by Pamela Clare
“Beginner’s luck,” Taylor teased, handing the dealer a tip.
Lexi looked affronted. “Clearly, you guys have no clue how to play blackjack. Want to try roulette? There’s no skill involved.”
That made Taylor laugh. “Hawke, I think we’ve just been insulted.”
Chuckling, Eric got to his feet and took Victoria’s hand. “Easy come, easy go. At least it wasn’t my money.”
“Sorry you lost it all,” she said.
“It’s your fault.” He ducked down and brushed his lips against hers, breathing in her scent. “I can’t quit thinking about you.”
“Good.”
They played roulette for a while, Eric watching Victoria lose most of her chips. Then they tried the craps table, where Taylor crashed and burned.
“Taxes on the casinos’ profits go to fund state parks and wilderness preservation. So I’m paying my own salary—sort of,” he said.
“Trying to make yourself feel better about losing?” Eric asked.
Moretti rejoined them. “Hey, I won twenty bucks. You guys out of chips yet?”
“I’m not,” Lexi bragged. “I won a hundred dollars at blackjack.”
Then a cheer went up at the poker table, and Belcourt and Winona got to their feet, smiles on both of their faces.
Britta applauded. “Way to go, Win!”
“I beat you! I finally beat you.” Winona said. “I beat the genius.”
Belcourt wasn’t taking it hard, a smile on his face. “Well done, little sister, but, hey, don’t forget your chips.”
They had dessert and coffee back in the dining room, cashed out their chips, and then it was time to head downstairs, where the limo was waiting to take them back to Scarlet. One of the hotel staff walked over and handed Victoria a black check holder.
She opened it, signed some kind of receipt, and handed it back to him, but not before Eric caught a glimpse.
Eight thousand nine hundred dollars and change.
She had paid for this?
What a Victoria thing to do. She’d paid for it, and she hadn’t made a big deal about it. She’d even let him believe Taylor and Lexi were footing the bill.
He helped her into the limo, sat beside her, kissing her cheek as he slipped his arm around her shoulders. “You are incredible. You know that?”
“You just wait.”
It was going to be a long damned drive back to the inn.
Chapter 15
Vic walked with Eric to the elevator, his fingers twined with hers. He pushed the button—three times—and they waited, the silence humming with sexual tension. The door opened with a ding, and they stepped inside.
He was on her the moment the door closed, backing her up against the elevator wall, his mouth coming down on hers in a brutal, punishing kiss.
God, yes.
She’d waited all night for this. She buried her fingers in his hair, surrendering to him, the urgency of his need for her sending a dark thrill through her blood.
He slid one hand down her hip to her thigh, lifted her leg and wrapped it around his waist, his erection straining against his trousers. And then she remembered.
“Security cameras. What if … ?” Still, she couldn’t quit kissing him.
He lowered her leg, broke the kiss, and pressed his forehead to hers, breathing hard. “This elevator needs to move faster.”
It seemed to take forever to reach the third floor, Vic’s heart still pounding, her body jittery with unmet sexual need.
Finally, the car stopped, and the door opened.
Eric swept her out and across the hall, one clever hand sliding between her thighs to caress her while she fumbled with the key card. “You’re so wet. Have you been wet like this all night, thinking of me, thinking of what I’m going to do to you?”
“Yes.” She finally got the door open, stepped inside, and flicked on the light, while Eric kicked the door shut behind them. And then they were in each other’s arms, picking up with that kiss right where they’d left off.
They stumbled across the floor together, Vic tugging at the starched fabric of his shirt, yanking it out of his trousers, her hands hungry for the feel of his skin. He drew away from her long enough to shed his jacket, tear off the tie, and rid himself of his shirt. She reached for his fly, fought with some kind of hidden metal clasp. He took over, so she reached for her own zipper.
“No.” His voice was rough, dark. “The dress stays on.”
He jerked open his fly only enough to free his erection, and she caught just a glimpse of his cock before he turned her to face away from him.
Oh, God, she wanted him inside her. Now.
He bent her over the sofa, rucked her dress up over her hips. “Jesus.”
He slid one big hand over the bare skin of her ass, making her whimper with impatience. She heard the quiet rip of a condom wrapper. Then he forced her legs wide apart, one finger sliding from her clit to the entrance of her vagina.
“You teased me all night. Is this what you want?”
“Yes, yes, yes. Fuck me.”
He filled her with a single slow thrust that felt like salvation, an answer to hours of wanting him. “God, I love your pussy.”
He gave her just a moment to get used to having him inside her before he began to move, slowly at first then faster until he was driving into her hard, a big hand grasping one hip, his fingers digging into her skin, the other reaching around to tease her clit.
God, it felt good, so good. He was relentless, his deep strokes making the ache inside her worse, stretching her, filling her, driving her crazy.
Faster, harder, deeper.
Wanting every inch of him, she arched her lower back and heard him groan in approval. She fought to hold on, her fingers digging into the sofa as he drove her headlong toward a shattering climax, pounding her pleasure home.
