by Kim Loraine
"Okay," she says, dropping a floral printed duffel bag at my feet. "I think that's everything."
"Let's go, then." I hold out my hand and use the other to lift her luggage. For a second, I think she's not going to link our fingers, but she does. I give her hand a gentle squeeze and lead the way to my waiting car.
After loading her bag in the trunk, I open the passenger door and wait for her to slide inside, then I jog around to the driver's side and join her. I've never been this excited to spend time with a woman, and yes, it's a little pathetic that I had to offer to pay her to get her to be with me, but I think that's part of the appeal as well. She doesn't care about who I am. In her eyes, I'm a normal guy. That's sexier than anything else.
"No driver?" she asks.
I shrug, starting the car and pulling out into traffic. "I don't like being catered to."
"Unless it's me catering to you?"
Unable to hide my amusement, I chuckle. "I wouldn't call what you've done catering to me. You push back, rile me up, give me all kinds of shit. If that's catering, you need to find another job."
She crosses her arms over her chest. "I'm good at my job. It's just... you. You bring it out in me. Usually, I'm able to flirt and get good tips, but with you, I wanted to take the look in your eyes from interest to desire."
And did she ever. "Well, you succeeded. I haven't been able to stop thinking about you."
A blush creeps up her cheeks. "Me too."
As I pass the exit for the Strip that will take us back to the hotel, she sits up a little straighter. "Um, Easton? You missed our exit."
I shake my head. "No. We're not going back to the hotel."
"Where are you taking me?"
"Somewhere we can be together in private. You might not have noticed, but most people know who I am. If we wandered the Strip or even just stayed in the hotel, we'd end up on magazine covers and plastered all over social media. Your privacy would be invaded."
She was already on a few tabloid sites, but I'm not going to bring that up.
"Okay, you have a point."
"I was able to get a place on Lake Las Vegas for a few days. A friend owes me a favor. She's away for a few months and it's been sitting empty. Gated community, lots of privacy. The people in the neighborhood are used to celebrities and it really doesn't faze them."
Her eyes widen. "That's... really?"
Pride wells in my chest. "Really. I want you all to myself."
She snorts. "Well, you're paying me enough. You've got me."
"Good."
I pull up to the gate and punch in the six-digit code, crossing my fingers that this was the right move. We wind through the neighborhood, pulling off onto a dirt road that seems more like an access point than a driveway.
"Are you sure you know where we're going?" she asks.
"Just give it a minute." I try to keep confidence in my voice, but on the inside, I'm wondering the same. Until we round a corner and the house comes into view. Nestled in a private area of the lake, the modern design is all glass and light. The little intake of breath that comes from her tells me I made the right choice in bringing us here.
"This is... ridiculous."
Ridiculous? That's not the word I expected. "In a bad way?" She shakes her head and my chest eases a little. "In what way then?"
"Ridiculously beautiful, perfect, romantic. Take your pick."
"I'll take all of that. Now, let's get inside and settle in. I want to take you out on the lake."
Excitement fills her eyes, but she tries to school her expression. "Aren't you supposed to be writing an album? How can you do that if you take me out on the lake?"
I can't stop myself from laughing. "You worry about having fun. I'll worry about how and when inspiration strikes."
We walk through the door and she's immediately bathed in the morning light beaming through the bank of windows. Her hair catches the light and the strands I once thought to be a dark chestnut pick up highlights of gold. I want to reach out and slide my fingers through the silky tresses, but I pull back. As we wander through the house, her hand finds mine and she links our fingers.
"This is one of the two guest rooms. There's a pool in case you don't want to swim in the lake, and the back door for each room opens up to the pool deck."
"Where are you sleeping?" she asks, not making eye contact.
"I'll probably take the guest room next to yours. I feel weird about sleeping in someone's master bedroom."
She steps into the room and walks straight to the floor to ceiling sliding glass door. The pool is still and clear as glass, its design giving the impression there's no edge. "I'm glad I brought my bikini."
