Hold 'Em: Vegas Top Guns, Book 3 (25 page)

“You feel like moving any time soon?” Michael called.

Shading her eyes, she squinted down at him. His golden hair glinted in the sun. “I thought you were supposed to be the Zen king. What the hell are you complaining about?”

“I’d like to be Zen
after
I get my turn.”

“Who says you get a turn?”

“You really wanna shit talk the man who’s holding your safety rope?”

“I’m pretty sure I can say anything I want when I’m up here. If you go home without me, you’ll have to answer to Jon and Fang. You wouldn’t like Fang when he’s angry.”

His laugh rolled up to her. Hell, it rolled all the way
into
her. She grinned like a schoolgirl.

“He can look like The Hulk when he’s pissed.” He flicked out the tail end of the rope, which slithered across the ground. “But don’t worry, I kinda like you. I feel like keeping you around for a while yet.”

“Oh gee.” Dry deadpan didn’t have the same impact when she was trying to make her voice carry. “I’m so very relieved.”

She was. Because she couldn’t help thinking he meant it. Awesome, really. Up on the rock, on such a beautiful day, she could admit that.

“But for strictly nefarious purposes, though,” he added with a chuckle.

“That’s my line, pet. Now shut up so I can clobber this thing.”

They climbed for hours, taking turns. The only thing better than being on the rock herself was standing at the pitch point and watching Mike move. He wore a slim gray T-shirt that showed off the breadth of his shoulders. Every reach. Every hard pull as he hauled his body up the sheer rock face. Sweat slicked down his spine, darkening the gray to sleek charcoal. The harness cupped his ass with flat black straps. Tasty.

But there was more. More she’d need to process.

Just before taking his first grip on the stone, he’d stripped out of his jacket.

His wrist had been bare. Still was.

The silver cuff that always niggled at her, the one he’d been given by his first mistress… Gone. The thick muscles of his forearm and the tendons of his wrist were bare, revealing tan skin and the finest dusting of blond hairs. No fanfare. No big demonstration. All quiet and still, which was exactly like Michael.

Yeah, she was happy he’d ditched the damn thing, but now what? She shivered despite the day’s heat.

They’d tackled a couple different routes by the time the sun dipped toward the horizon. Leah was half dead from exhaustion. Jesus, did it feel good—from her sweaty ponytail to the weakness at the backs of her ankles.

Michael crested the top where she sat at the edge of a cliff. They’d intentionally left this route for last. It rated only a 5.7, but the view was amazing. After unstrapping his harness, he eased onto the sand beside her. Their toes dangled over the thirty-foot drop.

Leah didn’t say anything, not for a long time. The peace was utterly beautiful.

Miles of long terrain stretched out. Golds and reds, covered with the slightest brushes of dark sage. The dipping sun extended the reds into the sky and added royal purple. The blue at their backs disappeared, and even the air held the crisp promise of the oncoming night. Far away was the magnetic glow of Vegas, but they ignored it in favor of the sunset.

She breathed. Deeply.

The only thing better than the clean smell of juniper and creosote was Michael. His sun-warmed vitality eased her more deeply into the moment.

Hairs like tiny butterflies prickled her senses as she slipped her fingers over his wrist. Bare skin beneath her touch. No longer the barrier of another woman’s silver.

“You going to tell me about this?”

Apparently it was impossible to keep her mouth shut.

“I was ready to take it off.” His expression was placid, but she knew him. Deeper emotion always waited beneath his easy calm.

She wanted to ask. Make him face her. Her questions, however, would give away her insecurities.
Why, Michael? Why me?
How could he know she was worth giving up a token that had been a part of him for so long?

Folding her hands around his bare wrist, she simply…enjoyed. Their peace and perfection was enough for now. The rest of the world would shake out later.

She slid closer. Michael hooked his arm around her shoulders in the way that always made her feel small and sheltered.
So
ridiculous. They were sticky with drying sweat and gritty with sand. She only nestled closer.

“This was a great idea. I’ll have to thank Jon.”

He pinched her shoulder in his big grip. “Hey, now. I’m the one who did all the work. I take the risk, I get all the praise.”

“Is that how it works?”

“Damn straight.”

“Thank you.” She stretched up and kissed first his cheek, then the hollow behind his sharp jaw. “Thank you, Michael. This has been fantastic.”

“I wonder what kind of reward I’ll get tonight when I break out the marshmallows and chocolate.”

“I could replace your cuff with a new one.”

She went rigid. They both did, as if dipped in carbonite like Han Solo.

Had she really just said that?

“You could,” he said quietly. The breeze tried to snatch his words away, but she heard them.

Those two words filled an ache in her soul. She wanted that. She wanted to buy him a beautiful cuff that would accentuate his male power and stake her claim. Both.

Doubts tried to creep in. She couldn’t handle it. She’d screw it up. She could only keep so much rolling at once. Her career as a pilot—the yardstick she’d used for a decade to demonstrate her worth—would tank if she fell so deeply into Michael’s orbit. Not because of anything he’d do, but because she’d never experienced this kind of obsession. Not for flying or even winning, but for Michael.

It was already hard as hell to keep her jumbled impulses in lockdown. She didn’t have any extra resources.

Except… This wasn’t the time or the place for that fear. Staring into the sunset while nestled against Michael’s big body was a moment outside of time. A moment so much kinder than she was to herself.

She breathed in the desert perfume. Michael’s tranquility seeped beneath her skin, into her soul. To help herself along, she spread one hand flat over his stomach. Calm, warm and so strong.

“How long have you been rock climbing?”

Ugh. Avoidance, much?

Trust Michael to call her on her shit. He tugged on her ponytail. “We just tripped over your comfort level.”

