One Wild Vegas Night

One Wild Vegas Night

SJ Thomas

Breathless Press

Calgary, Alberta

www.breathlesspress.com

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or

persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

One Wild Vegas Night

Copyright© 2012

ISBN: 978-1-77101-911-8

Cover Artist: Victoria Miller

Editor: Kristie L. McKinley

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced electronically or in print without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations
embodied in reviews.

Breathless Press

www.breathlesspress.com

Dedication

To everyone who has helped and encouraged me to become an author.

I could not have done it without you.

C
HAPTER
O
NE

The couple in the middle of the dance floor swayed together in a sensual embrace, staring into each other’s eyes with a deep intensity, the heat between them almost palpable as they moved to the slow beat of the music. Sol Martinez watched them with a painful sense of yearning. After tonight he would never experience such passion.

Lifting his glass to his lips, Sol swallowed the last of his drink with a grimace. The burn did little to ease the black storm swirling inside him, but Sol was sure if he drank enough the storm would eventually calm. Around him, the club in his hotel was alive with the early-evening buzz only Las Vegas could provide and Sol was determined to lose himself in it, even it was only for this one night.

Raising his hand to signal the waitress for another, he cast a longing look at the human couples around him. Men and women brought together because of mutual attraction and free will. A precious luxury he was to be denied.

The waitress put his drink down and he slipped some dollars onto the table. Flashing him a suggestive smile, she scooped up the money and sauntered off, fully aware of how good she looked in her tight black skirt. Unconsciously, Sol’s grip tightened on his glass, his anger simmering at what he was facing.

As one of only a handful of pure-blooded jaguar shifters in the world, since childhood Sol had been pledged to mate a pure-bred jaguar female called Anita. A female who was both breathtakingly beautiful and a cold-hearted bitch he loathed.

Although he’d known her his whole life, Sol hated her, hated how spiteful she was, how she lorded her pure-breed status over everyone around her, not caring if she inflicted hurt with her cutting remarks and humiliations. Anita’s beauty did not override her flawed character, and Sol had known from an early age that there would be no passion between them. Hell, just the thought of having her in his bed was enough to make his cock go into hiding.

When he’d come of age, Sol had tried again and again to break the arrangement between them, pleading with his parents and Anita’s to release him from their pledge, but they had refused. The match was too good, the desire to breed more jaguars too strong, and tomorrow he would have to go through with the mating ceremony.

Sol slammed the glass to the table. The noise earned a few curious glances from the humans around him, but he didn’t care. God damn it, he didn’t want this! Didn’t want to be joined to someone he didn’t desire and who would make his life a misery. But for all his power and strength, he couldn’t get out of it.

Though he could go out on his own terms, which was what had brought him to Las Vegas. While he should have been at home preparing for the ceremony, Sol was in Sin City, the place where dreams could be made and where anything went. His last night of freedom, as far as he was concerned, and Sol was going to make it one wild night. Drowning himself in drink and burying himself in a string of willing females until Anita was nothing more than a bad dream.

Sol lifted his glass to his mouth, the liquid touching his lips with a welcoming sting, when a flash of red caught his eye. His head turned, his gaze zeroing in on the human woman who was walking into the bar. She was dressed in a slinky red dress that hugged her generous curves in a truly divine way and his gaze moved over her appreciatively, his body responding viscerally to the color. Males of his kind loved red.

Realizing he was staring at her body, Sol dragged his gaze up to her face and the view got even better. Her skin was pale but flawless, matching the light blonde hair that hung loosely down to her shoulders, giving her an ethereal quality. Large hazel eyes framed by thick lashes dominated her face, but were balanced by full, almost bee-stung lips. Her features gave her a sensual air that his animal side responded to instantly.

Yet despite how she was dressed, and the sensuality that rolled off her in waves, she looked nervous, her wide eyes darting around the bar, her skin flushing when she noticed the interested looks from the gathered men. She kept flicking glances over her shoulder, as if she was expecting someone to come after her.

Sol’s brow furrowed. The woman was dressed for sex, dressed to turn heads, but her manner screamed the exact opposite. He found it a fascinating contradiction. Breathing in deeply, Sol caught her scent, his groin tightening in response. He could smell her fear, but underneath that he could also smell her, a delicate floral scent that sank into his cells, firing up his blood and hardening his body.

His fingers clenched, digging furrows into the table, and he quickly drew his hand back. Now this was what he wanted—that physical, gut-deep reaction to a female, that possessive need to stalk over there and pull her tight to his body, to imprint part of himself on her so every other male would know she was his. But for the moment he held himself back.

He watched as she took a seat and ordered a drink, her hand clutching her purse so tightly he could see her knuckles whitening. She looked scared and uncomfortable but taking a deep breath, she crossed her legs, exposing an expanse of thigh that attracted even more glances from the males in the bar. Sol struggled to suppress a growl. Oh yes. He was definitely feeling possessive.

