Hold 'Em: Vegas Top Guns, Book 3 (19 page)

Only, she would’ve liked to know if Mike thought it was a date too.

If so, she would’ve put on something fancier than a Wonder Woman T-shirt over jeans, or do something other than skim her hair into yet another ponytail.

Stepping inside the giant convention center, they paused and gazed upon the labyrinth of booths, vehicles and brightly covered banners. Mike snagged a brochure with a map. He twisted it around to orient the front entrance.

“Where to first?”

“We don’t need that. Just wander. That’s the fun part.”

He lifted attitude-laden eyebrows. “I think the fun part was this morning.”

That quickly, she flushed hot. Because that quickly, she remembered the tension of his hands on her ass. She’d bent over in front of him, demanding that he lick every inch of skin he could reach.

“Shush,” she said.

“No dirty talk? You normally like it.”

“Not here.” Being in public was something else entirely. She just wanted to…be. She liked who she was when she was alone with Michael, but it was just that. Alone together. This, now, was unfamiliar ground. “C’mon. I think the performance section is that way.”

“You? Heading for the sports cars? This is me being decidedly unsurprised.”

They wandered through the cars without any real sense of purpose. The reboot of the Porsche 911 was Leah’s favorite—same sleek, distinctive lines but with boosted performance.

“Whaddaya think?” She rested one hand on the low roof and bent over the hot-as-hell machine. “And you better not give me your opinion on my ass.”

“I already did that. Repeatedly.” He bracketed her against the roof. “I was looking at the car. Totally.”

“Can you believe that transmission?”

“Do you have a hidden collection of speeding tickets shoved under your bed?”

She pushed him back and tossed her ponytail in affront. “I’ve only had three. That’s not so bad.”

“How many of them were for reckless driving?”

“None, thank you very much. But in this bad boy, maybe I could fix that.”

“Zero to sixty in less than five seconds is pretty cool.”

Maybe she should do it. She had a little cash stashed away, and not so oddly, it racked up faster now that she wasn’t drinking. Turned out alcohol was expensive. However, she wasn’t really in the mood for a new car. For the moment, Michael was giving her enough hardcore thrills.

They drifted away from the Porsche and wandered down a new aisle.

“Check it out,” Mike said, pointing over her head. “Simulator.”

She grinned. “Don’t you get enough of that at work?”

“Yeah, but look. They have an arcade bank too. I could so kick your ass in a race game.”

He looked damn good, even under the harsh fluorescent lights of the convention center. It was unfair. Or it would be if the warm feeling spreading through her body didn’t remind Leah how she could have him whenever she wanted. She had full rights.

“Says you. I could outfly, outdrive and outrace you on any vehicle. Any time. Any stakes.”

“Do it.”

They waited a few minutes for their turn in the head-to-head racing game. Then they were strapped into tiny boxes, each with its own screen. They chose the hardest route, of course.

Game on.

Except no matter how hard Leah smashed the pedal, she couldn’t get around his flashy neon-green digital car. She pushed the steering wheel to its limit when she spotted an oncoming telephone pole. Her red car lost traction. The seat shook under her in an approximation of a crash.

She didn’t just fail to beat Mike. She’d flamed out in spectacular fashion.

A few curses. Sure. Unavoidable. She sank in the seat. “Best two out of three.”

“People are waiting their turn.” Mike hauled her out of the game and slung his arm around her shoulder. “Let’s go.”

“Damn it, that wasn’t fair.”

He dragged her away, that arm still around her. Warm. Heavy. She ought to pull away. It was one thing to be seen hanging out. It was another to get busted being more intimate.

Geez. Paranoid much? The chances of being recognized in that massive convention hall were almost nil.

So she didn’t make herself give him up. Her skin tingled with want, which would have to wait until later. Right then, it was nice to have him demonstrate his possessiveness. Man and woman in a way that made her insides watery. He smelled of his subtly intriguing cologne. On some guys the scent would have been too much, but Michael pulled it off. So much goddamn confidence.

“We could go to the back of the line,” she said. “Go again.”

He looked down at her. “Are you serious?”

“Why not?”

“You’re really, truly, insanely competitive.”

“I resent the word
insanely
.” She ducked her gaze away. People streamed around them, ranging the full spectrum. Only in Vegas would a car show attract a gaggle of chicks in miniskirts on platform heels, along with Asian businessmen in full business-suit regalia.

“Look,” she said. “It’s not unreasonable to be disappointed in myself when I lose over a stupid mistake.”

“Crashing?”

“I could have won if I’d known the course better.”

He pulled them into a less traveled walkway. The main product in the booths seemed to be wrenches. A balding salesman perked up when he saw them, only to have his shoulders droop when Michael waved him off.

“What would it take?”

“To put me in a good mood?”

“Yes, ma’am.” His voice curled around them, keeping them apart from the crowds.

She shivered on the chilly burst of need that turned her veins to live wires. Two words were all she needed to become wrapped up in him.

What she needed was a drink. Damn it. She would breathe then. That slow unfurling of tension would let her ease up. Car shows meant beer in plastic cups, just like going to bike races. She’d grown up in the motocross world. Her dad and brothers had all but lived at dirt tracks, with Leah right there too. That fun had always been doused in ice-cold beer from red Solo cups.

Because of the rain, Michael had even driven them to the convention center in his beat-up Bronco. She could keep it to one or two, and he’d be able to get her home.

The way he was looking at her, and the quiet “ma’am” he’d used… He was offering her something else. Something irrevocably separated from alcohol.

She shook off the high-strung buzz then reached for Michael. His hair was so soft, the strands barely long enough to wrap around her fingertips. She pinched and tugged. “This, pet? You’d offer yourself over a silly game?”

