Sinning in Vegas

by Sam Mariano

  Rafe smirks, tugging me close. “Yeah, good guys are not your type.”

  “So boring. I’ll probably marry one, but God, why?”

  “Hey,” he says, offended. “Maybe you’ll marry me. I can save you from the good guy.”

  “How twisted. I like it.” Tilting my head up to look at him, I say, “Tell me something. And don’t lie.”

  “Okay,” he says, warily.

  “What kind of marriage do you see yourself having? Are you like Gio, with a wife and kid, but a mistress on the side? Or are you faithful once inside a committed relationship?”

  “I don’t cheat when I’m in a relationship,” he tells me. “If I didn’t want to be in the relationship, I wouldn’t. At least, that’s how it always was before. I guess the wiggle worm made this a little more complicated for me.”

  I nod my understanding. “I get that. We have had a bizarre courtship.”

  “We definitely haven’t had The Calling singing in the background during our tender moments,” he says, nodding at the TV.

  “Who?”

  Cracking a smile, he says, “God, you’re just a baby, aren’t you?”

  I smack him in the stomach. “Shut up, grandpa. I’m not a baby.”

  “If we do get married, this is going to be our first dance. I’m calling it.”

  I can’t help smiling. “You think there’s even a remote chance of us getting married?”

  “You don’t?” he questions.

  “I think I was more ready to marry you our first night in Vegas, with Vince and Carly, than I am now. No offense.”

  Chuckling and shaking his head, he says, “None taken.”

  I like him relaxed like this. A less secure man wouldn’t be this relaxed after the scene he just witnessed. Seeking to reward him, I grab one of my pink macaroons and bring it to his lips, feeding him a bite. He takes a small bite and it reminds me of Easter. The way he smiled at me when I was feeding him jelly beans. Some of that tenderness comes rushing back as his eyes meet mine with the same amused fondness they held then.

  “Good, aren’t they?” I ask.

  “Delicious.”

  I take a bite of the same macaroon, my gaze dropping to his lips. “Tell me something. You clearly have loads more experience than I have at… well, everything.”

  “Yes,” he agrees. “Perks of being a grandpa.”

  I crack a smile. “So, you know how they say the quickest way to get over someone is to get under someone new? How true is that?”

  “Oh boy. I’m gonna have a hard time finding objectivity here, you realize that, right?”

  “Hey, I am relying entirely on your wise guidance. Tell your libido to slow its roll so your brain can give me good advice.”

  “Why don’t you ask your sister? She’s probably better equipped for this one.”

  “I can’t. She doesn’t know I was ever under anyone but you, so if I ask that, she won’t be unbiased either. She will enthusiastically assure me that I should definitely get under someone else, thinking that she’s advising me away from you.”

  “Good point.”

  “I could ask Mia,” I suggest.

  “She won’t be any help on this. All right, let me work this out. The answer isn’t the same for every person. It is true for some people. Sometimes we build people up in our minds, especially after a break-up. We gloss over the bad and focus on the good, rewriting the history and giving ourselves more to be sad over. If you wallow, you will be sad. If you legitimately want to get past that person and you go out, then yes, getting under someone else can be an effective way of moving on. That said, if you’re still wallowing and fucking someone else is a desperation move, you’re more likely to feel like shit afterward.”

  “Huh.”

  “Yeah.”

  “Well, that’s not super helpful. Maybe I’ll text my roommate.”

  Cracking a smile, he grabs the remote. “Let’s just watch the next episode of Smallville.”

  “That’s always a good answer to life’s problems,” I say, turning my attention back to the television.

  Somewhere between episode two and episode three, I fell asleep.

  When my eyes open again, I am still fully dressed and tucked under the covers. The room is bright from the sun streaming in through the window. I don’t immediately understand why I dread the daylight, but then I remember Sin’s date last night. If it’s daylight, that means Sin may have taken that goddamn waitress back to his house. She could have woken up in my spot this morning, his muscular, tattooed arms wrapped around her waist. His scarred, rough hands may have traveled every inch of her skin. That beautiful mouth may have been places even more intimate.

