Reckless Nights (Vegas Nights #1) (7 page)

He pressed his finger against her plump lips, silencing her. “I don’t think of you as a cheap slut.” He was almost pissed she would say such a thing. “You’re the farthest thing from that. What we’ve shared the past twenty-four hours has been…”

“Amazing?” she added for him hopefully when he removed his finger from her mouth. “Out of this world?”

“Yes. All of the above,” he whispered, leaning in to kiss her. He couldn’t get enough of her pretty lips. Her taste drove him crazy. “Filming starts next week, and it’s a six-week shoot. Maybe after that we could…see each other again? If you want to, because I want to.” He clamped his lips shut, knowing he was rambling. But damn it, she made him nervous. What they shared made him nervous—in a good way.

She stilled, her hands grasping his shoulders tight. He withdrew from her slightly so their gazes could meet and she stared at him as if couldn’t believe what he just said. “You want to see me after you finish shooting your movie?”

“Yeah.” He cleared his throat, hoping he wouldn’t screw everything up. “I don’t want this to end.”

He couldn’t believe what he just said either. He was never one to show all his cards. Didn’t like to show his feelings. Had always believed he was the type who really didn’t have them, thanks to every shitty relationship he’d ever had.

“Neither do I,” she said, just as she eased her body over his, sliding down his cock until he was completely embedded inside her tight, damp heat. “God, me either, Declan.”

No more words were spoken. He gripped her hips and drove himself into her, his gaze locked on her as she bounced above him. Her breasts bobbed in his face and he feasted on her nipples, licking and sucking them until she cried out. The water splashed, their bodies moved in unison, and when they came within seconds of each other, he’d never felt so complete.

Or so confused.

Chapter Seven

He’d bought her clothes. Declan was so sweet, so thoughtful. She’d woken up late in the morning, sad that she was leaving Las Vegas in a matter of hours, and she’d come out into the living room of the suite to find Declan sitting on the couch, reading a script, a bag from one of the hotel boutiques sitting on the coffee table.

“For you,” he said when he lifted his gaze from his script to look at her, wearing a tiny smile and looking mighty pleased with himself.

A pair of jeans priced way too much and a cute blue and white striped T-shirt that had no business being close to one hundred dollars sat nestled within the bag, wrapped in tissue and both exactly her size. How he knew, she wasn’t sure, but she was so thankful. She hugged and kissed him, then took a shower, in which he joined her for and proceeded to drive her out of her mind with pleasure by pressing her upper body against the glass while he took her from behind.

He brought new meaning to orgasms. The man flat-out rocked her world. And for whatever wild and crazy reason, she seemed to rock his world too.

It was awesome.

Now she was getting ready to go back to her hotel room where she could grab her luggage and they could head on to the airport.

She was sad, so incredibly sad that the weekend was coming to an end.

Slowly she prepared, putting on her clothes—including a new bra that was stashed in the very bottom of the bag, made of beautiful silk and lace with matching panties. She twisted her hair into a bun and secured it to the top of her head. Staring at herself in the mirror, she tried to see what Declan saw.

There was nothing special about her. While he was a spectacular human being with some of the most perfect features she’d ever had the pleasure to stare at, she, on the other hand, was average. Almost boring. Yet he looked at her as if she hung the moon and the stars. Touched her as if she were the most beautiful, revered thing in his life. And when he brought her such delicious pleasure, kissed and fucked her until she was transcended to another place and time, for the love of God…wow.

She wasn’t sure she deserved to have this man in her life, even for such a brief time.

Shoving the beautiful red dress that changed everything into the shopping bag her new clothes came in, she grabbed it and her small purse and headed out into the living room where he waited patiently for her. He wore a snug black T-shirt that lovingly clung to his muscled chest and jeans that showcased his most excellent legs. Worn Converses on his feet completed the casual but perfectly styled ensemble. She wanted to jump him.

Of course. When did she not want to jump him?

“Thank you for the presents,” she said yet again, hoping she wasn’t overdoing it with the compliments, but she couldn’t help herself. She was so incredibly grateful for everything he’d done for her this weekend.

