Waking Up in Vegas: HarperImpulse Contemporary Romance

by Romy Sommer

  When he finally switched off the television and lights and came into the bedroom, she was wide awake again.

  And when he undressed and slid under the sheets beside her, sleep was banished completely. Just great. Tomorrow she’d have to drag herself through another ten hours of fake smiles and exhaustion for more measly tips.

  She should have taken one of the sedatives she’d been prescribed after her father’s funeral but she no longer trusted them. No longer trusted what she’d do if she took them.

  She resolutely turned her back on Max. It made no difference. In the dark, in spite of the television blaring in the apartment on one side and the couple bickering on the other, she was aware of every noise Max made. Of the sound of his breathing, the rustle of sheets as he shifted position, of the creak of the bed when he finally rolled away, giving up on her.

  Why was she being such an ass about this? What could it hurt to enjoy having a man in the house? Someone to take care of her and love her.

  Someone to make love to her. Her skin prickled at the thought, sending shock waves through her veins.

  The answer was out there in the living room, in a thick manila envelope. She had to keep her distance, because she couldn’t risk her heart again. She was already bound to him tighter than she wanted. Until he signed those papers, her will was not hers alone. For that reason she couldn’t give in to him.

  She’d continue to push him away no matter how much it hurt her and no matter how much she wanted him.

  She’d rebel against the institution, against the legal binding, as she always had against authority. As her parents had done before her.

  If only she and Max were simply two strangers out for a good time, expecting to go their separate ways as soon as the going got tough. That she could live with.

  She squeezed her eyes shut and begged sleep to take her. But it was a very, very long time before it did.

  Waking to the solid warmth of another body in the bed, especially a body that was curled around hers, with an arm slung across her hip, was a novel sensation for Phoenix. In all her living memory, she couldn’t remember spooning with anyone. Those rare moments when she lapsed and gave in to her passions, she never hung around long enough to endure the morning after.

  Now the morning after didn’t seem quite so terrifying. She rolled over in Max’s arms, contemplating giving in and cuddling up to that smooth, broad, bare chest. His eyelids fluttered briefly but the real indication that he was awake was the wicked smile that curved his mouth.

  She tried to wriggle away, but his arm clamped harder around her, holding her close.

  “I offered to make breakfast,” she reminded him.

  His eyes opened, and she drowned in them. Blue as the sea, infinitely deep, and just as dangerous. “Breakfast can wait. This can’t.”

  His mouth crushed hers, his kiss breathlessly intoxicating. Her entire body responded to his touch, instantly awake and needy. She pressed against him, moulding the length of her body against the hardness and solidness of him.

  I shouldn’t be doing this. I really shouldn’t be doing this.

  His tongue slid over her parted lips, and she welcomed him in.

  He pinned her down and her arms slipped around him, holding him close as if afraid he’d disappear, like the edge of a dream on waking.

  This was bad. Already she was afraid of losing him. Already she wanted to cling to him, as if she were drowning.

  But she couldn’t allow herself to hope. Because if he failed, if the water still claimed either one of them, she’d never recover.

  With the last shred of sense left in her, she placed her hands on Max’s chest and pushed. Caught unawares, he broke the kiss. But he didn’t let her go.

  Confusion darkened his eyes. “You don’t want…?”

  “Yes…no…” Of course she wanted. That was the problem. She extricated herself from his embrace. “I need to think.”

  “You think too much.”

  No one had ever accused her of that before. She wasn’t exactly a look before you leap kind of person. But she also wasn’t the kind of person who was easily led. She made up her own mind and she only ever did what she wanted to do. Which was why her marriage to Max was such a puzzle. She certainly hadn’t married against her will, champagne or not.

  He tried to pull her back but she resisted, forcing her brightest smile to her face. “I’ll make coffee.”

  She was in the kitchen, brewing a pot of coffee, when he wandered through. He still wore nothing but boxers and she was far too aware of that magnificent chest. His shoulders were broad and those abs … it definitely wasn’t the coffee making her mouth water.

