Las Vegas Layover (5 page)

Sebastian gently turned her toward him. His hands slid between his shirt, still dangling from her shoulders, and her thin-as-air dress to settle hot and solid on her hips. “What time’s your flight tomorrow?”

She shifted closer, her breasts brushing against his chest. He groaned low in his throat, and her breath came out in a rush. “One.”

“Can I call your room in the morning?” For all the arrogance she’d seen in him today, Sebastian’s expression now was open, exposed. And he didn’t seem to give a damn.

Because he wanted to see her again.

“You really must be a glutton for punishment,” Clara said, glad for it. Of course, she might have been the true glutton. Who knew anymore? “Here,” she grabbed a pen from the breast pocket of his shirt and pulled one of his hands into hers. Writing her number on the back of his palm, she said, “This is my cell. Maybe we can have breakfast or something.”

He glanced down at the numbers on his hand, a crooked smile lifting one side of his mouth. “You know, I could have just entered your number into my phone.”

“You could have,” she agreed, adding what she hoped was a coy smile. His grin vanished and he gritted his teeth as she slowly slid his pen into the front pocket of his shorts. “But now, every time you look at your hand, you’ll think of me.”

“Oh, Clara.” He sighed her name, and without warning, hauled her firmly against his chest once more. “If you’re looking to torture me, I think you can do better than that.”

The challenge was there in his rough tone, in the steel glint of his gray eyes, in the pressure of his hand on her naked back.

Clara answered with a quickness that stunned them both. Lifting onto her tiptoes gave her precious little more height than her heels, so she threaded her fingers into his soft, dark hair and tugged. Hard. He let her drag his lips to hers, covering her mouth with entirely too much restraint. She slid her tongue tentatively against his lower lip, and moaned. Sweet Lord, he tasted like testosterone-flavored heaven.

Sebastian groaned again and took complete possession of her mouth, his tongue thrusting deep inside to do all the things she longed to have other parts of his body imitate.

The kiss was hot, wet and thorough. It only left them both shaken and hungry for more.

Clara’s voice was a husky pant when she finally broke the embrace. “Go fix your plane.” She winked and tried to shove him away. He wouldn’t let her, holding fast to her hips. She moved to give his shirt back, but he gently pushed her hands away, his rough fingers languorous against her skin. When he dipped his head to kiss the goose bumps on her bare shoulder, a quiver danced down her spine and turned her knees to mush.

He brushed his lips over hers once more. This time slowly, sweetly. “Be careful tonight. And change out of that thing,” he grumbled, tugging at one of the puny black straps of her dress before he walked away.

It took a moment for his words to penetrate her dazed mind. He’d already made it a few feet closer to the street when she called after him. “What’s wrong with my dress?”

His stride never faltered as he crossed the square. “That one’s just for me.”

Chapter Eight

“What is your problem?” Sebastian grumbled as he and Steve ran the final checks from the cockpit.

“Praise Jesus!” Steve shouted, waving his hands in the air like a Bible-thumping holy-roller. “It really is you. I thought you’d been abducted and replaced with someone…nice.” He shivered. “That goofy-ass smile you’ve been sporting all night was starting to weird me out.”

Sebastian closed his eyes and concentrated on not punching one of his best friends. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“You’ve been grinning like an idiot since I picked you up. I don’t need to ask. You obviously paid for a happy ending.” Steve’s eyebrows wiggled. “I don’t blame you. She was hot.”

“Fuck you,” Sebastian snapped. Comparing Clara to a prostitute was about to earn the guy a fat lip and then some. “She was my date, ass wipe. I met her on the flight out. And believe me, if there’d been any chance of a happy ending, I wouldn’t be looking at your ugly mug right now.”

Steve didn’t say anything for a moment. He just sat there blinking. Finally he managed, “Damn, dude, am I invited to the wedding?”

Sebastian glared. “If I was getting castrated, I sure as hell wouldn’t be smiling.”

Steve grinned with condescension he probably felt his due after twenty-eight years of happily-ever-after. “Marriage doesn’t equal castration, dumbass. It means you have one gorgeous woman who, if you’re good to her, will have sex with you on a regular basis.”

“Spare me,” Sebastian muttered reflexively. Normally, this much talk of matrimony sent him into a fit of shivers. Today, when it was Clara under discussion, his blood still ran cold, but his spine remained unaffected.

And he had absolutely zero desire to figure out why
that
was.

Muffling a yawn with the crook of his arm, Sebastian glanced at his phone for the thousandth time. Five a.m. What was he supposed to do now? There was no point in getting a hotel room. He was booked on the eleven o’clock flight back to St. Louis. Thankfully Vegas never slept.

