Hold 'Em: Vegas Top Guns, Book 3 (38 page)

“What the hell is Evan doing here?”

Cynthia stepped up beside her and cocked her head. “He probably comes here most weekends.”

Both women watched as Evan and Micah started arguing, Evan doing most of the shouting as the other man said little.

“That’s odd. I always thought they were on friendly terms. Evan is considered one of the top Doms, and Micah does like the way he draws a crowd when he performs.”

May glanced at Cynthia whose frown deepened. “Oh, crap. Now Chris is getting into the middle of it.” With one last gulp of her drink, she set it down on a nearby table and grabbed May’s hand. “Let’s go smooth some male egos.”

Evan Chambers strode through Rough ’n Ready, searching for Chris Dupree while various scenarios of hurting his best friend flitted through his mind. All of them included an extreme amount of pain and degradation.

What the fuck is Chris thinking bringing May to a place like this, let alone setting her up for public display?
She didn’t belong in a BDSM club anymore than Evan belonged at a monastery. Even that ridiculous image couldn’t cool his temper. Nothing would until he had it out with Chris.

Violence bubbled in his blood as he brushed past the milling patrons. When he spotted Chris chatting to Micah, Evan’s anger surged. Evan changed directions and headed straight for them, ignoring more than one person as he practically plowed his way to where they stood.

He ordered himself to calm down, to control his fury as he neared the two men, but as he thought of what he’d been told, a red haze filled his vision and he lost the ability to think straight.

“What the fuck are you thinking bringing May here?” Evan shouted.

“Well, good evening to you, Evan,” Chris said, then calmly sipped his drink.

“I don’t have time for this shit. What the hell are you doing?”

“I was talking to Micah.” He gestured toward his partner.

Evan felt his grip on his temper slipping. “Why did you bring May here? And what is this crap about her having a public submission to gain her membership?”

“She told Cynthia she wanted to see what the club was like,” Chris said. “How did you find out about it?”

“Jay told me the moment I walked through the door.” Evan scowled, thinking of the way the bouncer had licked his lips when he told him about it. “It’s probably all over the fucking club by now.”

“Hell.” Chris heaved a sigh and shrugged. “There’s nothing that can be done now.”

“It isn’t like they wouldn’t figure it out soon enough.” Micah’s calm voice sent another surge of rage coursing through Evan’s veins.

He glanced at his friend who stood there in the middle of the most decadent club on the island, looking as if he were discussing the weather.

“And just what the hell are you thinking? Taking on a rookie sub? Hell, I can’t remember the last time you performed for a crowd.”

“What does it matter to you, Chambers?” Again Micah’s cool, composed tone set his annoyance soaring.

“May’s a friend and she just isn’t the kind of girl for something like this.” He ground his teeth together and bit out every word. “Definitely not for public display. And with her recent problems, I would think something like this would be ill advised.”

“Hello, boys.” Cynthia’s sultry southern voice lifted above the music and the clashing male egos.

Evan glanced over her and frowned. Petite and curvy, Evan noticed Cynthia had definitely dressed for the club tonight. It wasn’t often Chris’s fiancé wore all black, but when she did, she stood out. She smiled at Evan.

“Looks like you’re having a bit of a problem. Is there something we can do to help?”

Evan didn’t miss the sparkle in her eyes that told him she knew exactly what the argument had been about. A switch like Chris, Cynthia understood the ramifications of what May had agreed to and should have protected her. He didn’t feel like fighting with her right now. Besides, there was a good chance Chris would kick his ass if he did.

“No, there isn’t anything you can do other than get May out of here.”

He dismissed her without another word and ignored her amused snort. Instead, he turned his attention to the woman causing the irritation.

Maylea Aiona was the kind of woman you took home to Mama, that is if you had one. Since the day he met her, May had been like the little sister he’d never had. Okay, not really. There was a moment or two…or maybe three that he’d thought of how it would feel to have all that black, silky hair tickle his chest as she worked her way down to his cock.

He shifted his weight, trying to relieve the sudden pressure in his groin. That one image had been haunting his dreams—not to mention his daytime hours—for the past few months. With the way she was dressed now, he knew they’d be worse tonight. The snug black sleeveless top accentuated her full breasts, showing just enough cleavage to entice. The skirt was long, leather and black and from the attention she got walking toward them, he was sure it hugged that wonderfully rounded ass she had.

“Is there a problem?” May asked. Her lyrical voice held a hint of sass that he’d come to love. Evan sometimes would sit near her stand at Dupree’s just to hear her talk. And laugh. God Almighty the woman had a sexy laugh.

He cleared his throat and tried to ignore the way his blood rushed to his shaft. “Yeah, something’s wrong.”

This time, he’s not giving her up without a fight.

His Only Hope

© 2011 Skylar Kade

After two grueling years caring for her terminally ill mother, Hope O’Shea is eager to start fresh. Except her first interior-decorating job is for a popular BDSM club—part of her kinky past she misses, but had to leave behind.

Worse, she somehow ends up in the arms of her ex-Dom, Gabriel Cassidy. The one man who could strip her emotions bare, so bare that rather than reveal her painful history, she ran.

Gabriel never understood why Hope left without even a goodbye. Determined to get answers, he entices her to Maison Domine for a weekend on the promise of meeting the owner for another decorating job. Except being with her again reminds him why he loved her in the first place—and why she shouldn’t trust him as her Dom.

As their attraction reignites, Hope is transported back to the sub-space bliss she felt only with Gabe. Then a nightmare from her past shows up at the club, and with no other safe place to turn, she has no choice but to trust Gabe with her shame. Leaving Gabe with a devastating choice—reveal his last secret…or lose his Hope.

Warning: This book contains a feisty interior decorator, a dominating leather worker, heart-wrenching sex and redemption.