She made a sharp gesture with one hand. “Swan dive.”

“Got it.”

He cupped her face. She never, ever flinched from his size. He was so much bigger, so vital. He possessed more power in his hands than she did while wielding a flogger. That was part of the amazing rush she got when he handed it into her keeping.

A small frown drew his brows together. “Will you let me say one thing though?”

When she swallowed, it was past a solid lump in her throat. Her tongue slicked over dry lips. She always got these cold shots of fear whenever anything serious reared up. The cast to his features said serious with a capital S.

She made herself nod.

“If you gave me a cuff, I’d take it. But the fact that I’m not wearing my old one… It doesn’t have to mean anything more than it does.”

“Which is?”

He brushed his knuckles over her bottom lip. “That when I’m around you, I can’t think about any other woman.”

Leah’s smile bloomed so slowly, coming from the warm kernel deep inside her. She was happy. Completely and fully happy.

She touched her mouth to his. From roses to such perfect declarations—how was a girl to resist?

“You’re too good to be true.”

“I am.” He kissed her back just as softly—the slightest sip and caress. “Just wait ’til later. I’m going to stuff you with s’mores and sit you under the stars. Then I’m going to have my wicked way with you.”

She snorted with laughter. “Oh, you will?”

“You see, I have a plan. Cuz then I’m going to feed you coffee. My crappy, nasty coffee.” He grinned. So much mischievousness. “You’ll end up dropping your panties and jumping me just to end the horror.”

“Oh, my God. You are a mad genius.”

“Truly devious.”

“Shut up and kiss me.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

He gave every order his full attention. This was no exception. He swept his mouth over hers, delving his tongue between her lips. She framed his face and held him steady. Held them both steady. The kiss swirled her brains and turned her body warmer, softer. The day’s hard-charging activities bled away.

She was tempted, so tempted, to revel in Michael’s kiss forever.

Chapter Twenty-Eight

As Mike watched dawn sunshine halo around his blankets-for-curtains, he couldn’t deny it anymore.

He loved waking up with her.

He loved
her.

Goddamn it.

Half of Leah’s body sprawled across his. She slept on her stomach, which meant a knee across his abs and an elbow dangerously close to his eyeball. What made it awesome rather than annoying was how, even in sleep, she held him. Maybe that was why waking with her in his bed, or he in hers, was such a thing of beauty. Even waking with her in a tent two weeks ago had been fun—proof they could laugh, lounge, chill the hell out.

With a sigh, he pillowed his head on his free arm. The sting across his back made him smile. She’d become very proficient with the flogger, with last night the best yet. He knew it took practice. The idea of Leah working at home to get it just right, for him, was almost more than he could take. Sometimes she kept him at arm’s length. He suspected her issues about control held her back, but that didn’t make the effect easier to take. Yet she cared for him and took their physical trust very seriously.

He’d felt it coming for weeks, like a wave that wouldn’t be held back forever. That morning just happened to be the morning when his heart smacked him in the head. No more denials. He tucked his nose against the top of her head and breathed deeply. She had come to mean the world to him. Would he wait for her to feel the same way?
Could
he? Even the easygoing nature he’d worked to cultivate—for him, a necessary means of coping with the unknowns of the military—wasn’t going to see him through this mess. She’d blown on through that barrier. He wanted her too much to keep cool.

Slowly, she began to rouse. He’d learned to catch her small, telling movements. Grumbles first. A clenching of her limbs, possessing him even before she opened her eyes. She wiped the loose hair from across her face and turned to look at him.

“Morning,” he said.

“Time?”

“Eight thirty.”

“Hell.”

He grinned. “What happened to Miss Runs-a-Lot?”

Her hands slid to his pecs. She scratched across skin striped by the distinctive bowtie marks left by rows of clothespins. He rolled his eyes closed on a long, contented sigh.

“I had my workout last night,” she said with a devilish smile. “You did so well, pet.”

Shit. Damn. Fuck.

He was screwed.

“Thank you, ma’am.” He pulled her closer until their bodies were plastered together. Morning wood was unavoidable with her breasts pressed against his ribs and her knee inching suspiciously up toward his cock.

“I want a repeat,” she whispered against his neck. Teeth on his earlobe. Expected, but no less powerful. “Well, after you heal up.”

A chuckle shook out of his chest. “A couple days, then.”

“Mmm, sounds about right. In the meantime, Michael…” Her hand trailed across his stomach and took sudden possession of his growing hard-on. “Come here. Now.”

Quick and fast and straight vanilla. Mostly. She still instructed the pace, scraped every inch of skin she could reach, and granted permission for him to come. Maybe they’d never escape that gorgeous play. Why would he want to?

In the sweaty aftermath of their passion, Mike cleared his throat. He had plans again, this time all for him. At least he’d learned not to keep it a surprise. Lord knew how she would be able to handle trading presents on their upcoming birthdays—only three days apart. They’d already discussed a joint celebration, complete with a gift exchange. Civilized. Nearly a full-fledged couple, even if she still insisted on keeping them a secret.

Her mention of replacing Georgia’s cuff had raised his expectations to a level he really shouldn’t risk—that she’d finally trust herself enough to trust him.

“I’m having a sod-laying party Thursday after work. You want to come by?”

She sat up on her elbows. She looked like a totally fucked-up mess, and damn he loved that.
He
did that to her, made her vulnerable after blowing her mind. “What the hell is a sod-laying party? I think that’s even a made-up word.
Sod-laying?
”

“When I’m not flying exceptionally fast airplanes, scaling mountains like a goddamn pro or racing a crazy woman on a pink Ducati, I
do
have other hobbies.”

“Don’t forget the masochism.” She nodded in that deadpan way of hers.