A few minutes later, Steve pulled up to the curb of Freemont Street, the older, slightly rundown part of Vegas. Ancient neon billboards buzzed at them while a music video played on the arched roof between the buildings on either side of the street.

“You sure you don’t want to come in and have a beer with me?” Sebastian asked.

“No offense,” Steve yawned, “but Cathy is lying in my bed as we speak, and she looks a damn sight better naked than you do.”

“That’s not what you said last night, big boy.” Sebastian winked.

“Get. Out.”

Sebastian stepped into the dark, slamming the door behind him.

“Hey,” Steve called through the open window. When Sebastian met his gaze, Steve smiled. “I don’t know what’s going on, but I haven’t seen you like this in a long time. It’s nice.” He chuckled. “That woman might be good for you. I mean, she’s got you acting all normal, and you haven’t even slept with her yet. I’d say that’s worth looking into.”

Sebastian just nodded, because, really, what could he say to that?

He watched Steve’s truck disappear into the night before ambling in to the Golden Nugget and settling in at the bar to nurse a beer. Waitresses, all wearing the same short blue dresses with tantalizingly low necklines, strutted around the room, delivering drinks to the patrons plunking pennies into slot machines.

He never could figure out those damned slots. There were so many options that by the time you were done pushing buttons, a penny game cost a quarter a pull. Not to mention he could get totally screwed and never know it. If Captain Hook told him the way Wendy, Peter Pan and the teddy bear were lined up didn’t give him bupkis, well, who was he to argue?

Sitting there, blinking at a cartoon of Tinkerbell in her green micro, Sebastian realized he actually was a total moron. He slapped a five on the counter and strode back toward the street.

Finding a cab took a while, but when he did, the destination tumbled from his lips as though it had been fighting to get out for hours. “The Venetian.”

Chapter Nine

Clara thought completing Betty’s list would give her some sense of accomplishment, some blessed peace.

Not so much.

Every magnet she saw, every T-shirt she read only made her stomach hurt and her eyes water. Growing up, Clara had been her aunt’s travel buddy. Whenever Betty wanted to visit friends or family out of town, or just see something new, she loaded her minivan with enough snacks and soda to feed an entire sumo team and grabbed Clara for the weekend. It never mattered where they went. Clara loved the time spent just being together.

After Sebastian left her last night, she’d done her damnedest to let go of all the pain and allow the mindlessness of window-shopping to take over. It would work for a little while, until she saw something she actually liked or that made her laugh. Then she’d reflexively turn to point it out to Betty and the sadness of finding no one beside her nearly brought her to her knees.

Even when they were hundreds of miles from home, Betty never wanted for friends. She was a natural people person, a quality Clara had always very much admired. Last night she’d downright envied it.

Then Clara had flopped into bed just before two a.m. She should have been out cold for the night, but she wasn’t. It had been one hell of a day. Her thoughts swirled like an army of flies in the back of her mind, making rest impossible.

Two questions kept pushing their way to the front: Would she ever see Sebastian again? And, did she want to? The practical part of her always returned a resounding no; their lives were hundreds of miles and a whole lot of painful experiences apart. But her heart didn’t seem as convinced.

She didn’t think the confusion all stemmed from that one hot, frustratingly short kiss. But that kiss certainly caused its share of turmoil.

Clara wasn’t deluded. She wasn’t wired for one-night stands, and Sebastian wasn’t looking for a ninety-five pound souvenir. But that kiss… That damned kiss had left her hungry and twitchy and just lonely enough to question the merits of being such a prude about sex. Would it really have been so horrible to open her heart—and her legs—to him this once? Yes, she would have wound up right back in the same lonely boat when it ended, but at least she would have had some nice hot memories to keep her warm. What had restraint gotten her? Little sleep in a cold bed and a wicked case of the grumps courtesy of some high-octane sexual frustration.

When the alarm clock read six in bright red numbers, Clara gave up the battle for sleep with a groan. She’d shower, treat herself to a nice breakfast, and stroll the Strip one last time before taking a cab to the airport. With an early start, she’d have plenty of time to get a mimosa in her before her flight. Maybe the terror of imminent demise would get that man out of her head.

The bathroom was a dream come true. All done in taupe stone and chrome fixtures, the shower could easily accommodate the better half of a basketball team. A glass wall jutted out with a small opening at one end, just out of reach of the hot water pouring from a designer showerhead. The stream’s gentle beat released the tension from her shoulders, sloughing off some of her anxiety. She didn’t indulge for very long, though. She had a plan.