  I want to throw up, and I don’t think it’s because I ate dessert for four last night.

  The bed dips as Rafe takes a seat. “Good timing. I was just about to wake you up.”

  “You were?” I ask, pushing myself up in the bed, then giving up and falling back down.

  “I was. We didn’t get to enjoy the room service since we brought 18 desserts last night. I ordered last night’s plan for today, if you’re up for it.”

  Bet he didn’t think he signed up for nursing his baby mama through heartache. Poor guy. Sin is fucking someone else, so what the hell? I should, too.

  Throwing back the blankets, I sit up. “Sure, let’s do this.”

  I don’t know what we’re doing, but I don’t really care. After the emotional toll last night took on me, I am pretty numb today. If I think about anything too hard, I’ll probably cry, so I’ll let myself get swept up in whatever Rafe has planned.

  Turns out, Rafe has pretty sweet plans. He takes my hand and leads me into the bathroom. He ran a bubble bath. In the corner by the window, an open champagne bottle chills in a bucket of ice with a towel thrown over it and two champagne glasses stand on either side of it.

  “Are you forgetting something?” I ask, placing a hand on my tummy.

  “I am not,” he states, leaning forward and reaching into the bucket of ice. Obscured from view by the towel is a bottle of water. He puts it back down and indicates one of the glasses, which I’m now realizing is clear instead of champagne-colored. “This one is yours.”

  I grin at him. “You think of everything, don’t you?”

  “I hope you’re not sick of dessert yet.”

  I turn my attention to the plate of strawberries and the chocolate mousse-looking dish next to it. “I am never sick of dessert.”

  Stepping behind me, Rafe grabs the zipper on the back of my dress and draws it down. I swallow down my reluctance and tug down the ¾ sleeves, pulling on the dress until it falls to the floor. I’m wearing a burgundy bra and panty set underneath since that’s what Rafe laid out for me the night before, and he’s still wearing only pajama pants. Sadness overwhelms the numbness as I recall Sin standing behind me, taking my dress off me. I don’t want to be in this hotel room being undressed by Rafe, I want to be in Sin’s bedroom, letting him take off my clothes.

  Only he probably already took someone else’s clothes off in my place just last night. Sure, it was only a first date, but he wasn’t just using her to play games with Rafe. He probably doesn’t take so long to fuck someone he’s dating for fun. It’s hard for me to imagine that damn waitress making it to the end of a date and not wanting to go home with him. By the time he got her back to his place, he probably had her begging. When they got inside, he probably made her kneel for him.

  My heart hurts. I eye the champagne I can’t drink, the food I don’t want, then turn around and look at the only mind-altering substance in the room I can have: Rafe.

  “Get your head out of the clouds and focus on what you can have. It’s not me. It’s never been me. Nothing has changed.”

  Looping an arm around Rafe’s neck, I take him by complete surprise by rising up on my tiptoes and kissing him. His big hand comes to rest on my waist and he tugs me close, then cradles the back of my head in his palm and pulls me in for a deeper kiss.

/>   It’s a relief how easy it is to get drawn into him. My feelings may not be where they once were, but the man is skilled. He knows just how to kiss you to make your knees weak, just how to touch you to make you feel loved, even if you aren’t. I know from our talk last night he’s no more sure than I am that this is going anywhere, but as his hand drifts from my waist down to my ass, as he squeezes and yanks me against him, there is no hesitance, no uncertainty. That’s what I need, Rafe to take control. I gave my power to someone else, and he didn’t take care of it. If I ever give it away again, it needs to be to someone who will.

  I’m not sure that’s Rafe, but I’m not sure it isn’t, either. Just because the road has been rough doesn’t necessarily mean it’s a dead-end. Maybe we’re going through all the hard stuff first. Maybe I’ll fall for him in the wrong order, after seeing how well he pulls me through the heartbreak Sin dealt me.

  Regardless, it can’t make things worse. Things are about as bad as they can be. Even Sin told me to sleep with Rafe, so I’m saying no for no reason. If I end up going back to Chicago, it’s not like I’ll regret sleeping with Rafe here. I’ve done it before. It will be fine. I’m making too much of it.

