Going All In (1Night Stand) Page 2

  Checking the time on her cell, she elbow-bumped an elderly lady working a one-armed bandit. Her plastic bucket flipped, spilling silver coins that clinked and glinted on the patterned carpet. Perched on the edge of a wheelchair seat, she glared and muttered in a foreign language. Her companion, who appeared to be a year or so under the legal gambling age, dropped to all fours to collect the coins.

  “I’m so sorry.” Kira moved to help him. She stepped around the wheelchair, her foot crunching down on something hard. The object cracked in two, the sound audible even over the noisy slots.

  A broken wishbone with feathers and rust-colored powder lay scattered on the carpet. The crone choked and hissed another string of guttural words, and her frantic hand gestures reminded Kira of a conductor leading an orchestra. Joining the boy on the ground, Kira helped him scoop the money and deposit it into the bucket.

  “She cursed you,” he said and pushed strands of his long brown hair from his gentle doe eyes.

  “Excuse me?” The remaining coins she held slipped from her fingers.

  “Baba said that you’ll die as the moon waxes.” He shrugged. “It’s payback for destroying her good luck charm.”

  Kira eyed the broken wishbone. She’d seen some strange things since arriving in Vegas five years earlier. Until now, the trolls the bingo players favored were the scariest thing she’d encountered—the freaky, naked dolls with their rainbow hair and dead eyes unnerved her. Every gambler had a charm or a ritual to guarantee luck, but people didn’t unleash death curses in the fantasy world of Sin City.

  “You’d better go.” He rose, replaced the bucket on the crone’s lap, and disengaged the wheelchair brake. “Baba’s in a fierce mood.”

  The old lady kept muttering and spitting words out, her bony fingers continuing to slice the air while her hawk eyes bore into Kira’s soul. As they wheeled away, Kira clutched at the nearest slot machine for balance and watched a crowd of drunken tourists swallow up the odd pair. Pins and needles traveled down her spine, and her heart banged against her breast bone. She sucked in a ragged breath and closed her eyes, and her imagination sped into overdrive. The image of the word, curse, scrawled on a wall in blood, formed in her mind. Her eyes popped open, and the room seemed to tilt.

  No. No. No.

  She couldn’t let some crazy old bat and a kid freak her out. Walking through the casino to the hotel front desk with measured steps, Kira tried to make sense of the encounter. She collected the room key, took the elevator to the seventeenth floor, and tried to focus. When the doors opened, panic gripped her anew. Curses weren’t real. The whole episode had to be some elaborate scam.

  Sooner or later, someone would show up and offer to remove the fake curse for a large sum of money. But after living in Vegas and witnessing all sorts of scams, she’d fine-tuned her bullshit detector. She always knew when the poker players bluffed. Eddie swore her skills could land her a lucrative job in the interrogation section of the CIA. The doe-eyed boy and the crazy old lady believed in the curse. And according to Kira’s roommate, beliefs powered magic. That belief or intent comprised the core of any spell. From the raw malice in the old lady’s gaze, Kira had no doubt the crone wanted her dead and, if the curse failed to do the trick, she might find a more mundane instrument to get the job done.

  Why the hell did this have to happen tonight? Resolving to stick with the original plan and attempt to do all the things she had been too nervous to try with Eddie, she pulled out the crumpled list she’d brainstormed while working her way through a bottle of pinot noir one night. Sexual Bucket List topped the page. The title, written on a lark, took on a sinister overtone as though the words had been penned by the Grim Reaper himself.

  Sucking in breath after breath, Kira held each one for the count of five before letting it out. What were her options if she bailed on the date? Call Eddie and cry on his shoulder? She’d rather take her chances trying to exorcise her own demons than climb aboard that exhausting relationship treadmill again.

  Straightening her clothing and smoothing her hair, she marched down the corridor. She refused to let her night be ruined. The other waitresses joked about the tourists who paid to leap off the 108th floor of the Stratosphere hotel in a controlled descent to the ground, only to lose their nerve at the top. The SkyJump gift shop sold chicken T-shirts. Kira resolved never to qualify to wear such a shirt. She’d take the plunge. For this one night, she’d put everything aside to muster the courage to go through with the date.