Clara dressed in a tank top and shorts and had almost finished blow drying her hair when the walls shook enough to rattle the mirror. Frowning at her reflection, she turned the hair dryer off and set it on the sink. Before she could walk the four steps to the door, the pounding returned, though with less force this time.

Her heart thumped in her throat as she leaned cautiously toward the peephole. When she pressed her eye to the glass, she found a tiny, fish-eyed version of the face that had played through her mind a thousand times in the past few hours.

“Open up, Clara. It’s me.” Sebastian’s voice sounded strained but determined.

She released the breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding and slid the bolt aside. As the door glided noiselessly inward, Sebastian took a step back and looked her over from head to toe. The first pass was proprietary, like he was making sure she still had all her fingers and toes after being left on her own for a whole night. The second pass was something altogether different.

His gaze started at her toes, then caressed her hips and her breasts. It lingered on her face, though, drinking in her every feature as if they’d been apart for years, not hours. As if there was more between them than simple lust. And if that wasn’t bad enough to make her heart hurt, she caught herself doing the same with him. His handsome face and lean muscles made her stomach quiver with need even as the tired circles under his eyes made her worry.

Suddenly nervous, she wrapped her arms around her stomach and stared at her feet. “Hey.”

“Goddamn, you’re beautiful.”

Her gaze snapped back to him, but he didn’t say anything more. He just continued to stand in the hall, gawking at her as if that simple act was more important than breathing.

Clara smiled. That was Sebastian at his core. He processed everything out loud, stating observations without explanation or apology. Right or wrong, kind or rude, it was simply how he felt and he didn’t try to hide it.

She bit her lip, not knowing how to take such a wonderful compliment. “Did you come all the way over here just to tell me that? Or was there something else you wanted?”

That did the trick. He seemed to shake himself and another slow, sexy smile curved his lips, lighting his face all the way to his storm-cloud eyes. “There’s definitely something else I want.”

“Oh, for the love of Pete,” Clara said, plopping her hands on her hips. “I told you I wasn’t going to sleep with you. I haven’t changed my mind.” She sounded confident. She felt like throwing herself at him.

Sebastian’s grin didn’t falter, but a gentle rustle drew her attention to the large plastic bag she hadn’t noticed he was carrying. Her face heated and his smile widened. “I’d pretend to be offended that your mind is always in the gutter when it comes to me. But we’d both know that was horseshit.

“I finished a while ago,” he continued, his eyes raking slowly over her body yet again, this time lingering on her bare legs. “I didn’t want to bother with a hotel, so I thought I’d come mooch a shower from you. I bought a change of clothes in the gift shop.”

Her mouth went dry as the desert outside. The image of him naked in the next room, his hard body covered in slick, wet—

Clara had to clear her throat. Twice. “It probably would have been more fun to mooch off Sheri.”

He arched one brow, but refused to rise to the bait. “Are you going to let me use your shower or not?”

“Hmm…” She tapped her chin with one finger. “What’s in it for me?”

“I’m sure we could think of something,” he said, lightning crackling in his eyes. “I brought condoms. You could be my girlfriend.” Sebastian’s response was little more than a laughing whisper, but it tingled its way down her spine.

“Wow,” Clara said dryly. “That is so not funny.”

“Move over, sweetheart,” he said. Prowling forward, he backed her against the door and pushed inside her room. The opening was more than wide enough for him to walk by without crowding her, yet his chest brushed purposefully across her breasts as he entered, his eyes gleaming with mischief that dared her to object.

Little did he know how unobjecting her thoughts were. The mildest of them involved pinching his tight butt as he went by.

Her heart slammed against her ribs as she turned to close the door, shutting them together in the silence of her room. She had a second chance. The question now was what to do with it. Would a few hours in his arms be worth all the later pain?

She stayed facing the door as she tried to make up her mind. Her fingers were still shaking against the handle when he tugged at her hips.

His lips pressed against her ear, his voice a low thrum against her nerves. “Your plan worked.”

The tip of his tongue brushed over the shell of her ear in a long velvety stroke, igniting a slow burn low in her belly. He couldn’t see her face, so Clara let her eyes drift shut, luxuriating in the simple pleasure of his touch. “And what plan was that?”

He spun her around, making her gasp. His arms settled on her shoulders, effectively pinning her, as his lips continued their quest along her jaw. Yet the cage of his arms didn’t frighten her. This was the safe side of a strong wall.

“You said you wrote your number on my hand so I’d think of you whenever I saw it,” he reminded between wet, open-mouthed kisses along her collarbone. “It was torture,” he growled, scraping his teeth over her skin before shifting his attention to the sensitive hollow beneath her ear. The fire in her stomach spread to pool between her legs as his hands slid to her waist, gently tugging at the bottom of her thin tank.