Enjoy the following excerpt for
His Only Hope:

Katrina lingered outside his open door. Nosy woman, figured she’d have questions about the first woman he’d ever brought to Maison. Her gaze flickered down to his crotch. “Happy to see me?” She arched her brow and barely restrained a smile. “Or is that for the darling Hope O’Shea I finally had the pleasure of meeting? You talked about her so often before you left, but you and she never visited the club. I guess you will not be aiding other Doms this weekend, and I know many a sub will be sorely disappointed. They still talk about you longingly, some of them.” She gestured into the open door. “Come, put your bags down and join the group for drinks and food. Hope is already down there, making friends without you. Who knows who she could meet?”

He stopped dead at her words and turned back to Kat, who had been following him in. “Meet?”

Her sly look made him wary. “Oh Gabriel, you know how beautiful women attract attention, and there are quite a few unattached Dominants here this weekend. And if you recall from your past visits, beautiful women alone are—how do you say—jackpot here.”

“Well, that’s not going to happen. Hope is here as my guest.”

He pivoted and continued into the room. The plush carpet muffled his footsteps as he walked past the kitchenette to unceremoniously drop his bags next to the dark brown couch of the “entertainment room”, as Kat liked to call it.

She sat at the table for two in the kitchenette, making herself at home. “She is your guest, of course, but so far as I have seen, you and she had no official arrangements.”

He ground his teeth, surely making his dentist shudder. “She knows the deal.”

He stalked into the bedroom to check on the bag Jax should have left there. His toy bag sat on the expanse of Cal-King mattress, mocking him to get a move on with Hope.

Katrina laughed, the sound filtering through the open French doors that separated the bedroom from the rest of the suite. “Gabriel, your self-assurance is so cute! All I know is that a stunning woman is downstairs having
hors d’oeuvres
, one who arrived by herself without any weekend agreement or marks of possession. And every Top—male and female—looking for play partners this weekend knows that too.”

“Shit.” He ran a hand through the barely there stubble on his head and scratched his goatee. Too much of the past needed to be hashed out before playing. Gabe had hoped to catch her before the festivities started and take measure of the situation, but of course Hope would have arrived early—she didn’t have a late gene in her body.
The best laid plans of mice and men…

“What was that, darling?” Kat stood in the doorway, amused look still on her face.

“Let me change into something less windblown and I’ll meet you down there.” He started rummaging through his bag for his black slacks and Under Armor. The athletic shirts were perfect for a long, physical evening.

Wishful thinking, yeah.

“Gabriel, there are other unattached submissives downstairs. And more than a few couples who would like to scene with you again. After all, how well do you really know Hope after two years?” Katrina shook her head and pieces of brown hair fell into her eyes. She swiped it aside with a flick and continued. “To get so worked up over a long-past ex…”

Gabe, clothes in hand, faced Katrina. “Okay, woman, enough digging for information. Let me change so I can spend some quality time getting to know her again.”

Katrina shot him an insouciant wave and made her way out. He followed her to the doorway to the suite.

“Difficult wench. I’ll pray for the Dom that tries to tame you,” he called to her retreating form.

He shut the door and changed clothes before returning to his backpack. From inside the front zipper pouch, he pulled two blue boxes. The smaller one he set aside to take downstairs with him. The larger one should have stayed in his workshop. Maybe he was the masochist, and not Hope.

He lifted the lid. A collar—more of a necklace, really—lay stretched out like a living metal vine crawling across the velvety box. Small green leaves, the color of Hope’s eyes, unfurled from the silver stem that formed the necklace’s core. Larger cream-colored flowers dotted the front of the vine, and at the center of each one lay an amethyst, Hope’s February birthstone. It was the most beautiful piece he’d ever created, but it had never left his workshop. After Hope left him, he’d worked like a maniac to create the collar, not knowing he’d ever see her again or that they’d both return to LA. Hers was the first metal collar he’d ever made. It had been a compulsion he could not ignore and it had helped to purge some of his frustration and longing.

Now it only taunted him with things he couldn’t have.

Gabe sighed and snapped the lid closed, tucking the box into his backpack. He popped open the smaller box and took out the small chain mail and leather cuff before slipping the jewelry into the pocket of his slacks.

A quick roll of his shoulders to shake off a bit of tension and he left, braced for whatever Hope might throw at him this weekend.

At the bottom of the basement stairs stretched a door-lined hall. The last one on the right held the only room big enough to gather all the guests, so that’s where the meals and meet and greets took place.

The room looked like a four-star restaurant and the food matched, thanks to a talented local chef. Tables for two and four peppered the middle while a few round eight-person tables sat on the outskirts. All had white tablecloths and fresh flowers in the middle.

Two walls had high, opaque windows, letting in natural light into the otherwise fluorescent basement. The playrooms down here each had at least one window, a welcome change from almost every public or private club he’d visited. Sunlight just never went with that dungeon-y feel.

Maison Domine didn’t need darkness to get its Doms and subs in the mood.

He scanned for Hope and found her at one of the larger tables, sitting with several men and one collared woman. Hope was engrossed in conversation with one of the men, who looked too interested in her. His dark hair almost hit his shoulders and he was dressed so casually he almost looked out of place, something remedied by the confidence radiating off him.

Gabe didn’t like his body language. His possessive instincts rose until he remembered he had no real claim over Hope. He needed closure and answers, not a second go at their relationship.
Sure, and I’m Mary-fucking-Poppins
. He tuned out the voice before the bastard insinuated something Gabe didn’t want to hear.

He made his way over to the table and, lucky for the men already there, one of the few unoccupied chairs was next to Hope. Well, a purse lay on the seat, but that was an easy enough fix. Gabe plucked it up and set it down on the table, taking its place.