  She rapped on the door of room 17-153. When no one answered, she knocked harder. A grizzly bear of a man in a bathrobe, carrying an ice bucket, stepped out of the room across the hall and looked her up and down. His possessive gaze had the same ick factor as the nasty man who’d fondled her in the poker room.

  Fumbling with the key, she unlocked the door. Although a hotel casino employee for two years, she’d never seen the inside of one of the rooms. It struck her as odd the suite had a half-bathroom off the sitting room. The apartment she shared with her roommate didn’t appear much bigger than this, and it only featured a single bath.

  She looked from the ravaged room service tray to the empty beer bottle next to it. Someone’s leftovers. How romantic. Instead of a kinky fairytale princess, she’d been cast as one of the bears who came home to the remnants of Goldilocks’ bender.

  She froze mid-step when a well-muscled man strode into the room, a towel wrapped around his waist. Washboard abs were an unexpected bonus. Using a second towel to dry his hair, he headed for the tray and crammed a handful of food in his mouth. A crumb clung to his facial hair. As though finally sensing her, he snapped his head up and the brown eyes of the sexy poker player met hers. Holy crap! She’d never expected to see him again.

  Kira had been drawn to him in the poker room, but she’d wanted to be set up with a stranger, not someone to whom she’d served a beverage. While she wanted to add licking the drops of water clinging to his muscular chest to her bucket list, no good would come of hooking up with someone from the casino—even though she wanted nothing more than to experience every act on the list at least twice with him.

  Her fingernails dug into the faux leather of her handbag. Now she understood the purpose of the second bathroom. A perfect refuge to hole up in and wait for checkout time, or until she decided whether to jump on him or flee.

  “Did Madame Evangeline send you?” His eyes narrowed, and he tilted his head, the same expression he’d worn when evaluating the cards to determine his next move.

  Oh, crap. How can he be my date?

  An image of the crone’s face popped into her mind. Kira’s pep talk from out in the hall resurrected itself. If for only tonight, a strict carpe diem mentality needed to be adopted. She could either choose to believe in curses and earn the chicken shirt, or spend the night with a sexy man and get busy crossing items off her list. Dropping her purse on the floor, she moved toward him and stopped an inch away. His warm breath ruffled her hair. She imagined sucking in courage along with oxygen.

  “My name is Kira Marchi. I’m your one-night stand.”

  Chapter Three

  “Shit, I ruined this already didn’t I?” Kira’s gaze crawled downward toward the towel knotted around the man’s slim hips before returning to lock on his eyes. “We shouldn’t exchange names when this is only a one-night thing, right? Would you mind pretending I didn’t introduce myself?”

  His right eye twitched, and he stepped away from her. “If that’s what you want. But I’d like to get to know you better.” Now he looked like he wanted to hide in the half bath.

  Unable to retract her words, she tried another approach. “How about a game?”

  “What do you have in mind?” His right eyebrow arched.

  She retrieved her purse and rooted around until she found some dice. “Whoever rolls an even number gets to ask the other person a question they have to answer. You can go first.” When she passed him the dice, their fingers touched. She liked the way they felt—rough, but
warm.

  “What happens if you roll an odd number?” The dice danced in his palm.

  She had him. “You lose your turn.”

  They sat on the couch with their thighs almost touching. He shook the dice, rolling an eleven on the coffee table.

  “I guess I should stick to poker.” His easy grin reappeared.

  She threw a twelve. “What made you decide to try the dating service?”

  “My luck ran cold until I emailed Madam Evangeline, but I wasn’t sure about going through with the date until I looked up and saw you.” Leaning toward her, he tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.

  “Good answer.” Her hands trembled as she scooped up the dice and rolled a hard eight. “If we could start over, what would you do?”

  “Kiss you.”

