

It was the question her grandfather had taught her to ask herself whenever she felt muddled and anxious about making a decision. Always come back to the goal, which, in this case, was the watch. Did kissing help that along? No.

“I seem to recall some kind of distraction,” she said airily, reaching for a
petit four
in decadent shades of pink and yellow.

“I’m feeling some kind of distracted now.”

“Hmm?” She popped the cake in her mouth and looked up mid-way through eating it. Sticky strawberry-flavored jam dotted her fingertip.

In a flash Lance was out of his chair, looming over her. “Mind if I share your dessert?” he asked, capturing her wrist in one hand.

The heat from his eyes made her tingle all over and her ability to communicate melted down into a single syllable. “Hmmm.”

He brought her hand to his mouth and enveloped her finger with his lips. The firm sucking sensation made her mind go blank, her brain fizzing for a moment before shutting down completely. She couldn’t even hold her eyes open. All she wanted was to revel in the feel of his mouth on her, of the hot promise on his lips.

“Delicious,” he whispered and the warmth of his breath on her cheek told her he was close.

All she had to do was turn her head and—

“Oh baby!”

The shrill cry cut through their moment, plunging Bailey into an ice-cold bucket of reality. “Huh?”

Her eyes snapped open and the telltale rhythmic squeak of mattress springs filled the room. A high, keening moan came through the wall followed by a growl of pleasure. She was all too familiar with that particular sound.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” she muttered, folding her arms over her chest. “At least I know I’m not going to have to listen to it all night. Should be done in a few minutes.”

Lance snorted. “Sounds like you’re better off without him.”

They paused as another cry cut through the air. The squeaking intensified.

“Oh for the love of God.” This was a hundred shades of awkward.

“Do you want to go for a walk?”

And let Julian beat her? Again? At some point a girl had to dig her heels in and stop letting herself be pushed around.

“No way. I’m sick of doing things because of him. We’re staying.” She folded her arms across her chest.

Lance rocked back on his heels, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his tracksuit pants, which only drew her eyes there. The material was thin and it clung to him, outlining a rather impressive bulge, despite his attempt to pull the material forward.

She opened her mouth to say something but her train of thought was derailed when there was a loud bump, causing a large print to shake against the wall. The moans were louder now, clearer.

“Do they not have sound proofing in this damn hotel?” she muttered, pushing out of her seat and pacing in front of the bed.

Leaving the room would mean giving Julian another victory over her and even if he never found out about it, she would know. She was sick of giving things up for selfish people.

Lance raised a brow. “Are you sure—?”

“We’re
not
leaving.”

…

There had to be some way to distract Bailey. And he needed an alternative to what he wanted to do—which was to throw her down on the bed and show her what it was like to be with a guy who lasted more than a few minutes. Hell, he wanted to show her what it would be like to be licked from head to toe. To be fucked so thoroughly and completely that she forgot her ex’s name. That she forgot her own name.

But that couldn’t happen now that it was clear she was in pain.

He wouldn’t take advantage by using her vulnerability to get her into bed, even though he was quite sure she would have gone willingly a moment ago.

An idea struck him. He could kill two birds with one stone—help her have a little fun in a crazy awkward situation
and
get one over her Neanderthal ex. That idiot needed to know what he’d lost. “If you can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em. Right?”

“What on earth are you talking about?” Her arms were folded tight under her bust, dragging the hem of his T-shirt higher up her legs.

He jumped onto the bed and bounced up and down so the springs squeaked. “They’re not the only ones who can make a little noise.”

Her lips twitched. “You can’t be serious.”

“Oh, Bailey,” he moaned loudly.

Pink spread out across her cheeks and she clamped a hand over her mouth, shaking her head. “You did not just do that.”

“Oh, yeah!” He jumped again, pausing only to hold a hand out to her. “Come on.”

She hesitated but a thump behind the adjoining wall rattled the prints again and she let out a frustrated
ugh.
“Screw it.”

Her hand slipped into his and she jumped up onto the bed beside him, testing her balance as she bounced. Still holding his hand, she jumped hard. The shift in the mattress almost knocked him over.

“Oh, Lance, do me harder!” she cried, stifling a giggle with her other hand.

They jumped together, picking up the pace. She tossed her glasses onto the side table and her hair slipped from the knot on her head, tumbling over her shoulders in luscious black waves. It fell down her back and flicked as she jumped.

“Fuck me,” she cried out. “Please, Lance, fuck me.”

Her full lips wrapped around the curse and sent arousal spiking hard and fast through him. The dirty words were a thrilling combination with her innocent face and wide, electric eyes. A stunning contradiction that he did not have the will power to fight. His mind spiraled into vivid fantasies.

“You’ve got a potty mouth,” he said at normal volume, smiling to hide how much he wanted to hear her scream those words for real.

She bounced up and down, her breasts swaying under the cotton T-shirt. The peaks of her nipples pressed against the fabric, tempting him to touch. Taste.