My mind immediately goes to the possibility of seeing her in a tiny little bikini. Maybe we should go for a swim, get some sun. "So am I."
A pink blush fills her cheeks. My thoughts immediately go to the feel of her in my arms. I want her cheeks pink because of my kiss rather than embarrassment. I don't know what comes next. I know what I want. Her, me, in bed together as she lets me learn her body. But that's not what's on her mind right now. She's afraid of being a whore. If I have my way, I'll prove to her that couldn't be further from the case.
Shoving my hands into my pockets to keep myself from tugging her close. "All right, I'll...uh...I'll let you get settled."
Her discomfort is palpable as we stand there awkward as hell. I can feel her pulling away. So I do the only thing I can think of. I step closer, not stopping until I'm standing mere inches from her. She sucks in a sharp breath and locks gazes with me. "Easton?" she whispers.
"I really need to kiss you right now."
When she takes her lower lip between her teeth and lets out a little whimper, I dip my head and take her mouth. Instant heat courses through me, making my whole body sing. Yes, this is what I need. Her. I've never been so swept away by a woman, but I'm desperate for her. Her tongue presses into my mouth and a low moan builds in my chest. If we don't stop now, I'll have her on her back right the fuck now.
Breaking the kiss, I hold her face between my palms and stare into the eyes I've already come to crave. She breathes hard, lips swollen and gaze heated. "Why...why did you stop?"
I press my forehead to hers. "If I don't, I'll have you on the bed right here and now."
"Is that a problem?"
"That's not why you're here. I don't want you to think I'm paying to fuck you."
She steps back and everything closes off between us. "Thank you for the reminder. I keep forgetting you hired me." Then she slides open the door and steps out onto the patio, ending our conversation and leaving me without a second glance.
5
Ireland
Easton's kiss still tingles on my lips as I step out of the cool, air-conditioned room and into the baking heat of a Las Vegas afternoon. He was right to stop us when he did, but damn if I didn't want him to do exactly what he said he was worried about.
I stand outside taking in the beautiful view until the scent of bacon hits my nose. Bacon? My stomach growls. I didn't eat breakfast before Easton picked me up, and honestly, I was too excited to eat. But now, that smell has my mouth watering.
I head back inside, walking down the hall in search of the kitchen. When I round the corner my heart catches in my throat. Easton stands at the stove, a dishtowel thrown over one shoulder. He looks so damn sexy.
"You cook?" I ask.
When he turns, the grin on his face is boyish and charming. "A few things."
I glance into the pan on the stove. There's the bacon. "What are you making?"
"BLTs. You want one?"
Yes, I definitely do. "Is there avocado?"
He cocks an eyebrow. "I'm a civilized person. Of course there is."
I hop up onto the counter and watch him assemble the sandwiches. "Where'd all this food come from? You said the place has been empty."
"I went this morning before I picked you up."
That's surprising. Nick was the stereotypical rocker
. He slept late, drank hard, and partied harder. He also broke my heart into a thousand jagged shards. Maybe it's unfair of me to judge Easton because he's a musician, but part of me can't help the fear of history repeating itself.
"So, where'd you learn to cook?"
He glances away and sighs. "Didn't have a lot of supervision when I was a kid. Mom was gone, Dad was around but not present. Had to learn to feed myself or starve."
"Oh, that's... wow."
"My older brother took care of my sister and me, but he worked a lot and Paisley and I had to figure out how to make more than cereal." My heart melts thinking of him as a little kid.
"I'm sure it must have been hard for you."
"We struggled. I'm not going to lie. When Pais got married, I was relieved she had someone to take care of her."
"So she's happy now?"
Easton's expression goes dark. "Her husband died a few weeks before their first baby was born. Drunk driver."
My gut twists. How terrible. He slides a plate across the counter toward me and I eye him. "Is that why you don't really drink?"
