Wicked Games: A Forbidden Romance

by T. K. Leigh

  Once I’m in the elevator on my way to the lobby to meet Izzy, I pull my phone out of my purse and type out a quick text to my friend and coworker, Evie.

  Headed to the airport. I should be back in town around 7.

  I can’t wait to hear all about it. You should do a piece about bachelorette parties for the magazine, but in a way only your cynicism can truly deliver.

  I respond, arguing I’m not that cynical, when the elevator slows to a stop on another floor and the doors open. Keeping my eyes glued to my phone as I finish my text, I step back to make room for anyone about to get on. That’s when a familiar scent hits me, earthy and raw. I snap my head up, my body stiffening when I see him.

  I thought the first time we ran into each other was simply a chance encounter. The second a coincidence. But a third time?

  At first, he remains frozen in place, gaze glued to mine. Then a mischievous smile gradually replaces his stunned expression and he enters, standing unnervingly close as he leans toward me to press the lobby button that’s already illuminated.

  The elevator doors close, leaving us alone in this tiny space that’s abuzz with electricity. Conscious of every sound, every heartbeat, every breath, I stare straight ahead. With each drawn-out second, my pulse increases, mouth growing dry. I shift from foot to foot, ready to burst from the tension.

  When the silence becomes unbearable, I float my eyes to his, only to notice he’s unabashedly staring at me. Unlike our previous encounters, he’s dressed casually in a white linen shirt with the sleeves rolled up to just below his elbows, revealing his muscular forearms. Khaki shorts hang from his hips, a pair of tan flip-flops on his feet.

  “Taking a day off from ruling the world?” My voice breaks through.

  “Ruling the world?”

  “Exactly. You always act so in charge. So…in control.”

  His lips curve up into one of the most sensual grins I’ve ever seen. Screw Matt Damon’s sexy smirk, or Brad Pitt’s flirtatious smile. They have nothing on this guy.

  “I do like being in control.”

  I attempt to fight against the blush building on my cheeks, averting my gaze. All I hear is his voice from the other night.

  Say okay. Say thank you.

  And I did. It was so simple, so innocent, yet it lit me up in a way that left me craving him all weekend. His words. His presence. His…dominance.

  “I didn’t mean it like that.” I chew on my bottom lip, fidgeting with the hem of my jacket. “I meant you look and act like you have some high-powered job. Master of the universe and all that.”

  “Master of the universe?” He arches a single brow.

  “Yes.” I return my eyes to his, shrugging. “You know, like He-man.”

  “Well…” Licking his lips, he closes the distance, the heat of his breath on my neck making me tremble. “Appearances can be deceiving. Wouldn’t you agree?” He pulls back, meeting my gaze.

  “They can be,” I reply thoughtfully, masking my shaky voice. “But something tells me they’re not. Not when it comes to you.”

  “Even the master of the universe deserves a day off to enjoy life’s…pleasures.”

  My nerve endings tingle as that one word hangs in the air, making me hyper-aware of my heartbeat, which I’m confident they can hear in the casino. Hell, they can probably even hear it all the way at the Hoover Dam.

  I swallow hard, my gaze fixated on his lips, thinking how much pleasure they could give me. Suddenly, the elevator comes to a stop and the doors open, the clanging bells of slot machines breaking our moment.

  I snap out of my daze, squaring my shoulders as I scramble out of the enclosed space and into the casino, able to breathe again. Normally, I hate the loud noise that meets me every time I step off this elevator, feeling much like the Grinch when he complains about all the “noise, noise, noise” down in Whoville. But right now, I find it comforting, at least compared to the anxiety that consumes me whenever I’m in this man’s presence.

  “Headed home?” When I hear his voice, I look to my right to see him catching up to me.

  “Thankfully, yes. One night in Vegas is too long. I’ve been here four.” I slow my steps as I near the front doors, scanning the enormous lobby for any sign of Izzy. She’s probably still in a ridiculously long line for coffee. God, I hate this city.

  “Aren’t you headed out?” he asks when I don’t follow him outside.

