Vegas Vacation (Destination Desire) (3 page)

He jerked himself from her arms, staggering back a couple of steps.

Shock punched through her, and she sagged against the door, her knees weak. “Finn?”

“Not like this.” He shook his head. His chest bellowed, lust flushing his face. “If we ever fuck, it’ll be because we’re both sure we want it, not because we can’t think straight. There are a lot fewer regrets that way. I never want you to regret anything we do together.”

Sanity returned in slow degrees. She dragged in a breath, tried to think of something else to talk about while her body ached with unquenched hunger. “Now your shirt is stained too.”

Brown splotches of whiskey had seeped from her clothes to his, they’d been pressed so tightly together. He made an impatient noise, jerked the shirt over his head, and lobbed it into a corner of the room. “There, fixed. Now, will you go take a shower?”

The sight of him bared to the waist made her brain short-circuit. Tanned skin stretched taut over pure sinew, with just a sprinkling of springy curls. He was even more beautiful that she’d imagined, and she’d imagined him more often than she’d like to admit. She wanted to lick his small, flat nipples, wanted to slide her tongue along the ridges of his abs and follow the thin trail of hair from his navel downward. His erection tented the front of his shorts, and she wanted to see that too.

“Jesus, don’t look at me like that, Meg,” he said, his voice hoarse. “Go. Take. A. Shower.”

Her sluggish mind tried to grope for what he was talking about. “Shower?”

His laugh was a harsh crack of sound. “Meg, I’m hanging on by a thread here. I’m not going to be able to hold back much longer. Go now or I’ll fuck you up against the wall. We won’t even make it to the bed.”

That image formed so clearly in her mind, her pussy clenched in need. Him over her, in her, moving fast and rough until they both came. She wanted that so badly she shuddered with the desire, her body primed for sex. The desperation that rocketed through her was enough to shock her back to reality.

“I—I should shower.” She grabbed some clothes from her suitcase and stumbled toward the bathroom, not sure if she was making the smartest or stupidest decision of her life.

“Fuck.” Finn flopped back on the bed, throwing an arm over his eyes. His cock was an iron bar in his shorts, an incessant ache he couldn’t do a damn thing about. Jesus Christ, he hoped he was playing this right, because if he’d just given up his one and only chance to have sex with Meg, he might throw himself out of his thirtieth-story window.

The spray of water sounded from the bathroom. He tried not to picture it sliding in hot beads over her naked body and failed. His cock jerked and he forced himself to get up before he used his hand to give himself some relief. He grabbed his backpack, took out his clothes, put them in the dresser, and then tossed his spare shoes and empty bag into the closet and shut the door.

The shower had stopped running, but no Meg yet, so he found the remote and turned on ESPN. Anything to keep his mind off the fact that she was nude, wet, and only a few yards away. He settled on the mattress and propped himself against the headboard.

She poked her head out of the bathroom, her hair sleeked to her scalp. He could tell she was only wrapped in a towel, though he knew she’d taken clothes in with her.

He straightened. “Did you need something?”

Closing her eyes for a moment, she cringed when she finally met his gaze. “I…uh…I forgot something in my suitcase.”

“Okay, let me grab it for you.” He swung his legs off the bed and stood.

“No, no. That’s okay, I can—”

“It’s no problem.” He walked over and flipped open the top of her bag. “What did you need?”

She sighed. “I forgot a bra, Finn. You don’t need to get it for me.”

The woman was trying to kill him. His hard-on had just started to subside and she brought on the skimpy lingerie. Swallowing, he scanned the contents of her bag and tried to keep his voice level when he spoke. “Did you want the white lacy one on top or should I dig deeper for a different one?”

When he glanced back, he saw her face had flushed bright red, her eyes were squeezed shut, and she leaned her forehead against the doorjamb, looking as if she hoped the floor might open up and swallow her whole. “The white one is fine, thanks.”

The humor of the situation got to him and he hooked the bra up by a strap and strolled over to her. He couldn’t help grinning impishly when she opened her eyes. “I could make so many very suggestive remarks right now.”

“I’m glad you can restrain yourself, Walsh.” She stuck her tongue out at him and snatched the bit of lace out of his hand, slamming the door closed while he laughed. He heard her giggling, and the sound was sweet.