“Good,” she moaned.

He laughed, a dark, husky sound that vibrated into her aching core. “Sadist.” He nipped her skin, a tiny punishment. “I think the least you can do is let me use your shower.”

“The least I could do is throw you out.”

He chuckled again. And why wouldn’t he? Her husky voice mocked her words.

“Ah, but you’re not going to do that, are you, Tink?”

“Tink?” she asked, momentarily sidetracked.

“You know, like Tinkerbell. You kind of remind me of her, little and feisty.” He shrugged. “I like it.”

So did she. It felt familiar. Right.

One long-fingered hand slid boldly beneath her shirt, running slow circles over her ribs and along her spine, bowing her to him and stealing her breath.

She’d been dreaming about the feel of his rough, calloused hands on her bare flesh all night, but her mind hadn’t done the incredible sensation justice. His touch was like being branded in the best way. If she let him, he would mark her for life. She just didn’t know whether the scar would heal into fond memories or be an ever-tender wound.

He took a step back. The absence of his heat was a physical pain, but it didn’t last long. Sebastian pulled her away from the door and into his arms, rubbing his chin on the top of her head. It was…sweet. Almost loving.

“You’re so fucking tiny.” He laughed when she stiffened. “Don’t get all fired up. You are, and I love it. You’re travel-sized for my convenience.”

A giggle bubbled out that made her feel very young.

Sebastian was so far out of her league, an all-star seducer. She wasn’t even a rookie. But she could be.

“You taste sweet too,” he said. “It’s all I’ve been able to think about. I thought maybe it was the wine you had at dinner, but…” He paused, shaking his head. “Your mouth, your skin…” He took her earlobe between his teeth and flicked it with his tongue. “It’s just you. And now all I can think about is how sweet other parts of you must taste.” Strengthening his grip on her waist, he lifted her like she didn’t weigh an ounce. Her breath blasted out in a rush as he levered her against the door. His eyes blazed with passion and his voice turned gruff. “Wrap your legs around me, Tink.”

Her thighs obeyed, clamping tightly around his narrow hips. His erection pressed against her heated core, wringing a ragged moan from her lips.

Her mind tried one last time to intrude, to put a stop to what was happening, but her body firmly told her brain to shut the hell up and rubbed itself against his hot, hard length.

Everything was washed away in the tide that consumed her. All of the grief and worry, all of the loss and pain were bound and gagged by need.

The past two years of her life had demanded her all. It never mattered what she wanted to do, only what she needed to do. She didn’t regret a single decision, but that part of her life was over. Right now she wanted to be selfish. She wanted to forget. And she wanted to do it in the safety of Sebastian’s arms.

He groaned into her mouth, making her wild. Her fingers speared into his thick hair. Tugging roughly, she kissed him back with abandon. His hands slid down to cup her ass. His searing palms pushed her shorts aside, searching out bare flesh.

When she whimpered his name, he leaned away, his chest heaving against her breasts with every gasping breath he took. She was arrogantly pleased, until he opened his fool mouth again.

“Shit.” Closing his eyes, he buried his face in the crook of her neck. “I’m sorry.”

Confused, she turned back to question him. Before the first word could pass her lips, Sebastian brushed his mouth over hers again. Not the openly carnal kiss they’d just shared. This was slow and sweet, tender. He squeezed her bottom, still bare against his palm, one last time and slid his hands back to her waist.

“I swear to God, that isn’t why I came here. Don’t throw me out, okay?” he begged, unashamed. “I promise I’ll behave myself now.” He swallowed, his eyes glazed with need and glued to her breasts. “Well, I promise to try.”

Clara fought to steady her breathing as he gently slid her to her feet.

“I’m going to take that shower,” he said, his voice gruff. “A cold, cold shower.” Before she could make any sense of what had just happened, he grabbed his shopping bag and disappeared into the bathroom.

As the thick door swung closed with a soft click, she understood. Respect had stopped his assault on her senses. Respect for her.

A smile curved her lips as the pitter-patter of running water filled the air. The last of her doubts falling away, she stripped out of her clothes and silently opened the bathroom door.

Sebastian didn’t hear her approach. Eyes clamped shut against the water, he lathered shampoo into his hair and Clara looked her fill. Black hair sprinkled lightly over tight, tan limbs. A small concentration swirled about the middle of his chest before running a thin line between hard abs and past his belly button. Clara’s eyes widened as her gaze fell. She didn’t know if
that
was going to fit.

Smiling again, she edged into the shower in front of him. There was only one way to find out.