  When he breaks the kiss and pulls back, I offer a smile and reach back to unhook my bra. “Let’s get in this bath while it’s still hot.”

  My heart beats wildly now that the invitation is out there. I turn away from him to take off the last couple items of clothing, looking out at the strip while I step out of my panties. For a surreal moment, it hits me that the man undressing behind me has power over this whole city, but he’s waiting for me. Maybe not patiently, but he is waiting. He doesn’t have to. Women who would love to slide into bed with him are crawling all over this city, and while he has frustrated me with them, I don’t think he’s actually had sex with any of them since I came to town. It’s not like we were committed to each other, so if he had, he wouldn’t have been wrong.

  His arms slide around my waist from behind and he bends to kiss my neck. I close my eyes, tilting my head in the opposite direction to give him an unobstructed path. While he kisses my neck, one of his big hands comes around to caress my breast, setting my nerve endings off and making them go wild. The guilt that follows is worrisome, but I ignore it. I have no reason to feel guilty. Sin’s face pops up in my head—the worst possible memory of his face: the evening I came back from the marathon “date” with Rafe. His head hanging, the look on his face, the sadness I swore I felt. Surely fucking Rafe would bring more sadness than that.

  Dammit, I don’t belong to Sin.

  Yes you do.

  My brain is my enemy, and I ignore it, bringing my hand up to caress Rafe’s as it squeezes my breast. Fuck you, brain. Fuck you, Sin. Nobody owns my ass. I’m as free as a fucking bird, and I’ll do what I want.

  Struck by rebelliousness, I turn around and loop my arm around Rafe’s neck again, pulling myself up to kiss him. His hands slide under my ass and he lifts me. I secure my legs go around his waist and crush my breasts against his chest.

  God, he is sexy. I’ve been ignoring it, but right now, that’s impossible. He’s bare ass naked, his hands cupping my ass. He walks forward, pressing me against the floor-to-ceiling glass window.

  I gasp, hanging onto him tighter and pull back. “The window is a bad idea. A wall I could accept, but my luck this is a weak window. I don’t want to plummet naked to my death.”

  “Plummeting to your death is only acceptable if you’re fully dressed?”

  “I would actually prefer to avoid it altogether, if at all possible.”

  Shaking his head, he says, “So high maintenance.”

  “Yep. Sorry.”

  He lowers me back to the ground, but he’s not too disappointed, because then I grab the black elastic band off the sink, pull my hair up in a bun, and climb into the tub. Luckily it’s a huge tub. He climbs in on the other end and stretches his long legs out. I scoot to accommodate him, then reach behind me for his champagne and lean across to hand it to him.

  “Thank you.”

  “Mm hmm. Remember when I had only known you for like 35 seconds and you already had me fetching your wine?”

  Rafe smiles, taking a sip of the champagne. “I do. Remember when you had only known me for 35 seconds, but you were eager to serve me? Maybe I need to wipe your memory and start over.”

  Shrugging unapologetically, I reach back and grab my champagne glass full of water. “I wanted a ride on the Rafe train, what can I say?”

  “You got one.”

  “I sure did. And a bonus baby—I didn’t even check that box.”

  “Getting involved with a Morelli usually means getting much more than you bargained for.”

  I nod my head, taking a sip of my water. “Carly tried to tell me that, but I was blinded by your general hotness and didn’t want to believe her.”

  “A common blunder. Pretty sure every woman who has ever gotten involved with one of us has been warned off at least once. We were designed to make women ignore good advice and pursue relationships with us anyway.”

  “And if that doesn’t work, kidnapping?”

  “I’ve never kidnapped anyone,” he says, slightly confused.

  “According to—” I stop short of saying Sin and amend my statement. “From what I’ve heard, kidnapping is an accepted part of Morelli relationships.”

  Nodding, he acknowledges, “True for some. I’ve never had to, but I have more difficult relatives.”

  “Like Vince?”

  He regards me curiously, but nods. “Like Vince.”