He followed her over the edge, finishing with a few powerful thrusts. He sank against her, out of breath, his hands bracketing her body on the back of the sofa. He pressed kisses along her nape. “Vicki. My Vicki.”
As her heartbeat slowed, one thought cut through the post-orgasmic bliss.
How could she possibly say goodbye to him?
Eric soaked in the enormous bathtub, Victoria leaning back against him, her head resting on his chest, their legs mingling. Music drifted through the suite from the radio. It was classical, but Eric was too content to care. He caressed one beautiful breast, his other arm stretched out across the back of the tub, warm water lapping lazily at their skin. His mind drifted, his body replete. “You did a crazy wonderful thing tonight.”
“I’m glad you liked it. I wondered how you would react.”
It took him a moment to realize that she’d misunderstood him. “I’m not talking about your lack of panties, though that was crazy and wonderful, too. I’m talking about eight thousand nine hundred dollars plus change.”
She craned her neck, looked up at him. “You saw? No one was supposed to see.”
“Good eyes. What can I say?”
“I hope Austin and Lexi didn’t see it, too.”
“Even if they didn’t, I’m sure they have some idea how much it cost.”
“Lexi is my best friend. Besides, it’s only money.”
His mother had often said those words, but for different reasons. When buying antibiotics for him had left her with no money for food. When she’d had to choose between snow tires and paying her utility bill. When the school had asked parents to help cover the cost of a field trip and she’d had nothing to give.
“It’s only money,” she’d say, smiling down at him. “We’ll make it somehow.”
When he’d been old enough to work, he’d helped out, doing chores outside so his mother could rest, getting odd jobs to earn his own spending money, shoveling sidewalks and splitting wood all winter to help pay the heating bills. There’d been times when a little cash—far less than what Victoria had spent tonight—would have made a world of difference to him and his mother. Yes
, there were more important things than money, but money went a long way toward making life easier.
That’s why you went for the high-paying job, isn’t it, buddy?
Right.
“What’s it like to grow up like that?”
“With money, you mean?”
That’s what he’d meant. “Sorry if that seems too personal.”
She laughed. “I’m sitting naked with you in a bathtub. You’ve been inside me. Is there anything more personal than that?”
He chuckled. “I guess not.”
“I didn’t really understand that my family was any different from anyone else’s until I started grade school. My father didn’t want us growing up to be what he calls ‘the useless rich,’ so we went to a public school. Other people’s parents would pick them up, but we had a bodyguard who came for us—basically a manny with a gun.”
She told Eric how her mother had divorced her father when they were little and had largely vanished from their lives. “I can remember her complaining to a friend over the phone that she would never have had kids if she’d realized how much work it was to be a mother. I must have been four or five at the time. She had a full-time nanny, but even so, we were too much work.”
What a bitch. “That must have hurt.”
“I felt like a burden, like something she regretted. She and I are not close.”
He could understand that.
“My father tried to be there for us, but I don’t think he ever intended to raise us by himself. He worked most of the time, but every summer we went on a month-long vacation somewhere in the world. Those are my best memories.”
She told him about playing on the beach at Nice; visiting the supposed home of Santa Claus in Rovaniemi, Finland, where she’d ridden in a sleigh pulled by reindeer; camping on an island in the middle of Lake George in New York; sleeping overnight in the Tower of London; staying at that inn in Kenya where she and her brother fed giraffes through the window and heard lions roaring nearby.
“We had chores like other kids. If we did our chores, we got paid an allowance. That was all the spending money we had. He demanded that we go to college and not slide by on privilege. He paid our way through college, but we had to have part-time jobs. We also had to maintain good GPAs. I didn’t gain access to my trust fund until I graduated from college. I’m grateful for those lessons. The last thing in the world I would want to be is a brainless socialite.”
Eric kissed her head. “You’re nothing like that. You’re generous with your friends and even with strangers. Everything you do comes from your heart. If you hadn’t told me your family had money, I wouldn’t have known.”
It was true. Every word.
“Really?”
“Yes, really.”
But Eric didn’t know what to think about her father. It sounded like he’d done his best to be a good dad—until the moment when his daughter had needed him most. Then he’d gotten angry and blamed her.
Well, no one was perfect.
As if she’d read his mind, she went on. “I know my father cares about me. I just wish he hadn’t reacted the way he did when I told him about … what had happened. He acted like I was trying to be the next heiress with a sex tape or something. I hadn’t even known I was being recorded.”
“I’m sorry he wasn’t there for you.” He kissed her hair.
In the other room, her cell phone buzzed.
Her body tensed. “At two in the morning, Abigail? Really?”
He needed to ask the obvious. “Why do you stay in a job you don’t like, working for a boss who treats you like this?”
She seemed to consider it for a moment. “It’s important to me to have a career, to be successful at something. I can’t just quit and sit on the beach all day. I’d feel like a loser. Eventually, I’d run out of money. Besides, what would I do? I don’t want to go back to college.”
“Well, Joe offered you a job.”
She laughed. “Can you imagine me telling my dad that I’d quit Jensen West and was moving here to be a cook at a brewpub?”