  “I’m waiting for a friend. We’re on the same flight.”

  “Oh.” His expression momentarily falls, but he recovers quickly, smiling, although it doesn’t make his eyes sparkle as it usually does. “Well, it was nice seeing you again.”

  “You, too.”

  He hesitates briefly, and I can almost see the words on the tip of his tongue. Then he turns from me, walking out the revolving glass doors. I can’t help but admire his long strides, muscular legs, broad shoulders, and what I can only imagine is a firm ass. I almost don’t want to look away. But when a ping sounds from my phone, I do just that.

  Unlocking the screen, I read a text from Evie saying she’s spending the night at Julian’s and not to worry if she’s not at my place when I get home. I reply, telling her she should just officially move in with him.

  When her boyfriend of twelve years broke up with her, I offered her a place to stay, considering how difficult it is to find an affordable apartment in the city. But now that she has a new man in her life, she hasn’t spent much time at my apartment. I’m pretty sure she’s also stopped looking for a place of her own.

  As I finish my text, a slight movement out of the corner of my eye catches my attention. It shouldn’t, considering it’s Vegas. This entire place is a constant wave of motion. But something draws my gaze toward the doors.

  When I see my mystery man standing there, his impassioned stare trained on me, I’m stunned, frozen in place, in time, in this moment. The intensity in his stormy green eyes sends a rush of exhilaration through me, leaving me breathless. No man’s ever looked at me this way. Or maybe they have, but I ignored it. But I can’t ignore him.

  He starts toward me and everything else seems to disappear. It’s…quiet. Gone are the obnoxious sounds of slot machines, the tourists rushing by, and the ridiculously loud club music filling the space, even at eleven in the morning. Reaching me, his hand palms the small of my back and he pulls me against him. A spark shoots through me, low and deep, igniting a flame I didn’t think would ever be lit again.

  He brings his other hand to my hair, wrapping his fingers around it, forcing my head back. I stare into his eyes, unable to escape. And I don’t want to, don’t want to flee this bubble.

  “I can’t leave,” he begins, his voice husky, low, sensual.

  “Sure you can,” I murmur. “All you have to do is put one foot in front of the other and walk through those doors.”

  He slowly shakes his head. “No. What I meant to say is I can’t leave without…” His mouth inches even closer.

  “Without what?” My lips tingle in anticipation.

  “Without kissing you.”

  My nerves stir as my stomach fills with the wings of a thousand butterflies, all of them screaming at him to finally get on with it.

  “Then what are you waiting for?”

  His grip on me tightens and he yanks my body harder against his, his eyes flaring with unyielding desire. He gradually decreases the distance, this torturous dance of seduction making me even more on edge. I’m desperate to feel his lips, to know how they taste. All weekend, I’ve fantasized about his kiss. Most people would probably wonder what he was like in bed, how he screwed. Not me. There’s nothing personal about that. Kissing is much more intimate.

  Based on what little I know of him, I imagined he kissed with all the confidence he seemed to do everything else. At first, it would be controlled and reserved, but still addictive. He wouldn’t be able to hold back for long. It would explode into a passionate exchange, leaving me thoughtless, breathless, soulless, ruining me for all me
n who would come after him.

  When his breath dances on my flesh, I close my eyes, bracing to feel his full lips on me. Instead, boisterous voices infiltrate our bubble, a body slamming into me, causing me to teeter on my heels.

  Forced out of my trance, I glare at a bunch of drunk guys in their twenties, all of them carrying those huge plastic cups containing sugary, frozen drinks. It’s not even noon, yet they already look like they’ve been overserved.

  “Are you okay?” my mystery man asks, and I return my eyes to his.

  “Of course.” I straighten my jacket, even more happy to be going home than I was before. I’m about to ask where we were when an alert interrupts. He reaches into his pocket, withdrawing his cell.

  “My Uber’s here.” He offers me an apologetic smile. Then he leans in, his mouth a whisper from my neck. “Safe travels.” He kisses my cheek, his lips lingering on my skin for several long moments. When he pulls away, he holds my gaze before retreating, leaving me feeling like a hormonally imbalanced high school freshman who was nearly kissed by the hot senior quarterback before the prom queen pulled him away.