He nods. "It's part of the reason."
"And the other part?"
Hand gripping the back of his neck, he lets out a long breath before he makes eye contact with me. "My dad was an alcoholic. Mom couldn't deal. So, instead of taking us with her, she ran off and left my brother, sister, and me with him. A few years later, he drank himself to death. "
I try not to let pity be my obvious expression. He wouldn't want that. Instead, I take a bite of my BLT and moan, a pathetic attempt to change the subject. "This is so good," I say around a mouthful of food.
A smile turns up the corners of his mouth, not quite reaching his eyes. "It's been my favorite since I was a kid. Minus the lettuce and tomato, I learned to appreciate the veggies after high school."
"A bacon sandwich. Smart kid."
He laughs and nods. "Sometimes. I got myself into a lot of trouble thinking I was smart."
"Kids," I say, chuckling under my breath.
After taking a bite, he joins me on the counter. "So, is that in the future for you? Kids, husband, white picket fence?"
My gut clenches. "I, uh, I mean..." How do I broach this subject without bringing all my drama into it? "It's something I thought I wanted, but I don't anymore."
"Not at all?"
I stare at the clock on the wall in front of us, not willing to let him see my eyes. "No. When I think of puffy white wedding gowns and flower girls, it makes me break out in hives."
He bumps me with his shoulder. "Maybe you haven't met the right guy."
"I thought I had. But I was wrong."
His fingers graze my hand, pulling my attention from the clock to his dark gaze. "Who hurt you?"
I shake my head and move to leave. "It's no big deal."
"It is. Whoever that douchebag was, I'm not him. I know how to take care of a woman's heart."
"Doubtful," I say, hopping down and grabbing my plate. I place it in the sink and toss him a long look. "It's been my experience that guys like you only care about one thing."
"And what's that?"
"Your music."
He's undeterred, getting to his feet and following me. "Did you hear a single word I said earlier? All this..." —he gestures around us— "it's nice. It's a perk. But if I had to give it all up to be happy, to make you happy, I would."
God, I want to believe him. I take a deep breath. I need to change the tone between us right now. "Okay, tell you what, let's stop with the serious talk and do something fun."
A grin spreads across his lips. "Like what?"
"I passed a home theater on the way down the hall. Want to watch a movie?"
Five minutes later we're settled in, the opening credits of The Princess Bride are playing, and I'm trying not to watch him watch the movie.
"I can't believe you've never seen this," I say, grabbing a blanket and throwing it over my legs.
"I'm sure there are movies I've seen that you never have."
"Maybe, but this is a classic."
"It's a chick flick."
I scoff. "This is not a chick flick. This is... it's... that's like saying Star Wars is a kid's movie."
"Okay, okay, I'm sorry. But the kid in the movie just asked if it was a kissing book, and the couple kissed within the first few minutes of the movie. It looks like a chick flick to me."
"Well, you're in for a surprise. I bet by the time it's over, you'll want to watch it again."
He cocks an eyebrow, watching the romance unfold between Buttercup and Westley. "Doubtful."
"Afraid of a little wager? We're in Vegas, you know. It's kind of what we're known for here."
"Fine. I win, you let me teach you how to play guitar."
I don't tell him I already know how to do that. The thought of him showing me something he loves so much makes my belly flip. "And if I win?"
"You can choose what we do tomorrow."
"Did I not have a choice already?"
He grins. "You did, but I won't argue if you win."
Nodding, I settle in and snuggle under my blanket. Easton puts one arm over the back of the loveseat and pulls part of the soft throw over his legs too. His hand plays with my hair, making heat rush over my body but he never tries anything else.
We sit together, thighs touching, both working to pay attention to the movie rather than each other. He teases me for mouthing the words to my favorite lines. I swoon over the hero. When the end comes, he turns to me and cups my face in one big palm.
"Did you like it?" I ask.
"I did."
