Wild Nights

A guy of her own? She’s not holding her breath—until he steals it away.

Vegas Nights
, Book 3

Natalie’s girls-only weekend in Vegas is shot to hell, thanks to her friends ditching her for very sexy, very famous guys. Not that she blames them. She knows what lonely feels like. A nurse’s long hours leave little time for a social life.

Then she collides with and spills her drink all over a very fine, very exposed male chest. A chest belonging to Noah Wilde, lead singer for the infamous Wilde & Wicked rock band. Thankfully, he’s merely amused as she tries to take care of the mess she made.

Noah sure would like to make a mess of the gorgeous, petite lady with luminous blue eyes. There’s no resisting the urge to tempt her along for an adventurous night of gambling, drinking, eating, and sin.

But during the harsh light of day, Noah has a change of heart. Not about the fact he likes Natalie—a lot. He’s not sure he wants to drag this sweet lady through his sordid life. Even though sparing her could cost them both a chance at forever.

Warning: Contains a nurse who thought she knew all there was to know about anatomy, and a rock god who’s about to show her a few spots she missed. To say they both hit the jackpot would be an understatement.

Wild Nights

Karen Erickson

Dedication

To the readers—hope you’ve enjoyed reading the Vegas Nights series as much as I’ve enjoyed writing it!

Chapter One

“You look sad.”

Natalie glanced up, smiling wanly at James. “I’m fine. Really.”

She was lying, but hey, they didn’t know each other. She hadn’t made an oath with him like she had with Andrea and Reagan when they were in nursing school. They’d grown so close, spent so much time together, that one long night after studying for so many hours they were most likely delirious from lack of sleep, they promised to each other they would always tell the truth, even if it hurt.

And right now, she was hurting. She’d caught Reagan going out onto the terrace with that sexy actor Declan Carter within moments of their arriving at the party. Natalie’d tried talking to her earlier, but Reagan blew her off. Andrea was currently in a dark corner with some hulking giant of a man who was supposedly a pro football player.

Here Natalie was. Alone. More like invisible. No one paid any attention to her, with the exception of James, and considering he’d brought her to the party, he must’ve felt obligated to check up on her.

“Don’t lie to a consummate liar, honey,” James drawled, shaking his head. “You are the farthest thing from fine. Well, you’re gorgeous, my sweet little sprite, but...” He waved an impatient hand. “You know what I mean.”

Right. Sure she did. The only guy telling her she was gorgeous was one who played for the other team. Oh, she valued James’ opinion and thought he was hilarious. He also had excellent taste, at least when it came to fashion. She’d had high hopes she’d meet a guy tonight, what with the way James went on and on about Declan and his friends. James had informed them that all these famous, gorgeous friends of Declan’s were looking for nice, normal girls, and she met both criteria. She was nice. She was normal.

Her friends definitely found someone quick. Like whiplash fast.

Not that she was looking for a hookup or anything. She wasn’t hookup material. Growing up like she did, sheltered and unable to do pretty much anything—or at least it had felt like it when she lived at home—she didn’t give off that carefree vibe.

Meeting a hot guy and spending a few hours with him—that would’ve been nice. Exciting. She needed some excitement in her life. She was bored. Restless.

“Sure. I’m gorgeous.” She nodded, smiling at James, but it felt more like a baring of teeth. Her good mood had been dashed, and all she wanted to do was go back to her hotel suite and go to bed.

God, how lame was she? They were in Vegas, the
other
city that never slept. Sin City. She should be out…sinning, or whatever. Not that she’d ever been big on sinning, and maybe that was half her problem. She’d always been a good girl.

Being a good girl was boring.

“You are gorgeous. Trust me,” James said firmly. He grabbed hold of her shoulders and turned her so she faced him. “The one I chose for you isn’t here yet.”

She frowned. The one he chose for her? She had a chosen one? What in the world was James talking about? “Huh?”