Everything.

“You look better than I ever could in those clothes,” he joked, dropping a kiss on the tip of her nose. “And you’re welcome.”

“Did you mean what you said earlier?” She winced the minute the words fell from her lips, but she had to know if he was serious. The conversation they had earlier about their seeing each other again once he was done filming his movie wouldn’t leave her. They’d been in the tub, Declan holding her close and telling her how he didn’t want her out of his life.

He wanted her more in it.

“About seeing you again? Yes. Definitely.” He smoothed his hand over her hair, his fingers tangling in the strands and she clung to him, giving him a hug, pressing her head to his chest and listening to the steady beat of his heart. The sound reassured her, soothed her.

Could she believe him? She wanted to. But she’ll go back home in her life and he’ll go back home to his. He’ll start working on his movie, twelve- to sixteen-hour days of intensive filming for the next six weeks. And she’ll go back to the emergency room working her twelve- to sixteen-hour days, five days a week, for the rest of her life.

He’d forget about her and she’d never, ever forget about him. But soon he’d become a fond memory. A thought of what if.

No regrets, she told herself. Enjoy the moment. What happens in Vegas…

She didn’t want to leave in Vegas. She wanted to bring it home and make it real.

Stupid.

“The car is ready for you,” he said. He’d arranged a car to take her back to her hotel. It would then wait for her until she and her friends needed to go to the airport.

“Thank you,” she murmured, trying to swallow past the lump in her throat. She closed her eyes, telling herself to get a grip, and he squeezed hold of her shoulders, his grip tight and reassuring.

Slowly she withdrew from him, offering him a smile as she pulled out of his arms. “I don’t know what to say,” she admitted, earning a soft chuckle from him.

He touched her cheek. “I don’t either. And I’m an actor. We’re taught how to ad lib in any situation.”

Reagan leaned into his palm and then turned her head, dropping a quick kiss to his skin. “You’ll call me?”

“When I can.” He took a deep breath. “This movie role…it’s going to consume me. And I’ll need to stay in the moment, you know?”

She did know. This role was more important to him than any other in his career. It was a dark and gritty character, and he didn’t want to be distracted. She got it.
She
was a distraction.

“Six weeks,” he continued. “Wait for me for six weeks. And then I’ll be knocking on your front door, begging you to let me in.”

Her smile felt false. And so did his words. Or maybe that was her insecurities taking over and making her think he sounded untrue. Whatever the case, she wasn’t going to pin all her hopes on that happening.

“Six weeks,” she said in agreement, gasping when he grasped hold of her and hugged her so tight she almost couldn’t breathe. “I’ll be counting down the days.”

“Me too, baby. Me too,” he whispered fiercely into her hair.

The mood was somber in the car over to the airport. Three very quiet, almost immobile women sat in the back of a sleek Lincoln Town Car, shoulder to shoulder, their gazes fixed on absolutely nothing.

“You know, Noah had a car arranged for us to go to the airport,” Natalie suddenly said, startling Reagan.

“Who’s Noah?” Reagan asked.

Natalie rolled her eyes. “You weren’t the only one who got some this weekend.”

Andrea laughed and shook her head. “Luke arranged for a car too. But when you texted letting us know that you already had arrangements, he cancelled.”

Reagan sent Andrea a questioning look. “Luke? Don’t tell me…”

Andrea blushed to the roots of her hair and nodded, her teeth sinking into her lower lip. “Luke Nelson. Football player.”

“Wait a minute. I recognize that name. He’s a
pro
football player?” Reagan asked incredulously.

“Yeah, the Seattle Seahawks,” Andrea said, a tiny smile appearing, her eyes filling with a dreamy haze that Reagan recognized.

She’d worn that dreamy haze herself all weekend long.

Reagan reached over and shoved her friend in the shoulder. “Get the hell out.”

“Well, my hot weekend date was Noah Wilde,” Natalie said casually, examining her fingernails the entire time she said it.

“What?” Andrea shrieked. “Wilde and Wicked used to be, like, my favorite band!”