  Kira didn’t know who moved first to close the minuscule gap between them and initiate the kiss. One thing for certain, she’d never been kissed like that before—with such urgency. With such passion. Such desperation.

  A caravan of tingles traveled down her body and danced in her center. But when their tongues met, the poker player applied the brakes and pulled away.

  What the hell?

  Resolution replaced the hunger in his expression. A hunger that had nothing to do with food and had everything to do with the promise of carnal pleasure. The kind of pleasure she’d read about in spicy romance novels and had, until now, thought to be fiction.

  “We should slow down.” He fussed with his towel before taking her hand and leading her to the minibar. “Would you like something to drink?”

  Leaning her arm on his shoulder, Kira peered into the refrigerator. She longed to chug the dozen or so tiny bottles of spirits, but she hadn’t come there to get drunk. She’d come to get laid.

  “I’m good for now.” Liar. She wouldn’t be good until they were horizontal. If something didn’t happen between them soon, she might lose her nerve. She couldn’t return to her apartment with only her fears for company. Panic bubbled. Before it could overtake her, she grabbed at his towel.

  “Hey.” He loosened her grip on the fabric. “We have all night.”

  He’d rejected her advance. Didn’t he find her attractive? Oh hell. What if he thought her an escort or an employee of the hotel? She tilted her head away so he couldn’t see the hot flush creeping up her neck and face.

  After rummaging around in the refrigerator, he extracted a beverage and passed it to her. Instead of unscrewing the cap and taking a drink, she sat on the edge of the bed and lifted the bottle to her face to cool her cheeks then picked at the label until it separated from the plastic. Sitting next to her, he removed the naked bottle from her grip, leaving her clutching the soggy paper. Crap.

  “You’re shaking.” He placed his arm around her and pulled her close.

  Breathing in his clean, soapy scent, she mentally ran through her sexual bucket list. Six feet or so of hot male fresh from the shower would go perfectly with item number three, a blow job. But did she dare grab the towel again? Could this time be the charm? If not, she’d leave and beg Madame Eve for another date.

  Kira ran a palm along the sinewy contours of his back and neck and massaged the taut muscles. A sigh released from deep in his chest. Taking that as a sign of surrender, she buried her hand in his thick, dark hair. He ran his fingers along her jawline and up to her cheekbones. Her heart fluttered in her chest. She dared not breathe.

  “What do you want?” he asked.

  Her mind spun. Where should she start? Would it be weird if she consulted the wish list or blurted out she wanted to suck his dick? Rattling off all the items on the list didn’t seem right either. Then she knew.

  “You.”

  His hands cradled her face. This time, when their tongues met, there’d be no stopping. Planting kisses on her neck and collarbone, he unbuttoned her silk blouse. No man had ever turned her on like that, and they had yet to move past foreplay. Echoes of Eddie’s complaints about her performance rose unbidden in her mind. Now she had some complaints for him, too. She pushed all thoughts of her ex-boyfriend from her mind.

  More than ready to cross number three from her list, she arched. While her date’s gaze focused on demi-bra clad breasts, she yanked off his towel.

  Damn. She’d never seen a cock so large. Could she take all of him in her mouth? Resolving to find out and before he could protest, she gripped him. It jerked when her hand closed around it, hardening immediately. Emboldened, she knelt on the plush carpet and took him in her mouth. His hands tangled in her long hair. He wouldn’t push her away again; he wanted this as much as she did.

  Exploring his length with her tongue, she experienced the silky skin, his salty taste igniting her desire. She gripped the base, moving in time with her mouth, varying the tempo. A longing ache rose between her legs. Taking him deep in her throat, she reached down to cup his balls. The moistness in her center grew. Who knew pleasuring a man could be such a rush?

  Releasing him, she ran her tongue over her lower lip. He beheld her with intensity, suggesting he wouldn’t take his attention from her even if the hotel burned down around them. Having him nude while she stood before him clothed turned her on, but she needed to even the playing field. She rose and unfastened the last button of her blouse.