  She averted her gaze and kept her hands busy filling the kettle.

  “Hey, the drip’s stopped.”

  “It just needed a washer replacing.” Max leaned against the doorjamb.

  “You fixed the tap?”

  He shrugged, as if it was no big deal. But her estimation of him leapt up another notch. She’d never met a rich man who not only knew how to change a washer, but also didn’t mind getting his hands dirty.

  She swallowed the lump in her throat. It was real nice having someone take care of her. Even growing up, she’d had to do so much for herself. Dad had been fun and he’d tried hard to make up for the lack of a mother in her life but he was a musician and musos weren’t exactly the most practical people she’d ever met. Even the managers and agents who leeched off them tended to be pie-in-the-sky people.

  “I’m sure I have eggs and bacon here somewhere. I’ll buy some pancake mix tomorrow.” She froze. Now where had that come from? Tomorrow? And straight on the heels of that thought came a flash of memory. They’d eaten breakfast together and he’d told her his favourite breakfast was pancakes with blueberries.

  Her pulse rate kicked back into gear. Now all she needed was the rest of that day’s memories, thank you very much.

  She tossed her hair back over her shoulder. If she waited another moment, she wouldn’t take the leap. “Tomorrow’s my day off. If you want, we can spend it together.” She tried to sound off-hand, as if her ability to breathe didn’t depend on it.

  Max moved behind her. There wasn’t much space in the kitchenette. He was sure to hear her heart racing as he stepped close. His hands slipped under the grungy Megadeth t-shirt, smooth and cool against her over-heated skin. The dimple flashed in his cheek as he grinned.

  “But I’m still not staying married to you. I don’t mind a little fun, but no promises, and definitely no commitments. Okay?”

  “Okay.” His voice stroked her ear, like a hand brushing velvet. “Does that mean I get to take my wife back to bed now?”

  Phoenix glanced at the plastic wall clock. She was still on day shift today but she had a couple of hours yet before she was due at the casino. A couple of hours she could spend running errands. Or making love to Max.

  She let out the breath she’d been holding. What the hell. There was only one thing she wanted to do with the next couple of hours, even if it turned out to be yet another mistake in a long line of them.

  She laid a hand on his bare chest and felt the rise and fall of his breathing through her fingers. “I have one condition.”

  He arched an eyebrow.

  “No carrying me over the threshold this time.”

  His grin was feral. “You wanna bet?”

  He swept her up. Not into his arms. Not up against his chest. But over his shoulder in a fireman’s hold. She laughed and squirmed and beat her fists against his back, but he was far stronger. Over the threshold, into the bedroom, until they both collapsed, laughing and breathless, on the bed.

  He stroked her face, roughened fingers brushing her cheek. She turned into his palm and closed her eyes, allowing her other senses free reign as Max trailed a line of kisses down her throat.

  His hand slid beneath her t-shirt, sure and steady as he cupped her breast, his thumb brushing over the taut nipple. Sensation flooded her, piercing desire rocketing to
her core. He pushed the t-shirt up, over her head, and threw it across the room. His mouth blazed fire down her collarbone, over the curve of her breasts, then he took the other nipple in his mouth, teasing it with his tongue. She moaned and arched her back.

  Her whole body was on fire, every inch of her skin sensitised to the rough glide of his skin against hers, his fingers on the peaked nipple of her other breast.

  She cried out in dismay when his mouth left her breast but he swallowed the cry with his mouth, kissing her with all the pent-up passion of two days’ frustrated want and need. She knew how he felt. Like a volcano, the passion had built inside her from the moment he’d stepped out of that hotel bathroom and stolen her breath away.

  Now it was too late to stop. And she really, really didn’t want to.

  His stubble rasped against her chin, her cheek, her lips, as they kissed. He rolled her over on her back and stripped her pants off without barely even breaking the kiss.

  The long hard length of him pressed against her and she arched into him, urging him to take her, to possess her, to complete her, but he had far more control than she did. His hand slid down over her breasts, her stomach and down between her legs.