  I exhale a breath, taking a moment to collect myself. But I don’t have a moment. Izzy hurries toward me, eyes wide in curiosity.

  “Who was that?” The tone of her voice indicates she must have seen him kiss my cheek, at the very least.

  All I can do is shake my head as I shift my attention to the front doors and watch my mystery man slide into the back seat of a dark sedan.

  “Just some guy.”

  Chapter Four

  “So you mean to tell me that, of the three times you’ve seen him—”

  “Four, if you count him coming back to try to kiss me.”

  “Whatever…” Izzy waves me off. “That’s not the point. The point is that you never thought to ask him his name?” Her voice is filled with disbelief at the story I just relayed to her about my run-ins with Mr. Mysterious over the course of the weekend.

  “I did think of it.” I relax into my plush lounge chair, bringing my espresso to my lips as we sit in a quiet corner of the airline club. The hectic atmosphere of the airport is nowhere to be found. No screaming children being ignored by their parents who are exhausted after a long day of traveling. No annoying businessmen who feel the need to shout on their cellphones in the hopes that someone thinks they’re important. No assholes bitching out the poor airline employee who had nothing to do with the delay of the flight going to Denver, where there’s probably snow. In here, I’m able to have a moment of peace.

  “A name is usually the first thing I ask,” she interjects before I can say anything else. “You’d think with all the time you spent ‘bumping’ into each other this weekend, you would have gotten that much.”

  “It’s just… Every time I saw him…” I shake my head, struggling to come up with the words to describe how his mere presence consumed me. Normally, I’m the confident one. I’m the one calling the shots. I’m the one saying whatever’s on my mind without a care for what anyone thinks about me. But not around him. “It was quiet,” I finish thoughtfully.

  “Quiet?” Izzy gives me a sideways glance. “What do you mean?”

  I place my espresso on the table separating us and lean closer, lowering my voice. “All the noise of my life. It was…gone.”

  Understanding immediately washes over her, and her expression relaxes.

  Izzy’s one of the few people who truly knows me, all my secrets, all my scars. Yes, Nora’s been a great friend since we were college roommates, and once Evie was assigned the cubicle next to mine at the magazine, we formed a quick bond, considering she lacks any brain-to-mouth filter, much like myself. But Izzy knew me before. She knew me when my parents were still together. She knew me when it all fell apart, when I had to lie to my father about being sick so I could miss my weekend with him to take care of my mother during another one of her drinking binges. Something no teenage girl should have to do. But what choice did I have? She was the only family I had left after my father upgraded to a new one.

  “Sometimes you just need someone to quiet it for a minute,” she remarks.

  “Because of that, I didn’t think a name was necessary.” We share a look before I curl my lips into a wicked grin, lightening the mood. “You do have to admit the entire scenario is kind of hot. Not knowing his name, anything about him…”

  “Kind of hot?” She fans herself, giggling. “Try off the charts! I noticed the chemistry between you two right away, even if all he did was kiss your cheek. It was incredibly…sexy. I can’t imagine how it made you feel.”

  “Like I could let go,” I reply without hesitating. “For once, I didn’t worry about the fact that we’re polar opposites. That he’s presumably this guy who has his shit together, whereas I’m lucky if I don’t lock myself out of my apartment on a daily basis. But each time I saw him, I didn’t think about any of that, didn’t try to distance myself because of how it would play out. It’s almost like we were in our own little bubble.”

  “Bubbles can be good.” Then her eyes turn conniving. “Especially a bubble that sexy.”

  We both break into laughter. I lean back into my chair, at ease with the familiarity of joking with one of my oldest friends. If nothing else, at least I got to spend a little more time with Izzy this weekend than I usually do. While we both live in New York, her job as a nurse in the pediatric oncology unit at one of the local hospitals doesn’t give her much time off. Izzy’s one of those friends who you can go months without seeing, then pick back up as if you just saw them yesterday.

  “So, what do you think the girls are up to today?” I ask after a few minutes.