“Yeah, yeah.” Natalie rolled her eyes. “That was a total one-shot deal, though. We had fun. Lots of fun. But…he’s not serious.”

“Neither is Luke,” Andrea said sadly.

“Neither is Declan,” Reagan added.

They remained quiet for a moment, lamenting their gains…and their losses. Vegas was a gamble, and where people usually came to lose their money, Reagan realized she and her friends all seemed to have lost their hearts.

“You do realize no one will ever, ever believe us in a million years,” Andrea said forlornly. “Not that I want to blab our business to everyone we know, but come on. Look at who we spent our weekend in Vegas with. A famous actor, pro athlete and musician? Who will believe that?”

Right. It sounded completely unbelievable. Because it sort of was. All orchestrated by their very own fairy godfather, James. In fact…

“Has anyone spoken to James lately?” Reagan asked, whipping out her phone so she could send him a text. But what would she say?

Thanks for hooking me up with the sexiest man alive. We had the best sex ever!

Yeah. That would be kind of weird.

In the end, all three of them sent him separate thank you texts, figuring they at least needed to give credit where credit was due. And one by one, he sent them each a text in return, and attached to the texts, photos, all of them candid, not one of the women aware that James had even taken the pictures.

There was one of Andrea and Luke in a secluded corner at Friday night’s party, his hand on her barely covered butt, their gazes locked on each other and no one else. But you could definitely recognize Luke—and recognize the star struck expression on Andrea’s face.

Natalie and Noah Wilde were laughing as they stood facing each other, drinks in hand and looking as if they were having the time of their lives. Reagan had never seen her friend so happy, so alive. Noah was sexy in that magnetic, rock-and-roll style that had all the women going crazy over him.

And the one of Reagan and Declan…it sent a wistful yearning knotted in her stomach. She realized immediately when the photo was taken. They’d just come back inside from the patio, walking together, Declan’s hand on her lower back as he glanced down at her. She looked in a daze and he looked…love struck?

The lump in her throat was hard to swallow past, but she managed.

“Proof,” Natalie said, staring at the photo on her phone as if she couldn’t quite believe that was her standing next to Noah Wilde.

Reagan could relate.

“Yes. He sent us proof,” Andrea agreed, bringing her phone up to her chest so she could literally clutch it. She closed her eyes and sighed, the phone still close to her heart. Any other time, Reagan would’ve made fun of her, but not now. Not when she felt like doing the exact same thing. “This was the best weekend of my life.”

“Mine too,” Natalie and Reagan said together.

“No regrets?” Andrea opened her eyes and stared at her friends, imploring them with her gaze.

“No regrets,” Reagan murmured, staring at her phone, tracing Declan’s profile with the very edge of her fingernail.

Absolutely, one-hundred percent, no regrets.

Chapter Eight

Five weeks later

Reagan rubbed her hand across her forehead, pushing back the straying tendrils of hair with a sigh of frustration. She was exhausted at the end of her unusually long seventeen-hour shift at the hospital. It was a full moon, meaning all the freaks were out at night…literally.

She’d seen more than her fair share of people involved with criminal activity coming in for treatment of stab wounds, gunshot wounds. One man had a slit down his cheek from the ring his opponent had worn when they’d engaged in a fistfight. His girlfriend’s ring—as in his beloved socked him in the eye but missed, cutting open his cheek instead.

The woman hung on to him the entire time he was being treated, sobbing over and over again how sorry she was. How he was her baby. It made Reagan incredibly uncomfortable.

It also reminded Reagan that true love was a bunch of bullshit.

But the end of her shift was nigh. She was literally counting down the minutes, trying to keep herself occupied until it was finally time to go. Hoping like crazy no major accident happened between now and when her shift was done so she wouldn’t be kept working overtime. Not that she didn’t love those overtime checks, but man, she was exhausted. She just wanted to go home and collapse into bed.

Where she might yet again dream about Declan Carter. Not that she wanted to. She was sort of over him. Over his seeming rejection of her because oh, did it hurt to admit that he’d most definitely rejected her. Five weeks came and went and that was time for her to have a reality check. She’d waited anxiously by the phone at first, hoping against hope he’d send her a text message. He sent her nothing. Not even a one-word text, which she took as a bad sign. Lord knew she wasn’t going to send
him
one. She refused to be the first to call, even though they did exchange numbers.