The woman kept her eyes down, not raising them till she’d taken a large swallow of her drink, but when she did, their gazes locked instantly. Sol’s entire body tensed in reaction and her eyes widened, a delicate blush moving across her cheek. She looked positively mouthwatering and it took all his self-control to remain seated.

Sol tipped his head as he smiled at her, and she tentatively returned the gesture before dropping her gaze and reaching for her drink. She was skittish, on edge, ready to bolt at any minute; exactly like prey being stalked. The thought sent a bolt of lust straight through him and into his cock. Sol shifted uncomfortably in his seat, trying to adjust himself without anyone noticing.

Forget who else he’d intended to be with that night. In that instant, Sol knew he wanted this woman. Wanted to break through whatever fear she was carrying until she was naked beneath him and he was thrusting inside her. He would have her legs wrapped around him and her cries ringing in his ears before the night was out.

Seeing that her glass was nearly empty, Sol signaled the waitress. “Another for me and whatever the woman over there is having,” he said, nodding toward her.

“Sure thing, honey. Do you want me to invite her over here?”

“No, just send the drink to her.”

“You got it.”

Sol watched with a growing sense of anticipation as the waitress took the drink over. The woman looked up at her in surprise and started to protest, but when the waitress gestured to him, he nodded and smiled. She looked shocked, but then returned his nod with a small smile, accepting the drink and taking a sip.

Sol had meant to wait before walking over, but when her tongue darted out to dab at the alcohol lingering on her lips, he was up and moving toward her before he even realized it.

***

When she saw the man stand and begin to walk over to her, Hannah’s first instinct was to leave, but she held herself still. This was what she wanted, wasn’t it? To be out having fun and meeting men, being wild and crazy, not worrying about consequences. Everything she’d not been able to be or do for so long.

And the man who slowly walked over to her was too good to be true. He looked Latino, his skin and hair deliciously dark and exotic, the stubble that covered his chin giving him a rough edge at odds with his obviously expensive clothes. His jacket was cut tight to his body, giving tantalizing hints of the muscles it hid.

As soon as she’d seen him, Hannah had been drawn to him, and when he’d smiled at her, his face lit up with a sexy warmth that seemed to go straight between her thighs. For a few moments she’d actually forgotten to breathe.

He exuded sex, and she hadn’t missed the heated way he was looking at her. Male attention still made Hannah nervous, the automatic fear of what it could lead to still with her, and there was something almost hungry about the way this man looked at her. Such need should have scared her even more, but she felt her body’s reaction; her skin became flushed and desire pulsed through her.

Trying not to stare, she dropped her gaze, but continued to watch him from underneath her lashes, savoring this unfamiliar feeling—the instant spark of attraction that could lead to naked bodies tangled together, arms wrapped around each other, pleasured moans mingling, hot skin sliding against hot skin between the sheets.

As he drew closer, she forced herself to stay seated, though her heart was thudding in her chest and her breathing was speeding up. Her fear must have showed on her face because as he approached he slowed, his lips curled up into a broad smile, his expression became warm and genuine, his body language said, “I won’t hurt you.” He stopped in front of the table and looked down at her with eyes she could now see were a deep green.

“Hello.” His voice was deep and accented—Spanish, she thought—and it was undeniably sexy, making her stomach flutter.

“Hi,” she managed to reply, sure that her voice was nothing more than a squeak.

“May I join you?”

She swallowed.
Come on, Hannah, this is what you’re here for. Put the past behind you.
But even with that mantra running through her mind, she had to force herself to answer.

“Yes, of course.” He took the seat opposite, rather than the seat right next to her, and the solid presence of the table between them gave her an edge of confidence. “Thank you for the drink.” She nodded at her glass.

His lips curled. “You are very welcome.” He held out his hand. “My name is Solomon Martinez, but please call me Sol.”

“Hannah Evans.” She took his hand, noticing the strength of his grip and the tingle that seemed to flash along her body from the contact.

“I am very pleased to meet you, Hannah. Are you staying here in the hotel?”

“Yes, you?”

He nodded. “Yes, I have a suite. And are you…waiting for anyone?”

She shook her head. “No. I’m here on my own.”

With an incredibly suggestive smile, he leaned forward slightly. “Well I’m surprised a woman as lovely as you is here alone, but I’m very glad.”

Oh, it was a smooth line, expertly delivered in his seductive accent, and she couldn’t help but feel a feminine thrill from the compliment. She rewarded him with a full smile and something heated flashed in his eyes in response.

“So, what brings you to Las Vegas?”

Oh, boy. How to answer that without sounding crazy or desperate or both?

“I’ve…” She let out a deep breath. “Let’s just say I’m starting a new chapter in my life and I’m celebrating my first night of freedom.”

Sol arched a brow. “Well, that’s very cryptic. Care to elaborate?”

Her expression became serious. “No. If you don’t mind, no I don’t.”

Sol’s eyes widened at her answer, but then he shrugged his broad shoulders. “All right.”