  He unerringly found her sweet spot, circling around the sensitive nub. As his thumb continued its relentless stroke and glide, she widened her legs for him and gasped as he slid his finger into her. The gasp turned into a long, low moan that sounded wild and alien.

  “So ready,” he murmured against her ear.

  She nodded. She was ready.

  His fingers moved steadily in and out of her, beating a rhythm in time with the pounding of her blood. She gave herself over to the sensation, abandoned all thought to the tumult of desire rushing through her. Wave upon wave built inside her until she rocked against his hand, crying out as the orgasm crashed through her.

  She opened her eyes at last, focussing slowly back on the face that looked steadily down at her. His striking eyes were filled with an emotion so strong that her throat closed. God, to be looked at that way, to be adored like that, was more intoxicating than any drug she’d ever tried. It was more intoxicating even than champagne.

  Her limbs still felt heavy and molten as lava. But her desire certainly hadn’t cooled. He’d given her a taste and now she was hungry for more. She wanted all of him.

  Phoenix rolled him onto his back and sat astride him. “I hope you aren’t hungry, because you’re not getting breakfast any time soon.”

  Max laughed, a low, gravelly sound. “Only for you.”

  She bent and kissed him, a slow, sensuous kiss, less frantic than before, but with no less fervour. His erection pressed against her thigh. Through the fabric of his boxers she held him, rubbing the length of him until he groaned aloud.

  “We need protection,” he reminded her.

  Appalled, she pulled away. She didn’t have any protection. She hadn’t expected this to happen, certainly hadn’t planned for it. Hadn’t even given it a moment’s thought until now.

  “In my wallet.” His voice was trough as he struggled up on his elbows. “My pants.”

  She slid away from him, off the bed, and ransacked the pocket of his pants. She found the wallet in his back pocket, and fumbled for the condom, ignoring the platinum cards and the driver’s license. Thank heavens one of them had the foresight to prepare for this.

  By the time she returned to the bed and climbed on top of him, he’d shucked off his boxers. She drew in a sharp breath. Clothed, he’d been mouth-wateringly attractive. Naked, he was gorgeous. All lean muscle and smooth planes. She ran an exploring hand down over his chest, over that six pack she’d been itching to touch since they met.

  She ripped the packet open with her teeth and with her free hand removed the condom. As she rolled it over the hard, smooth length of him, his erection bucked in her hand. Impatient. As was she.

  Their gazes locked together as she lowered herself onto him. She had to admire his strength of will, his control, as he held himself in check, waiting for her to open up to him, to take him in. Only when she’d taken in his full length, did he push up into her, slowly, deliberately.

  And that was the last thing they took slowly. She moaned his name and he rolled her over on her back, their bodies still locked together, his hands in her hair. His mouth claimed hers, urgent and fierce with need, and she matched his every move, every thrust of his hips, the ferocious surge as they clawed at each other, merging and tearing apart. Deeper and harder, until her breath came in pants, and she lost awareness of everything but her own pleasure. From a distance, she heard Max call out her name, felt his release inside her. She shattered.

  So this was what destiny felt like.

  When her breathing returned to normal, she opened her eyes. Tiny aftershocks still radiated through her. Max cradled her in his strong arms, her head against his chest. His heart beat a rapid, staccato rhythm beneath her ear. She lifted her head to look at him. His eyes were hooded but she’d never seen them so blue.

  Yes, she had.

  She fumbled at the memory, grasped it. The first time they’d made love, he’d looked at her like that. That first time he’d taken it slow. He’d made her keep her eyes open so he could watch her climax. And it had been unlike anything she’d ever experienced before. It had overtaken her so thoroughly, blown her whole being apart and reconstructed her again. Afterwards, he’d held her exactly as he held her right now and she’d felt like a new person, more alive than she’d ever felt.

  Happier than she’d ever felt.

  And she hadn’t minded at all that she’d been wearing his ring. Or that she’d given up her freedom to be with him. Or her stubble burn.