  He wore the same expression he’d had when she’d walked in—as if he wanted to devour her like he had the tray of food. He stepped closer, kissing his taste from her. Damn, can he get any sexier?

  She snaked her arms around him, holding tight, and he clung to her for a moment before pushing her against the wall. Undoing the tiny front clasp on her bra, he exposed her breasts. The air conditioning hit her bare flesh and she shivered.

  The warmth of his skin traveled straight to her core. He tasted and stroked her breasts, his teeth skimming her nipples. A gasp of pleasure escaped her lips when he continued his journey, stopping to flick his tongue around her belly-button ring before unzipping her jeans.

  She expected him to remove her G-string, but he seemed intent on tormenting her first. He knelt and stroked the tiny triangle of fabric. Exhaling warm breath through the lace, he hooked his finger around the string, pulling it taut. When she thought she couldn’t stand it a moment longer, he worked a finger underneath the material to stroke her clit.

  “You’re so wet for me.”

  She gasped and braced against the wall to keep from oozing onto the floor, her muscles pure liquid.

  His finger moved lower. When she sighed in approval, he placed one then two fingers inside her. He moved them in and out, excruciatingly slowly. With the tremors of an orgasm building, she moaned. He added a third finger, stretching her, bringing his mouth closer. His beard stubble brushed her sensitive skin and, when his tongue found her clit, she exploded.

  Before she could collect herself, he shoved aside the tray of food, picked her up, and settled her on the table. Kira let out a squeak of protest when he stepped away to dig into the hospitality basket. He soon returned with a gold foil square. Tearing the packet open, he removed a condom. Thank goodness, he’d remembered protection because she’d forgotten all about the strip of condoms in her purse.

  “Let me,” she said, mentally ticking off number four. In high school health class, the teacher had instructed them on how to sheath a banana with a condom. Kira had longed for the opportunity to slide latex over flesh instead of fruit, but her previous lovers, in their hurry to get laid, refused to wait for her trembling fingers to work it on. Tonight she could ask for whatever she wanted.

  When she fumbled with the condom, she expected him to scold her and take over, but he seemed content to watch her handle his cock. Taking her time, she arranged the reservoir tip on the head and unrolled it, inch by inch.

  “My name—” he began, but she interrupted him with a finger to his lips. Anonymous sex would be better than getting attached.

  Naked, except for the condom, he stood statue-still. His erection dipped, and instead of touching her, he stared at her. She w
anted to scream at him for making her wait to feel him inside of her. Does he want me to beg for it?

  He shook his head in a mental reboot and reached for her breast. Holding it in his palm, he captured the nipple in his mouth. Kira arched into him with a mewling cry. Burning for him, she scooted to the edge of the table and lifted her legs.

  He rubbed the tip of his cock against her clit then eased into her, slowly at first. Each push and retreat ramped her desire, but she wanted it harder, faster. She met his strokes, and her eagerness seemed to encourage him. He let out a groan, as though she’d broken through his resolve to be gentle, and drove into her.

  The tremors built again. Longing to call out the name of her lover, she hit dead ends and blanks until a name rose to the surface and escaped her lips. “Gavin!” She bucked, riding out the most intense orgasm she’d ever experienced.

  He tensed, a sheen of sweat covering him. With his eyes closed tight, he gave a final thrust and let out a grunt of release. In the haze of afterglow, the inky blackness of dread settled in. She’d cried the name of the musician her poker player vaguely resembled.

  Wrong name. Very wrong name.

  Chapter Four

  Ian studied the beautiful woman impaled on his cock. It all made sense now. She didn’t want him to tell her his name, because she wanted to pretend he was Gavin. Whoever that was. Lucky bastard. But if she wanted someone else, why had she signed up for the date?

  When Kira had taken him between her lips, he couldn’t help but think of Dick’s cruel comment about her spending time on her knees. Then, she drove all thoughts of the asshole from his mind. As much as Ian wanted to exorcise the phantom Gavin from his brain as well, Kira could call him by whatever name she wanted, if only he could make love to her again.