At least that had broken any tension there might have been after making out. A little equilibrium was good. She stepped from the bathroom fully dressed—a shame, but better for his sanity—and forked her fingers through her hair to loosen the curls.

“Okay, food,” she said. “Should we see if anybody else is free or just go by ourselves?”

Far more than he should, he liked that she spoke of them as a unit. That was what he wanted out of this week. He just had to play his cards right. He pulled his phone out of his back pocket and sent a text to Anne.
Did you guys have lunch already? Meg’s clean and we’re starving.

Her reply came back a moment later, making his phone vibrate.
We’re fed. Got dragged down the Strip. Go eat! Meg wanted that Bobby Flay place.

Meg came and peered over his shoulder. “Yeah, Mesa Grill. I looked into reviews of nice restaurants after Anne talked me into coming along. Right now, I don’t care about nice. I just want food.”

His phone vibrated again. Another text from Anne.
Be good to my girl or I’ll kick your ass!

“My friends are as subtle as a sledgehammer.” Snorting, Meg went to pick up her purse and hooked it over her shoulder.

He chuckled and typed in a quick reply to Anne as he followed Meg out the door.
Duly noted on the ass kicking. Meet us at check-in at 4?

They rode the elevator to the ground floor and Anne gave him the green light for meeting. Good, he had a couple of hours alone with Meg. This couldn’t have worked out more perfectly if he’d planned it. “Anne will meet us at registration at four to get your room. There’s not a huge rush now, is there?”

“No.” She grinned, slapping a hand over her growling stomach. “The only rush is for lunch.”

They had to weave their way through the slot machine strobe lights, the cheering and booing at the card tables. They kept going and passed under a strange indoor floating barge with what he thought might be Cleopatra’s head carved into the prow, but eventually they found the Mesa Grill. Luckily, there was no wait for a table. Their server brought them bread and they dove on it like ravenous animals.

“Oh, man.” Meg sighed. “This is either the best thing I’ve ever eaten or I’m famished. Could be both.”

The bread was in tiny rolls rather than a single loaf, and every little nugget was a different flavor. He popped one into his mouth. It had a coarse corn bread consistency with a kick of jalapeno pepper. Nice. “No, it’s pretty damn good bread.”

“That’s what we like to hear,” said the waiter as he returned to the table, a smile on his face. “Can I answer any questions for you about the menu?”

“No, I think we’re ready to order.” Meg’s cheeks dimpled when she grinned. “I’ll try the New Mexican spiced pork tenderloin sandwich. With a cactus pear iced tea.”

“And I’d like the Ancho chile-honey glazed salmon. I’ll take an iced tea too.” Finn handed over his menu.

“Very good. I’ll bring your drinks right out.” The server took Meg’s menu as well and bustled away.

She shifted in her seat, glanced around the restaurant, and looked a bit uncomfortable. “So…when we get back, the principal wants to send me to a training for—”

“Hey, none of that.” Finn quickly cut her off. “We are on vacation. No talking about work. Anything else is fair game, but not work.”

Time to push her even further out of colleague mode. She’d see the kiss as a lapse and was now trying to backpedal to familiar ground. He couldn’t let that happen.

He tilted the breadbasket toward her. “Have some more bread and tell me something about you that I don’t know.”

Appearing discomfited, she stuffed a nugget of bread into her mouth. She chewed for a moment before she spoke. “I have a dog named Hugo. He’s a basset hound, and I think he needs Prozac because he has these big, sad eyes and constantly looks as if the world is ending. He sighs like a disappointed grandmother, too.”

Okay, he hadn’t expected that one. Snorting, he leaned back in his chair. “How did you end up with a depressed hound?”

“I went to the pound looking for a perky terrier and ended up with Hugo.” Rueful affection filled her voice. She plucked up another piece of bread and waved it through the air. “He was a dead dog walking, and I couldn’t leave him there to get the needle. He’s a pain in the ass, but I love him.”

“Sounds like my cat.” He gave a low laugh.

Disbelief filled her gray gaze. “You have a kitty?”

“An enormous, mean tomcat. No one would call this beast a kitty.” He had the claw marks up and down his arms to prove it every time he tried to give the tom a bath. The groomers refused to touch him anymore. “I inherited him when my mom died because he hates my dad. Seriously, he attacks on sight.”

“Ouch.” She arched her eyebrows. “What’s this terror’s name?”