  I’m not sure I actually want to know, but with this opportunity to learn more about an integral part of my life, I can’t resist asking, “Did he kidnap Mia when she was already married to Mateo?”

  “Not married, no. They were engaged.”

  I look down at the water in my glass, hesitating before I ask the rest. “Did he hurt her?”

  Rafe clearly knows the answer to this question, but instead of answering me, he watches me for a moment. “Do you care for Vince? He’s married to your sister. You like him?”

  “I do.”

  “Then why don’t you leave these particular skeletons in the closet,” he suggests. “He and Mateo did some not-so-nice stuff to one another, and Mia was often caught in the crossfire. Mia and Vince both got hurt, they both hurt each other, and they’re better off apart. That’s the important takeaway. That’s all you need to know.”

  “I don’t want my sister to get hurt,” I tell him.

  “She won’t,” he says. The confidence in his tone, like there’s no chance of that happening, makes me feel a little better. “Trust me, your sister is scrappy as hell. She handles Vince like a pro. She’ll be just fine. If he ever crosses her, she can just kill him and keep all his money.”

  Laughter bubbles up and I take another sip of water. “I don’t think my sister would murder anyone.”

  “She wouldn’t have to,” he says, dryly. “If Carly ever wants Vince dead, all she has to do is make a single call. If she has your ruthlessness, Vince better treat her well.”

  “That’s good to know, I guess. Maybe not so good for Vince.”

  “She seems to like him, I’m sure he’ll be fine,” Rafe says. “Either way, the kid has escaped death at least a dozen times at this point, so if he dies, he dies.”

  Because I can’t help being curious, I ask, “Have you ever killed someone? I don’t mean hands-off, commissioned a hit, but like…”

  “Dirtied my own hands? Yeah, of course.”

  Of course, he says. I guess they probably wouldn’t let him be boss if he hadn’t proved himself somewhere along the line. “More than once?”

  Smiling faintly, he says, “Yes, more than once.”

  “That’s so weird.”

  “Considering my position, I think it would be weirder if I hadn’t,” he tells me. Then with a nod, as casually as if we were discussing the weather instead of his murder record, he says, “Give me a strawberry
.”

  I turn to grab a piece of fruit. “With chocolate, or no?”

  “Sure, what the hell?”

  I dip the strawberry in the chocolate mousse and lean over to hand it to Rafe. He makes no move to reach for it, instead curving his finger and beckoning me closer.

  Ah, he wants me to feed him.

  Well, I like feeding him, so that’s fine. I take a sip of my water and put it down on the ledge, then glide over to him. It’s a big tub, but he’s not a small man, so I still have to sit mostly on his lap to fit over here with him. I loop my free arm around his neck for increased comfort, bringing myself closer. Then I bring the strawberry to his lips, holding his gaze as he bites into it.

  “Are strawberries your favorite fruit?” I ask, since this is the second strawberry-related treat I’ve had with him.

  Rafe nods, one hand coming up out of the water and catching my hand. He brings it back to his lips, devouring the rest of the strawberry, then grabbing the back of my head and pulling me close. My loins stir and I close my eyes just in time for our lips to meet. He tastes like strawberries and chocolate, as if I didn’t already like kissing him enough. Grabbing my hips, he resituates me so I’m facing him, straddling his body. His hands slide up my back and he pulls me close, bending to catch my nipple in his mouth. I gasp, my body arching as his tongue circles the hard nub, one of his hands coming around to squeeze the other one. Sensation takes over, and for the first time in a while, I get caught up in the pleasure. He takes his time, nibbling and sucking, drawing sighs out of me. He turns his attention to the other breast, giving that nipple the same thorough attention. His teeth graze the sensitive nub and I jump, arching my back and pushing my fingers through his hair.

  It’s a different texture than Sin’s and the thought stabs me in the heart. I do my best to ignore it as Rafe’s hands move to grasp my hips, pulling me flush against him. I feel his cock pushing against me, and instead of wanting it inside me, I panic.

  “Wait. Wait, I’m sorry. I can’t.”

  Rafe sighs, his head falling back.