His eyes drifted half-shut. The corners of his mouth quirked. “That’s always an option.”

She leaned up on her toes, took his mouth. The shape of his lips was just right to fit hers. They slipped together, each taking a little at a time. She could get lost in him if she let herself—forget where she was, forget how everything would be different on Monday when they went back to work.

She nibbled his bottom lip once for good measure. “You taste like crappy coffee.”

“Gonna offer me something tastier to lick?”

“Is that what you want?” Unable to resist any longer, she snuck her fingers under the hem of his snug T-shirt. He was all thin skin over strong muscle. Lovely. “You want me to ride your face like the toy you are?”

Now he grinned with infectious humor, no matter the sex blazing between them. “If it would help your cranky-ass mood.”

With a grin she said, “So noble and sacrificing.”

Looping a finger through his belt, she tugged him back into the main stream of foot traffic. The touch of leather against her skin was changing her in irrevocable ways.

“You’re going to buy me cotton candy instead.”

“One does what one must,” he said with a put-upon air.

However, he didn’t let her drag him along. He needed only two strides with his long legs to eat up the distance between them. He walked at her side then took the lead.

That was hot. He really did mean “only in the bedroom”. Thank God. She wouldn’t have enjoyed their play
at all
had he been some sniveling sub who begged mommy to give him a spanking. Mike was one hundred percent man. He was strong, sexy and marvelously self-assured. Those qualities meant that when he gave over to her whims, he satisfied them both with explosive results.

A few minutes later, with his corndog already gobbled down, he presented her with a pink-and-blue cloud of cotton candy.

“Thank you.” She smiled as she pulled off a piece. Like being a teenager again.

After that first sugary bite, she offered a piece to Michael. He took it right from her fingers, which stopped her pulse. His eyes never wavered even as his lips grazed her fingertips and his tongue swirled sugar crystals off her skin. Prickling heat climbed her arm. Her nipples beaded. Instantly.

This accidental date needed to be no big deal. Nothing special. She had too much riding on towing the line. All she needed to do was keep her nose clean and she’d make major soon. She
needed
that rank—a tasty carrot to reward this being-good-ness. Otherwise she might completely lose her shit. Fall apart again.

So she ignored an unexpected want for more. More of Michael, on every level. She was already addicted to speed, thought too highly of booze and was probably way too high-strung. She didn’t need to get addicted to Michael too.

She coughed and looked away from his distinctive neon-blue eyes. “Sorry about that back there. To say I get competitive is probably an understatement.”

“Because of your brothers?”

“Yeah. It was kind of hard to be seen next to them, unless I beat them at their own games.”

He took her wrist and dragged more pink fluff to his mouth. His tongue arched gently over her fingers, in the seam between, tasting her and the candy.

“
I
see you, ma’am.”

Fuck. Just
fuck
. Her heart took a stupid free-fall tumble. He knew too much, understood too much. And hell if he wasn’t too easygoing and accepting. Could he accept her, faults and all?

Something in his eyes said yes. Yes, he could.

She was in so much trouble.

Chapter Twenty-Two

Mike’s grin felt permanently stitched to his mouth. He really
liked
Leah. Forget the sex for a minute—although that was nearly impossible. She was just cool. Her little pink Ducati darted past his BMW, all sleek lines and exuberant flash. She bent low over the handlebar with her elbows folded against her ribs. It was a textbook sport-racing posture, with the bonus of jeans wrapped taut across her perfect ass.

Yup, his grin wasn’t going anywhere.

He gunned the throttle and passed her when the next light flashed green. Lucky thing it seemed that the entire LVPD parked on the Strip, especially on a Saturday night. Otherwise he and Leah would’ve risked getting smashed with speeding tickets. The fuel of their unspoken competition was just too high. She’d been so pissed at losing that stupid race game, though his victory was a balm for the bitch-ass weeks he’d endured after arriving at Nellis.

Now he was winning their race too. The traffic thinned. The roads became more normal, stripped of all things Vegas, except for a rearview of the glittering skyline. He swerved up an on-ramp and took off. Full speed. He loved the rumble in his chest and the hard pulse of the bike
he
controlled. The thrill and danger rivaled ripping past Mach two. Here, he was closer to the ground. The wrong patch of asphalt would mean the end.

Not that the idea would stop him.

Adrenaline junkie. He knew it. He rather liked endorphins. He couldn’t imagine a sub who didn’t. There wouldn’t be any surviving the delicious pain without that floating, peaceful reward. Adrenaline, however, had thrilled him since well before he’d discovered his proclivities.

He must’ve backed off while letting his mind wander down to his cock because Leah rushed past him in a sizzle of color. She flipped him the bird and darted ahead.

Oh no you don’t.

She owned his ass in bed, and she outranked him on base. Fuck losing now.

And they’d been having such a polite time…

Not thirty seconds later, he pulled alongside her and returned her one-fingered gesture. He took off like a shot and put a quarter mile between them without even pushing his bike to its limit. The ride sucked away any sound other than engine and wind, but he could imagine Leah cussing like the Aggressor she was. Frustrating the hell out of her was becoming one of his favorite hobbies—again, if he forgot about the sex.

Which was fucking impossible.

Deciding to be merciful, he pulled off at the next ramp and turned back toward Vegas. Eric had told him about a little dive nearby. He’d called it the best, corniest Mexican restaurant in the city. Good enough. Mike wanted a bit of corny. Leah dealt with the hard stuff well enough, from her badassery on base to her domination in the bedroom, but he’d been intrigued by her behavior at the car show. Hesitant.
Really
unsure of herself. That had surprised him almost as much as finding out how well their desires aligned.