“George.”

“There was an evil King George in England. George III ruled during the American Revolution. Okay, the U.S. regards him as a tyrant, but I doubt he liked us much, either.” She shook her head. “Sorry, history nerd tangent. I hope I never meet the evil cat.”

“My George would love you,” Finn protested.

“How do you know that? He doesn’t love your dad.”

“Because he’d be dead meat if he attacked you, and George is a master at self-preservation. Mom and Dad let him get away with it. I wouldn’t.” Because he wanted Meg visiting his house. Often. The cat would have to get used to it or he’d be locked outside more often than he liked. In the rain.

The waiter arrived with their meal, and there was a moment of reverent silence as they took the first bite.

“Mmm.” Meg moaned, an expression of utter ecstasy molding her features. She shut her eyes, her tongue sliding out in a slow, sensual sweep to lick her lips.

Finn’s cock stiffened at the look on her face, reminding him that he hadn’t gotten to finish what they’d started in his room. Jesus, what he wouldn’t give to see her wearing that exact expression in his bed.

She glanced at him and froze, no doubt noticing his hunger now had little to do with food.

He let a small smile kick up the corner of his mouth. “You’re amazingly beautiful, Meg. I’ve never gotten hard watching a woman eat before.”

A flush washed up her cheeks, heated awareness flashing in her eyes. Her gaze dropped as if she might see his erection through the table, but he was grateful for the cover. It was one thing to want her—another to embarrass himself in public.

“I…I don’t know what to say. What happened upstairs was—”

“Not something we need to discuss over lunch.” The last thing he wanted was to hear her tell him about it being a mistake. He took a gulp of iced tea, hoping it would cool him down. “Enjoy your sandwich, Meg. Don’t mind me if I enjoy you enjoying it.”

She huffed out a laugh. “Pervert.”

“You’re welcome.” He toasted her with his glass, and then turned his attention to his food.

The sexual tension hanging over the table eased after a few minutes, and he let out a breath. His salmon was delicious, and the cactus pear iced tea was pretty spectacular.

Meg stirred when she’d finished her sandwich and was working her way through her fries. “I’m dragging Anne over to watch the Bellagio fountains tonight, and I might make her ride up the Eiffel Tower in the Paris. It’s fake historical stuff, but whatever. She owes me and I’m making her pay up.”

Finn noted that he wasn’t invited, which annoyed him more than it should. “You know, there are things to do in Vegas that you’d really like, but you have to go off the Strip.”

“There’s more to Vegas than the Strip?” She widened her eyes. “What’s this craziness you speak?”

“I know it’s shocking, but you can handle it.” He grinned. “Did I mention I’m originally from Nevada?”

She blinked in surprise, curiosity sparking in her gaze. “No, you didn’t. You gave up Sin City to come to Half Moon Bay?”

Ah, she wanted to know more about him. A very good sign. The more she knew about him, the less she could relegate him to the impersonal coworker category. At least, that was what he was hoping. “Tahoe, actually, though my dad retired to Vegas after Mom passed.”

“I’m so sorry.” She moved as if to reach for his hand, but stopped herself, and pulled back before she made contact. “I still have both my parents, thankfully.”

“Definitely something to appreciate. We lost Mom about five years ago, so I’ve had some time to cope.” Though there were still moments of grief that caught him by surprise. He’d had one the other day when he’d called his dad to tell him he’d be in town, only to have a woman answer the phone. It had been an awkward as hell way to find out his father was dating again. He squashed that thought and focused on Meg. “Anyway, there’s an exhibit I was hoping to talk you into checking out with me. Off-Strip.”

“What exhibit?” She dipped a French fry in ketchup and popped it into her mouth.

“One that combines both our loves. UNLV has a space for traveling exhibits and there’s one right now on the history of the modern Olympic Games. You love history and I love athletics.” He shrugged as casually as possible. “We can see if anyone else wants to come, of course.”

None of their colleagues would be willing to forgo the pleasures of the Strip, he was sure. Anne was the only exception. She knew the score, so there was no telling what she might do—help him out or hinder him just for fun.

He watched Meg’s desire to check out the exhibit war with her seemingly ingrained wariness. The history lover in her won out, as he’d hoped it would. “Okay, we’ll ask everyone. It sounds interesting.”