He rolled his eyes and gave her a little shake. “You think I brought you girls here just to hang out with the faux rich and rude? Please. I had men already picked out for each of you. Declan’s friends. I knew Reagan would be perfect for Declan because of their mutual lust for…Declan.”

James laughed at his own joke and Natalie couldn’t help but smile.

“And I had a feeling that manly yet sweet Luke would go straight for the painfully beautiful Andrea, and I was right,” he continued, never letting go of Natalie’s shoulders. “For you, I picked someone extra special. But I’m afraid he has timing issues.” He made a face.

Huh. That didn’t sound good. “What do you mean, timing issues?”

“As in, he can never arrive on time, anywhere, ever. It’s the rock star in him,” James said irritably. He pulled Natalie close and gave her a brief hug, accompanied by an air kiss in the area of her cheek. “Now stop your fretting. All those scowls will give you permanent wrinkles if you don’t watch it, and you’re too young for that. Go mingle. Grab another drink. Eat another appetizer, because Lord knows the majority of women here won’t eat a damn thing. Your man should be here soon.”

Go mingle? By herself? She couldn’t do that. Plus, what did James mean, it was the rock star in him? Who was this guy? If he was trying to match her up with some wannabe singer of a Vegas cover band, she was going to be pissed.

Not that James hung out with wannabes. Declan Carter knew some pretty famous people. She swore there was a cluster of Victoria’s Secret Angels sitting on a couch on the other side of the room, all of them so beautiful, it almost hurt to look at them for too long. And was that freaking Justin Bieber who just walked in the room? Oh good Lord, if James thought she was a Belieber she was going to lose her mind…

“Why you looking so down, love?” Warm fingers gripped her wrist and she turned, ready to tell whoever grabbed her to get his hands off of her, but the words died in her throat at first sight of who stood in front of her.

He was tall. Shaggy dark hair that fell around his angular face, his brown eyes studying her with an intensity that stole her ability to breathe. His lush mouth was curved into an amused smile and she blinked up at him, still unable to form words.

“Cat got your tongue?” he asked, his thumb sweeping across the pulse point inside her wrist. The touch was simple and totally innocent, yet she felt it as if he touched the very center of her.

“Uh…” Okay, she was officially an idiot. She knew who he was. And he was no Justin Bieber. “You’re Noah Wilde,” she blurted out, immediately wishing she hadn’t. Way to remain cool and unaffected.

His smile turned into a full-blown grin, his dark eyes twinkling, and she went hot and tingly inside. He radiated energy. Warmth. Sexiness. She wanted to get closer and really sample all that delicious heat.

“I see you have the upper hand,” he murmured deeply as he slowly, almost reluctantly let go of her wrist. His voice was like velvet with a hint of roughness.

She’d heard that voice growl at her over the radio—heck, even through her ear buds, because she owned a few Wilde & Wicked songs. They were on her I-need-an-aggressive-workout-because-I’m-pissed playlist.

“Huh?” Her gaze fell from his too-gorgeous face, taking the rest of him in. He was all lean muscle and colorful tattoos; his arms were covered in them, as well as his upper chest and even his neck. He wore a black leather vest and black jeans, and on anyone else the outfit would look ridiculous.

But he was Noah Wilde, lead singer of the famous rock band Wilde & Wicked. If anyone could carry off the leather vest look, it was him.

“You know who I am. But I don’t know who you are.” He reached out and touched the very tip of her nose with his index finger. “Got a name, sweetheart?”

Yes. She did. Such a shame she promptly forgot it.

One minute into arriving at his friend Declan’s party, Noah glanced around, saw the same old people he hung out with at every other party in Vegas he’d ever attended, and wanted to leave. Frustration settled over him, heavy and almost suffocating. He was so sick of the grind, of the same old shit. Women fawning over him, offering up blowjobs, hand jobs and the like, when they didn’t even really know him. Wanting a piece of him because he was someone famous. They all came on to him, especially the women he met in Vegas.