Eric didn’t think it sounded nearly as crazy as she did. “Does it matter what he thinks if you’re happy?”
“I suppose not, but I don’t want to feel like a failure.”
“You remember what my mom says about success, right?”
“The path to success is the one that enables people to feel at peace with themselves. Yes, I remember.”
He changed the subject after that, afraid of coming across as pushy or giving the impression he was trying to talk her into moving to Colorado. Which he was.
The conversation moved on—to Eric’s childhood, his memories of high school with Lexi and Austin, why he’d joined the Team—until the water grew cool. They climbed out of the tub and dried each other off.
Then he scooped her up and danced his way to the bed with her in his arms, waltzing in time to the music, dropping her onto the sheets, and stretching out on top of her. “How about we fuck until we break this bed?”
This time, when he made love to her, he took time for tenderness, dallying over all the sweet little details he’d skipped a couple of hours ago.
And, oh, yes, he made her scream.
Vic watched Eric sleep, the sun already up outside, the scent of freshly baked croissants and coffee drifting up from the dining room below. He was such a beautiful man. Dark lashes rested against his tanned skin, his muscular chest rising and falling with each deep, slow breath, his body relaxed in sleep. The sheets had crept down below his hips, exposing his cock to her view.
She’d never felt overly attached to the penis of any of the handful of men she’d been with in her life—except for Eric’s. Maybe because of what he did for her when he was inside her. Of course, that wasn’t really his penis. That was his brain and his heart—the man in control of the penis. Still…
She’d never had a night like last night with anyone before. It wasn’t just that reaching orgasm was easy with him. It’s that he made her feel that he truly cared about her. He knew his way around a woman’s body. That was for sure. But nothing he did felt automatic. He wasn’t like most of the men she’d been with, who’d gone down on her only to get her to go down on them and who’d complained about it when she hadn’t come fast enough to suit them. He truly seemed to enjoy bringing her pleasure for her sake. She’d never known any man like him.
She glanced at the clock, saw that it was time to get up. Today was spa day. She needed to be ready to head to Boulder by nine-thirty, and that meant breakfast and a shower. But she didn’t want to wake Eric—unless…
Smiling to herself, she crawled down to kneel between his splayed legs, then took his cock in hand, and ran her tongue along the underside from his balls to the tip.
His body’s response was immediate, his cock growing harder in her hand.
She licked him again, this time taking his length into her mouth and sucking. His cock went fully erect. She teased him with her tongue, tracing the thick rim of the head, licking away the pearl of moisture that emerged from the tip, flicking her tongue across the underside.
She heard a sharp inhale, looked up to find him watching her, shock on his face.
She began to move, using her mouth and hand together, stroking him.
He moaned, his fingers sliding into her hair, holding it to the side so that he could watch. “Vicki.”
She kept up the rhythm, trying to follow his body’s signals, going faster when his hips urged her to, increasing the pressure, cupping and rolling his balls in her free hand.
His every exhale was a quick gust of breath now, his body rigid, his balls drawing tight. “Jesus.”
He came with a groan, arching off the bed, one hand clenched tightly in her hair, the other fisting in the sheets. She drew her mouth off him, finishing him with her hand, his cock contracting, thick cum shooting onto his belly.
Slowly, his body began to relax.
“Good morning,” she said.
He chuckled, his bl
ue eyes warm. “Good morning to you, too.”
She reached for a tissue.
He took it from her, wiped off his belly, tossed the tissue into the trash. “Come here, woman.”
She crawled upward, straddling him, and taking his mouth with hers.
His arms wrapped around her, holding her tight, his head lifting off his pillow as he kissed her back.
As sweet as this was, it couldn’t last forever.
She broke the kiss, glanced over at the clock. “I need to get up. It’s spa day.”
“Just do something for me before you go. It will only take a few minutes.”
“Sure.”
His lips curved in a sexy grin. “Sit on my face.”
Eric walked through the open bay doors at the firehouse, needing something to take his mind off Victoria. She was leaving Sunday—two days from today. Although he’d told himself a half dozen times that it didn’t matter, that he wasn’t really involved with her, that he’d gotten along fine before she’d come to Scarlet and he’d be fine when she was gone, he no longer believed that. It did matter.
Victoria was everything he hadn’t known he was missing, everything he hadn’t realized he wanted. And she was leaving.
He found Bill, the department’s mechanic, just inside the bay repairing an air pack. “Hey, Bill.”
“Hey, chief. How’s the wedding hoopla going?”
“The rehearsal is this evening. I thought I’d catch up on paperwork.”
“We’re out of toilet paper,” Bill called after him.
How could people who could problem-solve inside a burning building find it so hard to deal with everyday shit? “Did anyone think about bringing a roll from home or dipping into petty cash and buying some? Jesus!”
Welcome back to reality, buddy.
He made his way past the various apparatus—an engine, a ladder truck, a water tender, two ambulances, an emergency rescue vehicle, and four ATVs—to his office. First, he called Food Mart and asked Mick, the manager, to send over a case of TP, since no one else was apparently capable of doing so. Then he spent the next hour going through a week’s worth of emails and incident reports.