  She pulled out of Max’s embrace. “The coffee must be cold by now,” she said. “I’ll need to make a fresh pot.”

  He let her go, leaning up on his elbow to watch as she pulled on her over-sized t-shirt. “Remind me to buy you something a little sexier for bed.” His lips quirked on the edge of one of his mesmerising grins.

  She glanced down at the shirt. “It was supposed to be a deterrent.” A fat lot of good it had done. She should have known it would take more than a ratty old t-shirt to stop a volcano.

  She headed for the kitchen, keeping herself busy with pans and plates, and trying to ignore the sound of water running in the shower or the image in her head of him naked under the spray.

  It was a crappy shower, nowhere near as nice as the massaging jets in the enormous shower cubicle of his fancy hotel. And there definitely wasn’t space for two in this one, so she could just get that image out of her head.

  He emerged from the shower smelling of her floral and very feminine shampoo. He wrapped an arm around her waist and kissed the back of her neck as she laid the table. Her stomach growled and she playfully swatted him away. “I need sustenance.”

  They ate quickly, feeding their basic needs so they could get back to an even more basic one. She finished her coffee sitting in his lap, unable to keep away from him a moment longer, needing to touch him and be touched. He was a magnet, drawing her in, and she had no choice but to give in to the thrall.

  She could only pray that when the spell broke, as it inevitably would, there wouldn’t be tears. The one consolation was that she wouldn’t be the one crying. She hadn’t cried since she was ten and if she hadn’t cried for her father, she sure as hell wasn’t going to cry over losing any other man.

  Chapter Four

  Mondays were Phoenix’s day off, the days she got to do whatever she wanted. She lay on her side, head propped on her arm and watched as Max woke. He stretched like a panther; one toned, glorious limb after another. Then he opened his eyes. It was incredible that even after waking beside him for several days, the colour of his eyes still startled her.

  How one pair of eyes could be so aware and intelligent, so twinkling, and so seductive all at the same time was truly unfair to every other man out there. And if women didn’t fall instantly in love with his eyes, then there was his body too�
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  Though he no doubt had his pick of any woman he wanted, he’d chosen her. She still had no memory of what she’d done to inspire that interest, but who was she to complain?

  He rolled on his side, mirroring her position, and smiled. “What do you want to do today?”

  And that voice! It rolled seductively down her spine, setting her alight.

  “I’ve had my turn. What have you always wanted to do in Vegas? You didn’t come all this way with the sole purpose of getting married, I hope.” That would be way beyond stalkerish and straight into insanity.

  He grinned, a slow, heated curve of that sensual mouth. “No. Same as everyone else, I came here to get drunk, throw away a lot of money gambling and find a beautiful woman to spend my winnings on. Two out of three isn’t bad.”

  “So today we go gambling?”

  He chuckled, low and seductive. “I didn’t get drunk the day we married. I knew exactly what I was doing. No, there’s only one thing I want to do today.” He ran his palm down her shoulder, over her breasts … she moaned … to settle on her hip. “I’d like to stay in bed.”

  She gave him a gentle shove. “What a waste of a good day. Besides, there must be plenty of women in Napa dying to let you between their legs, so why come all the way to Vegas for that?”

  His eyes darkened. They did that, she noticed, every time she didn’t know something he’d already told her that first day they’d spent together. Tough. She only gave herself a headache if she tried to remember that day.

  She slid away from his hand and out the bed, pulling on her loose kimono-style wrap. “You might want to spend the day in bed but I have laundry to do and groceries to buy.”

  He leaned back on the pillows, arms behind his head. The sheet only covered so much and she had to avert her eyes to resist leaping straight back into the bed with him.

  “If you tear up those divorce papers and come to California with me, you’d never have to do laundry again.”

  “Tempting as your offer is, no thanks.”

  “Why not?” He sat up, eyes flashing. Frustration rolled off him in angry waves. “What is so wrong with being married to me?”