Something about this city turned everyone bolder. Wilder. And considering his last name was Wilde and he definitely had a reputation for being wild—the rumors were so over the top, but there was always a grain of truth buried in there somewhere—they figured that was exactly what he was looking for. A
wildly
outrageous time. He’d nurtured that reputation since Wilde & Wicked first came onto the scene.

No one cared to ask what he
really
wanted. And what he wanted, what he fucking craved, was normalcy.

One of those damn models who was always prancing around in lingerie spotted him, her naughty—and overly practiced—smile saying she was coming for him whether he wanted her to or not. He turned, ready to hightail his ass out of there, when he spotted
her
. The little blonde in the blue dress, her small tits looking ready to fall out of the top, her luscious mouth frowning, her expression forlorn.

Everything within him tightened as he watched her without her knowledge. She had a mixed drink clutched in her hand and she brought it up to her mouth, her lips wrapping around the skinny straw and sucking delicately.

Lust surged through his veins. He liked the way she looked with that straw in her mouth. Had a feeling she’d look even better with his dick in her mouth, which was crude, but hey, he was as crude as they came.

She was also very pretty, very natural-looking, with long blonde hair and big blue eyes, peaches-and-cream skin. The dark blue dress clung to her gentle curves, highlighting them, and she was tiny. He could probably throw her over his shoulder and haul her out of there, no problem.

The thought was tempting, but he restrained himself. To get away from the barracuda headed in his direction, he made his way over to the blonde, grabbed her by the wrist and asked, “Why you looking so down, love?”

She turned fully to face him, her eyes looking ready to pop out of her head as she gaped at him wordlessly.

“Cat got your tongue?” He smiled and stroked the inside of her wrist with his thumb. Her skin was soft. And her bones were so delicate. She really was a tiny little thing.

“Uh…you’re Noah Wilde.”

Of course she recognized him. He was famous, there was no denying it. He’d been with Wilde & Wicked since he was eighteen. They blew up the summer after he got out of high school, when he first joined. His older brother Rick was an original band member—he was the bassist—and they fought more than they played lately.

Which kind of sucked. Ruined everyone’s mood, that was for damn sure. That was half the reason he made his escape to Vegas. He needed to get out of Los Angeles and away from his bandmates before everything went to total shit. They were set to go into the recording studio soon, but they were also on some serious shaky ground.

And he didn’t like it.

Reluctantly, he let go of her. “I see you have the upper hand.”

She frowned up at him. He was tall, just clearing six feet, but she was extra short. “Huh?”

“You know who I am. But I don’t know who you are.” Noah touched the tip of her button nose. It was adorable.
She
was adorable. “Got a name, sweetheart?”

It was like she’d lost all ability to speak. He’d seen this happen countless times. They got star struck and he knew they couldn’t help it. Most of the time, it pissed him off. Made him want to bolt. He wasn’t that big of a deal. All they saw was the Noah Wilde on stage or in a video. The performer, the showman, the “wild” front man. That guy? He really didn’t exist.

But there was something about his little blondie’s reaction that didn’t bother him at all. He thought it was cute. She kept opening and closing her mouth like she was attempting to speak but no sound came out.

“Noah! God, you look disgustingly hot tonight.” James, Declan’s assistant, appeared out of nowhere, looking terribly pleased with himself. “I see you met the lovely Natalie.”

Noah sent her a look, noting the relief crossing her face. Natalie. A pretty name. It fit her. “I have. How are you, J?”

James looked ready to hop up and down with joy. “I love it when you call me that in your sexy growl, you beast. But enough about me. What do you think of my lovely little sprite?”

“I think she’s beautiful,” Noah said sincerely, making her blush, which he found incredibly refreshing. “Is she your date, J?”

“Oh,
no.
I don’t like girls, remember?” James laughed, as did Noah. “I think she’s perfect for you, though.”

Noah would have to one hundred percent agree.