He leans a little closer and I can't tear my gaze away from his full, inviting lips. "So... I win?"
"It looks like you do."
"And we can do anything I want?"
His eyes burn into mine. "Anything."
My breaths come fast and short as I try to rein in the desire running rampant through me. Maybe I should cash in my winnings now. I know what I want. Him. I close the distance between us, taking his mouth and reveling in the feel of him. His tongue dances with mine as he cups the back of my head and leans over me until I have no choice but to lie back. He fits his hips between my legs as I run my fingers under the fabric of his shirt, feeling the heat of his body.
"Ireland," he whispers. "I want you so bad. Fuck, you're all I think about."
I want him too. Since the first time I saw him at the bar. But now I want more than one time with him. The problem is, I know this is temporary. He's leaving, I'm staying.
I kiss his neck, my teeth grazing the lobe of his ear and pulling a groan from him. Then I whisper, "Me too."
Running my hands down his chest and abs, I reach his belt buckle and work the leather until the clasp is opened. His hands are everywhere, in my hair, on my breasts, gripping my hips as he rolls his against my thighs. I open his fly and slide my fingers inside his pants, my fingertips brushing the head of his erection.
He hisses and his hips buck. "Jesus, baby, I want your hands on me."
"That's what I'm trying to do." Then I grip his steel length and stroke. Oh, he's long and thick and I want every inch of him.
His deep groans spur me on as he continues to kiss me and now all I can think about is making him come. I want to know what he sounds like when he moans my name as he climaxes.
"Fuck, you feel so good." His voice is rough with need as his hand slides down my belly and under the waistband of my leggings. Yes, yes, yes. That's where I want him. The moment his fingers brush my clit I squirm under him and cry out. "There it is," he rumbles against my ear. "That's the noise I've been wanting to hear."
He sinks a finger deep inside me and I meet him with a rough stroke along his cock. We're writhing together, tasting each other's lips, sharing pleasure. I could do this all night. His thumb brushes my clit and he adds a second finger inside me. I answer by rolling my thumb over his crown and spreading the bead of moisture across his tip.
"I want you to come, baby,"
he says on a groan.
"I'm close." I have to force the words because I'm closer than I thought. The sparks are there, all culminating into an explosion. I'm hovering on the edge of release when he groans my name and circles my clit once more.
He pulses in my hand, hot jets of his pleasure hitting my belly and the guttural sound that rises from his chest makes my own climax roll through me. I cry his name, coming on his fingers as my toes curl from the pleasure.
Foreheads pressed together, we stay there, breathing heavily, staring at each other. I feel like a teenager making out with my boyfriend. I haven't done this kind of heavy petting in years.
"We should watch that movie every night," he says, and I can't help but laugh.
"Yeah, we should."
6
Ireland
The next day I wake up missing him. We went to bed in separate rooms, both of us wanting to draw this out while fighting the urge to give in and sleep together. But I dreamed of him. I fell asleep fantasizing about his kisses and woke smelling his delicious scent. The sun is high in the sky and the automatic shades have rolled up. It must be late morning. Padding out to the kitchen I see he's already made coffee, a mug is set out for me with a little note next to it.
Didn't want to wake you. I have to work for a few hours, then you have me at your disposal.
E
God, but he's perfect. I pour myself a cup of coffee and doctor it with cream and sugar, then make my way back to my room. I want to soak up the sun and enjoy some time poolside.
Slipping on tank top and shorts, I grab my phone and some flip-flops before I head outside. No good burning the soles of my feet on the hot concrete.
I cover myself in sunscreen and lie out on one of the chairs with my Kindle and a steamy romance novel to keep me company. It’s relaxing and wonderful and before I know it, a few hours have passed. My phone buzzes in my pocket and I pull it out, knowing it's going to be Summer.
Okay, spill. You can't leave me a note and then vanish without expecting me to come calling.
I smile to myself, sitting on one of the chairs under an umbrella.