She just couldn’t force herself to do it.

So she threw herself into her work even more than usual, if that was possible. Better to overload on work and make extra money than cry over being rejected by Declan. She took on extra shifts, worked herself to the bone so she couldn’t think of anything else but finding some much-needed sleep.

Despite the extra workload, she still dreamed of his sexy ass. He always came to her, sweet and convincing. Arrogant yet humble, commanding and determined to show her a good time. She’d woken up more than once from a particularly delicious dream about Declan with her body throbbing, her mind awhirl with lusty thoughts and a sweet ache blooming low in her belly. It was frustrating and wonderful, all at once.

But the dreams, they only made her madder the more time went on and she didn’t hear from him. Well, not necessarily mad. More like disappointed. She should’ve known better than to believe something could really work between them. It was impossible. He was a superstar and she was—not. They moved in different worlds and it was silly to think they could’ve been more.

Her friends…she didn’t know what was going on with them. They all worked at different hospitals, and since the Las Vegas trip, she hadn’t seen them much. She figured they were doing the same thing she was—throwing themselves into their work. Or they were seeing the men they met in Vegas and didn’t want to rub it in her face.

She could appreciate the gesture and silently thanked them for it.

Glancing at the clock, she saw she now had less than fifteen minutes until her shift was over. She started straightening up, going through files, cleaning up the desk. She went back to the last examination room she’d worked in, picking up what she could, keeping herself busy so her mind wouldn’t wander.

“Hey, Reagan.” She turned to find one of her coworkers standing there with an odd look on his face. “Someone’s here to see you.”

She frowned. “Who?”

“A patient. Said he won’t see anyone else but you. He’s in room three waiting for you.”

Huh. Well, there was Mr. Decker, who showed up earlier tonight complaining of back pain. He came in at least once a week, sometimes more, moaning about some new ailment. Everyone on staff figured the poor old man was lonely, and since he usually came in during the less busy times, they tended to indulge him. Reagan had always been especially nice to him, so he tended to seek her out above the rest.

Headed for the small examination room where the patient was waiting for her, she yanked back the curtain that closed off the space. “How can I help…” Her voice died off when she saw who stood before her.

Declan Carter. In the flesh.

“Wh-what are you doing here?” she asked when she found her voice. Oh my, did he look good. Better than any man should have a right to. His hair was longer than the last time she’d seen him and a little untamed, which was a good look for him. He wore a long-sleeved white T-shirt that molded to his chest and showed off every bit of muscle and sinew, including those amazing biceps.

And the look on his face…he was watching her like she was the best thing he’d ever seen. His gaze roamed over the entire length of her in a long, assured scan of her body until he finally met her gaze, his lips curved in a tantalizing smile that she firmly believed she’d never see again.

“Hey.” He shoved his hands into his pockets, seemingly…embarrassed? How odd. “How are you?”

She took a step toward him, shock and disbelief wearing off and being replaced by a hint of anger. And major frustration. “How am I? Um, what are you doing here?”

Oops. She sounded defensive. But damn it, she was sort of mad. And in shock. He couldn’t just pop back up at her work of all places, acting like they’ve been apart for all of a day or so. Though if she was the sort to keep count of days—and she really wasn’t, but she just so happened to know how long they’ve been apart—he’d been gone only five weeks instead of the promised six.

Five long, miserable Declanless weeks. She’d barely survived it. Had become very adept at convincing herself that they could never work out. That she’d been under some sort of magical Vegas spell that wore off quickly once real life intruded.

But here he was, standing in front of her, looking stressed and gorgeous and worried and sweet and it took everything within her not to throw herself at him.

“Yeah, about that. Production went so smoothly we wrapped early, which is unheard of. We worked ’round the clock, and filming was so intense I barely had a moment to myself. I literally finished work on the set two days ago. I needed a solid twenty-four hours to recover.” He flashed her a sheepish grin, running his hand through his hair and mussing it up even more than it already was. He was so adorable she wanted to both hug him and sock him in the gut for making her wait and yearn for him.