  “Knowing Bernadette, something cliché and inappropriate.”

  I roll my eyes. “Promise me if I ever get that lonely and desperate for attention, you’ll smack some sense into me and tell me I don’t need to stay in a loveless marriage. That there’s better out there for me.”

  “You know I will.”

  A chiming cuts through and I float my eyes to the coffee table to see a text from my mother wishing me safe travels. I grab my cell and fire off a quick response, not wanting her to worry.

  “She doing okay?” Izzy asks, obviously having seen who the text was from.

  “Yeah.” I take another drink of my espresso, finishing it. “She’s been dating this guy who works in the same building.” I stare into the distance, smiling. “It’s actually a sweet story. Somehow, they kept riding up to their floors in the same elevator. After about a week, he mentioned it to her. Said he couldn’t ignore it anymore, that it was a sign.”

  “Hmm… A sign?” She smirks knowingly.

  “That’s not the same thing,” I argue, fully aware what she’s referring to. “Mom works in the same building as Aaron. There’s a decent likelihood of running into him again. This thing with me and…whoever he is, well…it’s different. I have a better chance of winning the lottery than seeing him again.”

  Izzy shrugs. “You’re probably right, but what if you do?”

  “It’ll never happen,” I say incredulously. “I’m about to get on a flight back to New York. He was headed…” I wave my hand around, “wherever. So yeah. Not going to happen.”

  “But if it does?”

  “It won’t,” I insist.

  “But if it does?” she presses again.

  “It won’t.”

  “Yeah, but if it does?”

  I groan, remembering how persistent and annoying Izzy can be. This could go on for hours, even days. “Fine. If by some miracle I do see him again, maybe I’ll admit there might be a reason for it all.”

  She nods, leaning back in her chair, happy with herself.

  “But it won’t happen.”

  She glares at me, feigning annoyance. “Always have to have the last word, don’t you?”

  I grin. “Always.”

  My phone dings again and I reach for it, assuming it’s a reply from my mother. Unlocking the screen, I see an alert from the a
irline.

  “Shit,” I mutter as Izzy’s phone begins to beep.

  “What is it?” She scrambles for her cell, presumably reading the same message I received. “Dammit.”

  “Yup. Flight to JFK is canceled.”

  She groans, closing her eyes in frustration. “Just how I want to spend my day. Stuck in the airport.”

  “And not any airport,” I remind her, pointing at the busy terminal that resides just outside the lounge, the subtle sound of slot machines inching their way into our peaceful recluse. “McCarran Airport in fabulous Las Vegas.” My voice is laden with sarcasm. “If the Strip is the tenth circle of hell, this place is purgatory.”

  “Glad to see all those literature classes paid off.”

  “What flight did they rebook you on?” I ask, opening the airline’s app on my phone to get my new flight information.

  “Red-eye. Eleven PM. And here’s the kicker. No seat assignment available.” She holds out her phone so I can see her new itinerary.

  “Me, too.” I mirror her movement.

  “It looks like they’re cramming everyone onto that flight. What are the chances of us actually getting on?”

  “I’d like to say they wouldn’t rebook us just to tell us no in ten hours.”

  “My mother used to work for an airline. They absolutely would do such a thing.” She pinches her lips together, deep in thought, then jumps up. “I’ll be right back.” A woman on a mission, she starts toward the front desk of the lounge.

  While Izzy speaks to an agent for what I presume to be a solution, I return my attention to my phone, opening the web browser to see if there are any other options. Despite it being a Tuesday and a light travel day, most of the flights to JFK are sold out or, if there are seats available, are way out of my price range. Not to mention, it’s after one in the afternoon. The next flight into New York doesn’t leave until later tonight, even on a different airline.

  “Hey,” Izzy says breathlessly. I look up from my phone, eyes brimming with hope. “I can get us guaranteed seats on the noon flight tomorrow. The red-eye is oversold and they’ll most likely be forced to rebook again if they can’t get enough people with confirmed seats to give them up. You in? Guaranteed seats or take a risk on the red-eye.”