“So now you’re here,” she stated flatly. If he really wanted this to happen, he was going to have to work for it. At least a little bit.

“I’m here.” He threw his arms out, stretching them wide. “And I’m sorry. I should’ve called you. But everything was happening so fast and I told myself it would be worth the wait.”

“What if…what if I didn’t think it was worth the wait?” Reagan asked. “Did you ever think of that?”

His arms fell at his sides, his expression crestfallen. “I blew it, didn’t I? Shit. I should’ve called. I’m so sorry, baby. I got so damn wrapped up in everything, something I tend to do, and though it’s probably not right, it’s like I can’t help myself. I hope you can forgive me. I hope you can see that I’m here for you now. I want no one but you. You’re all I’ve thought about for these last five weeks.”

She crossed her arms in front of her chest, her heart thumping hard at his declaration. “Are you finished?”

“Uh. Yeah.” He clamped his mouth shut, his expression troubled. “I’ll go if you want me to,” he added quietly.

The man was ridiculous. Seriously. He was also—unbelievably—hers. “I don’t want you to go.”

“You don’t?” he asked hopefully.

“No.” She shook her head. “I’ve thought of nothing but you either these last five weeks. And I’ll admit I’ve been mad at you for not calling, but you’re here now.”

“And…” he prompted.

“And I’m glad.” She smiled. “Really glad.”

“Really?”

“Yes. Now, are you going to come over here and hug me or not?”

Declan ran to her, grabbing hold of her waist and pulling her into his arms. “I’m going to do more than hug you,” he murmured as he squeezed her tight, his head descending toward hers.

She smiled, her eyes sliding shut just as his mouth touched hers. “That’s what I was hoping,” she murmured against his lips.

The kiss was sweet at first. An exploration, a question.

Hi, you’re really happy to see me?
his lips asked.

Oh my God, yes, quite doubting yourself and kiss me some more,
hers answered.

So he did. He kissed her long and hard, a wet, delicious kiss filled with lots of tongue, a low moan coming from him and a sweet little whimper coming from Reagan. She felt so damn good in his arms again, so right.

He never wanted to let her go.

“Declan.” She whispered his name against his mouth and he pulled away from her, everything inside of him throbbing and pulsing in need of her. “We’re at my work.”

“So?” He frowned before diving in for another kiss, but she pressed her hands against his shoulders, keeping him from doing so.

“So we should probably take this somewhere else.” She glanced down with raised brows, and he noticed he had one hand firmly on her breast.

And the other was cupping her delectable butt.

He dropped his hands and stepped back, curling his fingers into fists to keep himself from touching her. “You’re off soon, right?”

She frowned. “How did you know?”

“I asked.” He shrugged. He felt like such a shit for letting his work consume him, especially these last two weeks when filming ran over. But he knew he couldn’t devote the time to her that she deserved. He firmly believed that once he was finished with the movie completely, he could finally go to her and give her the proper attention she deserved.

And his Reagan definitely deserved proper attention. This girl…he was a goner for her. He could only hope like hell she felt exactly the same way.

“Do you want to go somewhere and talk once I get off work?” she asked, her voice careful, her expression wary. She still didn’t understand his true intentions and he needed to make them clear.

But not here. Not in public.

“How about we go back to your place?” he suggested.

“My place?”

“Yeah. We can talk privately there, right?”

“Yes. Definitely.” She nodded, still appearing perplexed. “That sounds good.”

“I’ll drive.” He grabbed her hand, giving it a squeeze. He didn’t want her confused or sorry. He wanted her happy to see him, to have him back into her life.

“But my car…”

“We can leave it here and I’ll help you get it later,” he said, his voice firm. No way was she not leaving with him. He didn’t want to let her out of his sight for a good long time.

Preferably forever.

She didn’t argue, thank goodness. “Okay, that sounds good. Perfect.”

Perfect. Yes, he hoped this would end up perfectly. Otherwise he’ll feel like a perfect failure.

And that was the last thing he wanted to deal with.